Cleanse

So as you may or may not know I’m not religious or atheist or agnostic, I just am. I’m moderately spiritual and hold belief in nature, energy and the elements. At times of crisis we need something more to see us through and I have found great solace in slowing down and finding synchronicity with the world. I’ve spent lots of time walking and thinking and observing.

The last few days I have been really on edge, and not surprisingly this syncs with the waning moon. The moon is a huge influence on me and I feel drawn to her power.

Today we had a day of cooking, then walking up at ‘The Devil’s Kneading Trough’ in Wye’s Nature Reserve. After a heady and heartfelt ramble through the forest we were treated to the most beautiful sunset. It marked the perfect ending of one phase and a willingness to start the next. We’d had a fire in the garden earlier in the afternoon and we sat in quiet awe on the hillside with woodsmoke in our hair and talked about feeling present.

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Checking my moon app it said today is ‘a day of creative thinking, it’s holy and magical, but sometimes it lasts just a few minutes. It is the first day of a lunar month, the beginning of a new moon cycle. This is a very clean (pure) day.’

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Back home I fed the fire more until it was so dark I couldn’t see what I was doing. I decided to honour the new cycle by making a smudge stick to fully cleanse the house. It’s something I’ve been meaning to do for a while and today was the perfect day. I found a tutorial here but to be honest its very easy. It does explain their background in Native American Culture so is worth a look.

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Mine is mostly the traditional sage, with a little rosemary, thyme and lavender thrown in.

Processed with VSCO with c2 presetI bound it in twine and lit it with one of my homemade candles before wandering through the entire house allowing the smoke to chase away the dark. Little Bear approved, she followed everywhere meowing.

Processed with VSCO with c3 presetI now feel like a proper witch tee hee. It matches my moon glyph tattoos and here it is with the new moon symbol.

Brain malfunction

Sorry this talks openly about suicidal thoughts. If you don’t want to know don’t read on.

You know you’re not right when you walk past a beautiful place and think ‘I want to die here’. It just seeps into your conscious like damp in an old house. Then thats it, your head fills with mildew and once again your at the bottom of the hole. You claw your way slowly back towards the light. Knees grazed, nails ripped and dirt in you hair you stand up one more time.

Disclaimer: I’m OK today which is why I can write this so no one send any police or ambulances or whats apps. If its any consolation I had to cross a railway track about 5 metres from said beautiful spot. I stopped and took my earphones out, looked both ways before carefully picking my way across the track. This is what mental health feels like, in a heartbeat you take care crossing the railway but want to drown in the stream. I constantly surprise myself. I got asked what stopped me I couldn’t remember at the time but I remember now. I didn’t have any stones to weigh me down, no painkillers to make me sleep and I thought if my phone gets wet I won’t hear music as my last thing. Rational hey?

Today I am thankful for:

  1. Beth who cares so much
  2. Sally and her words and depth
  3. Cherries

Walking

The trouble with walking so far is getting back.

Every gate I open has to be closed in case I set the beasts free.

Every footprint retrod in a different way.

All the effort with none of the anticipation.

A glance to check only my shadow follows.

The world is big and I am small.

The day has turned tail with me.

I’m back to the safe and known,

I’m back to something new and unknown.

Just breathe

They say just breathe.

I do,  counting in and out until I can’t breathe.

 

She said she colours in when alone, she does half.

It’s not good enough so she stops.

 

They say do stuff for yourself, I try,

I achieve nothing but tiredness.

 

I tell myself seek beauty.

I walk, it makes the world an uglier place.

 

He said it was dead.

It died when I thought it was alive

 

We’re at the hospital waiting for the grown up to decide.

They don’t come, it’s only us.

 

I see comedy to find a smile.

There’s  only tears,  I tremble.

 

I listen to an old song to feel.

It breaks me all over again, press repeat.

 

The radio instructs me walk to clear my head.

Alone on the path, my head is more full than ever.

 

He says he’s tired of explaining.

Who to? You only told me and yourself lies.

Pull your socks up, the glass is half full, this is the worst it’ll be, be positive, eat better, exercise more, make a plan, breathe, be kind, be compassionate

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I do all these things and am back to the start. Just breathe.

I’m Sorry

I’m sorry that ‘my mental illness’ made me want to give up,

to stop the searing pain that your words created.

 

I’m sorry that my self harm made you look bad,

next time I’ll do it better.

 

I’m sorry that I’m not good enough for you,

do you know what I’m not good enough for me either.

 

I’m sorry that my body disgusts you, grew fat and broke,

it betrayed me too and I’m stuck with it.

 

I’m sorry you are tired of explaining yourself,

if you told the truth you may not have to and it wouldn’t be so exhausting.

 

I’m sorry I won’t go away and get over it,

your decision made me powerless and I can’t make it stop.

 

I’m sorry I didn’t listen enough to the tales of how good looking you are,

narcissism is pretty ugly.

 

I’m sorry that I’m humiliated that you bought the betrayers into my life, my home,

in my weakest moment made weaker.

 

I’m sorry that I’m that fucking stupid that I thought years together were building a life,

apparently it had been ‘dead for ages’.

 

I’m sorry I’m unclassy, I am a bad person who did a bad thing once.

I’m sorry I robbed others of dignity. I’ll carry this forever because I feel.

I’M JUST SORRY

From A Closet In Norway (Oslo Blues)

I would rather be any place but here

Spin the bottle or roll the dice, my dear
‘Cause I can’t care, I can’t seem to break my fall
It seems I would rather be any place at allSo if the world is round now, why can’t we have everything?
‘Cause the highs are so high, these lows are killing me, killing me, killing me

I remember when wind would make me cry
I remember when wasn’t afraid to die
I wish I’d never, never fallen in love
So take this soul I sold, I’m going back in time

So if the world is round now, why can’t we have everything?
‘Cause the highs are so high, these lows are killing me, killing me, oh, they’re killing me

Seems the dying are the only ones that really know how to live
It seems the dying are the only ones that really know how to live
Seems the dying are the only ones that really know how to live
It seems the dying are the only ones that really know how to live

 



A Year

Inside it was damp and stank like the garage, too many winters had passed.

It was full of snail shells, skeleton leaves and the big chest freezer.

 

You saw something in there, a hideaway, where I saw old,

You pushed your way through years of uncollected belongings.

 

You pulled out forgotten items of no use and found a purpose,

You began to make the unloved beautiful again.

 

That Spring you flung open the windows and let sunlight warm the darkest corner,

You dared to build from what others said was rubbish.

 

 

That Summer I grew things and tended them for it felt OK to dream,

We ate them greedily whilst sitting on an old palette bench in the sunshine.

 

The year grew on and we marched amongst the red apples and purple berries.

The fruits began to fall, their bitter decay intoxicating and vile.

 

As Winter came and the light dimmed you became distant and cruel,

We had a fire to keep and searched for solace amongst its flames.

 

The nights grew longer and the black filled our hearts.

Little by little the dream became frostbitten and bare.

 

One day you were not in the garden, or the house or anywhere.

I searched but only found more emptiness.

 

Brambles and ivy crept through the garden and into my heart,

I clawed at them to be rewarded with their thorns embedded in my skin.

 

With one last attempt to keep warm and see the winter through I lit the fire.

This time it was inside, the house and inside myself.

 

It raged and burnt in glory, its sharp tongues licked but provided no warmth.

For days it burnt with choking black smoke.

 

Inside it is charred and hollow, inside me is charred and hollow,

I’m waiting for you to clear the ashes and let them become the earth again.

Gratitude

resilience-700x300-1After an 8.05am MRI in Euston (45 minutes scan with dye), and full on anxiety attack, a dip into despair , driving 2 hours, and a full on counselling session I’m pooped.

Just enough left to resume gratitude.

Today I’m thankful for:

  1. The kindness of strangers
  2. Portishead
  3. My tiny shred of resilience

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