Sunday, 27 September 2015


Sometimes I leave this blog for a while because I feel like I have nothing to say. It happens out in the real world, too, when my brain and mouth don't co-operate and I forget what I was going to say or just can't get the right words out in time. It's the same when it comes to writing. That has a name and we call it Writer's Block.

How it sometimes feels!

Some of it comes down to a feeling of uselessness, of feeling isolated in a world that I don't connect with. There are some days when I sit and watch the news, or read a magazine, or scroll through social media and feel like I'm living on a planet that isn't my home. I wonder why people find celebrities fascinating, why wars continue to happen over the tiniest thing, or why a video is suddenly headline news. For me, there are days when none of it makes sense and it feels as though you can't see the wood for the trees.

Other times, it's a sense that my voice is too small for this world. That people don't want to listen because, to them, what I have to say is of no meaning. So why waste the time trying to verbalise my opinions to such people?

Some of it could also be down to still adjusting to a life without medication. It's not unknown for the body to take months to make the adjustment, long after the brain has made the necessary alterations.

More often than not, it's related to stress and the exhaustion that brings with it. Recently I moved house and, for the first two weeks, I could do little more than sleep and work. I'd get up, go to work, come home, and just... fade as though there was a switch deep inside of me that would flick off. It was that point where you knew you'd get nothing more done that day. Which is tough to deal with especially when there's a hundred and one things you want to do.

For me, I saw it as a chance to relax and heal. This is a new stage in life. A new place for me to be. A chance for me to sort out my old belongings and put plans in to action for the next period of this thing that we call “Life”. There's many things I want to do and now I feel like I have a fighting chance of doing them. One thing I am learning is that it takes time. Things don't happen overnight. Nor do they happen without some kind of effort on our part. Blood, sweat and tears really do lead to success, whether it's today, tomorrow, or in ten years time.

But there are also times when you just need to take it easy and appreciate what you have around you. For none of us know what tomorrow brings. 


Rae is the author of the award winning Veetu Industries series. You can find all of her books here.

Sunday, 6 September 2015

Post-Gig Depression

It's real, folks. Very, very real. For many people, music isn't just a passing phase. It's a way of life. It's a big deal with bands and songs meaning something to them. They go to shows. They collect merchandise. They listen to the albums so often they can quote the songs word for word. Most of all, they have a connection to the people behind that music.

And there's no better place to experience that than at a concert. It's in those hallowed venues that friends and memories are made and deeper connections are formed. The people in the venue, whether they realise it or not, are a part of something. It's in those twilight, magic music filled moments that things happen. For most, if not all of them, the concert they're attending is something very special.

But it's what happens afterwards that many people don't think about. Have you ever been to a show and come out feeling as though life is amazing? Your skin tingles, your ears ring, and your brain whirls. You feel invincible. You feel as though you can take on the world.

And then you wake up the following morning. At first, you feel great. You go through the photos you took. You hum along with the songs you sang the previous night. You look at the merch you bought. You fondly remember the friends, both old and new, that you met.

Yet it doesn't last for long. As the day wears on you feel sad. You might put it down to tiredness, aching legs, or ringing ears. Your movements become slower and eventually you find yourself sitting and staring into space. With a giant sigh, you finally admit it to yourself.

I don't feel so good. And it's not because I'm tired and aching and cranky. My brain feels sad.

It happens as the endorphins from the previous evening begin to wear off. That natural high you found, and want to keep finding, is leaving. All you want to do is grab hold of it again and never let go. It's even harder to deal with if you want to see that band again and they're not coming anywhere near you for the next few years. Suddenly the wait feels like a lifetime. You might have to go through another tour cycle with the band visiting places you can only dream of visiting. You might have to wait for another album to be released. You might even have to wait while the band take a well earned break. It can seem like a long, long time.

Post-gig depression is very real and it's important that you take care of yourself in those moments. Talk to people you went to the show with, or even people you didn't. Surround yourself with fellow fans so you relive the excitement and plan for the next one. Just never give up on the music because soon it'll be time to dance again!