Over the past couple of years my feelings about life in general have been very boom and bust. The booms have been my almost manic excitement of some exciting project or idea that crashes into my tiny mind and the busts have happened when, out of the blue usually, something reminds me of something that happened in my past that made me unhappy. I have then get fixated with this event and become obsessed and generally have made myself pretty unhappy about life, the universe and everything.
However, I have found my *42* and as long as I can recognize what I’ll call my tipping point then I hopefully will be able to deal with it by accepting it for what it is. It’s something that neither I nor anyone can do anything about. Now that I have realized this I feel that a great weight has been lifted off my shoulders especially as I’m hoping to change my working hours so that I don’t work 1 pm until 9 pm daily and have next to no weekends off. I need to get some kind of balance between my job and my life and that’s something I haven’t had for a good few years so that can only enhance my feeling of wellbeing.
Mrs D and I need to spend more time together than we can at present and find something to do that we both enjoy. For us it’s going to be a complete revamp of the garden. From my own point of view I have to say that I have my straw hat, I have my sunglasses, I have my flip flops, but I don’t have a beach hut. To be fair I don’t even have a shed. I own nothing at all in the way of garden outbuildings, however Mrs D is going to facilitate for me a long held and perhaps idealized dream, for I am to have my very own beach hut. It will not be on a beach, but will be in our garden which year upon year has degenerated into a toxic wasteland of weeds and neglect. Down the years I’ve showed less than no interest in the garden and have only dutifully watered the plethora of plants that we had one glorious summer.
Now it’s different……very different…Mrs D is in charge!
Over time I that Mrs D has regarded her husband’s literary ambitions with several kilos of salt and a little scorn. She has never expressed verbally that she thought that I was a twat for wanting to try to write a novel, but I know she has thought it. The beach hut/summerhouse is to be a pied a tierre, somewhere to sit and enjoy the garden and our little piece of the world and it will provide for me a place to actually write away from the house. It will be my version of Dylan’s Boathouse in Laugharne. For Mrs D it will provide her with an oasis from where she can enjoy the sun and just switch off and play her Facebook games or use the iPad, or read or whatever. Unfortunately the garden is overlooked by our neighbours and only separated by a 6 foot fence so you can never be totally private there but that’s something we’ll have to learn to live with and it’s the disadvantage of suburban living.
So what of the other things about which I’ve written over the 6 or 8 weeks on this blog? The interest in going skinny dipping and the other things I mentioned. Were these posts just a sign of a mania that gripped me, the manic enthusiasm for all things that cyclically was (I hope) grabbing me? Of that I’m not sure, not sure at all anymore. Let’s put it this way, a few weeks ago I was absolutely certain that I was going to visit a Naturist site and have swapped emails with a particular place. Now the fear has begun to set in and that fear is largely because I’m alone and have no one, no nervous newbie, to share my experience with. I have no problem with going to a place like that, but to me it’s like an accentuated version of any new social situation. I’m not sure in any circumstances that I’m good at joining in and just going to a special site on my own will be doubly, trebly, infinitely more difficult than any social situation I have ever encountered. Part of me thinks it’s a fantastic idea, something that would be fun, life affirming and all of that jazz, but the other part of me thinks that I’d be so overwhelmed that I’d head straight for the exit. What I think will happen is that there’ll be a mini guided tour and then I’d be left on my own. Perhaps that would be a good thing as I’m sure that taking in the whole atmosphere wouldn’t be easy, but it would be easier with a like minded companion.
Anyway, the other things I’ve written about been me bottoming out, miserable, unhappy and virtually tearful. That is over now, and over hopefully for good, and perhaps this ‘ere blog will suffer as a result as the compulsion to write here will diminish or the subject matter will morph somewhat. It’s funny that my cyclical mood swings have really coincided with my keeping this blog going and from the date of my last the date of my last seizure. Are these factors connected and the thought and effort I go to in writing this sometimes turgid stuff self defeating? I wonder whether I end up thinking way too much, become self analytical and then struggle with real life?
In other words is this blog good for me, or do I simply post too often and/or try too hard? I do know that I have been way too self revealing in opening up some pretty dark stuff and that to publish stuff like that was far from wise. I have been considering removing those posts for the sake of my own privacy, but it’s maybe too late now as they’ve already been read. Perhaps they should remain to serve as a reminder as to where I was at any given point in time (a bit like Adrian Mole’s Secret Diary) I do believe that at some point what this blog was about changed. It used to be about things, but somehow became about me. It’s true that the things and me were inextricably linked as they were largely my thoughts and opinions on things, but slowly and surely DocDenbow’s 21st Century Thought Of A 50s man changed into a probe into my psyche.
Most of the assertions I have made here I stand by.
- I’m happy with my own body for sure
- I do feel an outsider sometimes because of my epilepsy (crazy I know)
- You should always blog the truth or not post at all
- Tattoos can be a bad idea
- UKIP are a bunch of loonies
- Going naked for Charity is a great idea as it busts taboos
- There’s nothing wrong at with being a nudist or naturist as being naked is a pretty natural state
I can’t be bothered picking apart what I’ve written, but there is an underlying thread of truth in what I write as when I write it I believe it at the time.
I just need to be more consistent in my views and a little more measured.