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Justify

Why do I justify myself to others if I’m not working in a full paid life capacity?


Why do I justify myself to others if I’m not working in a full paid life capacity?

It’s not like we’re still living in a Victorian era where I need to prove I’ve achieved my full belt in chastity.

I’m not kept nor groomed.

I’m a woman of the age of independence. When I hold my breath I think of the oceans of ambition, filling me to a combustion ends- infallibility.

Self justification.

Words to sell the people who haven’t walked a second in my shoes.

Self justification who’s never seen a man who sold ice creams on a beach with his bare arms.

No feet.

No feat.

He wouldn’t allow the cha cha dance of life to let him be the one who gave in to defeat.

Even when the sun, it melted into his ebony skin-a parched man not bitter .

Even when children mocked him with no adult to inform them they were creating a culture where we judge people by being born in breach.

These words are going nowhere unless I tell people I’m a winner regardless of the mind state – an alternative view they may one day wish to seek.

Their unbeknownst ignorance of those mountains I’ve so far climbed to be deemed fit in a society increasingly lacking in human empathy just to stay in view

To remain an arm within terre ferme reach

These are my words. This is what I wish to impart. I refuse to give up until my soul recoils from my body,

Honours it’s vow –till death do us part.

If you taunt me I’ve learned

Not to teach nor preach.

Life’s a beach.

I’m a woman of the world with nothing but reach.

Does this sound preachy ?

😉😅🤣🙄.

Ex communication of self hatred

Shun not what you fear to understand

Don’t stigmatize the most inherent part in you; what makes you human!

Embrace each emotion &feelings.

My belief is if we hide our so called darker sides makes that part of our character stronger and unbalanced

Lessen that burden, become whole:

Be the full rainbow spectrum despite what your favourite colour is…

There is more to us than nuances of shady blacks & untouched white.

We have a choice to give in to or resist emotions that merely reflect we we are in our journey in life.

No journey is stagnant

No feeling is permanent.

Why are some emotions or feelings seen as bad or good? Aren’t they all important and deserve to be felt.

Nothing is stagnant.

It’s our fundamental nature to feel.

To question.

What do we do with our emotions ?

Our feelings and thoughts , what do we do with them?

Extract what you need in moderation?

This is not a comforting answer is it?

What is your answer ?

Opium Boy

 


Ghosts floating through the mansion of my mind. It may sound like a great thing to own a mansion as a mind.

I can tell you. It is a place that never sees sunshine, there is dust everywhere, the piano remains out of tune. Every room has something magnificent  to find

Dresses in one, jewels in the other, mothers little helpers, pills scattered everywhere.

There is  always a ghost on standby ready to haunt me.. It’s like an old familiar melody.

I find no pleasure in any of these rooms. There are too many rooms, not enough signs and I am always losing myself in it.

Instead of running from my mind. I sit in the creaking rocking chair. Legs splayed,opening myself up to become possessed by anything .

They sit down on my favourite grey chaise longue and puff cigars that smell of lavender and twirl full bodied wine glasses filled  with  a deep maroon Beaujolais or à châteauneuf de pap.

I seem unable to move. I can’t move. If I could just ask them to leave .

One places a daisy chain on my head and tops up my glass of southern comfort. I’m sure I have stopped drinking. They know this as well as I do.

The irony is they are trying to make me live again. Drink if you must- anything to live, they urge….

This is their home. How can I cast them out?

They drain me, yes it is true, but they have been a part of my life, guarding me  when I was still  growing in my mothers womb.

I let them stay,

“SIT DOWN”., I say

Foreplay remnants stain the sheets on the various four poster beds. There is a new guy in town.

Has a bit of an opium habit. He hides away from everyone ,including me.

I have become desperate in my misery,

I seek him out .He won’t show himself.

I beg him to show me how. He can write the directions on a paper……

I think he cares. He doesn’t want me to go that far down.

 I think if I am so far down  the dragon’s pit;chasing ,what is a few more inches to the bottom?

Isn’t the bottom or top better than half way neither up or down?

I think he hid the ouija board too. He doesn’t want to be summoned because my will will break his……

In all honesty I think they all  want the best for me. Oh of course they have their own agenda’s too.

They know how down I am but they need to go on outings too. They get bored so I  get to be their cruise liner- my eyes are  their oval windows ,to peer out of, their   mode of transport, that shows them life still carries on  even if they can’t be an active  part of it.. ..

They called me a party pooper today. Sounds a bit lame.

They held a special party for me.

My least favourite party of all times- they all congregated in my drawing  room whistling and pulling crackers and the incessant chatter nearly drove me out of the house.

Usually, the louder they are the quicker I try to escape – This time they lucked out. They will not help me find Opium boy.

I only want to escape with him.

I will continue to follow his musky scent until another scent sends my pulse quickening.

Another ghost starts to ask:

“Why do you want to be dead when your heart still beats?”

“Oh fuck off and cross over – you can live in my mansion of a mind but I will not be questioned – my mind my rules.”  I reply

If I  had gone would I have lost the scent of Opium boy?

Would I have cared?

Usually when I chase a boy that needs saving , I get into trouble….

Vacant

I’m scared  because I don’t know how to comfort her anymore.

I’m scared because when I go and visit her ,

She  does this trick of making out like her eyes have glazed over into a  dark,shut, emerald door.

I can’t see inside. I try to peek through  the keyhole,  carefully.

There is  seemingly no one there.

Vacant. a word chastened in hyperbole.

The remnants of a body is  clearly  still  in front of me.

I only sit and stare.

I hear a sound – high pitched screams.

It sounds like there is a disturbing altercation   going on in there.

A neighbour  breathes and passes by , leaving  only a scented whisper of

” Feed her chocolate. It keeps her subdued”.

Fair trade Chocolate does not seem like the  ethical solution  to end  a deplorable mental feud.

The air is thick with  my punctuated  words.

WHY?

the neighbour screams,

Red, furious and right up in my face-

“BECAUSE THEN YOU WON’T HAVE TO KEEP UP YOUR NOBLE ATTEMPTS TO MAKE OUT SHE IS STILL A PART OF US HUMANS SPACE“

She is!

look,

Look at her .

I kiss her head and she flirts with that smile.

The neighbour shakes his head.

“All she does is mumble like a car spluttering ,trying to clock one last mile”.

“It would be kinder if they actually just stopped and kept her  underfed.”

Oh really, if she  doesn’t understand then why the hell did she lash  out to hit me ? 

She saw her ring on my finger .

If she is only a  shell then why do  such  emotions come out like she is  a venomous, angered Bee?

“I wish she would go. It has no existence”.

Yes, it is hard to see her exist like this but the only alternative you suggest is that me ,you and her have even more distance.

Maybe I am selfish,

but nobody really knows how much she  knows.

Just because she can’t speak or walk or do much anymore .

it doesn’t meant everyone can just talk  around her like a she is a retard.

 It doesn’t mean she doesn’t feel our ignorance  like fists pummelling  her heart in  fierce blows.

I see the image of her in bed , sleeping with her Teddy bear.

 I can’t take my eyes away from it and just pretend that this is what it is and carry on like I don’t care.

I don’t cry. I will try .

I don’t try . I cry.

Suffer.

Suffer.

Suffer.

If it was me in her place,

 I would make sure I had a will that specified I decided when I wanted to  dissipate into another state or  place.

(For my Gran. Dementia is ……. I am at a loss for words)



Carnival Freaksbut they’re my freaks

‘Don’t compromise yourself. You’re all you’ve got.’ –Janis Joplin

Got to live up to my reputation for being brutally honest, right? I feel so low. I know I post mostly positive posts and come across as having my shit together. I do, most of the time. I can’t pretend that in a couple of months, something has shifted in me. It’s been big enough to derail me – the crustal plates in my mind and body have moved too much and too soon. I have to lean on something to stop me from falling, falling to where? and on what?   What if I just fall and never stop.  How does it feel? I sit back. It’s gnarled at my insides. I have to remind myself to pull the carbon monoxide out with each breath. 

Why now? I have so much to live for, to be happy for. Is this the nature of mental illness? My inner Iago is a great trickster -it can make the most amazing opportunities, experiences that are going to happen or are happening seem like a mirage. It loves to betray me. It loves to jinx me. It loves to beat me. I know it is him but he is good at hiding.

 He is sly and duped my lazy /starved neurotransmitters into believing that they can’t take one tiny step over, from one synapse to another.

 COURAGE YOU IDIOTS!

Man up! I’m on enough pills. I should be a billion dollar comedian with all the serotonin and dopamine whizzing round my brain.

I had a full-blown panic attack this morning. I had to ask G to come upstairs and hold me. This has worked before. I then got up and cleaned up and hit the gym. That helped but it came back with reinforcements. So , picture me mentally rummaging around my wellness toolbox to find the right tool to smooth over the grave bits. The ones that live between my ribs – that defy gravity…

It’s not my heart racing, it’s that space high up in the middle of my first four ribs. It’s like every breath I take is halved- stolen. I have the need to break free, to implode- no, explode from this human body of mine and let the energy disperse. It won’t leave willingly. I need to pick up my sharpest knife , slice myself open and let all the carnival loose.

The freaks can’t stay. I want to accept them but they repulse me. I am scared that if they stay within me, I may become them and I will feel this way forever.

I’m just typing. Loads of errors. I’m hoping I can write myself out of a panic attack. Nothing else seems to have worked.. I am trying to take the least amount of medication as possible. 

I’m due to have a Skype call with a lady who will be making my jewelled bouquets in 20 minutes. I need to send the freaks on errands 

Legless man,go and find a pair.

Fortune teller – read up on everyone’s star signs- dust off your glass ball. Go find some mystery somewhere else.

Obese lady- waddle down the lane and get some organic shit down your pipe hole- and make sure you stop by the pastry shop. Hopefully, you will be too full to waddle back 

Claw hand man – practice jerking off and walking sideways – right, no just a bit more to the right, oops, sorry! I didn’t see the cliff. 

ALL OF YOU – I MEAN EVERYONE. VACATE. THE CARNIVAL HAS SHUT DOWN. 

 They beg me. They have nowhere else to go. Pleading, I can’t turn my eyes away from them despite their defects. I look at them. How can I leave them stranded with nobody to want them and nowhere to go? 

So I write. I tell them I need to cool off. I need them to just go and find something to do and they can come back once I’ve had time to be alone. Once I find peace. Once I can breathe again. I could never make them homeless.

They are freaks. Yes, they scare me but they are my freaks. Sometimes they listen to me and respect me. Let me feel a bit of peace. They come back quieter now and get on with preparing for the next show. I just need to reign them in every now and then.

It’s going to be alright. The order has been restored. I write to live- I write for peace.

I am.

I am.

I am.

I am …

I am…

and that is good enough.



Happiness: How to Let Go

,

, yesterday. I was too busy posting about my cat’ Tatiana. I am just a tad happy at the moment. Right, this minute she is sleeping under the quilt with me. Epic moment -which will make more sense if you read the post about my Tatiana. Feel free to read and of course not read (I am merely updating my fellow cat lovers).  Owned 100%. Enough about me. Let’s get on with sharing how you can drum up some happiness of your own: in your own life.. 

 Lately, I’ve been reading a lot of posts and speaking to a few special people in my life. People who can’t seem to ‘sweat the small stuff’ out. Stop the ‘little thing’ thought’ critters from holding you back and moving on with your life. I’m guilty of it too.

SECRET TO HAPPINESS: Let go of your grudges/fears/doubt and heartache 

TRADITION: Loy Krathon ( Lantern festival)  – I  am aware in countries like the U.K. laws are trying to be passed in  regards to using  lanterns CLIMATE ACTIVISTS CLICK ON LINK HERE FOR SAFE WAYS TO USE LANTERNS

DATE: Usually November – whenever the 12th full moon is according to the Thai lunar calendar

CELEBRATED IN: Thailand

Many of us (me included) sometimes tend to speak before engaging the brain and really think about what we are saying to some-one. I’m learning that by being rather blunt at times. Hurts. There are other ways to tell the truth without leaving a person feeling a bit crap and thinking less of themselves and stop people thinking that others now think less of them.   Most of us mean well and do not go out of our way to be malicious. 

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Shutting up and ruminating over unhelpful thoughts, creates so much pressure in your brain; that it can leave little room/space in our minds for anything else to help challenge these negative thoughts. Keeping everything inside means all these thoughts accumulate and have nowhere else to go. This can be a major trigger for off- setting Anxiety.

I’m sure that whoever is reading this will possibly know about the Thai tradition of symbolically letting go of all negativity (anxiety and worries)by lighting lanterns. Thousands of them drift up into the sky, creating a cosy golden glow effect. The simple act of doing and of seeing all these lanterns fly away and disappear-  can create a compelling and magnificent sight.

So, I am only assuming here, you have probably heard this way of getting out negative thoughts from your mind before. What is that? Well, how can you create this same kind of act of ‘letting go’ wherever you are in the world? You may not be in Thailand and it is only February.

Write every unwanted thought down on paper or whatever you wish ( in this example paper is a good medium) .

Make sure each irritating thought is on separate pieces of paper.

Allow yourself a moment to reflect on each written thought

Then scrunch up the paper into a ball 

Then throw it into you bin/ wastebasket -the point is wherever you throw your junk

The not so climate ethical  alternative is to go outside and for a few moments release your inner arsonist- that little ‘firebug’ comes out and burns each paper – one by one. This is a more gradual and meditative way to release all those burdensome worries and anxieties.  Make sure you lock away your inner pyromaniac, before entering the house and make sure the fire is out! 😀

I remember a person told me of a really powerful mind exercise to do : Put each thought in a cloud and watch it float away and then watch it fly away and imagine it bursting and dissipating into the atmosphere far away from your mind.

The message is simple: It is not how you do it- you may come up with your own epic way to let all the crap go. The most important part you need to take away with you from this post. DO IT! Don’t put it off. 

HAPPINESS :Do you know where you are going?

SECRET TO HAPPINESS: Verbalise in words exactly what is is you want

TRADITION: Shinto ema (consecrated/dedicated vow plaques)

DATE: Any -time

TRADITION: Japan

Who wants to be happy? I do. That is why I created my ‘Global happiness’ page and I know I am not alone. We all want to be happy. What does happiness mean to you? Happiness is not permanent and is rather fleeting – episodic. I know that money can make me happy for a bit. I mean I don’t need loads of it but in our world to have a bit of money helps. What about things like being good at your job? Being in an awesome relationship?

Here is the plain fact, if you are unable to define what makes you happy-then you are going to find it rather exhausting to find it. Through-out Japan dotted about are what are called Shinto temples ( which are kind of like shrines –Shinsha means ‘place of Gods’.

For a few hundred yen, people write down their wishes, wants and what they hope for, they decorate these plaques, or ’ema’s’ as they are officially called, with  images -a popular one being a horse

In a fascinating article about connections with the rest of Asia, Mark Riddle looks at the subject through the lens of the Indo-European cult of the sacred horse. He identifies the principal features as follows: Horses were sacred symbols which were associated with a fertility cult and with rain. A white horse symbolised the sun and was often used in ritual sacrifice. Horses were also associated with death and funeral symbolism.

If one thinks of Mongol warriors, then clearly the horse was a vehicle of power that enabled its rider to dispense death and destruction over wide areas. It was quite literally a seat of authority. To a lowly peasant, the fast moving creature must have seemed imbued with an air of divine power. It’s but a short step to imagine the horses descending with their godlike riders from heaven. Something of this clearly entered Japan at a time when Shinto was still in the process of formation

People ask for a number of things. They are very specific in asking and writing down what they want, so it can be

To get a new car

get a job that a person wants

It could be to want someone who is going through a bad time to change it into a good outcome.

Each plaque or ’ema’ hung up , adorning the temple for the Kami of the Gods to read ( a loose interpretation)

I know that for myself that when I don’t know where I am headed in life -life can almost feel paralysing. Questions like what am I doing here? What must I do with my life? can drag you further and further away from happiness. In my own life I have gravitated to drugs and to becoming so unwell mentally because I didn’t know what would make me happy. I had a bow and arrow (tools) but I was aimless. I didn’t know what or where to aim to achieve a sense of happiness.

The ema plaques can easily be adapted to the western way by writing a wish list.

Where do I begin? you ask.

Go deeply into your mind and think how you want your life to look.

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO ACHIEVE?

I want to be at peace with my body, I want to move away from my current home and work in the mental health sector – specifically I want to be employed by a mental health charity to help support people who are struggling with their mental health and I want to be a part of eradicating the stigma attached to mental illness. This is why I volunteer with mental health charities. It is why I put so much effort into going to every meeting, to do any workshops and training to achieve my goal at what I think will make me happy.

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WHAT EXPERIENCES DO YOU WANT TO HAVE?

I want my wedding day to be a happy experience, I want to experience being pregnant in the relationship I have now. I want to have another child and have a chance to embrace motherhood in a way I couldn’t imagine when I was pregnant with my daughter. I want to move away from living in a council home and be able to afford to live in a bigger home -a family home that is decorated to my tastes. I want to get out more. I want to go visit my family in South Africa and Miami.

 

WHAT KIND OF PERSON DO YOU WANT TO BE?

I want to be a person that is easy to talk to, someone who sees the silver lining in every situation no matter how bad the circumstances. I want it to inspire people that life is liveable and happiness is within their grasp. When people see me I want them to be glad to see me. I want to be a person who laughs a lot, is affectionate. I want to be the person who feels the fear but goes with it. I want to not be caught up in how I look all the time. I want to be emotionally secure and to let go of the past completely. I want to be spontaneous and go out and see more of the world. I want to be a person who people find comforting. I want to be a person that is successful in my career, being a Mom, wife, daughter, grand daughter. I want to be a person who has more friends. I want to be that person who is always psyched up to be healthy and active.

 

WHO DO YOU WANT TO SHARE YOUR LIFE WITH?

My family- my partner, my daughter and other children I hope have, my Mom, my cousins, my Dad and sister and step Mom, my Nan, my uncles and my friends old and new. I want to be a part of people’s lives who are in recovery or trying to become mentally well. I want to work well with work colleagues.

 

 

All you need to do is what I have done. Write it or type it! Do it! Aim that bow in some direction -a direction you want it to go in.

The  message is this: by expressing your inner desires in a more crystallised form -something you can see down on paper or in front of you ; the more likely you will know in which direction you want to go.  You will have goals and these will be your own set of landmarks on your journey to be happy in life.

 



Sabali wabi sabi

SABALI WABISABI

Does it need to be said

Because the Media makes you think your makeup is inappropriate?

If you are horrified to ask Google for mental health support

You know I’m here to tell it — (once )’for a cause not for an applause’

To avoid the pariah of your mind.

Who you are is important for your wellbeing

Beautiful you are because of your malaise.

It’s about what you think.

A unique template for peace of mind.

Alone-thoughts are you,

And yours together.

Others’ opinions must dance alone with their shadows.

Fathoming the world is relative to your state

Your kind.

Diagrams and graphic diagnostics aren’t “normal”!

Natural ?!

Necessary?

Merely for inferences and academic utterances.

Your Beauty is personified by playful events racing around your head.

Love it like you love…

…another human

Beings

Those who have numbers and words yet can’t calculate when there’s enough unsaid.

Needs are experiences.

Feelings are needed…

Interpret the world through the vessel of your spirited Self.

When skies hang drab

Do you dazzle because you can see a scattered horizon of hope — as a possibility ?

When the Others tether connections

Tumble into an abyss —

Can you see their limits ?

Step back.

Allow them to be.

Is your world subject to scrutiny because of how you interpret human nature?

Do you deviate from society’s accusations of what is the trending status quo?

What if the box you live in is… outside?

What if you build a bridge

Bearing a cross

Over to acceptable taboos ?

Breath prescribed by an arched smile.

Diagnose yourself Beautiful- because of your laments.

Before time becomes an absolute Obsession

Forecasting the outcome to the finale to the play of ‘This is your Life’.

Take moments to repose.

Free yourself from the expectation

To be your career

To win over the Marvel comic genderless hero.

Deprecate your expectations to finance your inner Happiness resources.

This entity is inside your realm of Consciousness — restless

Trodden and stamped into a standing pose.

Moments of reflection pace

Forwards then backwards

Misunderstood

Are you what you want to be?

Can you begin a journey if you don’t understand where you are?

Certainly living up to some other lifer’s calculation should

Pause your being into a statuesque introspection.

To dismiss your guttural instincts will unravel you at the seams— out-thread you out of your very own mind.

Success comes from mapping out your own directions.

Hopeful-to wake up to another day of understanding ‘This is your Life’.

Your ability to comprehend, foreshadows your failed attempts to claw out of the darkest pit.

Sounds of the ocean lap to your melody.

Nothing that you feel about Today

Can conceive the trembling murmurs cut off from the guillotine of your Sanity.

In all of your figurements…are you determined to act out your suicides because you fear your inability to state your arousel ?

Who you are

Is that wrong?

Thoughts preempt if everything is filled in with Leftism.

Resist apologising

Dismiss you have the good view

Change your world

Thoughtfully

Refuse everything

That threatens your Passions —

That provokes beta beatings whistling out of tune.

Precious notions find a sense of disambiguation before the matter resolves itself.

Do you tell others to respond to what you fail to question?

Where is the perversity in watching the death of your inner Flinch — to conclude this delusion ?

What if you won’t be the canvas that contains an abstract spectrum fading you out of your very own Self ?

Look on at those who shrink into their frames bled of every shade of hues

Is this what you want?

Strange Blood

Dad,

How do I  wish you a great day without addressing the past?

Memories are  usually a good place to start.

Let’s forget about the bad ones.

No room for improvement in a negative mind state.

You taught me how to fish.

That was cool because I actually caught a fish but I was not impressed when you threw him back into the ocean – he was too small to eat.

You taught me a valuable lesson:

Compassion and what is necessary.

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That night I was sitting on the step, crying. Mom was going through a tough time. Nobody understood how ill she was and you sat next to me and begged me not to follow in my Mom footsteps. I would never live a life with joy.

I learnt that  enemies can want the same thing and can come from two completely different viewpoints . Ma never wanted me to follow in her footsteps either.

I remember the day I baked you a cake. You came over to Nan’s and you were sobbing. My great granddad was not well.

You taught me that there is a lot that goes inside a person’s mind and just because they don’t express emotion all the time, it doesn’t mean they care any less.

I remember trying to get to know each other in 1994. My holiday and first time back to South Africa in 6 years.

I sensed you were trying to talk . To break the ice. It is a pity my sister in her teens and  a little shit at the time and you had to act as the buffer.

I learnt that vulnerability doesn’t make you weak. I learned that jealousy is a wasted emotion. It makes us say ugly things.  I am only sad you didn’t try again to speak to me -one on one. 

I remember on that same holiday we went on a safari. It was a treat and one of the best days of my life.

You taught me that you did indeed care about my happiness and you wanted to create happy memories.

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The truth is we are not close for so many reasons. I am so over blaming. It’s unproductive and the truth is we do things that we think are the best for each moment we live. 

I understand this because I am a parent.

I know it is hard to instigate a conversation with someone you barely know.

I know you may have feelings about what you could or should have done differently. 

Let’s not get too hung up on what we could have done. 

Focus more on today and what we can do today.

Want to hear something funny?

I may not know you very well but I have kind of ended up getting married to a man whose birthday is two days apart from your own. I am actually marrying my Dad, in a crazy roundabout way.

AWKWARDS!

Before I end this -I want to thank all those silly quizzes you do on Facebook. 

Who would think that I can learn so much about you based on a trivial quiz? 

We may not be close but if anything happened to you and I held you in my heart with resentment and bitterness, I would never forgive myself.

I do love you, Dad. 

There is some ethereal sense of commitment I have to you. I can’t give you up. I have tried but I won’t give up on you -ever.

I know my illness scares/ scares you. 

I am much more self aware th

I know you do but I want to feel you  see you and hear your voice. 

Have a great day , Dad -from the U.K. to S.A.

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HAPPY FATHERS DAY



ese days. I don’t blame you , Dad. 

All I wish for is to get to know you better. To sit down and have a chat, laugh and I want to look into your eyes and I want you to hug me and tell me you love me.



What is your big fat monster?

Write about what scares you the most. What is the big monster inside you that stops you from writing?

 

In order to answer this question, I need to explain how I feel. How do I feel? I feel that nauseating twisting cord in the pit of my stomach, that bit that hits the lungs and makes it hard for me to catch my breath. It is pure fear. I’m waiting for fear. I’m crying with rage thinking that I am going to fail. Going to fail? WHY  the hell have I put those words down? 

I’m 

fulfilling my own destiny if I continue to write, to think this way. So pessimistic.  I’m so sad. Who wants to know about sadness? There is too much of it already in our lives. I try my hardest to carry on and swallow down the lump of sadness and anxiety that keeps rising up trying to force me into regurgitation mode. I try to smile and distract myself by the cows and the horses and the sheep passing by. I make the animal sounds with my daughter. I never want her to know such sadness.

 

My big monster is a haunting sense of failure. As I type the cord pulls tighter. It is my very own Gordian knot but it pulls at me with such a force that I forget that I’m typing and it reminds me that I’m freestyling it. Winging it. Just getting it out.

 

 Letting it all hang out. Let’s face it, I’m not going to become a better writer if I don’t write.  A pause here. My partner doesn’t know how to help me. I glance at my daughter. She brushes her teeth and gives me a smile of pride. She turns around and I suddenly notice her honeyed hair has grown and she finally looks like the little lady she is. She is an only child. She has lots of imaginary friends and is always talking to her friends and singing.

 

 How can I be so sad and have this terrible sense of inauspicious dread pervading my insides? I should be happy! I’m getting married in 8 months. I am loved and I love.

Yet, here  I sit -twiddling my fingers – hesitant. expecting to be caught out.  I’m waiting for the tokoloshe or some other monster to come and turn me inside out and roll me out and shake me around like a big old cotton sheet. Hang me up and then beat the starch of uselessness out of me- for all  to see. I know it is there-somewhere – camouflaged chameleon-like  – waiting to expose its true face. I just don’t know when it will strike.

 

It will be quick like a scorpion attack – one quick whip and all my innards will be turned inside out.  Something has happened to my breathing.

The knot has gone away! Where the hell did it go? Did I imagine it? No, it is gone. I’ve typed myself out of a brooding sense of failure.

 

At least I hope this is what I have done. Has typing down just anything and everything cured my manic inflictions? The one thing I fear – is I can’t write and yet, when I write I feel more contained, a wholly vessel, worthy and strong enough for arduous  travels across the waves of  an ocean of enigmas.

 

Okay, so this post is no masterpiece but I know what cures me. The sadness has lifted somewhat. I can now pin down the real reason I feel sad today.  Before I continue, my partner has just come to tell me he loves me and to take a break from typing. I told him

“Oh I’m just typing some rubbish!”

 

Why the hell do I put myself down so much?  I’m currently holding the title of Atlas… I don’t want his burden, thanks. How do other people cope and stop that feeling of failure? Don’t answer that… or do if you wish to. In fact please do…

 

Sadness comes from an afternoon visit with my Gran with Dementia and Alzheimers. Why does this illness have to exist? Why does my Gran have to live like she does? How can there be a God when there is so much suffering behind those eyes-  her confusion staring back at me? Staring me down. A mischievous imp -goading me to carry on smiling with my eyes. It knows I’m faking it.  

 She stroked my face -touched it like a  blind person -feeling every bump, every contour. I’m sad because I can’t control time. I can’t control what is happening to her. We are all getting older and time is running out and I need to make a bigger contribution to my life and to the people around me before my time is up. I close my eyes and think : When was the last time I really laughed?

 

Oh yeah, two nights ago. I Skyped my mom and I said something and my uncles overheard what I said and started taking the piss about how direct I am. Family…. not going there but I need my family.