Day 4

 

Day 4 #30GratefulDays

Today I went to a show, had a proper date night  with my husband, listened to the incredible word-spinning feminist that is Hollie McNish  laughed till I cried and was inspired to write and write and write some more. The theatre is walking distance to my house and the sea was wild that night, lightening shook the building and the seagulls circled, panicked overhead. We got soaked walking home, but the house was dry and warm. I am not alone. I married my best friend, who gives up his time just to be with me when I panic. Who sits with me and waits till the numbness passes. Who builds blanket forts and sits there with me till the stress in my mind slows down and I find myself again. We painted our home together and I had the energy to join in. Pain didn’t hinder me, I’ve learnt to take joy in household chores, I know that it’s incredible that I can move enough to do them and I enjoy the results of hard work.

via: noelia Va

via: noelia Va

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On Anxiety

Hard to start writing today……………….at least here….in this ‘real-writing’ place. Another label looms. Another word.

 

I know you. We’ve met before.

You are the space between the words, you are the unsent emails, texts and letters

You jump into my eyes and through my nose, clawing your way down my throat and over my heart.

You leap out of love filled messages, invitations, inclusions, p.l.a.n.s,

You are in email threads full of happiness and excitement

You stalk through crowded rooms and slap me in the face, so hard my nose bleeds

You stroke my hair as I sit on this sofa now. You whisper; Alone. Safe. Alone. Safe…… Alone is safe.

You make me sick. You sink  my feet into concrete shoes and pour boiling oil down my spine.

You prickle the back of my eyes till they water. You spin ice cubes in a glass. You twirl my hair and play with a silent phone just to ‘look-busy’.

You keep me in the same place. You suffocate me and spin me out till all I see is black.

Image credit: Beethy on DeviantArt

Image credit: Beethy on DeviantArt

You whisper that you are my friend, that I deserve this, that it’s better, that there’s no point that I’m not-one-of-them,

you’re wrong you’re wrong I am I know I am……….aren’t I…..where have I gone?

You snake an arm around my shoulders and the world zones out, hard lines blurr and I can’t hear what you’re saying

Frustration and Anger pale into insignificance compared to the rage I feel when I see you.

I’ve beaten you before, so I don’t know why you’re back now.

Image credit: Hito76 on Deviant Art

Image credit: Hito76 on Deviant Art

I know you’re just anxiety. I know you’re  just fear of fear. But still you are here. I know it. So why don’t you leave me alone?

You’re in every invite, every party, every event. Not in my house, not with my family. You’re slimy claws haven’t scraped in there just yet.

But everywhere else, on the bus, in a shop, at meals and friends houses you churn up my stomach and make my heart ache.

I know I’ve lost you before. I can loose you again. I can and I am.

Exposing you is a start.

Today I’ll hold on to that and let go of you.

“Compassion is not a relationship between the healer and the wounded. It's a relationship between equals. Only when we know our own darkness well can we be present with the darkness of others. Compassion becomes real when we recognize our shared humanity.”  ~Pema Chödrön, from her book, "The Places That Scare You: A Guide to Fearlessness in Difficult Times."

“Compassion is not a relationship between the healer and the wounded. It’s a relationship between equals. Only when we know our own darkness well can we be present with the darkness of others. Compassion becomes real when we recognize our shared humanity.”
~Pema Chödrön, from her book, “The Places That Scare You: A Guide to Fearlessness in Difficult Times.”

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I am an onion

So, what news? Today my confidence in this blog is faltering. I write for me, to heal, to let go, to send it out into the ether. Sometimes it might be ‘good’, literary even, sometimes it’s drivel, sometimes sentimental rot. It is my heart on my sleeve. It is my courage and my truth. If you don’t like don’t read. Perhaps it has jeopardised any possible carer……………I don’t know…I do know after I blog I feel better, so here goes.

These past few weeks my physical pain is much less. Tick, tick! I have passing spasms, quick shoots, which leave a trail of fire, smart and go out. Nothing too debilitating, nothing crippling, no seizures either. Instead my mental-brain-pain seems to have increased ten-fold…….. in some ways this is alot harder and alot darker. I can’t see the wood for the trees and I don’t even want to be in these fecking woods in the first place!!

I feel like a giant onion. Each week I peel back a new layer, it makes me cry, so I numb myself up, with children’s stories, thumb sucking, hot showers, staying-in, cancelling events and hiding, till I can’t feel anything, so I won’t cry, but then my onion-self starts to hurt so with a heavy heart and shaking fingers I peel back another layer and on it goes and on…I wonder when my onion self will be peeled – and ready?? Soon I hope!

Created By ToxicAvenger :  iselin, New Jersey, United States

Created By ToxicAvenger : iselin, New Jersey, USA

This weeks layer contained these facts;

1.  I AM FINE. I AM OK. I AM RIGHT – I am shouting this from a mountain way off in the distance, I am screaming till I’m blue in the face, sweat drips from my forehead, I’m shouting so loud. I AM FINE I AM FINE but… no one can hear me…no one even sees me. Instead there are hugs, hands, extra smiles, loving eyes, extra encouragement, ‘special arrangements’, recommendations and ‘awareness’. All these things come from places of love and yet instead of Love I simply see, again and again; YOU ARE NOT FINE, YOU ARE NOT FINE, YOU ARE NOT FINE… this leads me to ;

2. If you think I am not fine then I cannot really be right, so I must be wrong.

3. If I am wrong and you are right why are you here? Pity?

4. Through every extra loving action, every box of tablets, every held hand, every trip to the doctor, every ‘special arrangement’ I have learnt that I am wrong, I am not fine, I am broken. If I am so wrong, what’s the point in caring? I have always been wrong I will always be wrong. Being wrong is WHO I AM. Isn’t it? Being wrong is a bad thing. So therefore I am a bad thing and I don’t like bad things…….. I like positivity, tea and love-man! Don’t I?

5. Perhaps if somehow I become ‘right’ everyone will leave me.

………my head aches  trying to make sense of this…….

a rambling blog….part of my tussle with TMS…..the path is not straight or smooth or marked in anyway. I am lost in the surf, spun in the washing machine, held down in the impact zone and I don’t know which way is up. I see a light but whose is it? Perhaps this blog will lead me to it. Perhaps now that spring is here.

Resurrection is no once-in-history miracle Each moment offers a new now Each swell of breath rolls rock from tomb This morning the peepers call to prayer From the vernal spring Itself a miracle of renewal Shrouded sunlight Gentles me awake To new life -Howard Jacobson

Resurrection is no once-in-history miracle
Each moment offers a new now
Each swell of breath rolls rock from tomb
This morning the peepers call to prayer
From the vernal spring
Itself a miracle of renewal
Shrouded sunlight
Gentles me awake
To new life
-Howard Jacobson

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Discrimination and me

Discrimination. A nasty word. Something everyone seems so keen to PROVE they don’t ‘do’ now, not ‘now’ and yet, despite this ‘awareness’ everyone seems so keen to tell you they now have, I see it rear its ugly head again and again on and on until I see no end in sight… so, I want to tell you how this feels. I want you to see the inside…gliding wheels start to roll and click…invisible, whole and smooth…I want to speak my truth and shout it out…I want change, I want freedom and I want hope…

hope

…Imagine a slap across your face from your best friend, lead cannnon balls shoved into you stomach, similar lead balls attached to all your limbs, your legs, toes, arms, even your little finger is weighed down by the crushing weight. Cotton wool is stuffed into your every orrafice, you try to scream but no sound comes out, your head fills up with fog, your eyes unfocus and a tear escapes, burning, scalding your face as it dripples past your clogged up nose. You feel sick, the world spins…and passes on by….no one looks back…you are just another body, another lump of meat. Now another feeling takes over, in place of the lead weight an ache begins to spread, from nose to toes and ache so agonisingly familiar it breaks your heart every time, everyone know this ache, we call it Loneliness. You are utterly and completly alone. Alone, silent, hopeless and agonised. That is it. There is no more………..

This is how it feels

This is how it feels

Those words are the best I can muster yet seem to do the feeling no justice. Anything you imagine, double, triple it and you’ll be close to how discrimination makes me feel. Today I rang up to check my health insurance- which I only have really to cover me for Epilepsy-emergencys (#NHS lover!) they informed me that not only do they not cover epilepsy, they haven’t done so since 2007 and therefore the only way they could not charge me for the years of Neurological visits I’ve had since was if they ‘ammended’ my records to say ‘mental health’ and not epilepsy………………………………………………………..they proposed this as if it was a FAVOUR, as if encouraging to lie about my health was a good thing…. they bunched together epilepsy and mental health – ignorantly and dissmisively whilst they made sure to also remind me of what a good job they’d done over the years for me…. I told them to scrap the contract. So now I face the possibility of not being able to see my Neurologist if I need too…

mental health

This might seem like a non-event and in some ways it is. But that’s just it, it’s in the non-events, here >< that discrimination thrives. There was and is no consideration at corporate levels for how these type of policies affect people on a personal level. They work, economically and bureaucratically. But personally they are catastrophic. I believe that if we do not begin to see tangible change in big companies in regards to equality for gender, racial and disABILITY, we will end up with a population in mental-health crisis-land.  For me this episode was a major trigger. I cant stop crying. The loneliness is consuming, predatory and sickening.

To try and shake it I went to the seaside and I breathed… and I found a perfectly round piece of seaglass. Perhaps a marble. A beautiful thing. I held it and thought;

Sea

I am grateful for the sea, for the sound of the waves and the salt on the wind,

I am grateful that even when it’s flat and grey, it’s always on the move,

I am grateful for the horizon, promising the new day

I am grateful I can walk to see it

I am grateful for my friends and my family

I am grateful for this round piece of seaglass, proof that nature and man can, with a little perseverance make things beautifull.

Seaglass

One Love.

 

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