She didn’t know it then
she knew now.
Woken up with on a loop blasting around her mind in surreal sound-
the Russian bass choir chanting in all surround.
An apt app unconsciousness knew her well.
A year ago, life had been different.
Mirthful, optimistic playful
Now, rooted to the spot with foliage, branches, lush leaves taking in the vagabonds seeking shelter.
Lost souls in need hidden by darkness
these nomadic souls plotting their next move.
Time for souls to gather there their thoughts
the continued search of their dreams and pursuits.
Forlorn found herself lost in her own shades of solitude.
She was alone. Tucked up in her double bed -a pattern of flowers – all Huey reds and purples.
Forlorn – wrapped up in a ditzy forlorn pattern matched her current mental state.
She could feel the bubbling creeping up to death by poison ivy- curling it’s away from the roots of her feet upwards.
It would not stop until she was mummified into silence.
She knew it wanted to make sure her mouth, eyes & nose covered in bondage to the soil solidly planted her roots.
One day she had an epiphany.
Moments of clarity were few.
A possibility to be something purposeful meaningful for her.
She had given life sustained it for those souls.
Yet she was weary, ageing.
Before she was forced to put down roots in an abode that spoke in foreign serpentine tongues;
Forlorn had forgotten she used to be a road runner girl.
A girl was taken by flights of fancy on a whim.
Ready to outrun her nemesis wanting to keep her hostage in a place she knew she didn’t belong.
An elder had kept her close to her.
Fearful to let her be free
To be whatever She wanted to be.
She begged her ancestors to rouse the beasts of deforestation to seize her keeper.
she could get a clean break – start over.
Feel movement not in height but in fluidity.
Nostalgic fragments of past it feelings -fragments
a pair of wings
A pair of arms
Even a pair of legs again.
Seasons passed still, she lay rooted to this spot. Full and plumaged as ever.
Ready to entice wanderers to seek shelter for without telling her a reason.
She fidgeted, yawned, stretched willing pine bristles to deter these unwanted vagrants.
Her heart had almost given up. She had succumbed to what she supposed was her last winter.
One eve she looked at the bees collecting sweet nectar for the unseen Gods.
Forlorn conceived a sapling of hope
Mental Rummaging a sense of Deja Vu.
I know it’s here’- impatient, sighing.
A piece of technology from the world she was once a part of.
A means of magic.
A way to communicate her distress.
Tangled hands finally caught the pointed end of a carved, wooden wand.
Slim, compact light.
Her true form to be again.
Stretching open her eyeballs could be made simpler if she had the eyelashes to wipe away the moss interfering with her vision to flee..
Diminished another sense
She would forget who she was
what she wanted to be
She drifted into a frightful sleep.
A woodpecker hammered a hole of her bleak existence.
The start of her new life was in a gestation period of fewer than 12 hours!
How did I sleep for so long? Christ! berating her herself under the twilight
Suddenly a swarm, around her were a fleet of fireflies.
One eyeball strained
and out into focus confirmed her impending anxiousness starting to emit it’s familiar disparate gas into her trunk form.
The final place she held on to her liberty – her mind.
Thoughts ploughed at her – like a farmer attacking a poorly harvested crop.
Not fit for tendering
Nor the soft touch of her keeper.
She fought with all might
Absorbed more -light, water, words…
The elder’s I told you so voice pulled her back into the darkness of her gloom.
Just like a car needs fuel to keep going so does the body need food… photosynthesize.
Try and be what you are destined to be. A tree.
Blasting those voices back into the void from whence it had snatched out
Reaching over – without much of a search
Rustled her leaves -A call out for new bosom firefly friends.
A loud moan persisted from her innermost pit.
Hunger to be free in the form she still chose to be.
Chronic cramp. If only for the longing desire she had for her legs or wings to ease the pain of being motionless.
It wasn’t enough that she contributed towards sustaining other life species.
This stagnant obsession never seeing a sunrise from another part of the world again.
She looked down at her well-worn form.
How hard can it be to throw herself back to a time when she had legs?
a moments thought yanked her back like leashed like a dog to this home she felt no affinity .
Forlorn inhaled the scented berries, unravelling the mask of sight at the ivy,
A glimpse an assortment of psychedelic fleurs initiating that it was time to wake up.
One more push, one more fight.
Forlorn no more she’d set herself free.
I’ve finally received my results for my 1st year, doing my Masters, in Creative writing.
PASS-with merit. I officially can use more random letters after my name — ha ha!
I am now in possession of a post-graduate certificate in the Arts and Humanities!
How’s this going to help me with what I won’t do?
I have a dream.
I do. 😀
One of my goals is to move back to France. They love people with diplomas. I hope to get a well paid job there. I need to book a trip to The French embassy later on this year. My husband has decided he is going to take on my surname and become a French national. He’s English!
He’s not only English, he is Northern, from West Yorkshire.
I feel so uneasy about my family not having a passport. My entire life, It was drummed into me to always have my passport (in date)in case, we moved countries.
Which we did- a lot!
Moving on . ( pun unintentionally intended :D)
What’s happening in my life?
Loads of shit- ha ha! as usual.
I’m doing better – I keep making a come back. Oh, life – you little tease!
Dare me to live.
Dare me to succeed!
MENTAL HEALTH UPDATE
Yeah, it’s been.
up and down,
up again ,
very up –
not quite sure
aargh why did that and that and that and ..
did I do that?
Those kind of moments, really.
Surely someone can relate?
Not happy about a medication increase in my anti depressant.
I don’t of any person who is on (high/ highest legal doses) of
Two anti psychotics
Two anti anxiety tablets,
and sleeping medication.
I know my health posse want the best for me.
I don’t bullshit them.
I tell if I’ve been using shit coping mechanisms, good ones. Thoughts ,feelings…
I made my psychiatrist laugh.
He offered me psychology therapy — again .
I was like:
‘Look Dr J, seriously every time I sign up to a pyschologist , they leave!’
All my psychologists have left me half way through doing whatever new pycho babble, current trend treatment , is used, to deal with folk such as myself.
One dude, fell asleep in a couple of our sessions.
So, I was like
‘ Listen, I know how to use CBT/DBT, I know how to communicate and talk. I know what keeps me well . I just want a cure’
Another laugh escapes from Dr J.
He is a legend.
A legend ? yes, but not a wizard 😦
He totally gets me and I feel I have a choice in medication changes etc..
I’ve asked to come off one of my meds because I don’t see the point of being on it. It hasn’t helped me.
These meds have affected my memory. I’m terrified of getting Dementia. I’ve been on (legal) tablets since I was 13/14 and I’ve never been off medication.
Talking about memory.
I’m using my creative outlets to start getting into the open mic poetry scene .
I love performing but my memory is really rubbish. I’m going to brave it by doing more live poetry next week. I’m excited. Nervous. It’s all good.
I have my final year of my MA to keep me — super occupied. There is a lot of work to do. For part of my thesis ( check me out)
I’m thinking of using my blog to interview creative folk who live in my community to talk about, their work, (durr!) Creativity and their mental health. My photographer mate is on board to take pictures. Some people have shown interest — yeah!
My heads occupied which is good.
How will doing this help me with my thesis and final work?
Well, I am going to use this year of discovery and research on the link between mental health and creativity as an alternative form of therapy to cope with life’s unpredictable moments.
Then I will have loads of inspiration to write a film script (120 minutes) on a character ,who , is thrown back into society after a long stint in mental /prison institutions , and who is looking to find him/herself and another way of being and expressing him/herself positively, in society.
The opening scene will kind of look like this
I have an ending – (a bit abstract at the moment) – saying there words:
‘I look around for the first time with clarity. And see I’m exactly where I need to be. Around the misfits. The beautiful misfits just like me.’
DAISY’S UN NAMED CHARACTER
It’s all early days and I still have 4 scripts to write, a critique and a character analysis on a famous playwright to do before the final chapter.
All in all. I’m alive, optimistic-ish, full of emotion, drive, passion , a pain in the ass but just doing my thing.
All terribly boring really… 😀
So, I am back!
I can’t commit daily to blogging but I have joined a group on Facebook.
Shout out to Gary @ fiction is food for adding me.
It’s a website for us!
I’m a newbie, its good be around other bloggers again. I’m hoping it will keep me off Facebook and keep me connecting with people like yourself. People who use their time more productively. Doh, oh the irony.
One rant before I go : I wish people would stop leaving public posts about my appearance on my Facebook.
If you ever happen to read this
I know you are having a shit time dealing with your own weight issues. I’m well aware of mine. Please take a look at yourself. Look after yourself first. If you don’t – FUCK OFF!
That is a wrap. I know. Hilarious! ha ha!
Thank you so much for reading
Time to step out and live real life..
Catch up soon!
What’s everyone else doing with life? Blogging?
I’m genuinely curious to know.
The A-Z challenge starts tomorrow.
Oh, zeeeeeeeeeeee excitement.
I’m probably going to have to put a pause on my ‘Beliefs’ posts, which in a way, I’m actually dreading because I love being silly and writing comically.
My theme is animals. I’ve always been more compassionate to animals than most humans.I don’t know what it is that connects me to our earthling friends.
“I like big cats and I cannot lie…”
This may sound bordering on psychopathic tendencies ,but I think the connection was made when I was about 3/4 years old. I was playing with ‘my little ponies’ in my bedroom – remember them?
Our kitten came into my bedroom. I spotted a piece of string on the floor and for some (evil) reason I tied the string around my kitten’s nec, it was too short.
I nearly hung my kitten, as soon as I saw it struggling ,I untied it then proceeded to burst into to tears.
I’m not evil.
Kids do experiment.
It’s not funny, it is going to be horrific, I expect many of you may not even read the posts because you can’t bear to listen or read or see an animal suffering or abused.
Don’t turn your eyes away from something because it upsets you. I expect to learn a lot. I hope you will take the time to raise your own awareness to all our earthling friends. Be brave enough to take the time to read what abuse/disrespect so many have been through.
I’m their voice for the month of April. I’m going into serious mode. If anyone has read my
“I love cats and all our earthling friends. I have nearly had massive fistie cuffs with people about my passion for animals. I’m not trying to sell anything. Rest at ease, soldier.”