Through the looking glass.

And the world spun on and she disappeared in between the gaps. The mirror looked like another room, but as she stepped through there was no drama or magic. She just slipped, into another place between the glass and out of sight.

It wasn’t a sudden event but had been a gradual process of slipping and fading. She once had burnt brightly and fiercer. She once had maybe been liked or even loved (or maybe duped into believing so). But friends who declared allegiance grew tired of her melancholy and as the dramas faded away, they too stopped calling. They wouldn’t be there with their promises a second time round. Their false declarations of solidarity and support made it feel worse.

Life was old news, just like her. She was unable to move forward, no energy to write a new chapter. Her brightness and glow from inside dissolved. Whilst those around flourished and grew from strength to strength and she wilted. She became a nobodies somebody. 

The world turned and as she did she slipped further into the shadows. Everything she’d achieved and earned burnt away as others shone so bright. The world had robbed her and left everyone else with something whilst she was nothing. 

She can’t do this world. She’s too tired, too lonely, too weak envious, too much, in pain and doesn’t want to anymore. Fed up of pretending, enough was enough. That’s when she discovered that the no place was a real place. A chance to step away and begin from scratch. It was her story, owned by her and she held the pen. She could write something new in a way that was  like no one else’s.

She held the pen and began to draw. The first thing she drew was a boat. Not grand, just a tiny vessel. Nothing more than a board bench and some oars. She climbed onboard and launched into the inky sea, and didn’t look behind even once.


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The Jigsaw

Last night I dreamt of a jigsaw puzzle. It was double sided and so large that it wouldn’t fit the table. I kept trying to find paper or card for it to rest on in sections so that they were preserved whilst I focused on another section. Then I found bigger table to move it to but it would fill this one too. It expanded faster than I could manage. 

Everytime I attempted it I couldn’t remember which side I was working on. Then I’d complete a large section and feel good and a sense of achievement. Like a taunt, I could almost glimpse the larger beast. But then I’d realise another section had fallen apart as I neglected it to focus on the current one.

All this was going on whilst others were in and out of the picture. Some people came to help and got sections complete with me. Others came and their insesent chatter and advice hindered the process. All this was trying to be achieved whilst pleasing these people and juggling the pieces. I had to serve dinner, casually chat to people. Even the task of doing something for myself got in the way. I didn’t have time for anything for me and felt isolated and alone. 

I couldn’t tell what the bigger picture was. As I completed small parts people’s faces would appear and sometimes the people around me would know the story behind who they were. This bit I loved and it kept me going.

I got to the point where the jigsaw was so frustrating that it was easier to give up and live in the moment. To ignore it in favour of activities that I could enjoy that made me feel hapoy. But then it became the huge unfinished project. The big box of broken pieces and failure hidden under the table, threatening to explode from its box as it grew.

This morning I googled jigsaws in dreams and found they symbolise the different aspects of our life coming together. That you should take a closer look to see if all the parts actually fit and come together in the right places. Do they all belong?

This couldn’t be more apt as this week I’ve shredded my life once again and asked so many questions. Do I live in the moment because it’s easier and there’s less disappointment? Do I plan for the future, because everytime I do chance and disaster dictate anyway. Am I a hedonist who is so fearful of failure and pain I miss the bigger picture? 

I’m not sure I’m doing any of this right, and it all feels out of  control. Apparently life is exciting like a puzzle, because we don’t know what it looks like in its entirety. I just feel a little lost and would like a peek at the box lid please? Otherwise how do I know if all the pieces belong and whether I like the picture at all? 

Narrow Margins

I can’t ever get this song out of my head. The words, oh the words, they say my all thoughts. The melody gets me in the pit everytime.

“Narrow Margins”
I can’t live this way

Breaking all my rules again

Choking on my gin

You push ’til I give in

‘Til the loser always wins
Somehow with his beckoning

Bruising with his threads

Confusing what he says

But I won’t live that way

Though I kind of want to anyway

Kind of want to play

With all the pretty and the pure

Well I return to the earth

I return to the dust

No more beauty by the pound

And this I do not trust
‘Cause nothing forgives

Rules and narrow margins

In our lives

It’s rules and narrow margins

But I will slip by
I can’t find the time

I don’t know the future

I couldn’t bring that past back

I waste what little time I have
But I swear I almost touched it

Yet it slipped between my fingers

Sent shivers down my spine

Cut a splinter in my mind
But it wasn’t nothing, again

These rules and narrow margins

But our life

Is rules and narrow margins

But I will slip by
Rules and narrow margins

Rules and narrow margins

But I will slip by
Half Moon Run

Mother’s Day Fallout

Dear Wolf

Its been a while since we had a chat about things. Mental health has taken prevalence over physical but I think both belong to you. You are the wolf that bites and the black dog that lurks. Mental health and physical health are linked.

Partly this is because mental health is physical. Maybe its nervous system damage or a chemical imbalance. Currently my diagnosis dances between ‘born with it’ and ‘bad experiences’. The old nature or nurture argument. It drives me mad that mental health is treated separately, but more on this another time.

What I really want to have is a little chat about that phrase ‘Its not surprising you’re feeling down with all that s going on’. Nope it really isn’t. Being limited and constrained feels unfair and chronic pain is simply torture.

Last Sunday was Mother’s Day, some say another hallmark day, I like just letting my mum know I’m grateful for her being my mum. But when you celebrate a group of people there’s always a whole group of people excluded. In this case women who are not mothers. My sister captured the feeling in her Instagram stories on the day…

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That shouldn’t be a problem, I hear you grumble, and generally it isn’t. It’s just sometimes it makes us feel sad to be left out. Sad to not have a choice in the first place. I don’t want to go into extensive detail. But diseases like Lupus are common in causing miscarriages, make for a high risk pregnancy and the meds we take are too strong. We are told fiercely by our doctors not to get pregnant. You can read a little more about it here.

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That’s the physical side and mentally it affects you too. I have an innate fear that I couldn’t care for a baby or child when I’m so exhausted all the time. I can’t even look after myself, let alone someone else. Also there’s a part of me which says ‘what if I pass it on’.

IMG_5143For me the most significant part of not being in the club are the questions from others. So I guess this post is a little get out clause for me. HAVING CHILDREN IS NOT A SIMPLE OPTION. And before you suggest giving up meds/ just doing it anyway/ not being so pessimistic/ tick tock time is running out/  when you’re better/ please believe me that these are things we’ve tried ver and over or run through in our heads.

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It just isn’t that simple and on top of the usual worries people have about money/ career/ relationships we just don’t have the choice. That is it really, as with all chronic illness it is being robbed of choice or options.

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So I’ll send my card and appreciate mums everywhere. I’ll ignore the targeted adverts about fertility or baby clothes. Pick my self up and keep on being me (with a little ache inside).

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I will tell you about selfish people…

Rupi Kaur

“I will tell you about selfish people. Even when they know they will hurt you they walk into your life to taste you because you are the type of being they don’t want to miss out on. You are too much shine to not be felt. So when they have gotten a good look at everything you have to offer. When they have taken your skin your hair and your secrets with them. When they realize how real this is. How much of a storm you are and it hits them.

That is when the cowardice sets in. That is when the person you thought they were is replaced by the sad reality of what they are. That is when they lose every fighting bone in their body and leave after saying you will find better than me.

You will stand there naked with half of them still hidden somewhere inside you and sob. Asking them why they did it. Why they forced you to love them when they had no intention of loving you back and they’ll say something along the lines of I just had to try. I had to give it a chance. It was you after all.

But that isn’t romantic. It isn’t sweet. The idea that they were so engulfed by your existence they had to risk breaking it for the sake of knowing they weren’t the one missing out. Your existence meant that little next to their curiosity of you.”

Rupi Kaur, Milk and Honey

Gosh this speaks so loud to my soul

Disentangle

ropeknife

You say we were two lives that need to disentangle.

But really some of each other became the other one.

That’s the problem. Where do you stop and I begin?

It’s less un-knotting and more a case of cutting it out.

It’s not like cutting out fat, sugar and carbs for my diet to make myself more attractive.

If I do this then I crave the bad.

Maybe I let a remanent of us remain?

It’s a dangerous game, I binge then purge.

More than that its like something that’s diseased.

You cut the tumour out stop it spreading.

I find rancid places to cut you out.

A surgeon, a butcher, a self-harmer.

I peel the taste buds from my tongue

because they shared a love of flavours,

that only we could understand and create.

A menu bittersweet.

I gauge the black place in my heart.

Like cutting the mould from cheese to preserve the rest.

Yet you always worry there’s some you didn’t remove,

and you’ll end up all bile inside.

I remove objects and reminders from my home.

Like cutting the pieces of a stencil,

to make it make a new pattern.

I like the way it looks better than before.

I cut poisonous people out of my life,

it’s an attempt to make it happier, but really I’m afraid.

Scared of their judgement,

because that’s what I became.

Some cut the story from the paper

in order to remember and celebrate.

But the card from last year which says ‘I’m still glad I’m in love with you’

is better forgotten as a manipulative lie.

I cut the nails from my toes,

to stop gouging out the flash at the sides.

Occasionally I don’t do it straight enough,

those feet that danced together become hot and infected.

I dig at my flesh, open wounds and peel back scabs.

I cut you out of me but I keep forgetting where me ends and you begin.

I bleed a little to prove I’m still alive,

and it’s still possible to hurt.

Maybe I’ll let a small piece stay,

like an inked scar to mark the moment we were one.

Is this violent act self harm self-preservation? Cruel to be kind?

I cut away part of myself to make room for more.

This Modern Love

I’m just as confused by ‘modern love’. So glad to be reunited with Bloc Party, I feel like this is something I’d write in my muddle of emotions.
To be lost in the forest
To be cut adrift
You’ve been trying to reach me
You bought me a book
To be lost in the forest
To be cut adrift
I’ve been paid
I’ve been paid
Don’t get offended
If I seem absent minded
Just keep telling me facts
And keep making me smile
Don’t get offended
If I seem absent minded
I get tongue-tied
Baby, you’ve got to be more discerning
I’ve never know what’s good for me
Baby, you’ve got to be more demanding
I will be yours
I’ll pay for you anytime
You told me you wanted to eat up my sadness
Well jump on, enjoy, you can gorge away
You told me you wanted to eat up my sadness
Jump right
Baby, you’ve got to be more discerning
I’ve never know what’s good for me
Baby, you’ve got to be more demanding
Jump left
What are you holding out for?
What’s always in the way?
Why so damn absent minded?
Why so scared of romance?
This modern love breaks me
This modern love wastes me
Do you want to come over and kill some time?
Throw your arms around me

Sticks and Stones

sticksandstones

Sticks and stones may break my bones

But your actions hurt me more.
Your sticks were words you brandished

The light inside was done for.

 

Your stones were all the burdens

Put on us through pain inside.

 

My wounds are already mending

But the scars will never hide.

 

A childish story of spite

Spun by your pride and ego.

 

Why it happened I can forgive,

But I’ll never let cruel go.

 

A lie upon lie, over again

To make me question the real.

 

Now its over, dead and gone

I can finally heal.

 

 

 

The Owl and the Pussy Cat (re-imagined)

 

I
The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea green boat,
They took some honey, but never had money,
Wrapped up in his old black coat.
The Owl looked up to the stars above,
And sang to a small guitar,
‘O lovely girl! Who never knew love,
What a beautiful girl you are,
You are,
You are!
What a beautiful girl you are!’

 

II
Puss said to the Owl, ‘You promise me true?
How charmingly sweet you sing!
We’ll run away! If you promise me this:
As my heart is a fierce fragile thing?’
They sailed away, for six years and a day,
To the house where the forest grew thick.
And there in a wood their haven stood.
They lit a fire and watched the flames flick,
Flames flick,
Flames flick,
They watched the flames flick.

 

III
‘Dear Cat, are you willing to sell me your trust?’
My trust?’ said the Puss, ‘I will.’
So he took it away, lived for the day
By the house that stood on the hill.
They dined on things grown, from what they had sown,
Which they ate with a borrowed spoon;
And hand in hand, on the edge of the land,
They danced by the light of the moon,
The moon,
The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.

 

 

Do you know what’s really tough?

Only believing that you are deserving of bullying.

Being showered by love is the one and only time you’ve feel it,

Because it’s the one and only time you have,

And now your chance has gone.

 

You think you know that no one will want you.

It’s easy when your hearts been stamped on again and again.

You will continue to be lied to, over and over,

Because you are so small it doesn’t matter.

 

You’ll always tread on eggshells,

Because your being is wrong for this world.

The guilt you carry never lightens,

And they will always know exactly which button to press.

 

It’s an addiction that goes round in a loop,

Empty images and sad songs.

Now they tell these lies to another,

And they’re welcome to them, enjoy the ride.

 

Right now I’m being me, I think,

Being good enough, being loved in the right way,

Breaking the cycle and fixing what was broken,

That bit that was broken before they met the Narcissist.

 

They can’t hurt you more than you hurt yourself,

If there is nothing left but love in it purest.

Dear Narcissist do you know what’s really tough?

Me.

http://thoughtcatalog.com/john-w-howell/2013/05/a-narcissists-love-letter/

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