Summertime

 

Beautiful British blue sky.

 

Lazy fields of green.

 

The whisper of summer in the wind.

xxx

2 points

Right, this is now my 4th and final attempt at writing tonight's blog.

And so instead of wittering on about what I was going too witter on about, I shall summarise with these 2 short points:

1. Watching the whole of the Wimbledon tournament is one of the only perks of being unable to work for the past 2 years. Once again, I am gripped.

2. My amazing Daddy will be on Radio 2 tomorrow morning at 9:20, live from Glastonbury, doing 'pause for thought'. I recommend you tune in and pause with him. Very Exciting (it deserves a capital E.)

xxx

Whirlwinds

Its been a little bit of a strange week by all accounts.

Phone calls and hospital visits.

Coach trips and dress fittings.

Planning and laughter.

Tears and worry.

Tiredness and adrenaline.

Hugs and reassurance.

Workshops and uncertainty.

Sculpture and space.

A whirlwind that reminds me that life never stays the same. 

xxx

New BFF

Oh hello beautiful handbag.

 

You are super lovely.

 

Thank you for arriving on my doorstep this morning.

 

You have made me smile a little bit.

 

I think we'll be good pals.

xxx

Let me show you what I see

Written for you....

Let me show you what I see.

Let me show you the truth.

Let me take away the distortion, and let me show you reality.

 

I see beauty.

I see grace.

I see a figure that a thousand women would envy.

 

I see the 'wows' that you ignore.

I notice the heads turning that you miss.

 

Beauty.

Grace.

 

I wish you could see what I see.

xxx

3 certainties

My apologies yet again for the lack of blogging.

Life seems to be running away with me somewhat, and I feel like I'm chasing my tail.

But tonight is a time for relaxation and wine.

A time to forget about the strange twists and turns that life brings forth.

To forget about the 'what if's' and the 'have not's'.

And instead concentrate on the certainties that we do hold within us.

Even if they do seem deeply hidden sometimes.

Life, love, hope.

xxx

Jesus in my oven

Let me ask you this, dear friends, have you ever lost Jesus in your oven?

Or am I the only one?

One might wonder how its possible to lose Jesus in the oven, and unfortunately this is the second time I have mislaid him (first time was in the stockroom at work, a labyrinth of lost things.)

I have a fondness for wearing rosary beads with a crucifix, which I have now discovered can get caught on various implements. Door handles, ovens, chickens, ears, buttons, you get the picture.

This afternoon I decided to roast a chicken, which is usual a very simple task. But not today. Oh no.

Today, as I bent over the oven, moving the metal shelves, Jesus decided to jump ship. He was obviously bored of hanging around my neck, and was searching for pastures new.

Well, I think this Jesus is invisible or something.

I have swept, poked, and prodded every inch of the oven.. I even made a poking device. I found a lot of dust, and general grossness, but no Jesus.

I have nervously sniffed the oven, wondering if I could smell Jesus burning, but no.

I even peeled back the foil covered chicken, to check if Jesus had hidden in there, but I couldn’t spot him.

I have taken off my clothes twice, just in case he fell somewhere slightly inappropriate (this has also happened before.)

So if he turns up near you, my Jesus is about an inch tall, made out of metal and on a miniature wooden cross. He’s also from the Vatican, so maybe he converses in Italian. Actually, I suspect he’s bilingual, so that doesn’t really matter.

And so, I am anxiously praying for a miracle. The resurrection in my chicken dinner perhaps?

xxx

Stuck

A writer who cannot write.

A painter who cannot paint.

My creative block continues, and I’m pulling my hair out.

I feel like a fake.

A pretender.

Repetitive and unoriginal.

A waste of space.

Bleugh.

I’ve got a horrible medical assessment form to fill in at the moment, which I’ve almost done, but its hanging around me like a bad smell. (Or maybe that’s just Mr B’s trumps…)

My support worker has told me to have a ‘tentative’ look at part time work. But I literally freak out every time I go on one of those websites. I look at the list of jobs and either see a job that I can’t do, or one that I wouldn’t really want to do (like being a bin man or something, just don’t think the outfit would suit me.)

In a few weeks I’ve got some employability and IT courses starting, so hopefully they will give me a bit of confidence.

I just feel like a useless waste of space. Whoops said that already, told you I was repetitive.

If anyone does have any inspired ideas about what to do with my life, then please let me know.

In the meantime, I’m available to create you a painting (Sue and Jim, I haven’t forgotten yours, just waiting for the creative lull to end) proof reading essays, dog walking or dog sitting (not that I actually sit on your dog, but I’m sure you know that already.)

Mr B says I should stop worrying and watch the Muppets, he knows they always make me smile. Top advice really.

xxx

 

 

Back in time

Sitting here in my incredibly tidy room feeling a little better.

My monstrous mess had been making me feel rather itchy. I just wanted to chuck everything away and sit in an empty room surrounded by space.

In my quest to declutter, I even managed to throw away some of my beloved cassette tapes. Talk about tough. I did let myself hang onto about 10, I just couldn’t bring myself to throw away NOW 27. It might be worth a fortune one day, you never know.

However, I probably haven’t helped the future of my cluttering collection this morning as I purchased another second hand book….

When I see a book that I used to read as a child, I simply cannot resist buying it again. It allows me to have an instant trip down memory lane. Todays purchase was ‘Milly-Molly-Mandy Stories’ and for the bargain price of 20p, it has made me a very happy lady.

 

 

Now for those of you who aren’t familiar with this literary gem, let me tell you a little bit about Milly Molly Mandy….

“She had a Father, and a Mother, and a Grandpa, and a Grandma, and an Uncle, and an Aunty; and they all lived together in a nice white cottage with a thatched roof.”

I can’t quite imagine how they all fitted into this cottage, but as a 7 year old reader, I never really thought to question the sleeping arrangements.

She also has a dog called Toby, a cat called Topsy, and two friends, Susan and Billy Blunt. The stories tell of birthday parties and gardening. Blackberry picking and knitting. Published in 1928, they transport you to a simpler world. Where small pleasures become exciting treats, and nothing is taken for granted.

You may be wondering why I’m wittering on about this old childrens book, and I don’t really have a good answer. Part of me is just super pleased about finding it again.  But the other part is pushing me to try harder at appreciating the little gifts in life (just as Milly-Molly-Mandy does. You should read the chapter when she finds a penny in an old coat, wow, that is true excitement for you.)

Its something that I have been attempting to do for a while now, but I need to remind myself to keep practising.

I become so overwhelmed by the looming prospect of the future, that I cant always see the good stuff that’s happening in front of my nose…

xxx

Stormy waters

Absolutely wiped out today.

Bleurgh.

Don’t think an 8am physio appointment really helped.

I am not a morning person.

No idea how I used to get up at 7am every day. 8am is pretty much my earliest these days.

Yet so many people have to do the early morning thing! I commend you. I salute you. ‘Cuz I’m utterly hopeless. I end up spending all afternoon fighting against my eyelids closing.

Yawn.

Had a creative art session today which will progress towards us making some sort of sculptures. I love working in 3D, you can be so messy and really connect to your work.

However, the theme which we’re working on is ‘identity’ and it triggered some difficult stuff for me this morning.

I’d had quite a tough, full-on counselling session last week, which had bought up the theme of identity, and how I see myself.

I’m not going to lie, its not pleasant stuff folks.

And so to be challenged again in the same area, just made my heart sink.

I don’t like thinking about identity. I don’t like thinking about who I am. Because, quite frankly, I end up feeling utterly crap and just want to stab myself in the eye. So I avoid it, I try not to dwell on my inner self.

My mind feels already programmed to dislike my personality, and that bitter poison runs through my veins, infecting each part of me.

I know it sounds weird, but I often think that’s why if I’m having a bad black dog day I’ll often be really cold, or have a headache, or stomach ache. Its like the poisonous depression has been running through the whole of my body, dragging each part down with it.

So, you can see why I don’t like pondering on this identity stuff. It just seems to bring up a wave of self-destruction. But I guess, I just have to ride the wave. Get through this threatening stormy darkness and wait for the clouds to disappear.

xxx 

 

Not just the celebs...

Another week, another Monday, another long list of things to do that I feel incapable of doing. Oh joy.

My recent blogging has been pretty rubbish. Do I just repeat myself and moan all the time? That's what it feels like.

My head goes round and round in circles. Travelling back over the well worn paths in my mind. Thought patterns and phrases that are ingrained into the very heart of me.

Nothing words.

A lot of nothing words.

Words that are frozen.

Stuck.

There was a good article in the Independent on Saturday by Alistair Campbell. He discussed his own battle with depression as well as Stephen Fry's.

Here is the link if you want to read it.

http://www.independent.co.uk/voices/comment/i-feel-for-stephen-fry-nobody-who-has-known-depression-would-wish-it-on-their-worst-enemy-8649425.html


I commend anyone who can write or express in some way their own experiences with mental health. But for me, it also raises the question of the celebrity obsessed culture we live in.

Why does it take the face and the voice of someone well known to raise the profile of mental health issues?

Why do we sympathise with the celebrity who tried to commit suicide, yet ignore the person in the office who has been suffering with depression?

Like I said, I am grateful to the many well known faces from the celebrity world who are tackling the stigma of mental health. But what worries me, is that we live in a culture where we seem to be mesmerised by these celebrity stories.

Why are we not opening our eyes to see the people that our part of our daily lives that are struggling too?

They are the heroes, they are the survivors.

They need your compassion too.

They may not be on the cover of a magazine, but that doesn't make their battle any less important.

xxx

Escape and be free...?

Blimey o'reily I haven't blogged since Monday.

Where has this week gone?

I'm not even sure what day it is.

But I am sure that tonight I'm going to have a relaxing evening, stuffing my face with chicken nuggets. Yum.

Oh I can't even write properly tonight, my mind is all over the place. Nutsville.

So perhaps I shall share a poem, one that a lovely lady emailed to me this week.

Now this lady who emailed me, I like to call her my train angel. She doesn't have wings or a halo. She isn't called Gabriel or anything like that. She did however, make a difficult 4 hour train journey a lot easier.

Sometimes our worlds collide with another human beings for no reason, sometime it can be the beginning of a friendship, a love affair, or even an argument.

A stranger can make your day, or equally ruin it.

My stranger on a train relieved my anxiety, and made me feel like I wasn't alone in my battle against the black dog.

I can't write any more tonight, I want to, but I'm all wonky in the brain area. Urgh. Useless.

Here is the poem my train angel sent me....

xxx

A little bit of breathing space

After a beautiful and memorable weekend in Devon, I am now back home.

The wedding was super special, and I felt so privileged to be part of it!

Now for wedding number 2 and a dress fitting up in Warwick on Wednesday :) .

I seriously think I could become a wedding planner after this summer of love.

I had earmarked today as a 'day of rest' but after all the fun and busyness of the weekend, I've found it really hard to wind down.

I feel a little bit like a Catherine Wheel that wont stop spinning.

Luckily though, I remembered that I used to spend a large proportion of my time painting my nails and generally titivating myself.

Looking back, I cant quite believe how much time I did spend on this, but it really does relax me. And so, once again, I have sparkling nails. This also stops me from biting them off in moments of anxiety.

Hurrahs all round I say.


xxx