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Trumpet life

Under pressure.

Breaking apart — splinting at a crucial fissure.

Until,

It  causes an eruptive displeasure.

Disquieted mind  brushes strokes of  bad blood around these elemental  chambers.

Cordoned off.

This is my plea.

So, don’t arouse my anger.

Beaten hearts with a wooden spoon.

These wings will fly-

I’m a fledgling not a buffoon.

Weep for the Teether’s – the naive doomed  creatures.

They grow into  adults

Dolly the sheep baa’ed down pilgrims rest on mothering Sunday.

Bloody miscarriages — that awoke the town from their  walking slumber.

Think 6 nonsense thoughts a day to keep you sane!

Perforate these gums.

We’re merely animals lacking in  humanity,

Evolved to maim the wold for self depravity.

Governed by  social media surveyors  cohearsing   joined up conversation into cursive bubbles.

Uttering bullocks — unravel the mind to overcome the low ebb of the  tide.

Disquieted mind tumbles over.

Terribly tainted its prompted to conjure a pantomime.

San Fransico knights

Dangle buckle boots or  bare feet over the  bay.

The full  moon reflective.

Learned that life will conquer them too  if it has its own way.

Make it a Wishing well.

Make it the  Stage!

Exist or live….

Hell is on earth  — uprise to increasing fees,

We’re bludgeoned to death

if we don’t  pay.

Over and over.

More and more.

Gluttonous gloaters   feed our souls community  with a  skunk;

not from Bombay.

We walk around the streets in mobile  psychosis.

We are a society fabricated from bedlam , deserted   in these woods.

Wondering about other lands,

Running away from daggers armed by cloaks concealed behind hoods.

We dance around  the pink elephant  cuffed behind its  cage — waiting for the  trumpet,

To spray all 7 dynasties  with glory seeds.

A trunk  with roots in disarray,

This is Life that I seek to portray.

*Inspired by writers block, panic attacks, mental illness, injustice, isolation, fear and the song ‘San Fransico Knights by People Under The Stairs’

My Consent.

Willing to believe

Life is  not fucking easy. Can  just put that out there and state the obvious. One minute you are up and on a high and then you hear a tiny whisper of news and it brings you crashing down.

Not trying to get cryptic and poetic. It’s not my style.

My thoughts are all over the place.

First day down of facilitator  support group  training. -I can tell you it is not easy to facilitate a peer led support  group.

I’m not going t give up.

six hours of intense training -what did Daisy learn ?

The only thing I can think of at this moment is what my ma has just told me My uncle has a tumour – in his colon – cancerous- 6 cm big .

Oh and I remember this quote

“In the silence of listening, you can know yourself in everyone, the unseen singing softly to itself and to you.”

Read more at: http://www.azquotes.com/quote/824105

I think it sums up what a facilitators role is and the need to be self aware all the time.

I lost an aunt to cancer last February and another uncle not many weeks after that to Cancer. My Gran’s dementia is in the final stages. I’m trying to carve out a new life for myself, my daughter. I am terrified of losing my own mother.

I’m human.

 Conflicted.

Mental illness sucks balls

. I really don’t need it to start causing shit when I have so many important things I need to get on with.

Like what ?

Well my life.

My family,

my career,

Volunteering

I’m not going to let this beat me. No matter how many panic attacks I get, how many times I weigh myself  or how complexed everything gets. I’m going to get through this. I will be there for my family.  I will succeed in my goals with volunteering.

 Went to the dentist and his  assistant says to me

“you are one tough cookie.”

 So did the tattoo dude when I got my new tattoo 2 weeks ago .

Yes, It’s a good job I have lived the life I have.

I can honestly say thank fuck for every experience that has led me up to this moment.

I am holding up pretty good.

 I’ve done a gym session, had a bath and read my daughter a story. I’m not going to go into what I learned today.

I need time to process it.

I’m not going into my uncles condition.

 I need time to process.

I am going to try and distract myself and read your lovely blogs and posts. I want to write but I feel numb. I feel like if I carry on writing like this – no emotion will come across in these words..

In a way I’m honouring what I always profess to be. I am honest to a fault. Transparent.

I am the first person to mock religion but the first thing I thought about when I heard the news about my uncle was :

I am willing to believe in a God if it makes my uncle better. I’m willing to believe that  there s still hope,the operation will be a success .I’m willing to pray to something I have never laid eyes on if it will heal the suffering of a person I love.

My heads all over the place.

 

 

Do you see what I see?

*PLEASE TAKE NOTE THE CONTENT I HAVE WRITTEN IN THIS POST IS SUSCEPTIBLE TO SUDDEN CHANGE BECAUSE OF COURSE I AM MENTALLY CHALLENGED*

I realise I haven’t really written much on my mental health issues of late. I find it a bit un balanced that I only talk about the shit days and not the good days. Maybe some of you will go

“oh she isn’t struggling BORING! time to move on to the next post”. That is cool but I feel there is a  need for this post to explain how things are for me. 

My illnesses have not gone away. They haven’t been cremated and  gathered up. Taken up by the wind- dispersed  to all four corners of the globe.

North,

South,

East,

and West. I would love that to happen. If I was an artist I think that image  could make an epic drawing or painting. My illnesses are still here.

  • I still have more thoughts about my weight than I do about my own wedding.

  • I still weigh myself a couple of times a day

  • I still deprive myself of certain foods.

  • I still exercise even when my body needs the rest.

  • I still think people are looking a my perceived flaws when they may just be listening to me speak.

I have found out a secret. My Grandad did this all his life and he was a mostly successful  business man.

SECRET: When talking with people the best way to connect in a conversation is with eye contact.  Seems  obvious,right.?

“WHAT DOES DAISY MEAN? ” a shrug of the shoulders both   palms open,  pushing upwards

I mean,

True eye contact that makes that spark. Similar to the one you use naturally when you meet someone new who you think,

Mmmmmmh yeah this person can put his/her shoes under my bed ANY DAY!

Don’t confine this look just to the people you want to screw or make love to or marry . Use it all the time.

Unless you  are having a shit day then, by all means opt out.

This effort to spark a connection makes the other person realise that you see them as a person not just some guy who is at the check out counter helping you with your groceries, or that person who serves you a coffee.

It is a powerful tool, Rasputin didn’t do to bad. I’m not saying I  can hypnotize people. Although that is pretty cool.

It is a look that urges people to engage and to reveal information about themselves.

A couple years back,I went to a live hypnotist show -another day -another blog. I can’t be hypnotised btw .

I digress,

Okay,so back to my mental health. So why no huge blips?

I haven’t drunk alcohol since New years eve. I think this helps keep  my moods in check and gives the meds I am on a better chance to do the job..

I’m still  saying my mantras- constantly.

Before each work out, I  go right up close to the mirror in my lounge  and I peer into my eyes and give myself THE GOOD TALK. I usually get a little thought that comes from almost out of my mind that says,

You don’t look like you have convinced yourself . Ah ,if only I could hypnotize myself.

The point is, I try to big myself up instead of bullying myself.

I give myself small goals to achieve  and  look forward to; next week I am having a tattoo done. I am beyond excited about. I’ve been saving up and waiting for the day to come for three months!

I’ve not been spending loads of  time dribbling over FB and hitting the scroll down arrow for hour after monotonous hour . Oh shit, maybe FB is the only thing that can hypnotise me? That  is fucking terrifying. One reason I don’t watch T.V. -I read, I do watch movies and series. I  don’t want to be a victim of Huxley’s  ‘Brave new world’ of what the perfect society looks like.

Communication. I communicate  my feelings. I don’t hide it all away from my family. If I have a panic attack I ask for a hug, I ask someone to help me in a way that I can help myself.

I don’t  over- commit myself to events that I may not be able or want to fulfil. I say NO -a lot. I am an extrovert when I go out into the world but when I am around too many people for too long I became drained. When I give myself to people. I give my full attention. So, I then become an introvert for a bit because I need a lot of alone time to build myself back up.

I blog. All this has helped me naturally want to write about other shit.  How lame and depressing  it be to read about all my troubles?

Day in and Day out. When you read that last sentence try and picture a buoy bobbing up an down in the ocean. That’s all it does. How many times are you going to want to look at that image when you are at the ocean?

 When there are ship wrecks to discover,  colourful fish to  photograph , clear white powdery beach sand grains gently ex foliating your feet, lots of tanned people smiling (because they are not in the U.K.)

I jest. I jest.  I don’t.  I would rather  hand your the shot gun myself and help you squeeze the trigger.

I also have a sense of humour. I give my time  to the people and causes I WANT  to.

If there is any statement that can sum up this post it is:

I am Daisy.A living breathing component in this world,

*CLICHE ALERT*

‘I am not my labels’.

I do not want to breathe life into them and inflate them. I don’t want a collection of  blow up dolls of my illnesses ,thanks. I’m trying to go for the minimalist look here.

That is it. No magic just appreciating the good times.

The ‘if you need a new perspective’ post

So, I ended 2015 in a state of stupefied drunk despair. Regretting every action I committed on New years eve. Just over one month has passed. I’ve kept far away from the alcohol. I had my dip with my Anorexia. February life has started to pick up where I left it in December. 

Waving my hands in the air like I just don’t care! 

I’m gaining my self-confidence back. My diary is filling up – idle hands all that jazz. The wedding is coming together. I’m am delighted and a tad ‘on edge’ at the same time. 

Positive people are gravitating toward me again. To say I have to peel myself from the roof is an understatement. Lionel Richie and me are busting out some moves on the ceiling. Oh yeah, baby. Has anyone ever seen him being interviewed? He is such a dick head! There is no way someone like him could write such beautiful songs. Who remembers ‘Ballerina girl’ ? Google him in an interview and then you will get it.

 

 I am doing my -co-production awareness training workshop on the 16/02. All of these workshops brings me closer to getting the Eating disorder recovery group up and running. As a person in active recovery from an Eating disorder, to be able to realise this and watch it germinate and blossom like a flower 😀 and be a huge part of the process off it-is like -not being God- no, I am not Kanye Wet ( Yes, I will keep that last spelling error) delusional.  It’s more self-validating. What I mean by that is, it shows I am on a good path. A well-lit path. Like this dude. There is light in my hands I am responsible for keeping that light going and I am in charge of where I end up. Does that make sense? 

 I’ve recently posted some seriously depressing posts and I will continue to share my past with you; but their needs to be some writing room to rollick in the present. I need to  feel the quiver of fluttering,

the beating of butterfly wings, reminding myself I am indeed alive and have purpose. I think my posts need a bit of balance. I don’t know if I am the only person -I suspect I  am not. I sometimes finish writing posts that send me lunging backwards to my past and I am reaching out for the Diazepam- I can have full-blown panic attack.

The cure?    ( Great band. wrong context- or is it?)

Stop writing Daisy. 

No! I won’t!

I have a purpose.

I am a human being.

 I have a story to tell.

A past, a me right now and a bright and vibrant future.

Without me trying to get all Disney ‘Lion King’ on you  (cue African music that makes the heart swell); I believe our lives and experiences are full circles. Sometimes you are at the top and then inevitably you need to go round that circle. Of course, there will be many times when you are at the bottom. I always say

‘Look for the silver lining’.

 

That is my way of saying: I and you will come full circle again (eventually) . We all will get to the top of that circle of life again. The only thing I can’t tell predict is how long it will take to come full circle.

I have this belief, that if I use my time at the bottom of the circle, productively and push ahead and not do too much damage interfering with the flow. Then, I won’t slow down the time scale it takes to get back to the top again. I need to learn the lesson, feel the pain or whatever happens but I must move on. Easy words to type. Harder to put in action. However, it is possible. 

Possible is all  I  need to hold onto and go and do great things.. 

To get off the whole philosophy bandwagon. My man and his rumbustious friends 😉 are coming round to ours for ‘SUPER BOWL 2016’ night. It is a tradition in our home. I don’t want to watch a bunch of dudes watching another bunch  of dudes ‘tackling’ and touching up one another. I DO want to know who is doing half time this year. 

I don’t know if anyone saw Katy Perry and her foam mascot sharks last year?  

PURE COMEDY GOLD

So here is to a fresh new week. (Great shit is happening. Everything is coming together, not at the pace or even exactly how I plan it to go, but that’s cool with me. Stuff is getting done! 

My mantra, I have used for a few months now is working. Mantras work!  Mine is:

‘I am a success in everything I do’ –

I’m fulfilling my thoughts- the ‘mini-like prayers’ that I tell myself. Find one that resonates with you. It works! I am the most analytical person I know – I wouldn’t lie to you .

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Time to buzz off and get reading some of your awesome blogs and thoughts. Word reader is a bit crap. I don’t ever get to see all the posts that I follow. I don’t know if anyone else has the same problem but I will read as many as I can. 

blg-sz-family-reading-time-2-js-hslda-blog

Namaste, Soca, peace, light and love until next time.

How Recovery feels for an Anorexic

Possibly one of the hardest posts to write down- ever. The one that I don’t want to put down into words for a fear of failure and nor giving my fight the justice I feel it deserves..  I need some form of a  creative out let, so I am going to go all Dear diary, I think I’m going to re-invigorate our old diary by giving it a name.

Dear Sid,

From the years 2012 to just before summer this year in 2015. I thought I had recovered from Chronic Anorexia. How fucking arrogant is that?  I started eating more types of food and letting myself indulge a small bit. I got into exercising to be healthy. It was great I lived with a set weight that varied by 1-2 kilograms

Roll on to the present day…

Seemingly from out of nowhere, those Anorexic thoughts have managed to take on Greek tragedy chorus effect. Telling me things I don’t particularly want to hear. It tells me that I have put an extra two kilos on and that is way over the limit. My mind can’t process this thought. The weight needs to go down. Some days I can shake off those critter thoughts in my head. This is great progress from a few years ago. If I had put on a couple of kilos back when I was entrenched in my illness, I would hide away from the world, purge and restrict all food and fluid intake until my weight was in back in my safety zone. It feels like being stuck in a painting with no room to move and evolve.

I have been challenging my thoughts for the past few months now and for the most part, they have been silenced.but then they release a double whopper and it literally throws me into irrational thinking and behaviour.  It grabs my animated emotions by the scruff of the neck and bullies me with my own negative emotions. Then I think I have ‘fooled’ myself into a body that I don’t know how to dress for. I wear proper bras these days, that makes me feel self-conscious and womanly. I am now forced to confront my true identity. This is a huge mountain of ‘oh fucks’ in itself.

These past few weeks I have wanted to scream and ask people to tell me if they think I am thin or average or chubby in places. I  have been thinking a lot about my food intake. I feel myself falling down that spiral staircase into unhelpful thoughts and behaviour. I get angry when I say yes to food and ‘give in’, I weigh myself a lot, I am possessed with capturing my weight gain in images again.

Let me get something straight: I don’t want these thoughts. I don’t. I was so happy and then seemingly out of the blue, the thoughts have been coming at me like arrows. One after the other. It seems like pot luck if I manage to escape from one or another. Eventually, I  know I was going to get hit- in my case, repeatedly.

I have moved ahead in my life!

I said that to that Anorexic part of me. It still haunts me. I could dress in anything. I didn’t have to worry about size-all clothes would fit me and look ‘great’ on me. I was non-conforming to society. I was in the elite who had the willpower to restrain myself. I didn’t need pro- Anorexic websites. The power was all in my head. It reminds me how intoxicating and almost euphoric that feeling too surpass the hunger is. Then the adrenalin kicks and I  get a kick out of that too. The figures go down on the scale and that drives me on even more. Then the food cuts down. Drinking water turns to drink coffee or Pepsi max. Chewing large quantities of chewing gum.

I communicate less and less with my world until I am genuinely scared to go out. People begin to terrify me.  They might talk me back into recovery to stop me from relapsing. I can only see a merging of people. A black unfocused mass. The mass becomes a force conspiring against me. The panic attacks start. The hissy fits and pouts begin. Excessive exercise takes over more of my time and I push myself to go until, I literally pass out

RECOVERY from eating-disordered goes in cycles and not in a linear way. It is very easy to relapse.

I don’t want to relapse. I want to enjoy time with my family. Eat what I damn well like and without shame and guilt. I want the anxiety and depression to go. I want to embrace my womanly curves. I want the next 30 odd years of my life to not be held at knifepoint by  a merciless pirate whose only aim is in collecting things. I am not a thing! I a person.

I suppose this is where I start talking to people, using my WRAP and getting my plan out to challenge my thoughts. Even thinking about going to war over fighting my thoughts has brought on feelings of betrayal. Something- a whole identity- a person-almost- has been in my life for nearly 25 years. A whole quarter of a century.

Not an easy post.. but it is out of my head and on paper. The one thing I have to remind myself is it doesn’t matter if other people read this or not. It is the fact that I am articulating my pain and my issues in a way that releases some of the pressure..

So Sid.. thanks for being a good diary. You are doing a great job. Keep it up!