Blog Archives

Thoughts about Social services & Justice

*First posted 2015

Content: How I got my daughter back-  and issues of control/being out of control

This morning I woke up with a feeling of loss and  a heavy anchor weighing me down. I should have been buzzing. I was three hours away from meeting up with a girl who works with a mental health charity and to work together on a one off workshop to close the stigma between the volunteers and the people they help. Below is all I had to type this morning: warning alert: very woe! woe! woe is me !and not WOW WOW look at me go.  

THIS IS WHAT I MANAGED TO WRITE  YESTERDAY MORNING :

Why do I only see ugly? What is wrong with me.I can’t love my cat or daughter or partner cos I have trouble accepting me? Why is outer beauty so important to have when I see the beauty of people in all their different guises? My heart has been rung out . The salty ness stings increasingly as it courses through my veins. Pumping –you are ugly  you are not good enough.Why now? Why these feelings now? My next challenge — like a bull waiting , snorting – A Red mist descends. Red mist that at the end will be.

  I had writers block I couldn’t think of anything poetic to say. All words seemed shit and I felt shit. 

So let me get real and tell you what is really on my mind My head has been doing 360 degree turns lately like that possessed chick in every movie about hauntings and possession.  Except it has been me not some movie.  My weight has been going up and  up – I have had no control. Even with me eating healthily. The numbers have  kept on  going up. I have been getting a  daily beasting from the  Goddess of hard core exercises -Jillian Michael. No bullshit. No pansy-ing about. No quitting. I am no quitter.Not a sinker. No Titanic. Why is this fucker in my head fucking with me now? I’m finally getting somewhere with myself and what I want to invest all my working time in.

Yup, so I have really been struggling with my mind for a few months Isn’t that crazy? Me wanting to help people who are struggling? I’m struggling.

I had to let go of the figures on the scale. I’ve never done that. How did I  do it?  Well,  I decided  I like eating (yes, Anorexics can like eating)  and I eat healthily  already so, I was not about  to go hungry and become ill again. No, this is my time. I wasn’t going to start taking overdoses to cope with the madness inside me — skewered. Grilling me .It was bedlam in my head. True bedlam.

I stopped weighing myself every day. I CAN’T BELIEVE IT EITHER.  I carried on with 40 minutes of  an intense cardio workout . I didn’t carry on doing 3-4 hour workouts like I have done previously. I did not start monitoring my fluid intake.  In fact I did the opposite and btw  my skin looks the best it ever has. I had to get moving. Get out the house and live.  The critters inside jittering and chattering and  fluttering  chaotically in my mind could carry on.I  carried on with life.

I got out there and I followed through on my next goal. I have my daughter back . I’m already a student with full BA(hons) in Arts and the humanities. I’ve booked our wedding for next year. The one I was never ever going to have. I am finally in a place to help people.

I don’t care if I don’t get paid I’m getting so much back from this.

You know what is even more chaotic than my recent state of mind?  Okay -ready?  The training I have been put on to do, is all stuff I worked out on my own and with my family when social services wanted to put my daughter up for adoption.

Why didn’t they get HOME-START in first?

Or THE FAMILY INTERVENTION TEAM?

How come they didn’t tell me about a 12 week course called called WRAP ( WELLNESS RECOVERY ACTION PLAN)  that helps a person put together a support package if a person’s  health starts to get distressed?

This is not some new concept or specialised training. It’s been going on for years and being taught in prisons and schools today. Why didn’t any of the social workers I know signpost me in these  directions?

I stayed up into   the early hours of the morning for weeks. Researching online to find an answer to convince  social services that I could be a mom and  have times when my mental health isn’t all that cracking.  In my research I came across something called ‘ the circle of protection’ (very Lion king – the zulu bit -you know what I’m on about?) An epiphany or something.

Why had none of these highly qualified social workers, guardians of the court, these professionals but myself thought to put a contingency plan in place?

When my daughter  was put under an interim care order. Obviously, I  attended court. The letter for the court date arrived days after the court hearing. I was lucky that I had my family to give me the heads up. I didn’t know that the  alleged assault charges against me , that had been dropped (because their was no physical evidence to suggest that I shook my 12 week old daughter) was only the beginning of  an incredibly long f*ck*ng journey home. I was like Hercules and his 12 labours.

Back to the morning of 14/12-Confused, in a state of panic-The former manager of social services – I like to call her Miss Hannigan-you know from ‘Annie’ the movie?  I swear she looks and acts like Miss Hannigan – every professional I described her too-could not keep a straight face.

They knew exactly who I was on about. Anyway, so after court, the wooly and rather snivel  cardigan came into view-like a red flag. Her voice was the second thing I noticed ,she sounded like one of Marge’s sisters from the Simpsons.

I was like : Where is my daughter going? You can’t just take her from me!

She spluttered in that voice.  

Stop the drink-stop the shit and sort your life out . I wish she could take her own advice.

I found out about a 12 week group called the  FREEDOM PROJECT that was running in my neck of the woods. In a nutshell it is a 12 weak group that helps women understand why we  enter and stay in abusive relationships. I took Miss Hannigans advice  and self-referred myself to my   LOCAL SUBSTANCE MISUSE TEAM and  I  engaged with a wonderful woman to work out what my drink issues were and how I could manage them. We tried various plans until we  both agreed  that whilst all this was going on, drinking was probably not going to be drunk for the ‘right reasons’.

I went to every mother-baby group I could could go to.

 I could only see my daughter 10  hours per week. I missed 7 contact sessions in 12 months. There was  a local contact centre only 5 minutes up the street from where I lived. I had no problems with anybody in that contact centre. Lots of positive feedback.  The contact worker who had become emotionally involved told us she had been taken off  as  our contact worker. Social services and my ex felt that the contact worker was being biased. It is not my fault that every other person who met him thinks the same thing. Whatever that may be.

A new contact lady comes on the scene. We did not mix well. It happens in life. I can’t love everyone.

Next thing I know and I was now taking  two buses to go and see my child — in a contact centre monitored by cctv like a criminal. This is how the dynamics of our relationship went. If I got on with spending time with my child and didn’t talk much with the contact worker-she said I was being hostile. If I did chat with her-she said I was distracted and not mentally focused on my child.

This contact person has no mental health qualification. Her job  is to collect children from carers/family homes and take them to  a ‘neutral’ meeting/contact centre and to make sure the child or children get back home safely. She is a chuffing human. All her notes ( she was a fan of all the Disney songs — those notes were just as agonising to hear)  were being gurned  into the social workers reports.This is one opinion from someone who was not even qualified. It felt like she was there to prod and provoke a reaction out of me.

I asked the court to authorise  a hair strand test for alcohol and drugs  to be done. The test was only done 7-8 months after my baby was taken into foster care.  It came back negative that I was an alcoholic and drug taker. I am on prescription meds  so that obviously came up.  The non alcoholic levels  of drinking found in my hair proved to them I had drunk alcohol but not at the levels they were making out.From  the period  I decided  to go teetotal the levels had reduced even more.  It all  came back negative.

I was in a very violent and manipulative relationship. This  ahem… man treat me like something he found in the gutter. He warped my mind.  My mental health was exacerbated in that relationship. I dealt with this issue and I don’t want to say more on here out of respect for my daughter. He walked away when he lost control. When my daughter is at an age she can make and formulate her own opinions  that will be the time I decide to give her the information about her paternal father and seek him out and ask him whatever questions she wishes too.

I paid nearly £400 to do a parenting course online because social services stated I could not do a certain group because my ex was attending it and my daughter had to be over 5 years of age.  He got on it because he has two sons under 18. I got my daughter back under a  full care order-on the 28/04/2013 .  She was not even three  years old and all of a sudden I could attend this 12 week government funded parenting course for free. I had THIS IRO ‘professional’ come into my home and threaten me. She tried to wind me up because I made a comment about her not even having met my daughter and she was the person to ratify the adoption plan. She sat on my living room suite and re-iterated that it was her that ratified the adoption plan and still held that view.  If I had a problem with her then I could change  IRO’s.

I looked her straight in the eyes and I said ‘NO, you and me are going to see this through to the end.-It was like something out of a western movie. Eyeballing one another.

‘Yes. we will’, she puffed out her chest and chuckled to her ‘henchman’ .The person she brought with her to intimidate me. What makes me want to poke out her eyehole is at the final LAC review meeting she was hugging me and saying I had taught her something about people with mental health issues and  she realised how ignorant she had been. This woman works with dozens of cases like mine everyday. Mental health is not a new endemic in society. I hope ,you the reader can see why I am ranting at this…

I always say ‘I hold up my hands  I am far from being perfect‘. I would actually like this to be engraved on my grave. I have said the phrase so many times.  The thing is  I put in the effort in and they did not want to own up that they screwed up and I wasn’t what they read on paper and what they thought I would be like. ALL PEOPLE WITH MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES ARE DELUDED RIGHT? HAVE NO SENSE OF REALITY

Here is my point, It didn’t have to go straight to adoption but it was easy for them to place  my innocent  12 week year old child. Blue eyed  with blonde hair and  not soiled and tainted from being ragged around a defunct system.  No behaviour issues. An easy adoption case. They call it ‘twin tracking’

Ha , you should have seen the  guardian’s face when I told her that the chances of my daughter being adopted after being told that mental health issues run in her paternal and or maternal family drops. She was 25% less likely to get adopted.  Oh they loved me. My legal team were ace. I communicated and I asked questions and I researched.

As a volunteer I have a ticket to go to this PARENTING AND MENTAL HEALTH CONFERENCE

I hope a few social workers will be there to learn something about mental health .

I’m not angry. I finally know why I went through all this shit. Now I  can do the professional training and help other people.  I’m not bitter- AM I F*bitter-F*CK? 

 Thank you social services for giving me such a hard time. It has led me to take the actions to   where I am in this new chapter in my life. I am strong and empowered and passionate and every time I have fallen in my life,  I get up.

 Every time.

These other less invasive  helpful  services should  be taken into account and be brought to the attention of a person before they start taking kids off their parents and family without the full facts. I’m not talking about the families where abuse goes on. I’m telling you what I have experienced  There is so much wrong with the system. I’m gonna volunteer my heart out.

Thank  fuck for silver linings.

I not only have my daughter and my partner and my beautiful  family and friends  to live for but I have been given a gift of knowledge and I will be trained to help people who need some support and advice. I must share this knowledge of how I got my baby girl back and how much I have changed and how  exhilarating and terrifying   it is but it is worth the fight. I’m not the only one. There are so many more who are terrified to talk because they feel threatened and bullied by social services.

CHANGE  must happen and I will do anything I can to be a part of that.  If you have read this far. Thank You. Never give up your right to speak . I had a  ‘gagging order’ imposed upon  me when my child was a ward of the courts( This is the law in England) . I don’t anymore and I am well within my legal rights to post this.  I want to use my skills and my creativity in writing and acting to help people remember  how to communicate again and it is a right of theirs to have a voice…

P.S. I still am partial to a cocktail or two  when I’m not looking after my health  for one thing or another-usually for a dress to fit in to  go somewhere.

P.P.S. I have written a stage play inspired by these events with a Brecht like influence. I wrote it for my final end of module assignment for my degree at the Open university and I got a 1st for it.  I might put it up sometime . I might not.

Euthanasia

Do you know how hard it is to successfully take your own life?

I have been doing it all wrong.

Like most people, I have down it on impulse. Not thinking through the logistics.

If someone is going to take or think about taking their lives here is something to think about:

Drug interactions- do you want death to painful?

This is what I’ve realised I need to take in to account if I want to end my own life.

It needs to be planned

only 1 in 40 planned suicides is successful by overdosing.

Most people when they find the pain of living unbearable, usually try & take their lives on impulse.

And fail. Ive been in that club.

So say I decided to end my own life, how would I want it to go?

  1. I want a painless death -Nembutal is the safest way to a pain-free death. There ar3 many methods
  2. Pick your drug interactions wisely
  3. Consider your Mid lethal dose & tolerance levels to certain medications & drugs, your gender etc..
  4. Check the expiry dates.
  5. Consider drinking alcohol with it – not on an empty stomach -as there is always the chance overdosing on large quantities of tablets can induce vomiting.
  6. Crush all tablets together and aim to drink/consume it all in one small dose
  7. Be in a place where no one can find you.

So it is final.

What I would want from death is no more pain.

There is a website I found in my quest to find purpose and meaning in my life & also to find a way to end it

I’ve delved into courses about the Humanistic approach to life.

The arguments for being pro-euthanasia & how a society can decide that a person’s mental psyche and anguish is not on a par with a terminal illness like cancer or progressive like dementia

We can’t see the inner workings of the mind or the pain a person goes through.

I’m trying to be rational & think of the positives.

I have a daughter and I don’t want her to be like me.

I have always struggled to live in my head, my body.

I’ve forgotten 3 quarters the events I’ve experienced.

I’m angry at the abuse I’ve allowed men to do to me.

I’m angry at the loss of power I gave to others and to things.

My standards have fallen & I am clinging on to an idea of self-respect cos I am worth it yet I don’t present myself that way & how can anyone respect me when I haven’t the ability to come across as eloquent.

I have had talking therapies, hospitalizations, epiphanies & moments where I’ve thrown myself into studies, work etc until I become unwell again.

Why do we have a problem with people who are mentally “incurable”, have no hope, have tried numerous ways to live and the pain is chronic or terminal?

Why can’t we accept that most people who genuinely have thought and planned things through – the pros & cons, belong in a hospital?

It’s easy to want humans to live but not want to take on their problems. It’s far easier to lock people with long-standing illnesses in a hospital.

The problem is that some people will respond to certain treatments & others don’t.

That is the way it is. Only we get to decide if we want to end up dead. Addictions, slow suicide etc.

Some days I feel like I merely exist.

If a person is hell-bent on ending their lives they will find away.

Society needs to get their head around the idea of mental torture and the quality of life for a person who can’t find peace or meaning in it due to pain.

Just a thought.

Take a leaf out of the Amazon

One reason global leaders are able to sleep at night? They find absolution in ‘the family’. ( Check out Netflix) these global leaders, politicians, and public figures have invented a Covent composed of ( rather) impressionable modern-day “disciples” to justify what they let bypass / happen to our world.

They have messed with men’s spiritual health. By spiritual, I mean I don’t necessarily mean in a religious sense. We are all thinkers. We have the ability to feel & reason. Spirituality can be something emotional & philosophical. Our spirituality is personal to each and every one of us.

These bastard leaders are killing our planet.
They have brainwashed themselves to believe that they are “chosen “to lead for religious reasons.
Can you grasp how much power that is to give to 1 % of the elite in this world?

Nobody – alone can control all that power. Greed corrupts. This is just an example of how one ( ahem) leader- Thump justifies🙄 his outlandish & vapid ramblings on the trade wars with China & U.S.A. we need a revolution of consciousness.

Read  POLITICSTrump Looked Up To The Sky And Told Reporters ‘I Am The Chosen One’ by anonymous

A shift in consciousness. I haven’t got all the answers. I hate injustice.

Listening to Tupac’s song about Changes & thinking about the themes of the song. He seems to to be questioning us (  the black man ) to question the consciousness of society.

THUG society wasn’t about being a thug. Another post for another day.

It’s not a song that is about self -pity. Its a more hold your own nuts song & be civil. That is why it is revolutionary

That isn’t even equal.

As Micheal Che said in his stand up comedy debut – ‘Matters’.

if we can’t be equal: can we at least be civil? (haha!)

Society has really messed with the willows today.

PLEASE sign the petition to help the Amazon frontline save the Amazon. Our home too.

GREENPEACE.org -SAVE THE AMAZON

750 Starving lions were found in captivation ( malnourished )& their sole purpose for living was for Trophy Hunting.

Trophy Hunting?

People in Serengeti are being forced from their homes to make way for poachers to slaughter our earth wildlife. Our delicate & intricate ecosystems.

China killed another whale today.  After 30 years of efforts to save these mammals. They are now activley commercially hunting whales again. Why?  Greed & corruption. The divided between the West and East is killing our planet with policies.

Yes, I’m passionate because I sense the complacency in society ( in myself even) to fill the void and over-consume. Desensitize our selves more to what is happening to our home. We have blinkers on. We need them to grapple our heads around what a mess the world is in & how what we can do about it.

One act in the right direction. A shift in thinking. A conscious shift. What you do (no matter how small or big) matters. What we do has consequences. SCIENCE 101

I’m sad & I’m mad. All I  can offer are my words & to spread the message about what is important right now.

Over what?

Diamonds that have no value?

Over paper planes & money?

Trees provide us the paper to breathe. Why do we ask more of it? How can it provide life if we burn it out to its very core?

We an indulging in a mass matricide with mother earth and self- suicide and genocide people all over the world. Our own world.

I’m spent. I have to write about what I care about. if only to reinforce what I value & truly believe in.

Goodnight

 

All Words Matter -Part 2

 

 

I

FR or Fer real (if you’ve not yet reached your word Fitbit counter that you’ve challenged yourself to use for the day & you want to ‘feel the burn’ in brain gym) is the most annoying add on slang suffix -ahem like totally not needed to complete a sentence unless you use it in a sarcastic context.

When you use the phrase your face mustn’t match your enthusiasm to hear yourself say it out loud. A contagious phrase needs sterilising. Yes, words matter.

No words don’t have actual feelings.

Never

Mind,

The point is that there are rules about using buzzwords, you know? Cos All rules matter (to someone) Pay no attention to context to confuse tf( a form of complacent swearing)out of everyone. Or don’t. This is just a post from a weedy fleur with a bad tendency to write utter rubble.

Fake news! We do it every day. Don’t worry. I’m not using Newspeak. Doublethink what you may. I’m saying the source of these words are from one mind who you will probably never meet.

CANCELLED before I went airborne.

What’s the use of being a fallen angel if I can’t fly?

Metamorphoses as our remarkable earthlings/species Darwiniate?

Adapt that’s all -respectfully.

One word that takes us further from our humanity reducing our entire mass to mere a pile of bone and cartilage.

What was once feet and arms and action is soulless. Less kinetic.

If you are still getting ghosted in 2020. You have levelled up. You must be aware know there are others far worse off than you.

Ghosting? There is something much more disconnected happening. Why bother being ethereal honouring that we are living first life all the time. Don’t delude yourself.

Second life is just autopilot for first life – we can never leave our mortal bodies entirely. We can lose ourselves until we realise its easier to love species who display human traits -We are taking lessons about humanity from other species.

You’ve seen the monkeys (they went viral), in India, a couple tried saving their mate while every itty human watched with their mobile phones on record mode.

our closest ancestor nearly drowns after being electrocuted from out of his tree, maybe. He was screaming out for help. All he wanted was to not die today.

A reasonable request for this non-quitter of Life.

Why have become murder loving google-eyed hunters?

Because we are too busy uploading this on to social media. We are so eager to share so much. How come we’re still so selfish? That is the true paradox.

It takes a gorilla in a forest on some continent (filmed fubu )to stand in front of her family in one last effort to ask for mercy.

It takes a gorilla to show us how crazy we have become -how lost we are – terrorism doesn’t end with humans. It becomes another word with the same meaning-Deforestation.

It’s only a bit of de-weeding.

Acts of terrorism to other nations home or another species home is terrorism.

You may have been ghosted but most folk these days get cancelled. Practice those block, unfollow moves.

Cancelled. Deleted.

No more spirits stuck in limbo. It can be hazardous to a person’s spine or moral fibre all that hovering about.

In the age of technology, people can be considered non-entities. We click-clack mindless selfies & images- over-processed.

We Sold out to filters-to get away from the inevitable process of mortality reality.

One final slang word I have to try out for entertainment purposes.

There is a new word for people who can’t get over shit.

You know your mate who’s Moms uncle died of chlamydia ( it could happen)? And then his best friend -a German Sheppard died. She went on to marry your mother’s sister. But he didn’t actually die. He went travelling around the globe to find an engagement ring to propose to your mate’s mom but your mate ended up with your mother’s sister. I mean its been 3 years since it happened, He is so .. salty.

 

He should be past all 5 stages of grief, fer real.

My final top word that everyone should use is self-absorbed. We’re too busy wondering what others think, what we look like, how successful we are, how we come across on social media.

The list of examples is unfolding on sheets of paper as I type (saving the trees.)

Words can have power or they can just sound good in theory

These are simply a pretty cluster of words I wrote if we don’t understand the ‘ins and outs’ of practising life’s manifesto

While you are validating yourself remember to pay it forward & validate others too. Paying it forward costs nothing. The results are are priceless

 

 

 

Mrs Tersable

Mrs. Tersable had the patience of  Hades with a lengthy dose of blue ball build up  syndrome.

Beans on toast, eaten straight out of  a tin can –  this is not how she was used to living, outside of her comfort zone.

She wore wooly jumpers to cover  the razor sharp teeth piercing through her very own flesh.

She was so gifted in signing off with a  ‘kiss kiss’ and a ‘mwah mwah’  tres AbFab darling

 BBC  Nigella’s  best Italian  dish.

Unfortunate event, she was the kind of lady who had to learn how to suck the devil’s cock. Have her ass smacked  and molded into   a fine knight  mare.

The tragedy in her quest to rise to power in a Patriarchal society took a heavy blow on a high voltage setting ,following a trail  to the bully matriarch beatbox  competition at ye olde fayre.

She rose in stature  until she hit her own glass ceiling – a rose always  needs to be pruned. All flowers, eventually, lose their fragrance and bloom.

Every season there will always be another eager seedling waiting to come out and steal  her once-signature odorous  perfume.

It’s a lamentable world we live in when the people who are meant  to be  teachers and mentors,

refuse to listen to their own apprentice or student who  listens , then questions the station ranked  above.

Not all students  climb this far to then  curtsey disabled in  fear, at one vicious bark – all the way on the Yorkshire moors.

What does this say about us as parents, role models, teachers when we refuse to admit our own errors?

We pinch our noses to avoid inhaling one whiff of humble pie, no one saw  you order  a Miss Hannigan chaser.

An associate of those benefit drunks with the DT tremors?

Feedback at any age,gender ,role or title is crucial to evidence   your presence in eternal life learning.

Mistakes are a necessary jigsaw piece to conclude  this game.

It’s not  so much what we don’t say as to how we say it.

Oops, maybe that  15-year-old child shouldn’t have appeared to be marking that essay on the subject of learning to  ‘look  kept while she  is on the game-  earning’.

Bullies come in a plethora of forms – the ones with the sweetest touch can turn on a person like a stye in   the eye.

Manic and wide-eyed .

‘Attention , we  now  introduce you to Sir werewolf faint heart . ‘

His title gives him permission to tear down  the fourth wall but he promptly  decides to use off stage to indicate he has his role – his own part.

So changeable – so  constant.

If it weren’t for experimental  folk, you might believe  that the  very word  had been a word that ‘phantasmagoria -the shouting  star’ ,hurtled down to you from a startling  height in  a –

can you picture it?

A cosmic  sky.

Oh, how  some serfs do like a good old-fashioned backdrop.

Kitchen sink drama – ironing and puffing a cig so soon after a hideous operation tumor  larynx op.

I don’t mind  subjective commentary .

Political and social change is in a state of  osmosis.

Dame Equlibrium!

 Where is she hiding ? be a darling and throw us an adlib  objective  objection – based on some factual,theoretical documentary.

Ego  hypothetically propositioned and the  recent report is he is officially   unwounded.

Id is feeling indulgently  charitable.

Super ego is insulted on behalf of all the marginalized  it  chooses to write about.

Prepared to work with all senses engaged, ready to gain insight and  to ‘show and tell’  how flawed this world truly is .

Just because it says something  black  on white  – doesn’t mean it’s exempt from giving you a bad case of colonic  irrigation ,peppered doubt.

The biggest bullies are the  usual suspect atypical members – they all  have a hidden agenda.

Keep your cool and refuse to cower from the tirade of abuse screamed down the cord of a retro style, dial-up  telephone  – switch  on to radio channel smoothie blender.

Only you can be your greatest ally and defender.

Or,

you could   go on one hell of a  bender.

Never been an option for the author who has fought off more heated bitches in duplicitous  organizations with a questionable gender.

*Inspired by good old fashioned rotten to the core  bullies sitting in apple trees *

The simple life

Great ideas and plans sometimes mean delays.

I’m the worst person to put off goals I’m passionate about. I am learning that if I want things to look and come across a certain way, I have to wait.

I’m beyond excited to be approached to be a part of an industry I love. I’m one of those people who will do what it takes to learn how to be the best at what I am doing and then worry about the money.

I do believe ‘money is a means to an end’

I’ve had money and I’ve been on ass and lined up in food banks.

No-It’s not fun owing money left, right and centre.

It’s  a bleak existence not knowing what the true value of money is.

Today-I know the true value of money.

Its value is not a destination.

It’s a means to get me from one part of my journey to the next.

Some people (who I’ve met in my life) wonder why I make out like I have an endless supply of money.

People have come into my current home and looked around confused —

“How dare this “peasant” make out /look  like she is rich”-

First of all,

I am rich.

My idea of wealth is different to the next person. I grew up a certain way and some traits stay with us.

I have also realised the value in ‘letting go’.

No, I haven’t read ‘the secret’ or started an illegal job nor am I involved in work of a frivolous nature.

(If I did want to sell my body or body parts….)

My body.

My life.

Hashtag  “Just saying”

I have Life to guide me. I have my personality, experiences and I have an open outlook on Life.

I am a student of Life.

Be happy. Don’t give your energy to the wrong people, if you do then let it go. What they do with your energy is out of your control.

We gain more from realising the power of letting other people be. It’s taken me a long time and many mistakes and heart aches, falling out with people and picking myself off the floor; to realise I gain so much from everything I do.

The quote

There are no mistakes, only lessons to be learned’ is true

Continue to stay to true to yourself. Embrace your quirks and work them.

Flaunt them and love yourself.

Look around you , think of all the people you have loved, admired, bigged up, given a part of yourself to

On reflection you may go :

aargh! what the wtf was I thinking..’

There may be a part of you who is divided —

well that person is different. They are allowed to have an ” ugly” side because…

their talent or looks or status make up for their faults.

We should all prescribe a dose of that empathy and love to ourselves-

I am blessed to have a daughter who is a direct reflection of me

She is my mirror image. I love her and I think she is smart, funny, creative, gorgeous, articulate talks too much, stubborn, a bit of. a dram queen.. The full package.

I love myself too.

I am not a super model in a magazine nor do I want to be. I’m not a model citizen – I would have my face eaten by rats in Orwell’s Ministry of Love and be high/ numbed by synthetic products all the time in Huxley’s world.

Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy indulging in a  hedonistic life, zoning out watching and reading ‘Trash’ and watching ‘trash’ too. I

Go OverBoard by all means.

Make sure you get back on the boat.

I’m good enough. Be real — not a cardboard cut up of a media pitch advertising how you should act, look and live.

Thanks for reading my morning musings…

lots of willow’s GOATS2BDazee love

Societey’s Ills

 

Sitting with a cup in me hand,rattling my pennies. The wind cuts through my salvation army coat – I feel bare.

Half an hour until the big brother brigade does their rounds, to come  clear off the debris of me, offending society, with my appearance of failure. Glasses fixed on nose bridges to hide poverty’s despicable,  shining glare.

It wasn’t meant to get to this point. I had a home, a family. Believe me, I was a carer. That was many years ago.

I let my parents down. They was ill. They fought a lot. Dyspraxia and Alzheimers is a blinding, rallied up bull  shit way  to steer 30 years of love straight out the front door with a forceful blow.

Pa was getting violent he couldn’t help it – it was the  frustration. The illness works that way . Too much protein in the brain ,the doctor says.

I don’t care much for protein. I just wanted him to get the right meds,  to make him the  man who he used to be

I came home from school one day and the living room had been touched by pa’s hard  handed caress.

‘Put ya fecking glasses on – you thick cow. Turn them around. ‘ere give them to me I’ll show you how.’

Ma was crying. Her perception was off the wire – crazy. Dad went to put on me ma’s glasses and stopped dead in his tracks.

 He had forgotten why he was standing next to Ma- and lashed out – his moves were not shady but he  was hazy.

I couldn’t watch them do this any longer. I had to get out. I wished to start a new life. 16 – find a home I could call me own, addle, get a job and be Miss independent. carefree,sipping on splendour.

I found me a job – I was smart not like them other lasses, herded in like cattle, branded with the letter P. Marked,dotted, scarred, scared, drugged – too skinny to be called slender.

I started washing up pots,owt I could do. I needed a step to reach them. They were that big. I was that short.  The gaffer  he was a bit of twocker- A Tyke.

 He should have been wooing his guests instead of fondling me tits ,grabbing me ass and jerking off with the hand he vowed to his wife to stay faithful with.

I couldn’t take that shit no more. I was no whore. I suppose I could have called me Ma and Pa

I said No. Loud and clear.

Decibels reverberating – Tin Tin like.  I was barking mad.

 Hotel  guests, eating their warm croissants, couldn’t ignore  the tone – it was him that had set that bar.

Didn’t even get me wages. Couldn’t pay me rent. I only had a room but it was my home. A place none could bother me. I could come home kickoff me shoes and read and chill.

 Be at peace.

That were  a few years now. Things change. Time never stops. Drugs, alcohol, overdoses, hospital beds.

None of it worked. I just got older, street smart, I was now living amongst  wild, underfed , hope-starved geese.

No place to shower, they say it takes 3 seconds to make an impression on someone. No jobs – the only job I could get was the hardest graft I ever did.

 Squatting on the cobbles and begging for scraps of bread.

Bread,

dough,

blast me to oblivion ,

 fresh like a baguette- warm ,baked.

 I was safer in  the streets than I was in a seedy local pub.

The pervading scent emanating from these places was  the end of hope and that was my biggest dread. I’d rather  be underground dead.

I got in with some  Christian volunteers – at first, I was in tears. I had Hope, but I had lost faith.

 Pa, he had gone into a state care home and Ma?  well, she had a stroke and I don’t know. It just got harder to think of going back. Mind,  it was me guilt.

At first, it felt like they were recruiting me for their cult. I knew there is no God.  I had seen what mercy truly looked like. Bleak. a dying art.

 I got attacked one night,got meself in a right snicket. I know I wasn’t to blame. Wrong place, wrong time, could have happened to anyone.

 It was me.

Weeks went by , started feeling nauseous, went to A&E – they confirmed what I knew.I was up the duff.

 I knew I had to reach out – me and my child  depart ?   never crossed my mind -not even  from the start.

9 months  passed . The SS got involved – my baby was honey coloured hair and blue eyed. A prize catch ,a  tick off the adoption incentive  target list.

I didn’t stand a chance. They convinced me she’d be better off in another one’s arms.

That toppled me, I came down like a house of cards. Not original but tell it like it is, Bards.

I started living in shared accommodation.Nice people, life been shit. We all make choices – doesn’t make us bad people,right?

I lost the plot, forgot my goals- to become a suited and booted member of society. I had my mobile phone I got  given to me by the charity.

I whip it out. I got a text.

what’s app – it’s free.

Overweening  Lady, with the fine, make up on and pretty, salon styled hair and the sparkly engagement ring. Don’t look at me like that and stare.

Is it so wrong to have a phone and live on the street off and on ? I ain’t got no one to marry me.

”  What prompted this stream of consciousness is obviously the content.  One of the themes of the play is centred around  Homeless people. I saw a man – I presume was homeless the  other day begging for my some money and he was texting with his phone. My first reaction was rather judgemental -so I started asking myself questions and this is the result. The register/style  of speaking and writing  I use is inspired by how some  people in Yorkshire speak. “

Esther Roe

Charlie met Esther on abortionist roe.

Hedges neatly trimmed – enough to dishevel a bearded vagabond to weep after his latest woe.

No coat hangers to gut the newborn sac.

Charlie stood for hours until her number came up.

Raging

rouge screen screams with a tremulous beep.

Surreal

Conceal

Unable

to strike the star lead role in a Bolly wood film deal.

 

Unsullied arrived in a cumulous cloud

stricken by a thunderous compulsion to wail.

 

Esther didn’t hear the bond lust, lilted scream.

memory hazed -by two fat ladies at gate number 8.

Efforts disarmed – inability to count down to the primal odd.

 

nebulous chlorophyll masked her mouth.

Envy immobilised to an unrecalled dream.

Innocents smile

swinging on tyres.

Freddie Kruger caught in a static slumber loses nightmare credibility to a sterile clinic;

Action paralysing every unconscious scene.

Stratham, London-night defends to keep watch.

Both stumble upon a tidy little room – 1970’s style. No disco defiblerater harmonizing jolts to the beat of

‘ Staying alive ‘

Old granny hoovered up flowers chocked in ivy a patterned carpet,

Mist of lavender lingers. This bitch knows how to spray.

Don’t mess with the O.G.

Peppered, seasoned hair, non-linear lines carve out a facial narrative.

Don’t be fooled by this kungfu hoe.

inebriated illiterates

desensitized to her strategy in a game of cruel cluedo.

It’s all so normal. It’s life, you know.

Scissors ready to stab a beating heart,

Positioned in foetal

Sucked out the uterus.

Pro-choice.

Pro voice.

Pro-life.

Pro midwife.

Tall walled wars.

Bricks bolster the Illusion of affairs in order.

Nobody is scrutinized so fiercely as the woman who maps out her own destiny – navigates the boundaries that her ideas can afford her.

Quality control.

The NHS paid for a private eye.

Two signatures deemed sufficient to see her through the hours of her sobering silence.

Shameless in her flowered disguise.

Ginger nuts, unsavoury tufts.

No, this wasn’t her nine month due – no ice cubes for killing in the name of freedom to govern her own vessel.

No need for pro-life Stepford wives lies.

Sins anoint.

Sins accumulate.

 

Where would our saints stand without a dissident at hand?

Society sits down, protest proudly.

Part the veil of clouds

Peer piously downwards,

ready to strike thunderbolts of judgement.

 

Rain down booming terror tactics.

Esther cares not for their gospel band

Society sips, exhaling wafts of fair trade, Ivory coast coffee beans.

Privilege smells of a modern holocaust of starving babies in bony mothers arms.

Who said any of these women consented to consummate?

Penetrative obedience to the phallic statues erected in morning glory psalms.

Civilized society!

 

What if God was one of us?

a scripture in the making.-

Touch and kiss the sky.

Would he become the true reflection we see, when we catch ourselves about to exhale the final breathe before we die?

Fantasies always signed off with a silver lining and promises of a rainbow.

Reality is cold,

winter serves a plateau of ice.

Frigid flowers are frozen in angst,

Shatter

like glass.

Rebel against their reproductive nature.

Air,

breathe.

One full gasp.

If only a mere raspy rant leaves on its depart.

It’s either them or an urban jungle of homo sapiens collecting another free day ride.

Ready to infect ignorance on every global ocean that has shores that go out at low tide.

Pulp Estate

The best way to get through rough times is to be creative.

 

It’s not Saturday and I’m feeling non-conformist. I guess its kind of my way.

Haven’t done much this weekend — except nursing bruises, swellings, scrapes and downright painful blisters on the mouth.

I’m fuming.

The lows of last week found me beaten to a pulp like a survivor from a war jump.

Didn’t get no gangrene or scurvy dying on a rowboat at Dunkirk on sheets of ice.

Spinning around not a La Kylie Minogue mode.

I’m over the worst of the beating-

I “secretly” hope these two bastards get their come( t)uppence.

It would be easier to get high and escape from the downside-

Look out my window and the skyline is blocked by housing estates.

Crumbling – it’s always a better view at low tide.

Three a.m. wake up calls for months-every time.

The creative freaks come out so, I suppose I’m in good company and I will be.

just fine. 😀

Physical strength is the only thing that let me down in this fight against the Alphas.

If guns were legal I think I would use the second amendment to plea —

Y.ankee

O.scar

B.ravo

S.ierra –

Give at least one of the limp cocks a belter.

Only one would be laughing — this bruised weed — always making sure her brood is out of the firing line;

Standing in the shelter.

Ballroom blitz and shammy with my king.

Oh how we will dance!

— cowards should carry around organ donor cards.

On second thoughts, who would want the innings of someone who can’t fight to their  own strength —

Run little boys to your Audi and drunk mommy-

The one you beat up on a regular basis.

You think this is a female annihilation version of the crusades?

I’m low not in mood but my body says — sit down and feel your boo boos

My head says life is for living.

I don’t want to walk out of my house,

like a beast or looking like a victim of domestic violence-

Here comes the freak in an endless hued complexion of distracting tutus

The highs are the times when I hear my child laugh, my husband he bathes me and kisses me tenderly,

loves my sense of spirit when I look bloody unsightly.

In truth I look hideously ghastly—

Green beans and asparagus — home made by La Bonne chef, ma Mere.

I struggle to eat more than ever, but I won’t let two stomped out cans put me off the future horizon I’ve cut out —

The scenic view from here is a — plethora of orgasmic sight sees.

Lows inevitably come with highs.

I’ve accepted a hand

taken that step off the top roof.

The next time I’m up their , I’m going by lift.

Agenda?

To dance and rub shoulders with people channeling the same level — hearing a sub woof.

Clearly better days ahead.

Wasted time on talking pin heads.

Its fine, its mine, Its life.

Yesterdays news is on current recycle mode.

This Mary Poppins has already started making UP fresh linen beds.

A break from the toxicity of incurable idiotism — helps me see far up the winding road.

Perspectives easily imagined —

There goes a heavenly striking stair case.

It may not lead to a conventional heaven .

I’ve already stated my unorthodox ways right at the beginning .

I missed the word that rhyme ending three sentences up,

So, I’ll close SOCs by stating:

I’m recharging my load.

 

Not the Messiah

Big day in the U.K.

My musings……

Let’s sort  out any confusion

I’m under no great illusion

that Corbyn is  NOT the messiah to lead this island

to balmy weather.

Fair in the ideas he postulates.

Words that that resonate with humanities mantra of together.

Don’t expect a perfect world unless we all put in some labour

One man can speak for the many but the many must graft for the life they seek in ardour.

the many make changes – X marks your choice

It’s not over.This is but the start – it’s time to think outside of the box – continue to use your new found voice.

This is phase one of an arduous journey

We will lose if we don’t endure the marathon and have JC’s back when it all gets thorny.

Don’t lose faith

Keep your head looking  to the above.

It’s not a one man job

It’s up to all of us to stand the test -stay the course

perhaps one day we will see a world blossom from our sacrifice to give it one love.

 

Today I vote labour.

If there was a chance GREEN would or could win this election, I would have voted for them