Category Archives: THOUGHTS

Noah’ s plight

Is mortal love the true sin of the man opposed to the laudable man blinded by a paradise of perfection?

We walk with no blood on our hands

Though we walk with bare feet over those corpses of our ancestors.

The biblical story of Noah is the parable of the modern day humanitarian plight.

We will return to the second day of creation fighting with sticks and stones

As prophesized by another mere mortal

As prophesized by another mere mortal sapian in well versed archaic rhetoric…

Musings of today

Savages of mockery

Life is a set of numbers within a market of numbers

And we

the

diminutive 1s

who in our moments of graphic growth grapple for an extra addition to our sum total of flock.

We end up divided by a minion of millions

We are

A herd of expletive multiplication lost to the world

Implicated

in

Watching her frock slashed by our greed.

We are the true savages running our mouths with inequality

a mockery

Hypocrisy.

The demise of the humanitarians philosophy .

Silence

Is life just a formality to prepare us for death?
How many people have died in their God’s name in their moments of weakness and then died in those moments of weakness?
I don’t know where I’m going with this question but what does it say about faith and life and our different notions & preconceptions of death and our loved ones final resting place ?

My thoughts after watching Martin Scorsese film ‘Silence ‘

A film to make those who think think
👌👌👌
Just a thought…

Oxymoron of life

I got caught in the rain again.

I let it drizzle down on me.
Eventually it started to gently pelt my face.

I didn’t run for shelter this time.. I just stood there

next to that tree.

I gazed up to the sky and smiled up.
I’m the defiant one who knows my place in nature.

I knew I was still winning. ‘Fake it until I make it ‘

Nolite te bastardes carborundorum.

These are slogans I told myself to believe I wasn’t drowning. Inebriated by the sobriety of our existence . Is that an oxymoron of life ?

Can I have a sugar daddy?

Aaaaaaaaargh! I have been putting off this post for a while. I mean the one guy

You were the first real man I knew  not some boy but a real man.

I tell myself I have dealt with the indifference. Yet, as soon as I find a way to make contact again. I let all my pride go and open my heart and soul to you. I do it publicly on social media websites. I end up looking pathetic but I don’t care.

I post things like:

I hope you will forgive me  one day so  we can build up a better relationship

or I  tag you hoping you will comment back.

I am looking after your queen. I won’t let you down. 

 I comment on those silly quizzes you do  that pop up on Facebook, like

WHAT NATIONALITY SHOULD YOU BE? –

 ME: You got you look like a Spaniard – haha!  funny I got I should be  American (silence)

New comment from a friend:  I got Portuguese 

You to friend : you look Portuguese

I don’t want anything from you . Okay that is a lie. I only want a bit of your time, a few words once a few years.

She warned me not to go there again. I wasn’t prepared to have my heart  broken again.Well, not broken but pumping with less voracity than before.

I know I wasn’t the most affable of characters all those years back. I mean what did I know at 12, 15 years old? 24 years old ?  Not much.

Yet, that was when you first turned your back on me.

I know I have mental health issues and to you it’s all just,

DRAMA DRAMA DRAMA

 A heads up? It’s not been a fucking picnic or tropical island holiday for me either.

Do you ever think about me?

What do you feel when you look at a picture of me? Do you look at pictures of me?

Are you so distant with everyone?  We’ve been drunk and stoned together and you are a legend at Karaoke . Over the years, I  have seen how you make everyone laugh…

Why don’t you talk to me when I Skype? I know I fall way down the bottom of  the  hierarchy chain of the many  girls in your life.

 To have a slice of your heart…

Well, of what is left to give. Is that what it is? You haven’t got any more heart to give?

I don’t want much… a few words, a phone call – no maybe that is too much..

Okay ,what about a teeny tiny interest in my life on social media perhaps… You live so far away  and it’s my only source of contact.

Why do you reply to other peoples comments on what you post but not mine?

Why don’t you reply to my emails?

I’m  not bad. I’m actually a fucking awesome person. Why can’t the past stay where it is.

Don’t judge me.

I don’t judge you.

I thought I had closed the door on ever having a chance with you again. I opened it again three months ago,, feeling we were in a more equal position. Me being older and you being older – wiser they say..

Never mind, I have  googled the meaning for indifference again and read it out loud,to  remind myself.

I can’t make you love me or want to contact me. I know you are going through hard times – if you must know-

we all do .

Maybe if you decided to chat properly with me I could make you laugh. We may find out we have more in common than you think.

Done with this post.  Finally got it out of my head. I can move on again.

No blame.

Never blame.

I am an adult and I choose to be happy.

I don’t resent you.

I am curious to know you.

am sure if you let me closer, you would find I actually like you and love you- unconditionally.

But it is cool.

You are over there and I am over here.

Living our lives.

Your blood runs through my veins.

 Nothings changed and that is cool too.

Indifference it is then, dad.

The beast that is nature

It’s mental health awareness week in the U.K.

This time last year I  was in a coma after trying to take my life-again. I woke up 9 days later on my mom’s birthday. I don’t  think I  have come to terms with the fact that I am still alive. These past fews days  my mental health has been deteriorating and I’m  trying my hardest to fight these sodding demons in my head.
I’ve  been feeling suicidal again. I have everything to live for.
It doesn’t  mean the thoughts go away.
I fight my battles every single day and I  reach  out even if its to get away from my head  for a few minutes.
I can’t  have a head transplant or swap my head with some one else for an hour.
Self medicating rarely works or makes me feel good so I  push myself to reconnect with life in different ways again.

It’s  mental health awareness week and maybe by being in nature , trying to get out of my head may help.
Maybe by just going through the motions even though my thoughts carry on chattering  away it doesn’t matter. The act and the intention is what matters.
For a few moments I’m  distracted by some other nature that isn’t my own…
Suicide isn’t the answer. I will carry in telling myself this until I  believe it.

My story hasn’t ended.. life has a greater purpose, I
#mentalhealth  #mentalhealthmatters  #mentalhealthawarenessmonth

Entry three

Lo and behold!

(A slightly dramatic introduction). However, it’s inspired me to write about my recipe for kindness. I went to pick up B from school and she thrust a pamphlet in my hand.

It’s magic,mom! Ok , I realised the reason she thinks it is magic:it is a map that requires a powerful

ancestor with a great recipe to fold it back up to it’s neat , once untouched form.

The theme: believe in yourself! I read this first activity and realised I need to do this activity more than my daughter does.

Kindess.

Kindness. Why not bake a cake of kindness ? Add your own ingredients?

If I had to bake my own cake of kindness this is the recipe:

4 TBSP’s of no shit taken off people who don’t reiprocate your kindness wirh the respect you value.

A generous helping of be kind to those you say no to.

3 drops of mouth sealant essence. We are born with 2 ears and 1 mouth.

Surely listening and then (filtering our words) answering is a better way of communicating because responding is more effective than reacting. Reacting is reactive. Too many reactions can become radio active. An explosion and a recipe for an unkindly disaster.

4x cherries dipped in sherbet (tart and sweet) to remind myself and others that I can be sweet most of the time but if my sweetness means they forget to sugar their cake then they may lose all of their teeth when I sweetly give them another tangy aftertaste they aren’t expecting.

The icing can’t be too fussy or too messy. Plenty colouring of all the colours I can find in my kitchen to show my values and beliefs respect all cultures, religions, genders and the rest.

1 x candle lit in the middle of the cake. So, that people who are tempted to indulge in my recipe for kindness, remember that my kindness cake will lose charm and taste if the candle dies out by being watered down or worn down with unproductive critism, respect for the effort I put into making a cake of kindness.

A solid sponge base with the ability to absorb peoples different opinions and views. It will be slightly dry to convey my dry sense of humour. Add a dollop of butter or cream ( adjust portion as needed) to subtly suggest a flavour that reminds other people that my kindness is an act based in reality My reality. Oh, and a degree of sympathy /empathy at the very least.

My dry remarks and after taste can be tempered by adjusting the measures of butter and cream to soften my natural essence of character.

The final impression I would want to leave with baking a kindness cake is :I accept that we all have different tastess and degrees of what a great kindess cake tastes like. I promise not to take another slice of another person’s kindess if it doesn’t conform to my ideals of the perefect cake. I don’t expect to force fed others another slice of my kindess if it doesn’t suit them.

Entry 2

Today, I heard the postman push through my mail. I opened one letter and my heart nearly dropped to the floor quicker than the letter did. My hands were trembling like an addict going into withdrawals.

It was the referral letter from my G.P. and mental health nurse to be assessed by the Adult eating disorder services in Leeds. When I picked up the letter to go and read it , I felt like I was drunk – the words were spread out , doubling over the next word, hazy and unreadable , hazy and clouding my vision then my judgement as I felt the tears wet my cheeks and watched then drip into the paper.

I’m unsure why I started to cry. A combination of Fear and relief?

Fear that I might be rejected from getting psychotherapy because I’m not thin enough. Since I’ve moved house -3 months ago, I’ve put on 6 kilos( nearly 1 stone).

Fear that I will get the help I want and face my Eating disorder willingly. I know it’s a headspace controlled by my eating disordered part of me. The space of the unknown. That moment in between.

That train of thought –to be ill I need to look ill.

My rational mind totally ‘gets it’. My emotions and feelings about the impending assessment took my thoughts back to the years I spent in and out of hospitals, the loneliness ( I still feel many days)felt, my dream career that I had to stop due to my health deteriorating linked in with my eating disorder, the isolation..

I still tend to isolate myself. Most days ,I struggle with getting out and socialising. Most people think I’m over confident.

These days I’m less rigid in my thinking around my eating disorder. I know it’s there. Hell, it chatters to me 24 hours a day 😂😭. I also know the amount of energy it takes keeping my weight at this level.

The thought of all the dedication and commitment to go back and actively starve myself to below 50 kgs fills me with terror because the life I’ve managed to create will have no meaning or purpose, if I let it consume my entire world , it’s a bit like,how I feel about my suicidal thoughts since my last suicide attempt in , May 2020. I remember the pain and terror of when I thought I had been abducted by aliens -when the truth is :I was in a coma for nearly 10 days.

Truth is: I was beyond terrified however, the suicidal thoughts don’t disappear completely.

I’m actively trying to get my weight down to 53-54. A weight loss of 3 -4kgs. My safe weight. Will I want to stop when I get to that weight or carry on chasing a deficit in numbers and chipping away at my character, self esteem and my personality simultaneously?

Just like an addict- adding fire to aid the beast of addiction to lash out flames of fury at me.

Many years have passed since I was last sectioned for anorexia. My life has transformed -no, I have an actual life that my imagination never ever could conceive. I was drowning in ignorance because my mental illnesses had told me things that I believed.

I’ve made goals and achieved them. Some goals were not planned until circumstances pertaining around them turned them into goals to conquer or over come.

  1. A daughter
  2. A husband
  3. My degrees in higher education
  4. Volunteering with mental health charities
  5. Eating the way I do today
  6. Conquerimg other obsessions and addictions-actively working to stay away from that behaviour
  7. Looking at getting back in to full time employment

There is the desire to be free of my eating disorder.

So much has changed in my life and what role my Eating disorder and obssesions play in my life

Conversely, not much has changed either…….. ( dot dot dot dot).

I didn’t want to write today. Small words about a big force that hangs over me.

Entry 1

Today I woke up from a pre empted nightmare-the impending doom & gloom of the end of half term and the start of the school run. Early mornings, pushing myself to get out,exit the house!

Bee is in the bath.

Ma, I need you for xyz

My thoughts of what to put down temporarily suspended. Going out. I love being out and active. I love to not have to worrry that I’m not doing enough, to keep the scales from dictating my mood, my day. I’ve come to realize I’m a lazy anorexic thinker. Ha! Fancy that.

There, I’ve admitted it. Perhaps, by making an effort to write down my general every day thoughts, feelings and emotions again, it will incite an inner part of me to be aware of my surroundings again. Pull off a decorum of intelligent self expression. Put that intelligence into a wider context in my conversations and interactions with humans.

Help improve my memory. Pull off a Brian Eno -esque diary. Try and live a more fulfilling life. I’m morose (sad) because Gee and Bee are going to be out most of the day living a productive life again. I want to do more too.

I’m sad that I have made Gee sad ( scratch that) ANGRY at me! At me- for not severing all contact with him. I’m disappointed in myself for disrespecting Gee and myself. Bee will never know. I’m disappointed in myself for disrespecting Gee, myself too. I suspect drinking too much doesn’t help with my impulsive and risk taking behaviour.

The Ego seeks out more attention. I’m lonely. I want more from friendship. I want my life and sense of worth to have more meaning outside of my family.

Today the weather is in a glorious mood. Rays beaming . The sun has a warm smile for all. A complete contrast to my own demeanour. I’m standing under that thunderous cloud waiting for the lightening to strike down more familar thunderbolts to keep me from blooming again.

I’m happy. I’m happy because I have been putting ink down again. Snippets of poetry, fragments of words that make me feel a validated member of society. I need kinship in my interests. The only person I’ve spent time with talking about our mutual interests, in my physical ( not online) world is him. He isn’t afraid to give honest feedback. Honest -sometimes constructive critique.

How sad am I? Sad enough to feel offended that the other him-that parasite who only takes money from me and happiness from my family ‘dissed’ me when I thought I wanted a distraction from my mind. Something that the reckless part of me craves. Ignored me and my ego has been hurt! That is the tragedy. ( shrugs), I know Bee is going to call me to bath her and on cue- oh hang on- she *actually* asked me to get her an empty bottle to play with. A stray from from the usual routine I’m too familiar with, I actively endorse like .. like… (I have no idea)…family life is a business that cannot be traded as a commodity no matter what price?

Character & mortality