The Grey Monster

Some people would say Mondays suck. It’s the start of the working week, it marks the end of the weekend hence the start of the loop work – home – work.

On the other hand, Mondays mark a beginning. I suppose many of you out there had started a sentence, or several sentences such as “I will start doing … on Monday.” But there is another point of view.

The grey monster.

This is the way I see my condition. A way to rationalize it, to separate it from myself.

I watched a movie past weekend called “Daybreakers”. Nothing fancy, just the end of the world, vampires and some poor humans suffering.

But it had a certain point of view that was unique. When it was night-time and a vampire was there, the movie was black and white. When it was daytime (rare) and a human was there, the movie was in color.

One can give a reason for the director using this technique, or many.

Vampires=Soulless monsters=No colors=No feelings… etc.

But it is not my point. After all, meaning is for each and everyone to give, regardless of its existence. Something like “Schrodinger’s Cat”, it’s either there or it isn’t,  depends if you want to give a meaning or not.

I want, but that’s for another entry.

My point is the “greyness”. An entity that’s inside me, consuming colors. Feasting on feelings and pleasures. Replaces everything with shades of grey. So I can’t differentiate time at work from time with friends. Time to rest and time to spend doing maths. Time alone and time with my son.

All feel the same. All seem the same. No sense of continuum or purpose. No sense of rest. Just time after time after time.

That’s what my “Grey Monster” does. Devours colors, feelings and purpose. Takes away meaning.

So either Monday or Friday, it makes no difference.

Just emptiness…


don’t know if I can continue.


Tame your demons

I read a post of a fellow blogger/co-sufferer a few days ago. A brutal one. Talking about suicidal thoughts and how they effect our lives. So…

Last Thursday I tried to kill myself.

Being with this “state of mind” for many years and riding the roller-coaster of my troubled mind I know that suicidal thoughts are on the menu along with two oranges after my training or cereal for breakfast. But this time it was different. The thought became reality.

A reality that was permanent.

A universe of certainty in which I had no place.

In which I didn’t belong.

In which everything would be better if I didn’t existed.

In which my absence was justified.

All seemed logical and all made sense. There was a mathematical certainty in my mind that my most precious “cause and effect” rule applied. And in mathematics there are no grey areas. There’s only right and wrong. Black and white. And since my black was measurable and had a “true” value only one thing was missing.


There’s no point of details I suppose. The fact that I’m blogging about this means that either the wi-fi of Hell inside my mind has an excellent signal all the way to the afterlife or that there was a mathematical glitch in the universe that I don’t exist.

And believe me… I know my maths.

Lets not discuss about my options. Lets not get in an endless discussion of medication, therapy, loved ones and afterlife. We’ve all been there and we know that the spotlight mostly doesn’t care about punishment for taking your own life, doesn’t measure the pain we will inflict on others… It cares only for lighting the “no other way out” sign.

Instead lets focus on that darkness whispering. Perhaps we could see that certain of its attributes gives us something that other people lack. That would be different to each and everyone of you. But I think you all know what I mean.

For me is a better use with words (I dare not say writing), an understanding of maths and an affection for everything that is dark and gloomy. Something that distinct me from everyone else. The darkness whispers false words but on the other hand, darkness is us. It is a part of us.

It’s not the better part of us and some of us would absolutely say “I can live without the darkness if it means I get to live”. I couldn’t agree more. If that was actually an option. In my mind it is a bit different. At least for the past couple of days. Perhaps it’s the creative part of us. Perhaps it’s some sort of twisted compass that points to a direction. A weird self-destructive direction. Will follow it for a bit and let you know.

“All you have is your fire
And the place you need to reach
Don’t you ever tame your demons
But always keep them on a leash”

to be continued

The Kindness Of Strangers

More than a week has pasted since my first entry in here. I try not to think about it as a blog/social media rampage of likes and followers. An endless self consuming pursuit of “look-how-handsome-and-clever-I-am”.

Instead it is a journal and a self-exploration and a healing process. A conversation with oneself about one’s deepest and scariest things that dwell in one’s mind. A search for a light (or lights) that might lead somewhere bright and sunny.

Or at least … some light. And I really need it.

I know (we all do) that there are simple answers to our questions, answers such as:

  • “It’s all in your head, there’s a spotlight that amplifies what to feel to the tenfold”.
  • “Try to find the light wherever you can and acknowledge it for what it is.”
  • “Share with your loved ones”.
  • “A therapist in addition with the right medication can improve things”.

I suppose there’s no need to go on. We’ve all been there. We all know that feeling, despite the difference in our condition.

So we all know the feeling of despair, emptiness and darkness that makes us numb and self destructive. That forces us to stay in bed and do nothing. That makes us walk around in circles not ready to face the “nothome” reality of our home. That urges us to get lost in crowded bars, lonely between other people. That drives us to get connected with wrong people, just to get a reassuring word and a touch that in our troubled mind says “I care“.

I need not go on either I suppose.

But being here among you BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE taught me another thing.

We’re not alone, or if I can rephrase it with one of the most beautiful comments that I have read, “let us be alone, together“.

Anonymity is also a blessing in which we can talk without being judged.

There are people out there that suffer as you do and within their suffering they still find the strength to offer a hand and say “I’m here, I can relate”.

They care and they read and they comment and they share. So we all can continue sharing. And we all can continue being. And we all can see our suffering from a set of fresh eyes and say “I can continue”.

I thank you all you beautiful people.

and the most important thing…


to be continued


It was more than a week ago, along Christmas holidays. No reason to write about the endless loop of despair and self doubt my mind was swimming with joy, most of you know that exact feeling.

As a sentimental (and romantic perhaps) move I bought along with my newspaper and two books a toy figurine of Wolverine, sharp claws and all, ready to defeat bad guys and save the day.

Though I felt like “Logan” in the latest of the wolverine sequels, I tried my best to sound a bit optimistic and send the following sms…

“There is a gift that I bought for you, something silly and meaningless perhaps but it meant a great deal to me. You will find it at the windshield of my car, it is parked just outside my house, you can’t miss it. It is there to protect you when I’m lost in the dark corners of my mind and I can’t help you myself. Love L.”

Three hours later, when my class ended I passed with my motorcycle outside my house. The Wolverine figurine was still there covered with snow. I turned on my cell-phone and read…

“Sorry babe, I just saw the sms. What were you talking about?”

No trusting my mood and my mind I didn’t reply and let it the incident get lost in some dark and dusty corridor along with other thoughts of despair, loneliness and self doubt. Took the figurine and left in somewhere in the chaos of my working desk.

This Friday afternoon, in a break between classes, my phone rang. It was my son, he was waiting with my parents at my house (it is my weekend with him).

“Thank you so much dad for the gift, found it on your desk.”

Puzzled, I tried to remember what gift was he talking about.

“I love wolverine, waiting for you to come home and play with me.”

Tears flood my eyes, feeling both an inadequate and a blessed father at the same time.


to be continued


Self Doubt

No kickboxing training yesterday evening. No endorphins either, so less light this morning than yesterday morning. Have to take a mental note and learn how long the endorphin effects last.

A beautiful mind is multitasking, seeking knowledge wherever it can. (applause please).

Didn’t want to go home either yesterday, so I took my books, my notebook and pen and my earphones (a must have if you wanna isolate yourself) and went to a crowded bar, one that I’m DJing from time to time.

Bipolar entertainer (applause again please).

Sat on a table far behind (labeled as “my office”, I use it quite often when I don’t want to go home), arranged my chair so I don’t face the interior but a wall with a black and white picture of James Dean, took out my “Advanced Calculus” and my notebook and armed with my earphones and a storm of loud grunge music I tried to get lost in my haven of maths.

Usually the complexity of maths followed by the inevitable outcome of  certainty that it provides made my mind feel “right”. The “cause equals effect” is something that gives meaning to my otherwise meaningless existence.

But yesterday it didn’t.

You’re bipolar you may add, you’re THE definition of “sometimes-things-work-and-sometimes-they-don’t”.

It’s not quite that simple. I got lost in my haven, I did find a safe place within Bolzano and Fermat. But occasionally i got out, checking my smartphone for notifications and messages, as if I wanted some sort of confirmation from other people. And of course some acknowledgment from my “better half” that I matter.

I’m not a social media junkie, I know that there are no friends in google+ or Facebook. But this thing that I’m doing right now… Blogging?

This is my first try to reach out from anonymity to strangers suffering as I do and get a smile, a comment and soothing word. But is it another rapid-hole that Lewis Carroll (bipolar mathematician and a next-door genius) would absolutely love?

Will have to get back to you on that too (seems that things that I’ll have to “get back to you” are pilling up). Share your thoughts if anyone can relate.


to be continued