Sunday, 3 May 2020

Strugglin along...

Ah thought o cryin this post "Ma Struggle", but ye ken whit folk are like, there's nae irony these days, so ah cried it Strugglin along, cos that's whit ah'm daein, like maist folk... jist daein away... ye see it aw... ah'm existin...

Whit ah am strugglin wi is aw the thoughts an ideas, millin aroond, swillin aroond, an generally messin up ma heid. This has nothin tae dae wi coronavirus, ah've had some o these thoughts fer decades, weel intae last century, they're less like thoughts noo than part o ma brain, part o ma wirin. As a fer instance ah'll tell ye aboot yin o ma thoughts, then ah'll hae a coffee...

A song came oan ma Spotify yesterday, it's yin o ma Earwax songs, it's oan ma playlist if ye like. Ah've liked it fae when it came oot, it goes...

"In a little while from now, if I'm not feeling any less sour,
I promise myself to treat myself and visit a nearby tower,
and climbing to the top, I'll throw myself off,
in an effort to, make clear to whom-ever what it's like when you're shattered..."

It struck me recently that when that song came oot we were oan a caravan holiday in St Andrews. Ah used tae take masel away fer a wander up tae the Cathedral, an pay 2 an a half new pence tae climb St Rule's Tower, get a braw view o St Andrews, an contemplate throwin masel off. Ah checked the dates, ah wis nine year auld at the time.

Since then, any tower, any brig, any clifftop, ah'm aye thinkin it, ah'm aye wonderin if ah could, if ah should. Ah've climbed towers an crossed brigs an scrambled up cliffs, jist tae hae that thought. Scott Monument, Dean Brig, the Cat's Nick, you name it ah've been up it wonderin if ah could...

There's a normal human thing in that, we aw ponder oor mortality at some point, we aw think aboot how close we come tae the edge, how we risk things an how we protect oorsels, but some o us live wi that constantly, it becomes automatic. An it's no jist the jumpin aff high places, there's railways, there's tablets, there's knifes, there's Portobello Beach... there's suicide opportunities an ideas aw roond us, we live wi them. Ah've lived wi them, aw ma days.

Whit ah don't always think helps is talkin aboot them. Ah think it helped me no talkin aboot them, it helped me fer long enough that ye jist didnae talk aboot them, ye kept them tae yersel. Some folk live wi suicidal ideas, occasionally, intermittently, or constantly. Ah huvnae jist held them masel, ah've worked a career in helpin folk wi them an aw, ah know ma subject, an ah get that it helps some folk tae talk aboot them, and that it's a subject that's suffered fae no bein talked aboot.

But ah jist want tae make the point if it's no obvious, we're currently wanderin aboot in a world that's fu o risk an fu o risk o death, we're aw contemplatin it whether we're talkin aboot it or no, but some o us hae been contemplatin it aw oor days...

The song -

Gilbert O'Sullivan - Alone Again (Naturally)

(It got tae Number 3 in the Hit Parade oan ma 9th birthday...)

Right, ah'm away tae pit the kettle oan...


2 comments:

  1. It's been a while since I was in a beer garden...
    This is the umpteenth Sunday in a row I haven't made dinner for my grandsons...
    My best mate is ill, all alone in London with only the Tesco deliveryman for brief company...
    On the plus side:
    The wife has finally been given adequate PPE. Good for me too, as I would be a smorgasbord for that wee Covid fucker.
    I've got some Leffe in the fridge.
    I don't have to go to work tomorrow...

    ...so when putsch comes to shove I don't feel the need for high places.
    Be safe.

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  2. You too Mr Conan, stay as safe as ye obviously were afore this thing came along, an dinnae get me wrong, ah'm daein whit ah'm telt, fer guid reason, ah'm also awfy conflicted as tae how much misery this is aw worth, in the longer term... ah had a conversation wi an auld pal th'day aboot the pointlessness o it aw... Ah'm fine tho, he's fine, it' jist aw this time tae think, ah don't know where that time wis afore, ah'm thinkin like aw. day. long.

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