Writing as Therapy

Life is a funny old thing, if you really stop and think about it. You are born alone, and you die alone and what you do in between those two points is entirely up to you.

Well you, and fate.


Fate is a mysterious thing and something that you can ponder and worry about. I do it all the time. It can drive me bananas. What if? What about? Why did that happen?

I really envy those people who can fall through life without a care in the world. I curse my brain often, at the pace it runs sometimes. At times, I am so glass-half-empty it is ridiculous.

We have lost another member of our family under very sad circumstances, so soon after losing Aaron. My cousin Mark’s, Aaron’s Uncle, number was up. His funeral is on Monday. I spoke with Aunty Margaret last night, whose heart is broken.

The whole scenario is shit, shit, shit.

You think when a tragedy like that strikes, your lot would be be spared for a while, go to the back of the line and all that crap.

Woke up with the sads, riddled with anxiety and just a generalised feeling of gloom today. Reading groups to go to in Jack’s class.



I sat with a group of 7 year old boys, all enthusiastically talking about the stars, constellations and the Milky Way. The teeth on these kids were a scream, all growing in sideways and wonky, for those who did not have massive gaps.

It reminded me of a lecture I attended recently, where the speaker equated children as “Pure Energy”.  It is only as you grow older that you add your layers of self doubt, guilt, hate, envy and all the other traits that us grown ups carry around with us. Like some huge, big fucking backpack that just gets heavier and heavier.
Until you fall over.

I walked home from school with a very heavy backpack. The sun is shining here today and the warmth of it on my back was a very welcome relief to the coldness I felt inside. As I walked, I became acutely aware of my surroundings. People going about their day, young pure-energy babies in prams and old people with walking frames going into the chemist.

People getting on with it.

“The saddest summary of life contains three descriptions: could have, might have, and should have.” ~ Unknown

I came home and took off my shoes. I sat in the sun and Bev called. After a chat I hung up and right then, right there, decided I was going to lighten my load and keep moving forward. 

I am going to shed some shit. Because although you cannot fuck around with fate, you can sure as hell make each day count.


Do you think too much?