A Funny Turn

Right then, what’s coming is the hardest blog post I’ve ever written.

January 2024. My birthday. Me and my wife Mary went to Worcester for a day out. Back then, I liked wandering around with a camera.

We got there and I had no interest. I wanted to go home. Mary, bless her, pointed out good shots. I took ‘em. But I didn’t give a shit if they were any good. Odd for me.

We gave up and went home. I felt relieved to be home, because that day? Same as many others back then.

I didn’t want to be out anywhere. Or with anyone. No anger. No sadness. Nothing. A big bloody void. I didn’t want anyone around the house apart from Mary. Not even our granddaughter.

It got to February.

—I’ve made you a doctor’s appointment.

—Have you? Why?

—You don’t know?

—Er—

I didn’t. Not then. So Mary told me how I'd been. For months. She reckoned my moods were getting worse. And that she worried about me. Which is why she booked me an appointment with the doc.

Yeah, anyway. No point in me going on. You get the idea. The doc? She diagnosed me with PTSD. And then the counsellors she sent me to see did the same.

I won't bang on about why. Or what the trauma happened to be. I had trauma. It messed me up and fast-forward to today, it's still messing me up but I have help and medication. So, that's that.

This is not a "poor-me" post.

It's an explanation. See, I keep changing things. My blog included. I've changed it like I change my socks. And it's bloody annoying. But there is a reason.

It comes down to this. One thing PTSD does, among many, is make me misjudge things. For example, I build my blog and publish posts, often at a rapid pace. Keep going for... Well, it could be a week or two. Or a day or two. Sometimes, a few hours. Then, everything changes. I'd pull it down, rebuild it or go and make a new one. Put all my effort into that.

The reason? My mind would tell me all was good. Get on with it. Work hard. Work fast. Then?

—Mate, this is shit. Get rid of it.

—Er why?

—Change it. It's rubbish. Crack on—

—But why?

—Don't argue, get on with it.

The cycle continues, but there are reasons for it.

Each time I change the blog, I get a hit of novelty and dopamine. It's a massive one. Then, there's the worry that people will judge my work and see it as rubbish.

PTSD makes me sensitive to anything that feels "off." Doubts about a new post or my writing style can lead to an all-or-nothing response. Often a nothing one. Which is why everything gets pulled down.

So, here I am again. My purpose this time?

I'll write simple stories. Life notes. And hope that I can tell my mind not to panic.