Life moves on - or does it

Can't believe it is 5 years since I wrote in this blog. I used to write here because it helped my head. I was going through depression and a messy divorce which was tough, and at the time I felt I was a victim - which to an extent I was - but I was also selfish. I slept around and played with at least one person's heart quite badly.

Still life is different, it has moved on and I have remarried to someone who actually loves me and who I love. I haven't cut myself, or slept around so on the face of it things are better. But I have had losses too, painful losses. Last year I lost my mum, and earlier this year my stepdad, both people I loved dearly and whom I some how had imagined would always be around. I miss them daily and it hurts, but I never let it out. No one sees my grief.

When I was depressed I was also very creative, I made music, and even tried painting.I learned to appreciate the beauty of art, and some of the deep messages it conveyed. But they put me on pills to cure my depression, and somehow my creativity went too, I have lost my confidence as a musician and the messages in art and music, once so plain to me have gone.

What has also changed is I understand the impact I have on others around me much more, five years ago I hadn't a clue how my weirdness and depression affected others.

Having someone special, who I love dearly helps a lot, I am not desperate, not running away from this 'thing' in my head anymore. But I am still troubled - I fear not being a good husband, I fear what is probably true, that the troubles in my life and my relationships are of my causing.  I fear screwing up again and causing pain to my dear wife. I still have the demon inside me that makes me like men, and I fear that too. But most of all I fear dying, having achieved nothing, and experienced nothing, I have been present at two deaths of the two people dear to me, and even if I am confident of where they (and I) are going. The journey scares me, it scares the hell out of me.