Thought Picnic: In the struggle to resume as I

A fog in the head

It is strange that only recently I wrote about being stuck on the absence of desire, I concept that might well be quite seriously misunderstood when it is seen as physical rather than a head and consequently a mental health issue.

Blog - Thought Picnic: Stuck on the absence of desire

There is no doubt in my mind today that I do need therapy, there are knotty issues that are affecting my flow, I cannot seem to get a grip on several things that I would have thought a few months ago would have happened without any need for encouragement or inspiration. I really do feel somewhat stuck that something radical needs to happen.

The therapies I require

Indeed, some physical therapy can come in useful in the form of spa treatments and a sports massage, however, fundamentally, mental therapy would reach down into the depth of what seems to ail me, a few sessions of psychotherapy and psychoanalysis, a professional helping me unravel the pall of infirmity that inhibits aspects of productivity and expression.

The catharsis of writing is not enough and though having a conversation with my best friend might have helped things a bit. In myself, my confidence is shaken and the kind of focus that appears as sure-footed maturity is not particular manifest. It is like I am at my most vulnerable when I need support and most misunderstood that places the burden of patience on others.

Seeing more of me

I have no idea of how much time I need to get back either to my old self or to arrive at a manifestly improved self, I am just taking each day as it comes, hoping that in the process things either fall into place or I find that essential support I need.

It is inauspicious that this is happening at a time when I am with my partner, and we have ahead of us some consequential plans. Oh, I can be quite moody if not boring, these are realities that probably need to be experienced and appreciated along with everything else people know about me. What I do not know is if my human frailties can find enough allowances in the frame of reference of those on whom I depend as much as they depend on me.

Then there is a responsibility that I bear in all this, the need for others to see the 'for worse' of me when they are distracted by the 'for better' at commitment, and feel deceived about all the components of my evidently fragile being and nature.

Thought Picnic: Of the heart and on the head

Of head in heart

Simple is not the matter of the affairs of the heart, for we carry in ourselves the wealth, the burdens and, the baggage of a lifetime, through which we stick to learned ways much as we attempt to unlearn some things and relearn the vicissitudes of altering our lives to accommodate others.

There is no manual to finding how to relate to others to whom a commitment of the heart has been made. I have before recognised a kind of emotional schizophrenia that bound me extensively to someone of whom the love was unrequited that I reminisced in a quiet moment how my heart was stolen when my head battled against the unreasonable impulses driven by that pump in my chest cavity.

Getting by letting

Relationships are a complex art of give and take, the process of negotiation is never as defined as in a contract even if a contract of marriage eventually seals the context of the relationship in the eyes of the law, extending the familial covenant to the partner with whom intimacy begins to metastasise from sight, through lust, to love, and the promise of a life together.

Each brings a lot into the relationship some companionship, some stability, some security, the emotional symbiosis on which each depends as the bond between them strengthens into a union of minds, purpose, and futures. Sometimes, we do ourselves the disservice of not appreciating the invisible yet tangible forces that bring us together.

Individuality, uniqueness and personality traded for a more significant expression of love that words will never fully express even as it is observed by others. I guess it remains a mystery usually never properly unravelled, but it is both fragile and solid, it is why hearts break if the matter is handled with levity. Those whose hearts are in the bosom of others better beware.

Hair between us

Chins in array

In our morning chat, I said it was time for me to shave my facial hair as any growth beyond 5 days becomes an irritation, partly itchy and partly sore, it is quite uncomfortable for me as he thinks it looks distinguished on me.

Now, at last count he thought there were 7 whiskers billowing on his chin, his desire for a beard and sideburns sometimes does drive me to distraction but he does not need it at all. To dissuade him I have suggested hair grafts that would not survive offering the detail of outside of our conversation, yet he persists.

Scalps on display

Whether a blessing or some accident of nature, he grows a noticeable moustache and then nothing below the line of the two ends of his upper lip. On our heads, there is a different story, he has a full carpet of hair with distinctive highlights of artistic quality, I have male pattern baldness that behoves I shave it all off to keep my dignity.

Hair is probably a veritable test of contentment, if you can’t have the hair you want, love the hair you’ve got, the hair you don’t have, buy what you need or take it all off. I think the hair he has is beautiful, but that alone is an argument strumming the strands of frustration. He is going to scream when he reads this blog.