Doing battle with demons

Much as I would like this to be about writing actual warfare with demonic entities, it is alas rather more metaphorical. The demons in question are things that I live with on a day to day basis.

Everyone has their personal demons. For some it's all things alcoholic, for others their health. Life - or perhaps Someone - appears to have gifted creative people with a disproportionate share of personal demons. There's certainly no shortage of musicians, artists or authors with tragic life stories and the kind of self-destructive behavior that usually goes with losing to one's demons.

Mine have been... loud lately. It happens. I can go months, even years, with the medication cocktail keeping everything under control. Then something shifts, shakes my balance a bit, and they're back, whispering their perverse little notions into my mind and trying to convince me that the world would be a better place without me in it.

It's not that bad yet. I've gotten better at recognizing the early warning signs and doing something about it. One of the somethings is - surprise! - splatting to everyone I consider half-way friendly about what's going on, on the grounds that the more I talk it out, the more chance there is something someone says will be the right trigger to chase them off. This time.

I even know what's causing this outbreak - I'm mentally and emotionally worn out. Unfortunately, I'm also not getting any kind of time away until Christmas, when a much-delayed cleanup of the house has to happen. Since the layoffs were announced at the start of the year, there's been no letup in the constant grind of too much to do, not enough time to do it, and everything is more critical than everything else. Add in project scope blowout and a whole bunch of other work stress factories, big and little, and a bunch of family-related stress, and I've run out of me.

The real problem with this, at least as far as the Mad Genius Club is concerned, is that it plays havoc with my writing when this sort of thing hits. I can go weeks without writing anything when an episode hits - or worse, everything I write turns darker-than-dark.

How do you get past these crashes? What - if anything - helps you to dig out of the hole and get back on the level again?

Doing Battle With Demons

Much as I would like this to be about writing actual warfare with demonic entities, it is alas rather more metaphorical. The demons in question are things that I live with on a day to day basis.

Everyone has their personal demons. For some it's all things alcoholic, for others their health. Life - or perhaps Someone - appears to have gifted creative people with a disproportionate share of personal demons. There's certainly no shortage of musicians, artists or authors with tragic life stories and the kind of self-destructive behavior that usually goes with losing to one's demons.

Mine have been... loud lately. It happens. I can go months, even years, with the medication cocktail keeping everything under control. Then something shifts, shakes my balance a bit, and they're back, whispering their perverse little notions into my mind and trying to convince me that the world would be a better place without me in it.

It's not that bad yet. I've gotten better at recognizing the early warning signs and doing something about it. One of the somethings is - surprise! - splatting to everyone I consider half-way friendly about what's going on, on the grounds that the more I talk it out, the more chance there is something someone says will be the right trigger to chase them off. This time.

I even know what's causing this outbreak - it's work-related. I'm mentally and emotionally worn out. Unfortunately, I'm also not getting any kind of time away until September when I'm going to be exhausting myself visiting Australia. Since the layoffs were announced at the start of the year, there's been no letup in the constant grind of too much to do, not enough time to do it, and everything is more critical than everything else. Add in project scope blowout and a whole bunch of other work stress factors, big and little, and I've run out of me.

The real problem with this, at least as far as the Mad Genius Club is concerned, is that it plays havoc with my writing when this sort of thing hits. I can go weeks without writing anything when an episode hits - or worse, everything I write turns darker-than-dark.

How do you get past these crashes? What - if anything - helps you to dig out of the hole and get back on the level again?

Oh, and self-pity doesn't work. Chocolate does, at least until the pounds start piling up.

Movember Madness

Talking of mind-body connections, I have recently been hosting a symbiotic alien on my upper lip in support of men’s health (that’s me in the front pointing off into the distance).

It’s certainly been interesting watching the various reactions of people to being a mustachioed individual. I’ve also discovered that people can’t resist matching you up with famous people who had mustaches. Our HR manager has Inspector Clouseau down pat, while I have it from various reliable sources that I am indeed Zorro. This now explains all those flamboyant Z’s that have been scribed on walls all around the house, and the masks I find in my laptop bag.

The mustachioed experience has been in support of Movember – to raise money for and promote awareness of men’s health, particularly prostate cancer and depression. As many men die from prostrate cancer as women from breast cancer so it is an important issue.Its been fun so far, with a local hamburger chain giving away free burgers to Mo-Men. Its certainly amusing to line up with around twenty to thirty very dodgy looking guys.

One of the guys in our office, from India, had us beat on day three – he already looked like he’d been growing his for a month.I would say I have definitely suffered for my facial art. My wife had been away for the first two weeks I had grown it, and when she came back she couldn’t stop laughing. ‘I can’t look at you!’ It took a little persuasion to get a kiss. ‘Like kissing a bristle brush,’ was her comment. Things have certainly changed since my father’s generation. He was fond of telling me an old saying he got from his father: ‘Kissing a man without a mustache is like having soup without salt.’ Well it certainly must have made sense once.

Here we are enjoying a pint at the local (I'm second from the far right).














Here I am feeding my symbiotic alien Belgian beer in order to neutralize its psychic power. It claims to have the ability to give me Mojo, but I suspect that this power only worked in the 1970s.

If I can raise $200 by the end of the month, then Movember will do the removal operation at no charge! Help save me from this megalomaniac mustache.

If you feel like donating to a worthy cause please use the link below:

http://au.movember.com/mospace/383746