Depresssiom

I learn through repeated and stupid failure. No. That is quite wrong I. Don't learn. I repeat habits as all animals do and we repeat them until they kill us. Be it driving, drinking, eating chocolate, climbing rock faces, or experimenting with drugs. Most of us know the practice that is destroying them. I once spent a month with an alcoholic who was on the wagon. We chatted, played cards. But he was bored. That wasn't life to him. Ultimately he chose to return to drink and the socialisation and human interaction it delivers. Maybe his life was shortened by this by some few months. But these were not months he would have wanted to repeat. This is the toughest part for thr freinds and family of addicts to understand. It is alo the reason I struggle to follow the twelve steps. I respect the AA and the NA but I have no higher power, not one with any care for me. It is a terrible thing to wat h an alcoholic drink themselves to death. Just as it is terrible to watch anyone die from the fate that chooses them. Cancer. You can argue that the cancer victim has no choice in their condition but can you really believe the serious drug addict or alcoholic would choose theier condition. Though the windows of pleasure, the odd smiles or rambling drunken tales reveal volition it is not volition as the straight know it. When the illness shows up again I never know why. Trace it back to tiny events, casual meetings. But it's never that really. For me a dark rejection of human society may overcome me. A disgust at the species. Inequality is written in to us. Some are born clever, motivated, driven, beautiful, a talent for dance, for others it is the lottery of birth in to familial wealth. And even these trump cards some of us are played can not beat that feeling I carry each day of rejection from society. I know I am a weird man. An odd fellow. Most don't feel entirely comfortable in my company. Yet I do attract . I am not alone. I have spent days in my past preoccupied with my self destruction. But there are people who need me and though some periods I endure are of suffering the loss I would inflict would be a shame that wrestles even this suicidal madness to the ground.
Tomorrow I begin again on a new piece and one that could be my best. I know I am no artist for history books but I've still a modest catalogue. I fear returning to the workshop. Fear reaquaintence with other makers. Fear Dook maybe too naughty for that environment. I find it difficult to interact with the people there. I blame all kinds of crap that could be the cause of my separation, my weirdness. This is the second break from furniture I have taken in the last two years. The first I was close to death but this time I should be able to pull it round. Depression. You have to learn to live with it because I know no cure. Only  ointments. Like making things. Heroin, crack, alcohol, benzos. And out of all those listed making things is better for the world.
And I am aware I am being given a third chance. I can only offer in response that you misunderstand how the world works. No one chooses depression, alcoholism, heroin addiction. If you don't know that then you have ot experienced sufferers of these afflictions. And you can scoff. Suggest the cancer sufferer had no choice in the matter whilst the lush reached for the bottle. But when you see the body of a hanging man, come across your closest childhood freind withe hyperdermic Syringe fallen from their groin. Then you see the difference may hold a morsel of truth, but only a starving man would find sucor from these grains.