Phoenix in the Fire

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Phoenix Fire

There is something immediately calming to me about building a log fire in our house.

I always look into the fire to see what shapes it will produce, sometimes I have seen words upon logs as they burn and sometimes there are objects which are plain to see. others you may have to look more closely for.

Here is the second night’s fire after we arrived.  I have named it my Phoenix Fire. As I placed the funny shaped log upon the fire, it began to burn and as it burned the fire curled the fronds of bark around it as though wings in flight.  It was beautiful. I did not want to leave it’s warmth.  As the fire roared from it’s mouth and all around it warming the room and my face. It was as though it had something to teach me. That underneath it all, there is still room to grow and return.  Another promise of Hope perhaps.  It would appear to be a signal that I am not done here yet.  Rising again from the embers. Stronger one can hope.

The Daily Post – Promises

Summer Reflection

Well, as the warmer weather is still with us and we have sunny days, isn’t it technically still Summer, after all the clocks haven’t gone forward yet, casting us into darkness mid-afternoon.

But I am taking the time now to reflect upon the Summer, which this year should have been great, but really wasn’t.

The past two months have been harder than I ever thought possible and at the moment there is no let up, no sign of Hope, (she is still firmly under the tarpaulin and again has not been driven) whilst these shenanigans continue. But hoping that things will change is clearly not enough to make that happen. I have pulled myself every which way to try and make things better.

In my mind at the beginning of Summer, I was looking forward to the Sunshine and making things happen, plans for the future. I was going to finish my book, publish it, write another or at least a large chunk of it. My mind was working, I was inspired by things around me, open to opportunities and new experiences. I was looking forward to a great future and felt that I had been able to let go of the past which had haunted me for so long. I had turned a corner. I have a family who love me. We would go to Scotland and spend some time there for the first time in months. Walk my Beloved Boy on the beaches and in the forests nearby and also enjoy some of the sunshine here before we went. Once there, I would make repairs to the cottage and try and fix it up a bit, to halt the decay slightly, I might even get the log burner fitted before winter and stop the damp from a leaky roof. I would also apply for work and see if I could get myself another job to cover the bills for when I came home.
I was out taking photographs again, enjoying the space around here and time with family, I even got some shots that I was pretty happy with and was looking forward to getting a whole lot more of them.

I had spent time getting the garden here under control, watered and it was thriving, rewarding me with beautiful flowers and plants and a peaceful place in which we could all relax and enjoy the nature around us. I love getting my hands dirty and awaiting the outcome of my labours out there. Here it is only a small garden, so easy to maintain and shows quick results in whatever work you put in. It gives my mind time to unravel anything which is complicating it, that it doesn’t understand or just needs time to digest and I am not sitting around doing nothing.

Doesn’t that sound simple and idyllic?
I only wish it had panned out that way….

In July, I had applied for some really good jobs my fate was in their hands, they were all ones which I could have done easily, some of which I would have really enjoyed. I was also writing daily at least something, a lot of poetry and other things too. Not all of it posted here, some was for the book of Poetry, some for another book I was working on and I was trying to expand a website which had lain dormant for too long, to turn it into a more of a lifestyle website. I was feeling hopeful about the future and finished my book of poetry in early July, the Blog here was gathering momentum and followers and I was generally happy in my little life. We were looking forward to the rest of Summer and our lives and thought about different options going ahead, what we would change and what that would bring. All positive things, Life was mostly feeling good.

And then….

Suddenly our world was turned upside down.

Alas just as the good things were supposed to happen life went more wrong than any of us could have expected. And, what is worse is that I haven’t been able to put it right yet.

For those who are wondering what on earth I am talking about although it is covered in my previous posts. In short there have been problems with a neighbour who has made threats to our lives, attempts upon them and the loss of our beloved boy through sudden illness caused by poisoning as it turned out, oh and I also had a brief time in Hospital and a long recovery, which continues. Although we have tried to, we have not been able to shake off the doom whilst we remain at our home here in the South and we have had the getaways, but it has not been safe for us to decamp in case the man concerned decides to carry out the other threats upon our property whilst we are gone. The pressure of having to search for work was taken away by a 13 week respite due the accident and recovery and because of what has been happening here, right when I needed to be away to get through the trauma of what has happened, I cannot. I needed rest and recuperation, but have been unable to have either, unable to sleep and in fear of my life. So instead the onslaught continues.

Although I am working on that, they say that the pen is mightier than the sword….
I hope that they are right, I have been corresponding with so many departments that my head is in a spin and I can only hope that my call to action has been heard. It was all quiet on the western front up until last week, but finally it seems that they have taken on board what has happened. All the police reports and maybe some of the other neighbours have also decided to speak about what has been happening here. I wrote a letter to my neighbours last week, explaining what had happened here, asking them to be vigilant and to report any issues to the authorities. They should not be living in fear caused by one or two people who have chosen to terrorise the neighbourhood. From it all, the neighbours have actually been more friendly towards us, stopping to talk and attempting to be supportive.

We are adamant that we will get away to Scotland at least for a small break, I have four weeks until I am expected back to look for work, yes a whole nine weeks have been wasted of this time, which could have been spent somewhere beautiful, pulling our lives back together. Not spent looking over our shoulder every time we leave the house. Not having to fit CCTV to our house to protect it, not having to visit the shrine of our boy every morning in tears wondering why this happened and if someone will have desecrated it again. Not having to follow each other like sheep, to watch each other‘s back so that this one person can take a run at us and stab us.
We have been kidding ourselves that it will make a difference that we are in pairs, he knows that he is invincible, in his head he can do what he likes, the police in general remain powerless, they can only take him away and incarcerate him for short periods, then he is back. Looking for the next opportunity, we are not safe outside of our home and the stress this has caused has affected the health of both of us, in mind and body over the past two months.

So Meanwhile our lives have been put on hold, the things that we would normally be doing around here, have not been done. Our time is spent with the authorities, giving statements and having meetings about what he has chosen to do to us. We are told not to speak to him, meanwhile at will he can stand across the street yelling all kinds of verbal abuse, making all kinds of threats and we are expected to do nothing at all in response, to just walk away and ignore him.
For the first few times this happens, you can ignore him, not take it seriously, but when he runs at you with a knife and you realise that it isn’t just the rantings of a disturbed human, he actually means to cause you harm. Well then that puts a different light on things. Your own instincts for self-preservation kick in, if you haven’t run off, on your “In flight” mode. You try and stand your ground, which is rather difficult if you are told not to speak to him. Yes, we cannot antagonise him by retaliating to this onslaught.
In days gone by, if someone said something to you, or verbally abused you, you could shout back, tell them what you thought of them, even tell them to shut up and go away. But now, well we are told not to respond in any way and it has made it worse. It has made me angry that what little power I have to cope has been taken away from me and the calm and peaceful home has become somewhere that neither of us want to be, both trying to deal with things in a way which is so different to how we are used to and it doesn‘t suit us at all!

If as a naughty child, you did something wrong and someone tells you off, then when I was growing up that was generally enough to make you pack it in. But not this one. I guess there was very little discipline as a child, his Mother grew her own Monster and he has behaving just as he likes ever since. The way that he speaks to her is atrocious and she lets him. Her “child” is now heading to 50 years old.

Yesterday, I had some supportive emails arrive, finally from the people I have been rallying in the past few weeks, they have responded to let me know that things ARE being done, to warn me that it is a slow process, but the situation should be improved soon. They cannot tell me any more than that at this point. But at least my actions have not been in vain and importantly for me, my voice has been heard, by someone, somewhere.

I only hope that their action comes before his does. That he does not get his own way and finish us off, before skipping off to the nearest facility for a little break before being released to do exactly as he pleases again. As they say sometimes, PREVENTION IS BETTER THAN THE CURE.

I kind of like having a life, in particular, the one I have had for the past few years, despite its ups and downs and I don’t want someone to take it away from me. As a kind lady reassured me a couple of weeks ago…

I still have things to do on this earth and my time is not up.

The Daily Post – Fragile

Missed Chances of a Highland Summer

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Should I have applied for the job travelling Scotland in a Visit Scotland campervan?

Missed chances eh? It’s not as bad as it seems, I may have been able to pay the bills at home. Slept in the Scottish countryside and possibly, just possibly taken my furry assistant along for the ride.

It would have meant that my partner would have had to fend for himself until I could get back there and who knows what sort of bother he could have got himself into in the meantime.  We could have stayed up on the hill at weekends and worked myself on the house trying to get things done, but in reality I have not been in  a position to do that for the past few months, which I guess is what held me back in the first place.

Sure, I would have met tonnes of people at events all over the country, seen a lot more of my beloved Scottish countryside in the summer months, the best time of year, braved terrain and nights not quite on my own.

Ahh yes, those missed chances for a different life and summer to the one we have been experiencing.  Is the grass greener? Ask the Coos, (for the uninitiated, those are the highland ones)

Visit Scotland – Thanks I’d love to have done.  I hope that I will again so very soon, for I am missing it more than you know.

And so the Highland Summer was not to be, A Summer far different from everything that I had ever imagined. It began quite well with promise of a brighter future for all of us, with hope and anticipation. The sun was shining on our skin, the weather was good and the garden flourished. Then it was shattered, broken and will remain in our memories as probably the worst we have ever experienced in all our years together.  Our family is smaller, our bodies weary and our hearts heavy.

Our hope that with the onset of Autumn at our doorstep and as the leaves begin to go brown and drop across the gardens and countryside. That it brings Good with it on the winds that have begun to blow, that it sets us on the right path towards Happiness once again and that our luck turns for the better.

The Daily Post – Mistake

When you’re feeling Blue, There is always Hope…

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When you’re feeling Blue, There is always Hope!

Well that’s what he said to me the other day… It has been a tough couple of days here at home, actually it has felt like a tough couple of weeks. I went from a happy high, to feeling melancholy, as though there is a cloud that has been hanging over us, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Whatever have caused it, I dearly wish I could remove the cloud. Things have not been going our way lately. Suddenly and inexplicably it is like it’s all been hitting the fan all at once. It started who knows when I am not sure.

My beloved has injured his back again, for the second time in as many months, the last time the pain lasted till a couple of weeks ago and he felt a little better. But then he lifted the garage doors open with the help of a friend, so he didn‘t think that he was being foolish. But they have been closed for some six months and something clicked out, more like a squelch apparently and he has been in mortal agony since then. So getting Hope out again, has been tinged with injury for him once again, which kind of took the shine off the event. He is not a laying on his back doing nothing kind of guy, so has sneaky attempts at doing random things, because they need to be done also since he is in yet more pain than he normally faces, he has required my help, despite not wanting it. A very independent person who is faced with yet more restrictions as to what they can and cannot achieve is certainly not a happy camper. With this in mind, we have been doing some spring cleaning sorting out around here, so that things are at least happening.

We have all been craving the green and quiet of our Scottish getaway so much lately, but have been unable to make the trip there and stay there. The time is just not right to go at the moment and it seems that whatever funds we do to try to raise any have been met with obstacles and no-one has bought anything from us, right when we need it. This has caused unrest here in the home, since we are not where we want to be and we have been scraping by. We should be there by now, up on our hill, enjoying the scenery and preparing the ground so that it isn’t four feet high in the summer, if we can get up there in late spring and chop it back, then it does not grow up past the windows by the summer and we can walk around with ease but we haven‘t been there for what seems like an age and were unable to do anything to either house or garden last time we were there. By the time we get back there they will be thinking about the harvest nearby and we will not be able to get the help we need to clear, which means a lot of work which is actually beyond our own capabilities. We have friends who work the farms, but barely see them in the late summer when they are working long days to get the harvest in. It makes for a quiet time with just us around accompanied by the constant whir of combine harvesters and other machinery and movement of cattle.

Yesterday, it was threatening rain outside, other parts of the country had a heavy rainfall, but ours did not arrive until the evening, so I sat on the back patio and spent a couple of hours weeding all the pots before I began the cupboard. I only did them a couple of weeks ago, but it’s surprising how quickly they return. The Dog was feeling clingy, since we had given him his flea and tick treatment the night before, which means that he follows me everywhere and keeps coming over for kisses and cuddles, he is a little bit groggy from it all, so I am reassuring him that I will not leave him. It is a heinous crime if I leave the house lately, but I am met with a hero’s welcome when I return. Goodness knows how he will be when I return to a day job again. He is happy when everyone he loves is around him, he can see them all and knows we are all safely at home.

So my partner and I are sprucing things up here and I have been sorting out some of the rubbish that we have been keeping since God knows when. This is not stuff I can sell to get funds to help us out of the mire, this is actual rubbish and I cannot understand why I had been keeping paint, putty, tile adhesive and other wonderful DIY objects which I no longer need. Probably it was in case I did, but I must have had the paint testers for about 15 years. A quick shake of them and any that are liquid have been saved for possibly a project here or there, when I might need 1sqM worth of paint in an interesting colour to brighten something up with, as I though of what I had painted with them previously, at least two bathrooms, various pieces of furniture, cupboard interiors all sprang to mind. I also found some lovely exterior paint, which I will be repainting the bench outside in ready for the Summer Seagrass to go with the blue, both colours I love. It is the remainder from my old garden which hasn’t dried out in the tin and I think there is just enough left for the job. It’s strange what we keep isn’t it?

My friend was painting one of the rooms in her house, I told her that I have been thinking of painting my hallway too. It’s a tiny room and I have now lived here for over 5 years and still have not done it. When I was younger, in the first few years after we got together we did not spend Bank Holidays together, since he often worked them. So, traditionally for me, I used to spend Bank Holiday’s painting and decorating, when I was not out doing something interesting or partying with my friends. I kind of miss that, not the partying but the decorating (Bizarre I know). I moved in here and I have only painted the bedroom walls since I arrived. Although the kitchen and bathroom have been done for me. Five years on, it’s looking a little bit tired and in need of a bit of TLC now, jobs to be done.

It turns out I have paint, not just the tester pots. I have the paint which I had anticipated using in the hallway and it turns out rather a lot of brushes. I used to buy them whenever I could, knowing that if they are cared for, then they will last many years if you buy the good ones. I cannot use the same brushes as my partner, he paints in a different way to me and there are very few straight bristles at the end of it. So there are brushes for him and my own ones. That may sound harsh to the uneducated, but have you tried to get good gloss paintwork with a brush that looks like it has been used down a toilet?

So I was quite pleased when I cleared the cupboard yesterday afternoon. Where I keep tools not the shed, I only did that again the other day. But my cupboard, with my tools and found about ten brushes in every size needed to paint the house. These are staying here. I also found the paint, masking tape, cloths, white spirit, gloss paint, tile paint, enamel paint, vinyl matt, vinyl silk and the rather nice metallic paint which I did the bedroom in. So I think that I may have to start the hallway after all, since I have all that I need to do it, I have no reasonable excuse.

It is now organised so I will be able to find things. I have extra space, sorted through and put all hardware in one place, plumbing in another box, electrical in another and all the loose tools I could find, which he hadn’t cleared off with, back in my toolbox. It was nice to find that I actually do still have two good hammers, half a set of screwdrivers and put all the loose screws in yet another jam jar. At least they are all now in one place and as I told him, I now know what is in the cupboard. This random place, where I found all the puppy harnesses, from when he was small. The very first Halti lead, which had been chewed through, and the harness which made him look tiny, there were blankets and chewy toys it brought memories of my puppy flooding back, he was very interested in the contents of the bag. I couldn’t part with them, they have been put away again along with the Land Rover seat covers. The vehicle having been disposed of about three years ago now, but these kept in case we reach the goal of getting a diesel one at some point. The seashells and other items from my beach combing, awaiting the day that I use them in some arty project. There were silk flowers. A tile cutter which I bought, Some Lino cut rubber stamps which are treasure from the house in Scotland. I have yet to print from them since failing on my first attempt. and had a rethink, perhaps I will do rubbings from them instead. There was also Compost and Fancy interior Plant Pots. Tools and Ladders and two vacuum cleaners. Always necessary to have a spare one in this house. We have a furry dog.

Despite this cleaning, tidying and sorting frenzy that I have been doing over the past week or so, I have been feeling rather unsettled. I can’t put my finger on when it started, but it is like waiting for news and now I come to thinking about it we are. My partner is waiting for hospital appointments which will tell us how his health is progressing, referrals to surgeons who will decide when, not if, surgery is necessary and set the ball rolling with that. I know it has been pretty bad and the injuries he sustains whenever he does anything are causing me concern. With a degenerative condition and things wearing out, you are one step away from thinking “What if ?” I know for a fact he has injured himself so many times in the past year and not healed properly. He is more fragile than he would ever admit to and this is putting further constraints on what he can do, whilst all the while he is making plans.

This morning I woke up giving myself a mental pep talk. Telling myself that I cannot afford to stop what I have been doing lately, I don’t wish to stop. I need to carry on, but for some reason, I hadn’t written a poem for several weeks and this has bothered me. But as I write this today I have written one it does not rhyme, like many of the others have done so does it feel like a poem? I am as yet undecided.
I was concerned that as I had got to my goal for the book and that was it. But I had already surpassed the figure of poems I had in my head for that and just need to sort them out and decide the contents now. So perhaps that time has come to do that. The work is there, although my work is not yet done. I still have work to do.

Had my sub conscious has been listening to my partner who has been saying that I cannot sit around writing indefinitely, there are many other things that need doing? I cannot afford to just sit and write all day and he wants things to be done around here. I woke up this morning thinking that I had absolutely nothing to write. I was going back to sleep once I had let the dog out, but although he is now sleeping soundly, I am not. I have taken the chance to write this. Not knowing what was going to come out of my head. My body aches from lugging things about and yesterday’s weeding. I did not sleep well and could have done with a couple more hours sleep, but my mind is travelling again, at warp speed as I write, well, this and the new poem, I am thirsty for the feeling I get when I write.

I keep reading that we should write when it comes to us and I have been trying to do this whenever it does, grateful for the release it has given me along with the new experience and finding out that someone, somewhere actually reads it from time to time. I am fearful of this writing drying up. Telling myself constantly to finish what I started. Too many thingse over the years have been started and then discontinued. I want continuity in my life. I want to be doing this still when I am old. Don’t get me wrong, I would also like to earn a living from it and sooner rather than later would be great.

Perhaps the time has come, whilst I feel that nothing new is arriving on the page, that I should figure out the contents, edit and so on, it might just push me forward and get the creative juices flowing once again and get that book out there, the last 3 months since I started sometimes feels like an age, but I have always suffered with a certain level of impatience to get to the end result.

After all, do I really need to cover old diaries with sticky back plastic and scraps of paper to get creative and kid myself that I have the next notebook ready for what wonders my mind beholds. Erm, actually no, that is another project will have to wait. I have writing to do. Just as I do not need to search the social networks to see if people are happy or not, or how I can become happy again, or what I should be eating, or not. My three square meals and the odd jaffa cake for good measure will sustain me.

My feeling of reaching a plateau needs correcting. I need to do that wonderful thing, get the ball rolling on this thing, the future. And as he said to me the other day, if you are feeling blue, there is always Hope as he sent me out to play in her for the first time in months. I do not drive unless I have somewhere to go at the moment and try to cram all the jobs that need doing into one journey. Ticking all the boxes as I go. That way I can justify to myself the fuel used. But I was sent out with nothing to do, no where specific to go, which left me clueless, a decision to make. What will I do? I was out on my own as well, so there was no one to ask. This may sound a little barmy to you, but in the past few months I have rarely been alone and decisions have been made between us, almost everything being a democracy. I have had the family around me and done the food shopping and been to appointments, but little else. I needed a break from what has become the norm, I just didn’t realise it.

So it was an unexpected shock to the system, but one that I actually thoroughly enjoyed. You see I love driving, it really doesn’t matter what I drive. But it I have to admit, it is wonderful to be back in my own car, instead of the truck out in the open air after all this time. So I searched for a green place to drive through, country lanes, surrounded by trees. The light dappled overhead, birds singing. The sun was shining, it was on my skin and I had the wind in my hair, the smile firmly placed on my face. A couple of hours went by in no time at all, I thought it was early, but I hadn’t put the clock forward in the car since I last drove it.  I thought I was getting alot of miles covered in the time I was out.  Oops, no I had just lost an hour! I came back thinking to myself that I should not have driven out without purpose, he told me I did have a purpose. We had an awful day before that and I needed to lift my spirits again. It worked, he wanted to send me out again yesterday but I could not justify doing the same thing every day, after all I would run out of fuel. Now that really would be a crime…

Abuse, Trauma and Trust Misplaced

Before you assume that I am very gullible and naïve please, let me shout from my corner with my explanation. I was brought up to speak the truth, to be good. To respect my elders and follow their advice and do as I was told. As time went on following these rules I was about to become very unstuck! The very people who were supposed to teach, protect and you can learn from, abused their positions, my trust and Yes, they definitely taught me Lessons in Life that I would rather not have learned. Things that would shape me in years to come, tormenting my mind and sabotaging my thoughts, whilst haunting my dreams.

Don’t get me wrong, I am more than aware that Life could have been so much worse. I am Thankful each and every day that over the years, the experiences stopped. They were usually one off’s and once I had removed myself from the offenders then that would be it, until the next time. Until someone new decided to take an opportunity which wasn’t there, to overstep the line once again. I am thankful every day that I did not have to suffer an endless onslaught of abuse lasting years. At least that gave me the chance to rebuild myself in between. There are different levels of abuse all wrong and all leaving scars which may or may not ever heal. I pushed each time to the back of my mind, hoping that if I left it there and forgot about it, then it would be gone. Little did I know that it would merely lay dormant until some other trauma brought it out again, all right back and threw it back in my face. I got angry with myself, and over time I was more angry at having been so gullible as to be fooled over and again than I was over the perpetrators. How could I be so stupid and how could I have trusted them? I must have been doing something wrong for it to keep happening to me… and generally beating myself up mentally about my misfortune.

Did I wear my heart on my sleeve? Kind of… Did people around me know the things that I had gone through? Very few did. Some are delightfully clueless, whilst others’ like me chose to bury and forget what they did know. I dealt with it alone preferring not to speak of it and thought that was working well for me right up until yet more trauma arrived and opened up Pandora’s box once again.

I thought that it was strange when I woke yesterday morning and felt compelled to write down on paper the episodes. It started out as a list of where my trust had been misplaced (Hmm, a little of that self blame creeping back in there!) then it somehow grew into a list of childhood and teenage sexual abuse that I had experienced.

Now why on earth would anyone want to write a list, that list? I cannot answer that, I have found out that over the past few months that writing is a major part of my own healing process and it sometimes catches me unawares but when I write it down, things get better. It enabled me to write down how I actually felt about things. Last year I discussed several of these episodes with a counsellor for the first time ever. I had been referred having been diagnosed with PTSD following the trauma of an accident. As the sessions went on I had a feeling that the time was right to talk about some of the other things that had happened in my life, which had suddenly all come back to me since the accident, sometimes reliving the nightmares, quite literally I was not sleeping and had no confidence after the accident. It had had all been brought back by the trauma I had suffered recently. But in these sessions, she told me something of great importance which was a turning point for me and for which I am eternally grateful.

For anyone who has suffered childhood abuse and asked why it happened to them, I will pass on what she said to me.

“It’s not you, It IS them. You did not DO anything to encourage this behaviour towards you and YES, you should have been protected from it by the adults around you time and time again.”

Some 33 years after I was abused for the first time as a child . I had summoned the courage to speak about it stating that the abusers were either dead or long gone, they could not harm me for speaking about it now. Someone finally told me that I did not bring it upon myself and that I did not deserve it. If it had not been me, then it would have been someone else, If I had not thought so quickly as to how I could escape, things could have been much, much worse. No-one had thought to tell me that previously. It was such a relief to hear those words and I bawled my eyes out. Thanking her profusely. The release was immense. I eventually left the car park some time after my session and drove for about 2 hours, just wanting to be on the open road.

Am I healed? I actually doubt that yet. But I do believe I am getting over the damage it did for so long. I am no longer waving that Victim flag saying “Come and Get Me, have another go, see if you can break me this time” Instead I am now brandishing my sword with the war cry of “Don’t you Dare” Dressed in my armour, complete with chinks in it, battered and scarred but still fighting. I am surviving and at times I have been a mess and barely winning, sometimes not knowing how to carry on, but feeling that I have to and I pick myself up.
They say that What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger… It is certainly true for me, By becoming strong, therefore I AM. My positive thinking is a part of my armour which protects me and as my anthem goes.

Something inside so strong.
I know that I can make it,
But you’re doing me wrong.
So wrong.
Thought that my pride was gone, Oh No!
Something inside so strong…

Sending shivers down my spine as I write those words down and spurring me onwards toward Victory.

After writing my list, I felt very uneasy as though something awful was going to happen. In retrospect I think it was just the aftermath of all those emotions being given head room again. I had a sense of doom all day, so I stayed indoors the safety of my home, I found things to do and ventured in to the loft yesterday afternoon, on a search for something entirely different. In doing so I found a carrier bag, it was full of old things, recipes, poems, coursework, drawings and letters and photographs and so much more. I have not yet read all that was in there. I knew that I had written out poems years ago and kept them in a book, which I had decided I must find, but I came across it quite by accident. What was a shock to me was to find a notepad. I did not recall writing in such detail my abusive experiences 23 years ago on paper. Back then I often wrote things down to get them out of my head rather the same way as I do today, but I had no recollection of having done this before, when I wrote them out earlier that morning. I am shocked at the matter of fact way I explain what happened way back then. That I had kept it and also that it has been with me in the several house moves since then, hidden away in the loft as well as the back of my mind. If only I had been given the opportunity to speak to someone about it back then, it might have made such a difference and I have been literally carrying it around with me for years.

Later, I ventured out with my family walking the dog in the evening. Nothing awful happened, it turned out OK. My partner brought Hope out of the Garage for me, for the first time in months. She is sitting outside the house in the road, with fuel, taxed and ready to drive out she needs a good run after her rest. Away for months, under wraps it is wonderful to see the bright blue shining outside the window despite the rainy day and a smile returned to my face. I was exhausted at the end of the day, but unable to rest until the early hours, again passing the 3am threshold before sleep took a hold of me but Today we will drive.

Hope is what it represents. & Hope is Waiting

The Daily Post – Angry

 

Hope is Waiting

Hope sits waiting.

She is ready, willing and able.

For when you have conquered it you can go out and face it all once again.
Garaged, Off Road for when your new life awakes.
A tank full of fuel and her bodywork gleaming, like a crystal blue lake.
Bringing back your smile, as you race towards Adventure together once again.
She is patient, relaxed and all the things you are not.

You must never abandon Hope, you must allow her to pick you up and travel the journey together, experience what Life holds just around the corner, as you travel along the road in your bid for freedom.

There may be twists and turns, unexpected obstacles, but Hope will get you through.

India Blue – Hope is What it Represents

The Daily Post – Hope is Waiting