Life Through Writing

Grief is a very funny thing. And most of the time when we think of grief, we think of people losing other people. Losing lovers, parents, siblings or children. We think of unspeakable tragedy, we think of lives being lost too soon. When someone says, I lost my ___________  we understand that it's sad. We understand that we don't understand, and we understand that grief is a process that people experience in different stages and ways. Take this example, when I was at work once, perhaps at some point last year, I received a phone call from a staff member's family. It's not someone who had ever rung the shop before, and all they said was that my colleague should call them when they could. I could tell from his tone that it must have been serious. My colleague calls back during his break, and obviously it's a personal call because he leaves out the back door to take it. He's gone for quite a while. When he comes back, everything seems okay. He just seems a bit q...

I think it can go without saying that most people are perhaps afraid of commitment. And, it can be scary. No matter what it's for, commitment can be something that can feel too big, too ominous. I'm not going to talk about the psychology of commitment issues, because I don't really think that's my place to do so. It's not my place to do so, one because I'm not a trained psychologist, and two because I don't really believe that it all stems from a psychological place. I think there's an inherent human fear of commitment. Because to be committed to something means that you are absolutely 100% certain that whatever it is is something that you want. And when I talk about commitment, it doesn't just cover relationships or friendships, it covers everything that could be covered by the blanket term of commitment. It means even the silly things like committing to a movie, a TV show or even a dinner at a nice restaurant. It's all in different contexts,...

It's human nature to be afraid of change. And I think we become afraid of change because most of us are creatures of habit, and most of us like to stay in a little bubble. In that bubble we have everything that we need, we have our comfort zone, and our comfort zone is where we feel safe. And there's nothing wrong with having a comfort zone, it's natural and healthy. In a sense, our comfort zones keep us safe, they keep us grounded, and they might even help us make choices that are right for us. I say this because at the end of the day, the ones that know us the best are ourselves. People often say that we are the protagonists' of our own lives, and they would be right. I never truly understood what it meant when I was younger, but I think I do now. No matter how often we feel like our lives don't belong to us, that we're incapable of making decisions that we want to make, so long as we take care of ourselves, things will fall into place. The thing is that life...

Mental health is a funny thing. We live in a time when we're more open, more honest, more willing to learn and listen about people's experiences, but it's still not enough. There is still a massive stigma attached to talking about mental health, admitting that you have a problem; or, in my personal experience, disbelief that I could have a problem, because on the surface, I have everything that someone needs to be happy. So, it's easier to not saying about it. It's easier to let people believe and say whatever they want, because they don't want to be educated. They say they do, but as soon as you mention you struggle mentally, suddenly, you're someone they don't know. You're an alien. And, I've been guilty of this too, I have been guilty of treating people differently when I find out that they may be struggling. And that's difficult. It's difficult to know how to treat them, because the dynamic will change, there's no way to get ar...

The realities of emotion (and the healing process) are, generally, worlds different between men and women. Insomnia at 3 AM with somber Jazz flowing through a pair of headphones, staring upward at my ceiling – such is how I spent my first few months’ worth of nights post-relationship. This isn’t the platform for slander (I'd much prefer respect), but even if it were, I’m never into giving the gossip rags much of my time; with that said, the sudden end to a relationship that I’d started with someone I considered my best friend, someone I'd let so close to my heart, felt like a hot-cold amalgam of a fierce, prolonged inner-chest burn and a specialist's bad news after a bone break. It felt like a death. I didn't see it coming. On all fronts, the expectation was that I would  be a man , be understanding, and be over it before long. That’s a hell of a lot to  be , for someone who’s just been hurt in such an unsuspecting manner. It’s akin to being blindsided on the ...