where relative stability ends and paranoia begins

A bit of time-traveling was necessary to post this blog, as it just didn’t fit with the rest of the politicised blogs of 16/01/2011, and it fitted better amongst the more self-pitying blogs around 16/01/2010. So, I have sent this blog back one year, for the sake of the continuity of the blog and also because I am ashamed to still be the wreck that I am from time to time; there seems to be an expectation to grow out of discontent, leave it in youth as we begin our professional lives – I have achieved neither. So, lets pretend that this is 2009 and not 2010.

“He’s such a ………………
“He’s never been very…………………
“He’s just too……………….
“He’s a bit too………………
“He isn’t……………….

When these are the dominating thoughts in my mind I am slipping into a paranoid state, which will eventually grind me down into an early submission to the totality of depression, which confirms the day as a write-off “Go to sleep now…..”. Luckily, possibly on one of the few occasions I have managed to do so, today it looks like I have grasped the poison and stamped it out before it spread, as it would have done if left alone.
It only takes somebody to make a very small criticism of something I have said or done to unsettle my sense of self. This is what happened today – and the criticism was tiny!!! It unsettled my sense of self for a moment, and in this period of identity crisis, spinning me back and forth like a pinball, the voices of undistinguished others filled my mind, repeating the things my paranoia thinks, and fears, these ‘others’ are saying about me.
As soon as the non-existent voices fill the mind, like script lines from a television drama on myself, it all becomes an awful ride. Following on from this, at points, I want to have the most thunderous arguments with these people who have accidentally, due to my low self-esteem, poisoned me, peaking at a vision of self-destructive point-proving about my inadequacies.
Paranoia makes mountains out of molehills, getting you to hate for no good reason, then the mountains just simply crumble, leaving you in the incapable state of self-loathing. The mind, it’s a weird fucking thing! It even allows me to laugh at my own spells of madness whilst I’m still in the midst of it!
It’s such a good thing that I’ve managed to stamp it out quickly today – other days I just wouldn’t have been capable of doing so. But the snowy weather outside, which makes it ever-harder to physically move from a static position from where depression can easily pounce on the depressive, has gone. It’s like it was never here; and today it seems like depression was never here. I really hope I can remember how to tackle paranoia before it spreads after future makes and future criticism made of me, because paranoia is the most useless thing ever and it wastes so much of one’s life!

About John Ledger

A visual Artist, eternal meanderer and obsessive self-reflector by nature, who can’t help but try to interpret everything from within the tide of society. His works predominantly take the form of large scale ballpoint pen landscape drawings and map-making as social/psychological note-making. They are slowly-accumulating responses to crises inflicted upon the self in the perplexing, fearful, empty, and often personality-erasing human world.

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