Category Archives: WHAT’S ON MY MIND
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.
I am an adult and I choose to be happy.
I don’t resent you.
I am curious to know you.
I 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.
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
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.
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.
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.
- A daughter
- A husband
- My degrees in higher education
- Volunteering with mental health charities
- Eating the way I do today
- Conquerimg other obsessions and addictions-actively working to stay away from that behaviour
- 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.
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?
Last night I went out. Yes, wahaaaaaay!
Cheeky cocktail at T.G.I’s and then it was off to watch Grim North Theatres – ‘Sins of our Father.’
So this got me thinking about the word -ex-communication.
The production focuses on the seven deadly sins.
I liken them to the seven (not so) friendly dwarfs.
What I love about this kind of theatre is how vividly I can see who are the influences behind how modern theatre is still being developed in The U.K. – there was plenty of surrealism-
Names of Influential playwright practitioners of Experimental theater that come to mind are:
and indeed even
I think every play needs a touch of what I will call realism although naturalism would probably be the better word to use here. I say this because without a human, being able to identify with a character’s situation – all meaning becomes lost…..
We all have emotions. We all have vices. We have all had to make not so great life choices.
In places when I felt, in the production, like I was being pulled into a real-life situation – as one would expect in a 100% authentic kitchen sink drama / naturalistic play. I DO MEAN NATURALISM AND NOT REALISM HERE.
Lighting changed from soft blues to startling reds. These colors will all have a different meaning for the observer/ audience member /actor even. The subjective part of me was thrown back and made to rethink what I was seeing, question what I was, in fact, being led to believe.
Music – is another great technique that I love to use when I’ve written scripts.
Look at this random picture
In my opinion, Physicality is an actor in the theater is so important.
Yes. Dialogue is needed but what characters don’t say and do on stage, is just as important and helps me makes connections in my mind and heart, when dialogue couldn’t.
There is a lot of physicality and communication interpreted in the characters devised movements in this production.
What is physical theater in drama?
A form of theatre which emphasizes the use of physical movement, as in dance and mime, for expression. Disciplines include children’s theatre, film, comedy, drama,physical theatre, dance, cabaret, visual art, performance poetry, music theatre, and the full scope of music genres.
I am reminded of the Frantic Assembly.
I loved the dance with the protagonist -Alexis- and the soldier( who turns out to be the seven deadly sins, final trump card) at making Alexis feel she should feel guilty for having had an Abortion.
She is faced with having to make a choice- to murder the concept of what we call life again.
The loose ends of the plot come together when she is faced with the idea that the soldier is her aborted son, or indeed could have been if he had lived.
Not presented as a failure.
Not weak but a Hero.
Yet,Flawed and subject to all the same emotions as any human and very much full of heart.
He too corrupted by emotions and experiences.
What we choose to give into and not into is a product of our emotions about where we are in a particular journey of our lives.
Is it better to feel Pride rather than Lust?
Is it something that needs a situational context?
Why are some feelings seen bad and others good?
We all have them. Good and bad feelings.
Fuck what the church says.
It is our fundamental right to feel.
What do we do with those feelings?
…well that is up for debate.
I feel this production was well executed because I can feel empathy for the ( antagonists) seven deadly sins themselves.
Do not shun what you are afraid of understanding.
Do not stigmatize what is the most natural part of you.
What makes you – a human!
Embrace all your feelings -I believe that hiding our darker sides makes that part of us stronger and unbalanced.
Lessen the burden -be a whole. Be a rainbow spectrum of light.
There is more than Black and White.
Yin and Yang
Extract what you need in moderation.
Music I have been listening to while writing this. Shrug 7th Birthday Party Mix Tape By Marc Landish
OBLIGATORY NIGHT OUT SELFIE
Have a great weekend!
I’ve been meaning to do this for a while. Yes, it exposes my vulnerability. I am merely human. I have bad days and good days. This letter is to the so-called friend I’ve kept as consul for most of my life.
Dear Anorexia and all the other secondary mental illnesses
I always seem to put this post off. I usually come out with all these things I have to say to you at the wrong times. Like when I am having a bath.
Okay, I sought you out. I did.
I begged you to be my friend and you eventually became the only friend I had. I didn’t want to lose everything. So, despite how I felt or how much pain I was in when I hurt myself, I did it. We had a strong bond. Bonds are not easily broken. Not even now, when I don’t want to be friends any more.
I thought you might be a bit more understanding if you understood what you took from me and what I allowed you to take.
You took most of my life experiences and made me put on a pair of your glasses so that I could only see life through your perspective.I didn’t have strong vision to begin with so I accepted your gift and I still wear them every now and then. I don’t know why you want me to hurt myself,
Life: everything I have ever seen and experienced has been through a filter of your making. You have had the final decision before I get to see anything, so I can then process it and carry on.
You encouraged me to self harm in so many other ways Drugs, cutting, taking chances, impulsive behaviour, getting into trouble. I don’t know if friends should really do that but I only had you. What did I know
You are jealous. I became your reflection..
I had no life in me for many years. I was merely a toy- puppet of yours. Attached to strings to dance to your cacophonous melody. Sometimes I still feel you, hear you. Pulling me up. Making me go in a direction I don’t want to go in.
Every interest I had, be it watching a movie or reading or going to a rave and dancing or talking to people to try and make friends- you stole that from me.
I allowed it. I only see now, how awesome I can be without you. Fucking cool bananas.
You told me I was peculiar , not like other people, special, different.
You did a remarkable job of making me think that nobody understood the words, I spoke so I stopped talking. I let your talk for me- everyday, every living moment. Every tick of the clock. Your voice. Sounds so soft to others- barely audible- Invisible. To me it sounds more like a constant shriek in my mind, I feel anything but invisible – I feel I take up too much space.
Figure that one out? I can’t.
I lost my family. People thought I had an ego and thought that I was up my own fucking arse.
I only wanted to like myself.
I just wanted to feel good about myself. I thought you could help. If I was attractive to others people would get me and see all my awesome qualities and my true personality. You couldn’t stop at that.
You needed to coerce me into changing one small thing , then another small thing. You helped chip away everything that made me ME until I was lost and abandoned in the dark.
A vacant spot in a vast pool of darkness.A world of black and white. If people tried to talk to me you turned up the white noise. I sat there motionless.
Every person who spoke to me or who tried to be a friend to me -you would whisper they were lying to us, they don’t like us.
be on your guard.
You taught me that. I was and I am still on guard.
You know what?
Fuck this ..I’m not wallowing in the past.
What I really want you to know is I don’t want you in my life at all.
I was wrong and made a mistake.
I know better now.
I have a choice – it is my choice who will be in my life. Yes, you are powerful enough to try and come between everyone I love. I won’t let you.
You want to be friends with my daughter.
NEVER WILL I ALLOW THAT.
I know your true face. There is nothing behind that mask. I rip it off and before I can see the true you you dissolve right before my eyes. You need me more than I need you,mate.
You still try to convince me that our friendship is a blessing – that you give me strength to live.
I’m pretty convinced if I could find the cord that links me to you, I would be brave enough to cut it and I would finally start breathing properly again. I would learn how to breathe again. I would succeed.
How many times am I going to have to evict you from my mind?
Why don’t you get it?
I’m done with trying to kill myself.
You have taught me one thing – I am not at your mercy to live or die. You don’t get to choose because : I. won’t. let. you.
You crept back into my life last year.
So cunning, so sly……
Look at you smirking -so sure, so smug.
Like a snake, you slithered and curled around my whole body. I remember the familiarity of your touch -cold. Cold means thin. This means I’m winning. Your charm nearly disarmed me again.
In what seemed like mere seconds,your entire body had coiled itself around my neck -suffocating me. I nearly lost my mind for you again. A couple more months and I could have been back in the hospital.
I’m not some new friend of yours that has to be emaciated to believe I have earned your undying friendship. Today, I live in a body and a mind I have created.
To try and cast you out. Of course you weren’t going anywhere. How naive I still can be after all these years.
Why would you go somewhere else when you have everything you need in me.
I am healthy.
You tell me I’m fat.
I’m not fat.
I eat and you tell me to pinch my skin, you tell me to loathe it. You yell at me , telling me to grip my bones.
You tell me the bones have been lost in my womanly body.
How dare I grow up?
How dare I start having periods again?
How dare I have a child?
How dare I put her first ?
How dare I empower myself……
Now,you listen to me. You can make me cry- you know you can.
You know that every living moment I know you are with me, in me.
You won’t even let me be touched and loved by my own husband.
I flinch when he touches me because you have convinced me that my body is wrong.
It has taken four years to get to the place where I am with my husband. You don’t want me to enjoy being loved.
You don’t like affection.
Affection means a chance to be loved.
Your kind of love is like boiling water and third degree burns – plastic melting and merging with my skin -never letting go ;forever scarred and deformed.
All this to make sure you have me forever. You feed on my thoughts.
Why won’t you let me watch a fucking movie with my partner without making me aware of my body?
You are sick. Contagious. A reoccurring infection.
I don’t want to be sick. I know I can’t just get rid of you. For a time I was able to shut you out and started living.
Oh, what a jealous friend you have been. You plotted and planned – ready for your comeback .
Always had to be the one who has to take the lead part.
You can’t have the lead part in my life any more. My life is my stage. I am a producer,editor, stagehand, actor, writer, graphics producer , costume designer, light technician . Your dear friend has been made redundant.
See ,The terms and conditions of our contract?
See this lighter in my hand? Flame jumps from container to paper – it can’t lick up the paper quick enough.
I’m the one who says what goes in the script and what doesn’t
No, I know you don’t like this. You are laughing in my face. What was that?
I have no confidence,
I’m needy, lazy, a failure.
You are right,I’m not fucking perfect. How many times have I nearly died doing your bidding?
I want to be happy.
No, not your idea of happiness.
I want to forget about being aware of how you want me to feel about my body. I want to enjoy each moment away from the knowledge that my body is just there.
Today, I respect my body. You don’t need a mask to cover up the fact you have no idea what that word means.
I had so many things I had in my head …. to say to you…
I feel you still don’t get it.
I know I eat.
I have to eat . Don’t put the guilt trip on me if I feel hungry.
Yes,I do. I love food. There are so many more types of food I want to try and I am still afraid to try . I am learning though.
Every book or film or conversation I have ever had was drowned out by your voice or because I couldn’t stand to hear your voice again , I drugged myself, tried to take my life
– oh so many times.
Yet, I still stand..
You won’t go because you love a challenge. you enjoy the struggle.
How boring would it be for me to just give up.
Oh don’t get me wrong, love.
I have nearly died for you and you happily appeared to allow it. We both know you became my friend because you knew I would fight you.
Still now, twenty odd years later I fight you.
No – you can’t have increasingly lower digits. I have set the bar for what weight I can live with. I’m not going to stop eating if I go over that weight threshold. – I will cope. I will get back to my safe weight.
You hate the fact I exercise to keep fit and on track-to focus -to keep me rational – I have found out the secret you have hidden from me for so long.
I’m not going to binge or take laxatives again. It fucking hurts. 100 laxatives a day for how many years. I’m not buying into that abuse any longer.
You are having so much fun with me at this moment. Forever toying…..
The scales have gone up. I should know I’ve only been there with you over 50 fucking times today on that scale. Willing that 1.5 kilo of weight to go down.
I am not having fun.
I am a woman not a child. My spirit is not a newborn. You can’t corrupt it like you did all those years ago.
I get periods. There is a lot of ‘I don’t want’ that comes with the power to create life.
Fluid retention is one of them. You want me to think that these laws of a woman’s body don’t apply to me. Your arrogance never fails to catch me off guard.
You want me to think I have lost control…….
I see all this and I hate you with every thought, every emotion, everything.
Yet, you still won’ t go away
You may be having fun but I’m not having fun and I don’t want to play.
You have brought many foes to my door- snuck them in. Bipolar ,a so-called personality disorder, the list goes on and on. All free loaders.
Remember when I was at the height of my career? You wouldn’t let me become more successful. It wasn’t your definition of success so you took it from me.
Remember when I tried to better myself and go to college?
You fucked with my head then too.
Yes, I got my degree, eventually. I nearly died getting it.
I nearly died getting my daughter back too.
You like the fighters. The ones that put up a struggle. The more I struggled the more obstacles you put in my way- one of your finest tricks was the abusive relationship act.
I finally see you are indeed a one trick pony.
Well done, a round of applause.
You are not the master of my mind any more.
You are a bully- deranged.
YOU CAN’T HAVE ME!
I’m getting married and you can’t stop that. Yes, I know I’m vulnerable because I need to fit into my wedding dress.
I am going to have another child and I won’t let you stop me. I am going to nourish life, nurture it like I should have done the first time.
I will be free of the medication I take to stop you from having the upper hand all the time . I don’t think you have realised,
the fight you have with me, does not just end with me alone any more. You continue to take me on -you are now taking me and my family on.
You are a threat to my life- no not a pathetic one,but one full of joy and love and respect. You hate it. I don’t know why you won’t allow me to love.
Where did you come from ? and what made you so malicious?
I can’t be your therapist and provider.
Yes, we are back to fighting again;
I don’t need tarot cards to know the ending to this.
Yes, I am.
You are strong, I will give you that but I have had four years of some kind of freedom from you –
You ,dear friend, let your guard down .
Thank you, because you gave me another reason to live and want to be alive. The devil I know or the glimpses of joy I have found in living ?
I will continue to rise as the queen of my mind and your whole kingdom built on flimsy lies is going to come toppling down.
If you are going to throw a punch – don’t let your guard down.
Practice what you preach.
I suppose I, as a writer can be ignorant and forget how empowering and therapeutic being able to write is and how creative it is. This is is something that every woman should be able to access. I saw the results of the works of creativity in every face at ‘Behind the mask’ exhibition this today.
The exhibition was led by a passionate presentation by the highly charismatic Sharon Marsden from verd de gris
I spent most of my time in tears. All masks shed to connect with British white and British Muslim woman through the medium of poetry, their personal words and singing. Yes, what a strange bonding power it is to want to join in and sing with strangers.
All connected by our desire to be unburdened, it released even me from my cage. Today, I flew high and found my voice intermingled amongst a collective . I didn’t need to say a word. Someone already had and I identified completely. I had a taste of the 12-week journey these highly courageous women have been through. It reminds me of my own journey in life as a woman. I’m not alone. We are not alone. As painful as some of these emotions were to witness and experience the exhibition left on a high – I was carried away with a powerful gust of optimism and newfound courage to carry on in my own journey in life.
All faiths, all ages, all complex woman with the desire to be free from pain and to be free to show their real face and not wait for the words of acceptance . The message I took away is this:
This is me! take me or leave. I will not hide behind any more masks for you or anyone.
Here is my crane symbol to remind me that I too can be that bird that ‘flies to the heavens’
The crane is a popular symbol in Asian culture, and the practice of folding paper cranes for good fortune, healing, happiness, and success was popularized by Sadako Sasaki, a young victim of the radiation from the Hiroshima disaster. Chains of paper cranes, often numbering a thousand in total, are given as offerings at temples and shrines. The crane is also perceived as a bird capable of flying to the very heavens, and is said to have borne spirits of the deceased there upon its back. In ancient China, the crane was used as the symbol of highest-ranking officials.
Read more at http://www.beliefnet.com/Wellness/Environment/Galleries/A-Spiritual-Field-Guide-to-Birds.aspx?p=6#JvmBs22BfFs8PL8B.99
Caged Bird Excerpt
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
Female empowerment is continuing well into 2016. NEW RECRUITS NEEDED FOR THE NEXT BEHIND THE MASK COMING SOON!
I have also been moved to boldly upload my first video blog. What better inspiration than to speak with female empowerment. Seven minutes long but no apologies for what comes from the heart.
My word but moving house is super stressful.
I’m happy because I’m moving to new pastures.
Life has been a mind haunting experience over the past 2months.
My anorexia nervosa reared its ugly head because I needed some form of self medicating after stopping toxic self medicating.
I lost over 2-3 stone!
I love food.. I have recently been bingeing on food. My husband can’t stop me. After a binge,I’m verbally abusive to him, because I feel so ashamed and disgusted with myself.
I chew the foos and spit it out.
My weight has gone up to 8stone 10 from 8stone.
I’m angry because I rely on government money for my illnesses.
I’m trying to get better.
I have an assessment award review in 3weeks time and, well… I feel like I need to lose the wight I’ve gained to justify I’m ill.
I attempted a serious suicide overdose in , May 2020.
I was in a coma for 5days on life support and a further 5 days in critical ICU care.
I’ve done 4 serious suicide attempts in 2 years and 2months.
I tried to jump off a well known bridge.
I had 5 people hold me down so I couldn’t jump.
Now my gut instinct says try and kill myself.
I’m tired of my illnesses.
I wish I could have a job that covers my bills.
My daughter who is 9 years old has never been on holiday-not even in the U.K. because I can’t afford it.
I’m bricking it. I have a lot of paperwork to prove I’m ‘seriously* ill as my family and husband states.
I can’t move time ahead nor make the assessor re approve my extra income.
Not having control over my world is debilitating but i have to focus on my new life and have a plan B if I am not awarded PIP.