The Twisted Stuff





I intend to use this blog to share what I've learned over the last 30 years about coping with depression (whilst trying to earn a living) on a day to day basis. It has long been a desire of mine  to do something useful with what I've experienced, so that anyone who finds themselves in the same situation can feel connected to what I have to say, be able to empathise with it & hopefully, not feel quite so alone & hopeless.
I'm new to this blogging lark, so please be patient as I get my head around it! 


As I write it occurs to me that ‘blog’ is actually an amalgamation of the words ‘black dog’. How odd. (Now that was nearly a poem!).
OK, so you can begin to see how dubiously my mind is wired. I don’t seem to be able to just hear a word for what it is. My mind instantly changes it to something else, a bit like holding a piece of faceted glass up to the window & turning it to see all the different colour permutations. It’s the same piece of glass, it just looks different. Similarly, my mind plays with words.

I think it must be very tiresome to my friends & family as I constantly interject their conversation with dreadful puns & take what they say extremely literally, twisting  their intended meaning  into parody! Sometimes it makes them laugh, which is a good thing…….isn’t it? More often I get whacked, or eyes rolled up to the ceiling or just a blank stare, but any reaction is reward enough for me, the more excruciating the effect the better!
Whether this mindset is a result of my depressive nature or whether I was born that way is debatable. I have very good grounds for thinking that it’s in my genes, as there are several ‘ word-smiths’ on my Grandfather’s side of the family. My Grandfather being one of them. He wrote a column for The Elgin Courant for many years, called ‘Idle Thoughts’, which, come to think of it was probably an early form of blogging!
Since doing some research into this side of the family recently I have come across two published poets, albeit on a small scale, a newspaper columnist & two depressives. So you see it’s not all my fault! 

My mother & both her brothers are word-smiths  Mum having written songs for musical shows she used to put on at my senior school. I was extremely close to my uncle Rhynas & used to come up to Elgin & stay with him several times a year when I lived down south. We could sit at the table punning & out-punning each other until one of us had to say ‘Enough’ & give in. I think that being exposed to his off-beat sense of humour all my life definitely rubbed off on me & honed the way I looked at the world & the way language is used. He introduced me to The Goons, Bilko & William McGonagall’s wacky poems! What an eclectic mix for a wee girl to be steeped in! Uncle Stanley writes very witty poems & speeches, amongst other things. 

Anyhow, all this is what has probably contributed largely to the type of person I am today. This, four episodes of depression & a breakdown have absolutely affected my take on the world. I suppose I should be grateful for its legacy in a way, as it has enabled me to use my intrinsic creativity in a slightly twisted fashion.
The evidence is there if you look at some of my work & some of the artwork I produced as I was growing up. The charcoal sketches below were done in my early 20's.



                                               A good place to leave it for now I think.   

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