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Entry three

Lo and behold!

(A slightly dramatic introduction). However, it’s inspired me to write about my recipe for kindness. I went to pick up B from school and she thrust a pamphlet in my hand.

It’s magic,mom! Ok , I realised the reason she thinks it is magic:it is a map that requires a powerful

ancestor with a great recipe to fold it back up to it’s neat , once untouched form.

The theme: believe in yourself! I read this first activity and realised I need to do this activity more than my daughter does.

Kindess.

Kindness. Why not bake a cake of kindness ? Add your own ingredients?

If I had to bake my own cake of kindness this is the recipe:

4 TBSP’s of no shit taken off people who don’t reiprocate your kindness wirh the respect you value.

A generous helping of be kind to those you say no to.

3 drops of mouth sealant essence. We are born with 2 ears and 1 mouth.

Surely listening and then (filtering our words) answering is a better way of communicating because responding is more effective than reacting. Reacting is reactive. Too many reactions can become radio active. An explosion and a recipe for an unkindly disaster.

4x cherries dipped in sherbet (tart and sweet) to remind myself and others that I can be sweet most of the time but if my sweetness means they forget to sugar their cake then they may lose all of their teeth when I sweetly give them another tangy aftertaste they aren’t expecting.

The icing can’t be too fussy or too messy. Plenty colouring of all the colours I can find in my kitchen to show my values and beliefs respect all cultures, religions, genders and the rest.

1 x candle lit in the middle of the cake. So, that people who are tempted to indulge in my recipe for kindness, remember that my kindness cake will lose charm and taste if the candle dies out by being watered down or worn down with unproductive critism, respect for the effort I put into making a cake of kindness.

A solid sponge base with the ability to absorb peoples different opinions and views. It will be slightly dry to convey my dry sense of humour. Add a dollop of butter or cream ( adjust portion as needed) to subtly suggest a flavour that reminds other people that my kindness is an act based in reality My reality. Oh, and a degree of sympathy /empathy at the very least.

My dry remarks and after taste can be tempered by adjusting the measures of butter and cream to soften my natural essence of character.

The final impression I would want to leave with baking a kindness cake is :I accept that we all have different tastess and degrees of what a great kindess cake tastes like. I promise not to take another slice of another person’s kindess if it doesn’t conform to my ideals of the perefect cake. I don’t expect to force fed others another slice of my kindess if it doesn’t suit them.

Entry 2

Today, I heard the postman push through my mail. I opened one letter and my heart nearly dropped to the floor quicker than the letter did. My hands were trembling like an addict going into withdrawals.

It was the referral letter from my G.P. and mental health nurse to be assessed by the Adult eating disorder services in Leeds. When I picked up the letter to go and read it , I felt like I was drunk – the words were spread out , doubling over the next word, hazy and unreadable , hazy and clouding my vision then my judgement as I felt the tears wet my cheeks and watched then drip into the paper.

I’m unsure why I started to cry. A combination of Fear and relief?

Fear that I might be rejected from getting psychotherapy because I’m not thin enough. Since I’ve moved house -3 months ago, I’ve put on 6 kilos( nearly 1 stone).

Fear that I will get the help I want and face my Eating disorder willingly. I know it’s a headspace controlled by my eating disordered part of me. The space of the unknown. That moment in between.

That train of thought –to be ill I need to look ill.

My rational mind totally ‘gets it’. My emotions and feelings about the impending assessment took my thoughts back to the years I spent in and out of hospitals, the loneliness ( I still feel many days)felt, my dream career that I had to stop due to my health deteriorating linked in with my eating disorder, the isolation..

I still tend to isolate myself. Most days ,I struggle with getting out and socialising. Most people think I’m over confident.

These days I’m less rigid in my thinking around my eating disorder. I know it’s there. Hell, it chatters to me 24 hours a day 😂😭. I also know the amount of energy it takes keeping my weight at this level.

The thought of all the dedication and commitment to go back and actively starve myself to below 50 kgs fills me with terror because the life I’ve managed to create will have no meaning or purpose, if I let it consume my entire world , it’s a bit like,how I feel about my suicidal thoughts since my last suicide attempt in , May 2020. I remember the pain and terror of when I thought I had been abducted by aliens -when the truth is :I was in a coma for nearly 10 days.

Truth is: I was beyond terrified however, the suicidal thoughts don’t disappear completely.

I’m actively trying to get my weight down to 53-54. A weight loss of 3 -4kgs. My safe weight. Will I want to stop when I get to that weight or carry on chasing a deficit in numbers and chipping away at my character, self esteem and my personality simultaneously?

Just like an addict- adding fire to aid the beast of addiction to lash out flames of fury at me.

Many years have passed since I was last sectioned for anorexia. My life has transformed -no, I have an actual life that my imagination never ever could conceive. I was drowning in ignorance because my mental illnesses had told me things that I believed.

I’ve made goals and achieved them. Some goals were not planned until circumstances pertaining around them turned them into goals to conquer or over come.

  1. A daughter
  2. A husband
  3. My degrees in higher education
  4. Volunteering with mental health charities
  5. Eating the way I do today
  6. Conquerimg other obsessions and addictions-actively working to stay away from that behaviour
  7. Looking at getting back in to full time employment

There is the desire to be free of my eating disorder.

So much has changed in my life and what role my Eating disorder and obssesions play in my life

Conversely, not much has changed either…….. ( dot dot dot dot).

I didn’t want to write today. Small words about a big force that hangs over me.

Be kind to yourself

Self-care is something that gives you pleasure and nourishes your body, spirit and mind.

Sabali wabi sabi

  • an experimental piece I wrote inspired by the existential Japanese philosophy- Wabisabi

Does it need to be said

Because the Media makes you think your make up is inappropriate?

If you are horrified to ask Google for mental health support

You know I’m hear 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.

Its 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 needs…

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 at?

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 pre empt if everything is filled in with Leftism.

Resist apologising

Dismiss you have the good view

Change your world

Thoughtfully

Refuse every thing

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 very own Self ?

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

Is this what you want?

What is the truth?

There are days I drop words of comfort on myself like falling leaves and remember that it is enough to be taken care of by myself – Brian Andreas

Have you ever tried to be yourself ?

Lost yourself to the one form of self expression that you excel in?

Writing without my vices is my biggest quality.

Proof I don’t need anything but passion & words & emotions to crystllize my thoughts and emotions. To formulate poetry or stories to know that I’m important too.

We all want a bit of self validation at times, don’t we?

Life is rough & tough .

Love the people who have got your back.

Leave those who don’t- even the one’s who claim to love you yet have let you down by your standards and your values – time and time again.

Respect comes with age & patience knowing that wisdom is not solely about your age but also about our unique experiences .

I sometimes think – If you call yourself a writer -then you have to write & type all the time .

I have an inkwell tattooed to my arm.

We shoudln’t define our selves as masters of our creative self expressive outlets if we don’t write or create every day , especially if it is something that we do to try and keep well or find inner peace.

It’s more difficult to achieve if our creative outlets require an income and proof for a resume or career!

I’ve had the privilage ( sometimes to my detriment) of making decisions in my life where I decided what roads I have travelled down. Some roads I had no choice.

That is life.

However or whatever we use our creative outlets and passions for – hobby, recovery, to stay sane, a career.

I have the opinion that it is how open you are to self reflection and the ability to take on healthy critique or even self critique will gauge how effective your work on self development and progression is achieved.

Don’t forget to be compassionate with yourself and I will try to remember that piece of advice too.

I have all these thoughts. The words I’ve just typed are my thoughts.

Interests? I have a lot of interets.

My thoughts get scattered.

I’m not my thoughts though I sometimes believe my thoughts and feelings are the truth.

They are my truth and subject to change.

These are my words.

Making friends living on an Acute psychiatric ward

I remember my first meeting with a mental health charity to collaborate and co-facilitate an anti- Stigma workshop/group that This is what I have been wanting to do for some time and here I am achieving my dreams. When I was back -institutionalized in an Acute ward with Anorexia and Bipolar in 2005. I think that personality trait to help others and organize groups has always been in me.

I was am a nightmare patient.

I always refused bed rest and focused my time on doing things like raffles to raise money for a charity shop connected to the Retreat,in York. I ended up raising over £100 in a matter of days with a BMI of 14.5. so about 41 kilograms. , 90 pounds – I’m nearly 5.8.

In other clinics- I was tube fed and restrained -often by up to four nurses.

That is a whole other story and debate.

I met another man who is/was a barrister and he had a complete breakdown. His wife had been cheating on him. I met an artist who expressed her unarticulated pain by painting. I met a woman who had been fighting Anorexia and OCD all her life and who taught me how to put a Christmas tree up.

I had forgotten.

I didn’t know what life was and what it meant to live.

I met a few ladies, not on my unit -The Acorn unit ( the name pun has not gone over my head). They expressed their pain through cutting and self-harm.

Nobody played games. Although some of us, from time to time would get hold of paracetamol and other shit and overdose to liven the humdrum mundaneness of life in an acute ward. I once got caught out on weigh day with fishing scales attached to my paper gown. The staff was quite taken aback with imaginative ways we would come up with to avoid putting on weight. These girls were hardcore. I met so many people.

I met a girl who terrified me. I could tell she had been in hospitals all her life. Her family could absolve themselves of whatever guilt they felt towards their daughter by puttting her in private clinics and the problem was dusted under the carpet.

I had started the process and recovery of eating again and putting on weight. I couldn’t cope. I developed another way to cope, for at least 4 months my day consisted of:

  • chewing gum

  • making a coffee

  • eating more chewing gum

  • make a cup herbal tea

  • smoke a cig .

I was on this loop for24 hours /7 days a week -for 4 months.

I was driving myself crazy in a way that was unfamiliar to me. The nurses tried to lock me out of the communal kitchens and one night I flipped out when they tried to grab me so I started throwing stuff around.

I wanted them to help me. The girl who initially terrified me came into the kitchen and sat down on the floor with me and held me for over an hour while, I shed tears for everything I can remember.

All the emotions attached to those memories I had pushed aside. None of these people was violent. We were trying to be understood and to understand ourselves.

I met a young girl with schizophrenia -she dressed like a Goth. Always had headphones in her ears. She was trying to silence the voices. She had been coping well up until her Mother passed away and like any normal person she was traumatized by it and her mental health went a bit off balance again. She was trying to make sense that her mother is dead. She was grieving.

One night a new guy arrived on the scene. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He had that charisma of the kind of guy I always seemed to attract. His eyes were full of spark and mischief. A person you would want on your side. We became friends. We spoke a lot. He did a very Titanic thing and drew a picture of me. Fully clothed. I can’t find the picture to load up. He was still going through the DT’s. I will live with my memory of how the picture looked- possibly very trippy. Ha Ha.

Barry was only staying for 10 days before he went to ‘a dry out clinic further up the coast. I don’t know what happened inside me but I didn’t want him to go.

He was a lot older than me but we did everything together.I got him painting again. I know he had just got out of prison but he was so talented. I begged the nurses and psychiatrists to let him stay.

‘Look! Look! how talented he is! He needs help from you’.

Our last night before we parted ways. We sat in the smoking lounge and watched ‘Pulp fiction’. I know this may make some people reading this go .. erm………what?

I lay my head down in his lap and he played with my hair. For me, the act was more like a father gesture. I suspect for Barry it could have been different.

He wrote loads of letters and planned to come to visit me. The nurses censored my post and turned him away.

I often wonder what happened to him.

I get angry that just because he was an in and out of prison for many reasons- he was denied the rehabilitation that I received. He had issues. I am no innocent.

I feel he could not have benefited from a recovery type community setting rather than prison. It’s not my place to say what he did, I don’t want to remember.

It would have ruined the fact that I found feelings inside me. I could laugh again, I could cry. I was real. I felt like a human being and not some freak with Anorexia. Anorexia took second place and I wanted it to always take second place. I felt real.

So back to the Anti-stigma workshop, I am doing. I can’t wait. I have a passion. I have the drive. This is my new chapter. I did have a beautiful picture Barry drew of a dragonfly but I guess moving around a lot means that I have lost other precious memories. I am finally in a position to help other people. I’m not letting this opportunity getaway.

WRAP Training reflection

 

 

Short reflection (First day down) onWRAP( wellness recovery action plan) facilitator training.

A stream of consciousness.

Heart beating, struggling to breathe, it’s my turn next to have a go honing in on my public speaking skills and being a co-facilitator, speaking about one core value and ethic of what the  WRAP self-management program means to me and why.

  • Breathe.

  • Make a few bullet point notes.

  • Listen to what others are saying. Listen……. 

  • Don’t pre-empt what I am going to say while listening to others.

  • Try and understand where that person who is currently in the hot seat, is coming from.

  • We are all nervous – we all have feelings.

  • Oooh, look!  A   squishy, colourful ball to play with,it lights up. I hope there is no one who is sensitive to flashing light in this room. Just Fucking do it. 

  • Remember, my reason for doing what I am doing.

  • This is not about what others think but about how I develop as a person and what it means to me, in my life – there is a bigger picture.

  • Smile.

  • wing it.

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  • Look people in the eyes when  I speak.

  • Acknowledge my nerves if need be.

  •  stick to the topic.

  • Believe in my own worth.

THE PRACTICAL EXERCISE:

Choose one out of the 15, WRAP ETHICS AND VALUES  that form the basis and success of the WRAP  self-management program, get into pairs to practice co-facilitating  (with someone I have never met before). Here is what I chose and what I had to say.

IF YOU ARE INTERESTED – YOU SHOULD BE 😀

 

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HAHA!

 

 

 CHECK OUT THE CORE  VALUES AND ETHICS CHECKLIST THAT MAKE WRAP WHAT IT IS

HERE   ( there are 15)

  Here’s another link if you enjoyed what you read 😀

VALUES AND ETHICS -MENTAL HEALTH RECOVERY

  MY CHOICE :

Difficult feelings and behaviors are seen as normal responses to traumatic circumstances viewed in the context of what is happening, not as symptoms or a diagnosis.

 

What I said: Three minutes starts now: tick tock

 

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MAKES MY OWN TICKER BEAT FASTER

 

 

“Long story short, I grew up in what is commonly referred to in society as a dysfunctional family and upbringing. Grew up around mental illness, addictions/people who used bad coping mechanisms.

I, family members of mine were Stigmatized because of that.

The global / U.K. NHS model for dealing with Mental health is not working.

Change is needed.

Labels and diagnoses should be a guideline -not something that you are stuck with for life.

We all have feelings – not all most feelings are irrational/impulsive.

Society is uncomfortable in dealing with other people’s feelings.

Feelings can’t be reduced to mere symptoms of illness 

We all have Mental health. We all have a mind and a body. 

We are all subject to episodes of good and bad MH on a  sliding scale spectrum.

People with Feelings should be encouraged to share them. 

We are all unique. 

We share many similar qualities and are complex beings.

Our narratives – our personal story.

how we came to be who we are today and who we will become should be determined by being able to express our feelings and thoughts without being labelled in jargony terms ( if we want it that way).

We are human.  Let’s stop hiding it and act like it.

There is no shame in being human and feeling happy/sad/ insert emotion.

I believe, there is this cultural mentality that people with Mental Health “issues”  ( every human being on this planet btw)  who have come out or indeed still continue to suffer in silence are deemed incapable of taking true, positive personal responsibility for our own health in an empowering manner.

I think We are afraid because we have been told we don’t have the mental capacity to manage ourselves in the current medical, prescribed model set- up that we rely on still to this day.

This links into another crucial value and ethic of WRAP  which is  what my co-facilitator will touch upon now”  

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CO -FACILITATOR’S  CHOICE AND TURN IN THE HOT SEAT.

Self-determination, personal responsibility, empowerment, and self-advocacy are key aspects of this program.

How I sum up what my three-minute co-facilitator said, in my own mind, is:

Understanding and wanting to understand how to manage your own issues in new ways – safe ways, different ways requires determination. One-step and that is already a person taking responsibility for their path – their mind /their body. 

The result – I have found, is usually empowering.

I can do this.

Why ?

I have just done it.

WOW! Fucking shit man….. 

Carry on working on ourselves and focusing on what makes us well, unwell, etc…. is a great prescription. Self-advocacy is a prescription a person gives themselves. 

WHY?

Because I know myself better than anyone. I don’t care who believes it or not. 

You know yourself better than any doctor, family member or friend. You live in your head and body.

I am the expert on me and I can be pretty fucking resourceful if I am pointed in the right direction.

That’s it.

I’m Knackered.

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My Bella Bee is back at school.  Missed her first day at  BIG  school. 😦

My GHD’s said a big F U  to me this morning ……

but…..

I did it.

I can’t even focus on the words on my MA in Creative writing on the Open University website that is finally open and we have full access to use.

Finally!

What do I want to write about?

Social issues/ issues that affect us as humans.

I do know that my first Tutor marked assignments  (TMA) is going to be an 18-minute play about a homeless person and how society and the community can succeed in aiding a vulnerable person to help him/herself.

Be kind to yourself.

Be kind and rewind. Remember that one?

 

 

Catch up soon!

Loads of shout outs as promised at the end of the week.

Can’t wait to explore all the new blogs and Bloggers in the Willows and beyond.

Good night!

Daisy ❤ ❤

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Toxic positivity culture

Most of us are aware that suicide attempts are on the rise at an explosive rate.

We all don’t want to see or hear someone who thinks the only way out of life is taking their own life.

We are told to talk about our feelings. Get it all out & call for a chat if we need anything.

People have to get on with their lives.

What if the help they are advised to seek out isn’t there or doesn’t help?

What about our ethical stance or views about people who want to end their lives?

Can we become open to challenging our views and reasons for helping people without being able to have a lasting impact on those people who still have to live with the aftermath of wanting to die?

Of course ,we are humans with complex emotions & at times deep compassion & empathy. We want to help or fix other people.

How do you feel about

Someone with a degenerative disease such as MS who has lost her soulmate & wants to end Life?

Or a man with a family to protect who is struggling financially & can’t see a way out either through shame or pride to seek out help or because they refuse to live in poverty so takes his life so his family can live on his Life insurance?

What can you do to make a positive long lasting change in their mind set or circumstances?

Does it soothe our conscience

We can admonish we have done the right thing

Acts of Altruism?

What about a teenager with body issues, relationship problems, a person.

Who sees no way out?

What if the places we signpost him to get help can’t or doesn’t help?

Well.. at least we tried to be a good person..

Instinctively we feel that it would be wrong to not want to help.

We live in a society where we are bound by outdated traditions, people who believe rhat by giving a person a poster can guide a person to change their perspective .

I believe the quality of life should matter more than the quantity.

I also believe that a teenager or a man in serious debt may be able to find guidance and be able to deal with the desire to die.

When it comes to illnesses I watched my own grandmother become an entity merely existing because that is what. society says we should do. Keep her alive.

Keep people alive even if that life is in a care home, unable to speak, move.

We don’t have enough resources to help people in state care homes to signpost these people to places where they can have a chance to rethink how they can live with a sense of purpose.

I’ve seen people I love live on a “leash” tied to life for what? other peoples peace of mind?

If we can’t get the resources to help people see a way out must they suffer their entire mortal life in mental anguish & physical torture?

What gives life meaning?

Purpose?

Finding a way to grow, achieve happiness – evolve as we have been designed to as humans?

We were born to live in our physical bodies and create a life worth living. To be able to say at the end of our lives that we died knowing for what purpose we had lived.

Baco Rhythm and Steel

I seem to be drawn to the chilled out vibes in music this week. The cha cha cha chang  (?) of this song is soulful, laced with moments of winding funk beats which lend it a cool, fleshed out tune. Sometimes, I enjoy listening to a bit of instrumental hiphop/triphop/ soul /funk. Instrumental music is cool to chill out to.

The saxophone gives the A-side a G-funk delight.

Is that even a music term?

I guess it is now.  😀

This is the first song I’ve heard of the BACO RHYTHM & STEEL BAND.

So it’s great they’ve got a B-side to sample.

On the B side, they have done a rework of Mobb Deep’s hit with the same name. In fact, the B-side has gone straight into my playlist. I adore sounds that immerse cultures and flaunt a multitude of sounds. This has a real Bhangra, anime, Bolly wood espionage feel. It’s playful and seriously cool. Bangerz delight.

For those of you who want to hear Mobb Deep’s ordinal song ‘Burn’ – yeah, they’ve done the song justice. It’s sweet!

Finally, to round up this post, if I may… I wish to impart and depart (lol)with a few words

.I always want to be successful in whatever I’m doing just like everyone else. I want to get it right. I want to see my “5-year GOAL/PLAN” results from the day I have an idea to do something different with my blog or with my Life.

It is cool to not have everything figured from the initial conception. Be cool with that and enjoy the process.

Every day is not going to be a day where we feel we have hit our creative goals.

Great or small.

Sometimes it’s cool to break down a big dream in to smaller chunks. Count all your achievements -great and small

Hit play!

Have a great day!

I’m the woman who feels her mind unravel every single day. I’m that woman who will drop (almost ) anything to be loved, liked and to try and be there for people. I am that woman who thinks I am one step away from insanity. One meal away from sitting with others -in the cafeteria suffocating with all the beldam and discourse of those who have held all their pain and confusion inside for too long.

I am terrified I am losing my mind. I have panic attacks, social anxiety, Chronic Anorexia and Bipolar. I’m am that woman who sees every one I love (or now)know that I do love get sick or die around me. Drop-dead.

The black sheep. I forget what I want to say. I doubt my self. I think too much. My biggest secret is I want to be grounded. I do! I seem to be caught up in the cycle of escapism. Escapism not in the form of writing, dancing or talking or being cool with me, but I feel myself inching closer towards ‘the dark soul of the night’.

I want to be saved. I question my faith. Did I ever have faith in anything other than toxins that would take me away from my current emotions?

Yet… even though I am the girl shunned by family and friends, I seem to reel it back in. I wind my mind and wrap it into a neat little bow. Always a different colour. I survive. I don’t know how or why.

Well.. I do. I am a mother, woman, daughter, friend and I have a purpose to fulfil. In my most delirious moments, I find myself inching towards praying to my own mother’s version of God. That biblical character. It frightens me to conform. I don’t want to be brainwashed by society and religion and politics. I don’t want to fit in. I want to be accepted.

I find joy in music and dancing. I find sense in writing. I write to recover.

Did I do a Faustus? I did. A long time ago, in between going to a catholic nun run a school, having Jehovaha’s witness lessons after school and then going to get “drunk” in the Lord’s spirit with, my mates, in the evening. I sought out Satanism. I asked it to take me and I lost my way.

That sounds crazy. I’m running empty on spirituality. Mortality is harsh and fleeting. I cry every day for me, my family, even those who hate me so.

I have to move on and let go. Many say I’m too hard on myself. Do we all feel like a fraud?

Knocking on doors for help. What’s the worst that could happen? I end up alone? Forced to be content with this body, this mind, this personality.

I can’t go back. It’s easy to want to go back when the future is so uncertain. In the distance it reveals that is is not benign. It is a vast tumour. There is no way to stop time. It’s an entity independent of reality.

I’m told I need to look within. look after me. Find my place in this world. I’m still here.

I wanted to die. I nearly did.No bright lights.No memory of the ambulance, the police smashing down my door, the room in Intensive Care.

I’m still here. Every time I think I can’t get through with my day or be with myself, time passes and I’ve survived. I’m reminded of Alan Watts famous clip’ What do you desire?’

Be happy or die trying.

To be continued…