How Beautiful Do You Feel? What is Your Perception of Beauty


Inspiration for this comes from a clip I recently saw again from earlier this year. It is where a photographer films the response on people’s faces when they are told they are beautiful. Asking you to watch what happens…

I have never considered myself to be beautiful. Thankfully otherpeople from  time to time have in my life.

I was not one of the “Beautiful People” as I grew up. You know the ones who seemed to have it all. Lots of friends, a good job, nice material things and a good life. But quite often life is not all as it seems for those people anyway.

Then the line of a song popped into my head as a reminder while I write this it is also something you hear so often. “Beauty’s only skin deep”

I beg to differ! 

Occasionally when dressed up in my finery for a night out or special occasion I have sometimes felt a little bit beautiful, but more “well presented” and usually a little uncomfortable but having been injured during the past two years, never more so than now and I have not been feeling beautiful for some time. Along with the small amount of self-confidence that I had having taken flight I now also have facial scars.

Sure, they are healing up and could have been much worse but they are there nevertheless and people do tend to look at you differently. As I show people who know me, I point  out that they are healing well, as though to reassure them that I will look and feel like me again sometime soon. I now understand why so many people hide under their daily face. The make up is not only there to enhance but to cover. I have never really worn a lot of make up and while the skin heals, since I have been able to recuperate at home I have stuck with little or no make up to help it. But plenty of Bio oil and Aloe Vera to renew the skin and help the scars.

I always thought that my eyes were my best attribute, but they really are the window to my soul and can be read so easily. Sometimes that worries me as I don’t want to always be an open book for all to read. But I digress slightly.

Over the years some of the people in my life have arrived and felt that I am beautiful. Some have been there fleetingly, others have stayed realising that beauty takes so many forms.

My beauty lies within me! 

It is not only skin deep. I am a nice person. I try to do my best for those around me in my life and others I have yet to meet. For a world that is so much bigger than mine. I cherish what nature gives us and encourage growth wherever possible.

So, you may ask Do I feel Beautiful? And as I stand shy of the mirror and think past looks alone I will answer yes. Grateful for having been shown that it does lie within us. So if you do not feel it, search within and when other’s shine a light upon your beauty and tell you you are beautiful embrace them and it and let your spirits rise.

Image: FB  Positive Outlooks 

3 Quotes in 3 Days – Day 3

Ok so I may not entirely have got my head around the rules of this challenge. I am sure that http://www.trulyunplugged.com will find it in her heart to forgive me. 

Yesterday I posted two days at the same time. But in my mind since I wrote the first on Friday and forgot to post it then, it must count as a separate day!  It’s been a very fluffy week, by that I mean the head being full of fluff. My Health has not been great and lots going on followed by Excitement building for today when something wonderful is going to happen. (More about that in a post later!) I’ve been more than a little preoccupied whilst trying to settle back in down South.


I’m afraid I don’t know the author of this fabulous quote for today.  It came from “Heart  Centered Rebalancing” on Facebook and I felt the need to share. I have mentioned in the past that my own instincts have been ignored by me too many times to my detriment. It is a slow process to trust your own instincts. This is especially difficult when hounded by self doubt, but I am learning finally. I have been following them and they have been leading me onward, guiding me where I used to get so lost. If they can continue to shout louder than my stubbornness in my subconscious then I will stay on the right track. 

Wish me luck with that! 

So, that’s it for this challenge. Being a bit of a rebel at heart. Rather than nominate specific bloggers. I am putting this one out there for anyone reading this to join in. I’ve enjoyed the challenge you might too. I may even go at it again later… 

3 Quotes in 3 Days Challenge -Day 2

Well. With such a huge choice at my fingertips I was torn as to which one to choose for today. I don’t know if like me you have a folder full of quotes to lift your spirits, reassure you or push you on to greater things. Most are gathered from facebook pages throughout the daily onslaught there and many which hit the nail on the head. 

Will it be inspiring or push someone to do something they might be doubting their ability to do? Is it time for me to become a leader for a moment after all I was taught to lead by example?

Well, actually not today Thanks. 

I know that for some a tough week is governed by their workload where as for others it is governed by their health. Sometimes physical and mental. This week for me it has been the latter so although I would normally relish the chance to encourage others. The challenge I thought may shake me up and encourage a change in mood but I find that this is leading me in it’s own direction. Maybe I will re-do this challenge at a later date when in a different frame of mind, but for now it’s one day at a time. Meanwhile Thankyou again to my nominee http://www.TrulyUnplugged.com

I begrudgingly returned South again last week which has left me rather blue and craving the place we have just left. The sanctuary removed I have been on alert again and feeling very unsettled. Hoping for changes for the better to come here and bless us with their presence and at times feeling rather broken and emotional.

This quote by Jamie Lee Logan’s page Princess Sassy Pants & Co is another good place to look. I find that she combines her artwork with quite often just the right thing to say. This reminder came when I needed it. 

The Interesting People We Meet and the Things They Teach Us.

It’s interesting buying things from eBay. No this post is not actually about the delights of eBay itself, there is plenty of advertising for that. I have been buying things from this particular platform for about 13 years now and have in the past few been also selling on there. It is one of those things, sometimes your sale goes easily and other times, it is a complete pain, with awkward people who expect far too much from the object you are selling, or leave the dreaded rubbish feedback which blights your account until the end of time. Or until the eBay team read the messages between you and decide that it shouldn’t be there and remove it.

This post is about the people you meet as you purchase things and collect them, over the years we have met some lovely people and some downright horrible ones. If you are buying from them, you make it a very quick collection and try not to share anything personal with them.

Then there are others, who by meeting them, they get you thinking about them, you share a coffee and a little of your life history and you get on really well. You leave feeling as though you have gained from the experience. Sometimes they bring you a gift, like the man who brought me a tray of duck eggs and a bottle of wine from his smallholding when he collected a trailer. The little girl who brought me a loom band bracelet she had made when she collected her sister’s horsebox. The man who turned up with flowers and chocolates. The kindness of others is always to be appreciated and like me if you often go the extra mile to help, just because you can, sometimes nice people turn up. Don’t get me wrong, we have had our share of unkind ones too, who have ripped us off taken our money, or not described something properly, or it has been damaged when it arrived. But for the main, we take as we find people and they do likewise in return.

Over the years, we have bought cars, things, furniture, trailers, horse boxes, caravans, clothing, almost a house on occasion but pretty much anything and everything via eBay and it has served us very well. We haven’t always purchased well though, some of the vehicles have caught us out and needed expensive repairs, but generally if you check something over before you part with your money and you know what you are looking for, then it’s still a good place to buy from.

On Sunday we did a 140 mile round trip to meet a lovely couple. We went to collect a trailer and when we arrived, we were a little disappointed as it was smaller than they had advertised. We could have walked away from it at this point, since its smaller size made it less suited to our needs, but we had driven the distance so we might as well take it and it was not expensive. My partner had a lovely chat on the phone with the man before we set off, to make arrangements to pick it up, it has taken a couple of weeks due to conflicting schedules. But we arrived there and met the man and his wife. The men immediately got along and since I had turned up with some flowers for his wife, she made me coffee, real coffee, which was very much appreciated.

Clifford was in the music business before he retired, he mentioned this before we arrived. Having worked in the entertainment business myself, I wondered what he would be like. Whether he was a musician himself, or would turn out to be a promoter full of his own importance. I needn’t have worried, it turned out he was a charming man, in his mid 70’s, with the carefree attitude of someone who has done well for himself. He wrote and composed songs and has enjoyed a comfortable living from it over the years. He kept himself healthy with various sports and martial arts, which is something the men had in common and they shared interests in many things. The house with its enormous garden looked unpretentious, lived in and enjoyed not there for show, just people getting along with their lives. It was not fussy or overly decorated. It was homely and I rather liked it. It had a pool in the back garden and some outbuildings and some rather lovely fields and woods surrounding it. Lots of greenery and a pretty and maintained garden. The sort of place which I would hope to have when I was their age, which is still some way off for me. I didn’t want to put her out but Dominique made coffee for me anyway and as the men talked and they showed us around their sprawling garden discussing their schooling and growing up bizarrely, it was clear that they got along just fine and that Clifford had a story or two to tell.

We went inside to talk as it was late afternoon and getting cooler. She was a smart and interesting French lady, a few years older than me. In no time at all we realised that we also got along well. We stood in the kitchen, discussing what we did for work, whilst the men talked school, history and other things. I told her that currently I am writing a book, having just finished my first one of adult poetry, it was now ready for publication, I hoped. She was genuinely interested in hearing about it and asked me how the writing came about and I explained that it was part of my therapy, an outlet for my thoughts, following injury and trauma. That I had written over the years, but done nothing with it until recently and that now I write a blog. Although at some point I may have to get other work too, I was taking the time to do this for me. I told her that a couple of years ago I had become involved with a health products company but that due personal reasons felt and with a lack of self confidence that it was the wrong time to throw myself into a public forum, where you have to sell to people and speak to people you don’t know. Despite my good intentions when I began I just wasn’t ready for that and so had let it slip into the background having done very little with it, but it was there to pick up with again when I am ready, although I did not know when that would be and I secretly hope that I will be able to in time.

As we talked I found out that Dominique is a Corporate Coach. A person who big companies employ to get the best out of their staff and improve their self confidence to boost productivity. She told me a little about her work, that she enjoys it and gets to travel and does a lot of remote working also. She also told me about the benefits of “EFT or Tapping” I had heard of it before but not looked into it, she explained that she had found it reduces stress and she finds it really helpful. I asked her more and she told me briefly how it works, that it is something that you do for yourself involving the meridians of the body. The Acupressure points throughout the body can be quite literally tapped with the fingers to relieve stress and trauma influences and calm the body, a bit like acupuncture without needles. Now as you might know I prefer a holistic approach wherever possible and have been a bit stressed out lately, so I was very interested to hear about this and thought, I’d definitely give it a go. I have had acupuncture in the past and found it very useful for pain relief, but also suffered nerve pain from a misplaced needle too, so this method definitely appeals.

Early on in our conversation, I sensed that she was holding herself back, but still remaining polite. She was more than a little distracted but soon explained that her mother was very ill in France and had been taken to hospital that morning, she apologised but she had to keep checking for messages. I understood, but she kept coming back to speak to me whilst the men sorted out the trailer. For a moment, there was a visible glimmer of a girlish quality, laughter as she demonstrated the tapping technique to me, she reminded me so much of one of my friends who I have not seen for a while.

Dominique suggested that I look up a couple of websites and watch some YouTube videos on how to do it properly she wrote them down for me and suggested I give it a go, if I wanted to. No pressure but it might help oh and it also won’t cost anything.
This lady may have just given me a present in this conversation. She wrote the websites down for me and as it turned out I had heard of one of the people Nick & Jessica Ortner. I had signed up for an email to “The Tapping Solution” a while ago, but had not looked into it fully yet. As usual other things had taken a precedence recently and the doing things for me, time out from everything else has only been happening to write very occasionally.
I resolved to look it up and read those emails.

We were there for several hours, we had difficulties with the trailer, since the size of the tow hitch was different to our towing gear on the vehicle, Clifford had to adapt it to fit and it took a while. But what was lovely was that by time we left there, we felt that we had been treated more like visiting friends than someone who had just gone to collect a trailer and they asked us to stay in touch with them. We were hugged and invited to call again if ever we were down that way.

I recently saw a quote which resonates with me, it said that “Your Energy Introduces You Even Before You Speak” I believe this to be true. I have met many people over the years, some I have taken an instant like to and they have been good, kind people some have become firm friends. You can tell a lot from someone upon a first meeting, the first impressions do count. Some call it a hunch, or a gut instinct, or a vibe. Whatever you choose to call it, in deciding last year that I would follow my instincts when it came to meeting new people, I have been better protected. There are other people who on meeting them I instinctively up my guard and don’t like, I can’t always put my finger on why at the time, but usually my instinct has proved me right, they have turned out to be people with alterior motives or who are just downright nasty. In misplacing my trust in them, usually by giving them the benefit of the doubt I have got hurt and gone through all sorts of pain, or put myself in places I should not have been. I hope that in future, I will learn from that mistake.

But what I am thinking about today is that it makes such a difference when you meet nice people and restores your faith in humankind and I would much rather spread a little happiness.

The Frustration in Fighting for Peace and Justice.

14141866_1841499272738781_2593908960999070479_n

 

Try as I may, I am bundled up with frustration at the situation which we currently face.
Following on from the incidents of this week, as mentioned in my previous post The art of holding it together…. Or keeping calm in a crisis.(which is a bit of a long read)

I have been told that the man who tried to come and kill me has been released, whilst I was being told this, he arrived back to his own home opposite mine, at about 11pm shouting that he was back. I told this to the Police officer who was informing me, she sighed and said, “so he is already kicking off then.”

It is the sort of response that I would expect from a friend of family member, but again it seems the police are actually powerless to deal with this. They know exactly what they are dealing with here and yet they had to let him go on bail, because he said that he didn’t do it! As my friend put it quite succinctly, did they expect him to say, “Yes Officer, I am a complete arse, I cannot live or function in Society”

I found out yesterday, that he told the officer who questioned him that he had never spoken to me before, which was a complete lie but thus admitting in theory at least that he did on this occasion. They said that there was not enough evidence. I am pretty sure that in the three hours it took the police to actually find him and arrest him, he was able to return the knife he was carrying back into the kitchen drawer, only to remove it and come back over the road carrying it a further twice, but there was plenty of time.
They released him on bail, but did not apply any bail conditions, like staying away from me or my partner. I questioned this, since I had been told that he had been told not to come near or speak to either of us. The police officer said that he would have been told that, but it was not an actual condition of his bail. My question, “So there’s nothing to actually stop him doing that then” “No,” he replied.

The officer came to gather more information for the Crown Prosecution Service, who are now trying to build a case against him. The two witness statements given and a verbal statement to another officer were simply not enough for them. I offered two letters from a former neighbour which mention that he was taken into custody some time ago by riot squad for using knives, and had returned to his old ways he told me that they were not useful to this investigation. I was confused as they showed a previous history of violent behaviour involving knives from a further independent witness. I also mentioned the neighbour who confirmed for the policemen who attended that he had been throwing knives about whilst she had a conversation with us and shouting abuse at us, just after he attempted to run my partner down, just 2 weeks earlier.

The police officer forgot something when he left and returned moments later to collect it to find this man standing at our front gate, yelling abuse at my partner. Clearly the neighbour did not expect him to return. He searched him and cautioned him again and sent him back to his house telling him to stay on his side of the street and not come near this property. The ranting went on for a large part of the afternoon. I stayed indoors.

Yesterday early evening he was in his front garden, yelling across the street again and mimicking my partner walking about. Then standing in front of the house menacingly. He certainly had some acting skills, that man and seems to love a camera, he was acting up for it. He was also wearing a white chefs jacket in his new cunning disguise. Pieces of a puzzle, why would he have chefs whites you may ask, well if he was out of his garden with another kitchen knife, someone might mistake him for a chef.

Thankfully since he seems to have the thought pattern of a 17 year old and you can watch the cogs whirring, we are able to see things coming to a certain extent, but basically think of a set of circumstances put together with childlike thought and remain one step ahead at all times.

I again notified the council of this incident who I would have hoped had not got their hands firmly in their pockets on this occasion. However it seems that the fence they are sitting on is so far up their backsides that you cannot even see it. A local councillor who had previously promised to deal with the matter as mediator and to lend it some weight when this first began some seven weeks ago, has done nothing not been to see other victims and now feels he’d like to go and visit the man himself for a chat, telling me that there is compassionate feeling for his circumstances. In seven weeks, no-one has visited him yet and there is clearly absolutely no compassion for mine, or the other neighbours whom he has terrorised during this time or beforehand Well, I hope that the dear councillor takes a stab vest with him and I am sure that the neighbour will have his carer present, or perhaps the barrister that his mother provided to remove him from custody the other day. Most certainly he will play his part of meek and mild to the hilt, he will probably take his medication that day, wear smart clothes and wait until the councillor leaves the house and then he will go back to being the monster he has become. I only hope that they are not fooled for a minute, but fear that they will be completely taken in by the charade.

For him it is a fine game, which can be played day in, day out, night and day endlessly for as long as it takes by someone with far to much time on their hands. Meanwhile we cannot continue with our lives or get anything done. No preparation for a trip we were due to take in July and have yet to, since our days are taken up with dealing with the circumstances of his play, or the fallout from it. Does it all boil down to politics at the end of the day, since he is Special Needs. The response which I received from the councillor certainly led me to believe that.

The frustration I feel right now is so intense that I am wound like a clock. Suffering with Hypertension, you tend to know when you are about to become ill and I am about one step away. I am not sleeping properly, I am jumpy and cannot relax, my chest is fluttering and pounding and my heart rate is ten beats more than usual. I know this since the Dr asked me to check it before I left the surgery the other day. She is concerned and has prescribed me medication for acute anxiety. Although I would love the release of forgetting about what has happened and being able to relax. I cannot afford to let my guard down outside of the home. I am on higher alert than I was three days ago, when he was away. I am looking over my shoulder as I walk accompanied down the road. I would rather not leave the house at all, I only feel safe out in the car, to a certain level.

My home here is no longer a place of safety where I can sleep, relax and enjoy being. I crave the sanctuary of the Hill, somewhere I can take us both off to recharge our batteries and forget about the Trauma caused by this  Summer’s events. Or at least can gather my own thoughts into some semblance of order once again, without the domination of this person. I have the getaways so badly that I can taste it, but am powerless to get there. I have the offer to stay with friends, but a night away, would bring fear of what may have happened by my return, so I have declined thus far.

The other day, I was feeling an inner strength which I know is still deep down. I am digging deeply for it at the moment, trying to be strong and remembering that I have a voice and to make it heard. Surely one man cannot chase off a whole bunch of neighbours, well he has managed to terrorise them for months now. I do want to move, but I don’t want to be seen off and leave the other people around here to try and deal with it. They haven’t been able to before, if I have become a kind of ambassador for the local neighbours, then that may not be such a bad thing. To have someone fighting their corner for a change. We all want to be safe in our homes.

A couple of weeks ago, I repainted a bench in our garden.  It is there as a reminder, during the times when it feels so dark. It also sends a message to the whole neighbourhood. #LoveisStrongerthanHate Although I am finding it hard to love this particular neighbour after what he has inflicted upon us as a family, which is pain so deep and personal in a barrage of unprovoked attacks, by sharing some love amongst the rest of the community, we will become stronger.

I thought about asking my current landlords about moving me to another property as they did when I moved in here following a burglary carried out by my next door neighbour. But since this man’s mother has friends in high places who are giving her information, I know that I would not be safe there either, if he was not held in a secure unit he would come and find me, since he is not giving up. Also, I have asked myself the question who would want to move in here, I would have a duty to them to tell them that there was an issue with one or two of the neighbours, so who in their right mind would want to move to a place like this at the moment? Part of me would see this as defeat if I moved. Meanwhile, the torrent of foul abuse is launched upon me whenever I step out of the front door.

I don’t have the answer, I am begging them for something to be done. For this horror story to finish so that we can all get on with our lives, but at the moment I am stuck in limbo. I am unable to proceed and certainly not wanting to retreat. If I can hold my ground, I am in with a chance of survival.

The Daily Post – Recharge

Sheet Music and Musical Events.

I remember that I am sitting in my Grandmother’s house, at the time when I was learning to play the recorder. I had to learn how to read music. It was the only way I would progress and be able to play in the school orchestra. As a small child, I did not have the lungpower for a proper wind instrument. I had only a small voice and couldn’t quite muster enough puff to play for any length of time. However, my Grandmother persisted with me. She would always help you if you were willing to be taught, laughing as I write this as the reality dawns that I am exactly the same in that respect. You shouldn’t waste your time on people with no wish to learn. If only I had remembered that in the training sessions of my later employ, when others who did not wish to partake, sat looking blankly on, saying that they just, didn’t “get it.”

I remember her running through the notes with me, singing which were which and explaining each one of them to me and where they would be within the piece of music.
Gone with the mists of time I now do not recall any of the knowledge behind it, I remember that I like the treble clef with it’s artistic swirl at the beginning of a piece. Whether it will return or be dragged from my mind kicking and screaming remains to be seen. I had decided that I wanted to learn a musical instrument. The recorder was a cheap instrument for my parents to buy, they couldn’t afford a trumpet, my hands were so small that I probably in truth couldn’t hold one. I could barely reach the bottom hole on the recorder. I had a Hohner recorder, it was black with a cream line around each section where it screwed together and you could dismantle it for cleaning, along with a plastic cleaner like a large needle and a piece of fabric threaded through the top. You pulled it through the instrument to remove saliva deposits so that it didn’t sound like you were just blowing bubbles. I also had a bamboo recorder, which had been acquired from goodness knows where, but my mother deemed unhygienic and spirited away. I think that one had come from one of the jumble sales. My Grandmother For the classes at school, I was required to learn to read music, so that we could play whatever was required for assembly or the forthcoming concerts.

Although I have a love of music, playing an instrument did not come easily to me, around the same time, my parents decided to play and sing together in a band. My father on guitar and them both vocalising, my mother also had a tambourine to accompany them. They enjoyed themselves and would take us along to visit other churches, parties at houses of the people in the church and various places, the songs were religious and they were part of the local Baptist church congregation. They would take my brother and I along. I played a tambourine to join in but I think my brother just sat it out, he wasn‘t one for singing or musical instruments. It was at this time, that I recall they played at an asylum, it happened more than once, but I remember feeling distinctly uncomfortable being there. There were patients milling around and a few “orderlies” standing around listening to them in a room. It seemed to go on forever and as small children do from time to time, I needed to go to the bathroom. They hadn’t finished their song, but I couldn’t wait, so telling my Mother where I was going, they continued to sing and play. I remember walking along the corridor to the toilet, I saw a man was coming the other way. I looked at my feet, attempting not to make eye contact and attempted to walk on past, he suddenly veered towards me and I looked up, at that point the man shrieked at me and clasped his hands to his head, then went off to bang his head against the wall. I ran away as he laughed manically. There was a room with people in further down , a lady screamed out, someone told her to calm down and not to fuss, what on earth were they doing to her in there?

It was quite some distance from the room where my parents were, to the visitors toilets. I don’t think that the organisers had put much thought into it putting us in a lounge away from the usual visitor area. I didn’t like the place, it made me so terribly sad to be there. In this huge and beautiful old building, on a bright sunny day with a wonderful wide expanse of garden outside, where no-one was allowed to play and where supervised people shuffled along the pathways, unable to walk on the grass. A place where despite the singing and praising the Lord, all I could hear was screams and cries. I went to the bathroom and despite my fear of being locked into places, I locked that door. I did not want anyone to come and get me, besides I had to pull together enough courage to make it back along the corridors.

I ran back to the room, clattering along the corridors, I saw a lady curled up in a corner, two nurses were trying to get her back into her room, she clearly did not want to go, she wrestled with them. They asked me what I was doing in that part of the hospital on my own, I shouldn’t be there. I explained that I was going to the toilet. Keep going they urged me and don’t stop to talk. I flew along the corridors and crashed back into the room, the parents were still playing, surrounded by inmates who were now singing along in their own way, rocking back and forth, emitting strange noises. I’m not sure, but think that it did them some good,. I was quiet on the way home. I asked later told my parents that I didn‘t want to have to go back there. I was scared of the people there, they were in the process of telling me that I shouldn‘t worry they were only people who were sick, that we were trying to help. But I was adamant that I did not want to return and told them what had happened when I needed to go to the toilet. My mother berated me for not taking my (older) brother with me when I went. I said, he wouldn’t be allowed in the girls toilet. So after that they agreed that it probably wasn’t a good idea for me to go again. On going to school, the next day I was asked in class what we did at the weekend. I told the teacher, she did not believe that I could possibly have been there, why would a child go to such a place. Surely I had made it up, some of the children decided to be cruel, chanting that I had been to the “nut house” and that my parents must have taken me there because I needed to see a Doctor, and I should have been left there. My sleep was disturbed for some time afterwards, I regularly had nightmares about the place.

I think that after that, my love of learning music waned. I do not remember continuing and being a part of the Orchestra for the school concert. Later I looked at learning the piano, but my parents would not entertain it. It’s a shame since in my earlier years, we actually had a piano. I did teach myself “Do Re Mi” from the Sound of Music on the piano which was held in a room at a church we later attended, it was a beautiful grand piano which had rolls of music which could play fantastic pieces, if you wound it up, I would spend hours in there just listening to it. Someone had donated it to them and it was kept in a room there. I always snuck in there to play it whenever I had the chance. Most people learned chopsticks, I was different. Looking at a page of music, I now only see notes and not a way to play them, maybe I have blocked it all out

Years later, my friend was stationed at the same hospital for part of her nurse training, I stayed well away from the building but did visit her in the nurses quarters on a few occasions.

May is Mental Health Awareness Month. I saw on Twitter yesterday, I think that is why this particular memory came back to me. At eight years old I decided that I never wanted to be put in one of “those places“, who knows what happened there, but the people were so very broken, they would never be the same again. I did not know, nor was it pointed out to me that sometimes people actually recovered from mental illness. No-one thought to explain what mental illness was or that it affects people in varying degrees and takes on many different forms. For many years, I had one view of it, I thought that it was where people “ended up” since there was often talk of suicides there and I certainly did not want to go there or join that club. To this day, I struggle with seeing people rocking, it takes me right back to that time. I do want to try and help, to hold them close, take away their pain and stop them from doing it. Seeing that person rocking years ago, throwing their body into the wall, faster and faster has stayed with me. I did not understand the relief that could possibly be gained from literally banging your head against the wall, later I figured it was as they tried to escape from themselves and the pain that they were in. I have always tried to avoid doing the headbanging, it tends to be a more subliminal thing with me. Years ago, I watched the film One flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest, with Jack Nicholson. Although I could appreciate the acting in it was brilliant, I found it one of the most disturbing films that I have ever seen, it brought back so many of the images from those visits to the hospital which had lain buried for years. There is a stigma, no one wants to be thought of as unstable, deranged or messed up. We all have our moments, some last longer than others. Some feel as though they are insurmountable. Some get help and iron out the crumpled bits, living to fight another day. Some fight their own battles for years, denying they even exist then life slams your head into that wall and you get a wake up call.

March! It’s Endometriosis Awareness Month

DSC_0184It’s March and with thoughts of Spring, we head into Endometriosis Awareness Month. Like many other months of the year, those who are sufferers and their loved ones choose to raise awareness of the things which have affected their lives, in the hope that it will bring answers, help and encouragement to others.  This poem describes my own ongoing fight with this illness and I hope that it explains some of what our #Endosisters and #Endowarriors go through.   If you would like to donate funds into the research of this illness please do so via https://www.endometriosis-uk.org/ and give them the help that they need and if you see someone wearing yellow this month, or even just the adornment of a yellow ribbon then this might just be what they are showing their support of.

Just Living With It….

I lay to rest as my body quakes,

Just how long have I stayed awake?

My limbs are sore and continue to shake

Again the bed I’ll have to remake.

I roll around here and there,

Sleep won’t come and it’s not fair!

Fever and delirium often appear,

Managing to awaken the fear

There’s pain in my stomach, fire in the pit

Tired and aching from all of it.

Sometimes in pain and sometimes I’m numb,

Then to the tablets I’ll succumb.

Gently rolling from side to side,

Waiting for it all to subside.

Exhausted from the tossing and turning,

For a decent night’s sleep I am yearning.

Swelling and Bloating are part of it all,

Feeling so weak, you often fall.

Friends and Doctors think we are mad,

When to bed we return as pain gets so bad.

Surgery on occasion they’ll offer,

In the hope it’ll make you better.

Or hormones and potions by the score

For any reprieve you’ll ask for more.

Sometimes some small amount of relief

Will spur you on “The Cure?” a belief

But they haven’t found one, they’re testing you see,

Medication and therapies on you and on me.

A silent illness it’s often said

So easily discounted as “All in your head”

But it is real, and it is there,

If you’re lucky you’ll have someone who’ll care

You’ll need them with you by your side,

When away from the world you’ll want to hide.

Quite often leaves you childless

Weeping in offices, you are a mess!

As you’re told and trying to understand,

You’d better take someone to hold your hand.

You have your turn of the “monthly curse”

That never ends and you hope for a hearse.

The endless pain to take away,

The emotional torture at the end of the day

Removes the chance of happiness

When those around you couldn’t care less.

Many years later, when you feel insane

They suddenly tell you it has a name.

So what have I got? What is this?

Well, they call it Endometriosis

How did it get here, suddenly arrive?

Will it finish me off or will I survive?

Well, it fuses your organs and causes you pain

And just when you think that you’re through it again

You feel that familiar dragging, pulling around,

Know it’s back, but not where it’ll be found.

Your digestion is poor, your bowels misbehave

A day without this is all that you crave.

On rare days you can feel so well

Invisible illness, Endometriosis Hell!