Tag: life

CBT When Those Three Letters Mean Totally Different Things and when it’s just time to Breathe!

It confused me slightly when I first heard the phrase. Compulsory Bike Training was what came to my mind with them as when years before I had learned to ride a Motorcycle this was a legal requirement. I did the training then the throttle jammed I rode the motorbike up a wall and it landed on top of me see  Almost a Biker Lots of physio for several months put pay to me ever getting back on one since then but I still have my bike gear in case I change my mind.

There I go flitting off on a different subject, Oh the butterfly mind again.

CBT -This time we are talking about Cognitive Behavioural Therapy 

When I first attended Therapy for PTSD & Trauma following an accident I was sent into a group session for this therapy and to be perfectly honest with you I hated it. I tried really hard to be the positive one and take good experiences from it but dreaded each session, leaving early from home, sitting in the car thinking “I don’t need to go” sometimes getting out and having a talk with myself to pull myself together before getting back in the car and heading off.

At the sessions I could relate to what they were saying. I knew some of this stuff anyway but somewhere along the way had stopped applying it to my everyday thinking, or even when I really needed it. I had felt that sometimes I was unravelling and I really didn’t like the feeling. I did not have confidence, it had gone but I did retain the ability to instil confidence in others which meant that I fooled myself into thinking that I was recovered long before I actually was. As the weeks went by there were a few other people who turned up early and we would sit and talk to each other before the sessions started, some were very open about their reasons for attending, others were a little more reserved.

I do not actually remember her name, but she was post operative transgender who had been placed in a homeless facility. She had been Hospitalised  due to someone taking offence at her and had lost her home and her life as she knew it. The authorities moved her there and she had to share the whole facility with men. Following her ordeal she was wary around them and they saw her as skivvy to them as a woman but did not accept her either because of her sexuality. She was going through hell, but was fighting a battle against abuse substances and alcohol too. There is always someone worse off than you If you can think past yourself, did she but know it she helped me too. She just needed someone to talk to, to hear her since she had tried to commit suicide and felt so alone but before that would happen she, like I had to go through those sessions. We both struggled with the group sessions. I think everyone did but in the end I hope that she found them useful as I have done and found an understanding counsellor.

CBT taught me how to remain calm at least on the outside when the inside is in turmoil. Many talk of fight or flight and I think I was born to fly.  Unless I have a bee in my bonnet and decide to stand my ground which does happen, from time to time when my stubbornness kicks in. It also taught me that not all gut feelings are to be ignored. Yes we sometimes get things wrong and don’t see them the way we should due to paralyzing fear when we are in that fight or flight mode. 

If you look into this type of therapy then CBT is described as a type of talking treatment that focuses on how your thoughts, beliefs and attitudes affect your feelings and behaviour, and teaches you coping skills for dealing with different problems.

It combines cognitive therapy (examining the things you think) and behaviour therapy (examining the things you do).

It forces you to rethink your first reaction to something in a negative or stressful situation and focus the mind to enable you to calm the body. It is beneficial if you suffer with anxiety or depression.

But if you can’t quite get your head around what is ruling it when you are stressed out…

Then it’s time to breathe. By regulating our breathing we can give our mind the chance at rational thought when flight or fight kicks in. Just a few deep breaths can make the world of difference. Don’t believe me? Just try it next time you are wound up.

Take the deepest breath you can and hold it whilst you count to three, then breathe out from as low down as possible in your stomach, do this three times at least. How do you feel now, a little calmer perhaps? I tried this at night when I was having awful nights with very little sleep. I found it improved that too. It was just too much for me to expect me to clear my thoughts as I did so, but just that small change has helped me.

After these group sessions and before I saw my one to one counsellor, there was a three month wait in between, whilst I tried to put into practice what I had learned and deal with the day to day, rebuilding my self confidence and with it my life.  I thought that I was doing so well I learned to block out my gut feelings for a while. I became mistrusting of them thinking that they should all be ignored as my brain struggled to cope with what life was throwing at me. It was a mistake. 

In certain situations I had a very strong feeling usually about people I met and during that time I did not trust my instincts and I should have. I put my trust in some people who saw weakness and chose to manipulate me and a situation, which left me wide open to their attacks. There I was kidding myself that I had my strength back, after all I was fine on the outside and wasn’t going to let it get me down. I got a new job, I thought I enjoyed it. I got on well with almost everyone there, was eager to please but could do nothing right for my direct manager. I spent a year working with a team where I just didn’t fit in.  Try as I may I could not change that, they had seen me as a usurper, someone who was there to break the little clique they already had.  For 12 months I tried my best, but struggled and felt as though I was drowning.  I had become even more withdrawn, desperate and miserable, when beforehand I was trying and had started to become upbeat and positive again.  Whilst I saw the counsellor with whom I was referred for a totally different reason, to get me through the trauma of an accident I spent the majority of the sessions discussing my job, the situations I was in and how I should cope.

I really felt that I gained a benefit from the one to one sessions. She told me that it wasn’t me, it was them. Where I had been beating myself up, figuratively speaking for months thinking where did I go wrong?  I found that running the situations past her, someone who wasn’t biased like my partner or mother, might help me see more clearly. She advised me to find a new job for my own sanity and get out of there, she could see the damage it had done to me over the short time I had been her client. Furthermore, she said I should also find something which made me happy, to do something for myself at least once a week it would help my recovery.  She suggested that since I was missing my creativity, (it had gone when things started to go downhill for me) that I follow my true nature and get creative again. I began with a simple adult colouring book and it seemed to open the floodgates, just the simple act of adding colour to the pages.

It took a while but I did and began to write poetry again.  After a while there were quite a few poems. I thought about a book, but did not have a clue how to get my work out there or publish it. So I decided to begin the blog so that at last I would be able to have a voice again. I had felt that there were very few who were inclined to listen, however my counsellor reassured me that my voice would be heard.  I am not talking about shouting from the rooftops or getting on my soap box about subjects. I needed to make sense of the things that were in my head. It was part of my therapy and would help me more than I could have ever anticipated.

I am not out of the woods yet, figuratively speaking there are times when thoughts are dark and miserable. There are others when I am extremely happy and there is so much in between.

If you are feeling depressed or suffering, please do not do it alone. Whatever it takes to get your help, speak to someone, if you do not have someone you can trust then call a helpline.

 

 

I’d Lost My Marbles!

This is not a metaphor, but it’s not necessarily what you’d think either.

I have not been writing much lately. Instead I have been quietly storing away to memory hoping that I will remember it and write it later. I have not even written notes to jog the memory, so I hope that I don’t forget. My partner told me I “had far more important things to do” as he does from time to time when he wants me to stop what I’m doing and do something different. We had storage which needed to be emptied out on a deadline and with it memories of the past, so many moments lost in that room for years and years. Many people  have wondered why I keep stuff, I am sentimental and it started out as a habit. Those who know me have often asked. I used to collect the things that people did not want, or maybe I just found them interesting. I have furniture and things handed down to me by other family members.  I’d also kept all the books which I had as a child, some I had made as projects at school. I did not throw them away, wanting to share their wonders with children of mine some day, or ones I’d been lucky to look after in the early years, waiting for my time to come as a mother. I kept the books and as time went by I stored them away.

When I had to move out of my large flat and had no where to go, many of my belongings went into a storage facility and when I had filled that up, we talked a neighbour into lending us their storeroom, in the basement where I used to live.

And there it has stayed… For several years now, it’s amazing how time flies isn’t it?

For the past three years getting into the building has been impossible. Prior to which we used to go in there get things out and store other stuff, but basically things were left there. Many of them have been quietly rotting away, ravaged by time and flood water. I hoped that some at least could be salvaged before it was too late.

The anticipation of finding things again after all this time, was mounting in my mind.  My partner was dreading the whole process but did it with me. All my toot, as he referred to had to be moved.

So should we have cleared it all out and disposed of it all years ago?  I have to say that there have been times over the past fortnight when we both felt that we should have done, it was a horrible job to do, it was smelly and damp which got right on your chest and everywhere else.   We pulled muscles in the process but it is done and now we are sorting through, having moved what remained.

But there was some good news, there were things that I thought were long gone.  I had assumed that they had been taken when the storage facility moved my belongings leaving them out in a corridor for passers by to walk off with. From the numerous burglaries in the basement, or lost when I could not remember which place they had been put in. I thought I may have got confused and donated the wrong bags to charity shops. I had doubted that I had many of these items still, whilst others I would fondly look forward to finding again.

Unfortunately,  I lost most of my childrens’ books, all of my photograph albums from when I was growing up. During the clearance I picked up a box of books which were stored at floor level, hoping to keep them. They had obviously been placed there hurriedly. It looked fine from the top but as I moved it, the bottom fell out of it and water, so much water.  I took it towards the bin and as I put the box in there, I realised that it held the photos and the children’s books. The photo’s destroyed and the colours running from the pages in multi coloured rivers. These were my first photos from when as a teenager I had saved my pocket money to buy my first camera and develop the film.  I also found my art folder from my school days, the work was damp and mouldy and something I thought was there for years, is not. These were the low points but in the midst of it all, I found other things.

Among them was a bag which had been preserved containing the blue dress I bought when my Nan died and was wearing the first day that I met my partner.  I found the favourite dress which I had when I was 18 and wore on many a night out and other new/old dresses which I had not yet worn.  I found childhood collections, Love letters, letters and cards from friends. So many things, prized sentimental possessions from many years ago and after all these years I found my marbles!

My marble collection was won when I moved to this Southern town, new to the last year at Junior school. I was worried about settling in and making friends having been bullied at my previous school, there was a craze in the new school and I would learn how to play, then win a collection of marbles. I spent my meagre pocket money on marbles from the local toy shop and played every break time.  I won most of the marbles in this container that year.  I thought that the pasta jar (another of the things which had been stored away) was the perfect place in which to store them, on the kitchen windowsill where the light can bounce through them and I can enjoy them again.

Although I am a self-confessed hoarder and it will take me a while to get through it all. I will be working on my clutter and I have realised it is quite exhilarating to throw things out which are broken, or damaged and finding new homes for things which are no longer needed. As I enjoy finding other items from our past, no doubt there will be other things which put a smile on my face.

As I spoke to my oldest friend and also my mother after we had finished. I wondered out loud whether I would finally stop dreaming of the flat I’d had years earlier. Dreaming that I still lived there and that other people had taken over the place and my life along with it, holding parties that I did not want, with people I did not invite. That happened a lot. Mum told me that chapter is now over, now that things have gone from there I can finally stop living in the basement and be free at last. It seemed to mark the turning point, as I have been going through things with fervour throwing out decayed pieces of the past as I look towards the future. Maybe that is my metaphor and meanwhile, the strange dreams seem to have stopped.

 

The Daily Post – Anticipation

Happy St Andrews Day

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Since I have adopted Scotland as my true home over the past few years, is it any wonder that I am missing the place again already. I do have Scottish relations going way back, so it’s only fair to feel that it’s in my blood. Yes the wee one has settled in here down South for the time being and is behaving as though he can do what he likes along with the sulks and tantrums of the “terrible twos” when he doesn’t get it all his own way.  He will learn that even if you are a Malamute it doesn’t mean you have Carte Blanche to do as you please and house rules have to be followed. With an adopted pup though, there are going to be testing times, but on the whole he is settling well.

But I cannot deny, even though it’s only been a month since we came back that am missing our special part of our Scotland and our friends there and cannot wait to return. Although I know that I would not fare well up there at the moment now that it is so cold. It is cold here too now, suddenly this week, but heard from my friends there it was really cold. When a scot tells you that, then I know I wouldn’t be able to feel my toes for all the winter clothes I have.

Meanwhile friends old and new in Scotland and beyond, of you are doing anything remotely Scottish to celebrate this day, then I raise a glass to you and wish you a Happy St Andrews’ Day and invite you to soak up some of the wonderful culture wherever you may be.

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The Daily Post – Culture

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 

Abandoned Buildings, Inspiration Indeed.

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My inspiration for this post comes from this article in my reader.

After the Final Curtain a post by Cheri Lucas Rowlands which shows some wonderful photographs by Matt Lambros.

I often see whilst perusing social media the shots of ancient places and abandoned buildings throughout our world and curiosity encourages me to take a look.   A part of me thinks that one day I would love to do a tour of such places, but then reality hits and it occurs to me that I don’t think I could cope with the sadness it would bring me.

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You see I have a love of old buildings and architecture in general and have always been able to see the possibilities in a place.  When I was younger, I found that by finding derelict buildings by the road whilst on holiday, churches, schools, old houses. It didn’t matter what the building’s previous use had been.  I always imagined it as a place to make a home.

It really fires the imagination for me, gets the cogs whirring and clicking and excitement builds.  That part of the process I would love.  But then the sadness when it had been left for so very long, I don’t know what effect that would have on my psyche, but I suspect not  a good one.  The fact that it had gone to waste for so many years for whatever reason, war, famine, time, recession and may not be able to be restored to it’s former glory hits home. These buildings, particularly the Theatres and Cinemas were built for the community and so many communities have suffered when these and other public buildings have been closed down.

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I guess that’s why when it came to finding our home, that’s why it was always going to be a doer upper.  It was never going to be a pristine box, with white walls and minimalist fixtures.  Give me a place with character, knocks, grazes, a history and somewhere that speaks to you, pulls at the emotions when you walk in and I am happy.  My place needs to be lived in, that is what makes it home to me.  If I ever came into a lot of money, then it would be one of the first things that I would search for, a lovely old building to breathe new life into. Of all the possible styles it would probably have a Deco feel to it, now that’s a tour I’d be tempted to do which would really inspire me.

The Daily Post – Transformation

Images: Morguefile.com

Never Underestimate It.

9/11/16

Never Underestimate It.

What’s that? I hear you ask….

The effect a dog can have to help you to heal.

I read some time ago about how dogs have helped with PTSD and Depression, I know that having Kato around at my darkest times was probably a lifesaver, even when my partner didn’t know what would help, Kato always seemed to. When my partner was in grief for the loss of his family members and no-one seemed to understand, our boy was there, by his side to get him through each day too. When I was unable to work and ill, he was there for me watching over me, watching over us both, he always knew when we weren’t well and would be especially vigilant until we were better. I will be eternally grateful to him for all that he gave us in his life, the love and support and loyalty. I daren’t hope that we could find that again, so soon after losing him.

I read an article about prisoners caring for shelter dogs, for veterans who feel that they have no-one. The power a dog has to rehabilitate a person is astounding. A transformation can take place in such a short time and the bond that forms is incomparable.

The trauma of the summer will heal in time. We needed the distraction of our trip, we both needed to take time out and think about what we wanted in our future. It was there up on the hill that we decided although we have each other and that is enough. The icing on the cake would be to share our hearts and space with a new furry person, one who needed a new start, for whatever reason. I said that we would know when we found the right one for us, but that we did not need to rush. He kept getting me to look, almost daily. Had he decided that it was time, was he right?

We looked, we made a few phonecalls, sent messages, almost going through the motions, but I didn’t know how we felt. He could not even meet a dog without tears forming, he missed him so much. His buddy, his friend, he felt lost. We missed everything about not having Kato around and it was eating us up. We talked about whether it would be too soon and how he may have felt about us sharing our love. We concluded that he would want us to be happy. Meanwhile no-one even responded to our messages or calls. We thought maybe it wasn’t meant to be after all, maybe we hadn’t found our one yet.

It was a Saturday night, we had our favourite lovely meal and a bottle of wine, he asked me to look, there had been no internet signal all evening, at about 1am, I tried to shut the computer down but there was suddenly a signal. I again looked at the dogs which were up for adoption and rehoming. We had been speaking to a rescue lady the day before, but there were some issues with the owners and he wasn’t sure. I found three dogs which I thought might suit us and called him to look at the pictures. Two of them were Black and White, which I gravitated towards, but this was not just a decision for me. My partner told me that he would prefer someone who did not remind him of our Kato. He wouldn’t want to make comparisons and the new one would have big paws to fill. They were all between 2 and 5 years old. We wanted someone who we would have a chance of a good few years with.

Then there was Rocky.
He was so different from Kato, a blonde bear. Sable & Cream with a smile full of puppy nonsense. He looked as though he had a sweet nature. Such things are important. We barely got any sleep and as I gave him the list of the three numbers. He rang only one. He spoke to the man who was giving him up. We asked if we could visit on the way back South, we asked all about him, all the things that we could think of that we might need to know. We made an arrangement to visit a week later and the man promised that we would be the first to see him.

As the week passed we kept thinking about him. I had saved the photographs to look at them. We anticipated our visit.
Exhausted we travelled back from Scotland had very little sleep and then called to confirm our visit. When we arrived some hours later, my partner wanted to meet him first. He said he wouldn’t get a look in once he had seen me. The man let Rocky in whilst he was upstairs. He came down minutes later to find me sitting on the floor with this beautiful dog sitting next to me, having his ears stroked. Rocky came over to say Hello to him and came back to me for more fuss.

We stayed for hours, he barely left my side, we took him for a walk in the park, off the lead, after all we were with his owner. We were thrilled that he was so good and did not react to other dogs other than to go and say hello and run off again. I was holding the lead so I called him back, he returned to me every time and I praised him. He walked by my side so nicely. We had all decided by the time we left that he would be coming to live with us. As we departed Rocky tried to get into our car to come with us, there and then we knew. Resistance was futile but I had to send him back to his owner, telling him that I would be back next week to see him again. We trusted our instincts when we met him, came home discussing him all the way, I think we’d found our new son.

I was on tenterhooks all week long, hoping that nothing would go wrong. We spoke midweek and all was set, we would have a meal with his family and then we would be bringing him home. When we arrived he was in the garden on a chain, it was pouring with rain and he was soaked. I asked why but did not get an answer and asked for a towel. When the rain died down a bit we all took him for a walk. Otherwise the evening was lovely.

He said his Goodbyes, we will stay in touch and Father and Son can come and visit him when they would like to. It was an eventful drive home, 80 miles with him talking and whining all the way, he wanted to be in the front and climb onto my lap. I could not fit in the back to comfort him, there wasn’t room for me in his bed and I didn’t want to invade his space. We showed him around his new home and garden he was thrilled, I gave him a new soft blanket, he took it into the lounge, we laid it out on the floor and I sat on it with him. He just wanted to be cuddled. We gave him lots to drink and when it was time for bed, we decided that he could sleep in the lounge. Access all areas except the bedroom. We slept with the door open so we could hear him. He layed down to sleep and did not cross the threshold until he needed to go out. But kept coming to the doorway to check on us, he was amazing.

In the morning, when we woke up, he came into the room to see us and climbed up to put his paws on my shoulder, giving me kisses and a hug. The best good morning a new mummy could hope for.

There will be learning, there will be things which test us no doubt, like the tantrum when we put his Halti on, but he settles down. He is after all an Alaskan Malamute and it is in their nature to test, but so far he is proving to be a wonderful addition to the family and our home, full of character and love.

Our healing has begun and so has his. We have been in limbo for a while as we grieved. He is still in our thoughts daily, but I no longer sob nightly at the thought of him, that stopped only days ago. We still speak to him and tell him about his new brother, we are sure that he would have loved him too. I am telling him about the daily nonsense, he would have kept him in check a big brother to watch him.

The little one whom we adopted just three days ago, who is full of love and affection and has already changed his life for the better since his arrival.
He has no desire to sleep in his basket we brought back with him. He would not even climb into it so it has been put away. He was pleased to get a new harness which didn’t make him itch and wears it with a smile. The soft bed was washed three times, but he will not lay on it, not even disguised under his new blanket. He has plenty to say, where he was quiet when we visited him. He is finding his voice. He wakes us up to say Hello and give us kisses but were told he wasn’t very kissy. He kisses me after I feed him to thank me and comes to tell us that he has eaten his meal, for praise. He follows us everywhere, it is early days maybe this is normal to have a new shadow. There is no rush to eat his food, he is not so hungry, no-one will remove it, the cat won’t eat it if he leaves it. It is still there for him. He eats when he is hungry, leaves it and returns to it later, tail wagging that it is still there. He is not hunting for treats all the time, the obsession with food is gone.
We didn’t change his name, just how it was spelled.
Ecstatic that he was given his first toy by his new Dad on the first morning when he awoke he proudly presents it to us many times throughout the day and is happy to share it with us whenever we ask. He will fetch it back and wait for it to be thrown. He will wait when asked to and has wonderful manners. He wants to play, night and day and is chasing his tail for the first time today, dancing around the room as I write this with plenty to say.

We are smiling again, big smiles which are right across our faces, there is laughter and merriment in our house, three days in a row for the first time in months. The light is back on we are all happy, so very happy to be parents again. There are no second thoughts, no doubt or did we do the right thing? We realised that this was meant to be when we sat shattered from the journey, to see my brand new sleeping furry son head on my lap with a beautiful smile, for him to be squarely between the two of us, comforted by the feet of his new Mum and Dad.

The Daily Post – Second Thoughts

 

 

The Winds of Change.

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There has been a distinct shift in our lives the past week or so…

There was bound to be, we have dealt with some more upset caused by this Summer’s issues with our neighbour here, which we are trying to resolve now that we have caught our breath from the journey back from Scotland and have to settle in for the winter here.

The arrival of our new furry son has brought smiles to our faces and  happiness to our hearts again and he is settling in and finding his feet, we are setting the boundaries and so far so good, his re-training in certain things is progressing. The original training has held him in good stead and he is eager to please us.

My partner has reached a big Birthday, which has quite obviously got him thinking about what he does and doesn’t want to do with his life.  So this week marks the end of a voluntary career with the local community spanning around ten years.  During this time, he has worked tirelessly for the benefit of others, often been ostracized for his work and suffered abuse and downright harrassment at times, often from unexpected directions.

He has decided this week that he does not want to be involved in the politics of it any more, to be ruled by it all and last night tendered his resignation upon the advice of a police officer who felt that the neighbourhood situation may calm down if he steps out of the public eye.  He has given it alot of thought and emailed his resignation last night.  I can tell that it was not as easy a decision as he first thought, there is disappointment at mistreatment and lack of support throughout the summer and over the years. But this morning he tells me that he is happier to be out of the game, the back-stabbing and if he is no longer involved, then he does not have to be a part of it.

I guess, he’s just finally had enough.

Today he is quiet, pensive and thoughtful. He is trying to dot the I’s and cross the T’s. Tie up any loose ends, he is dealing with things. I don’t know what he plans to do next, but I am sure that whatever it is, he will throw himself wholeheartedly into it and give it his best shot.  After all, that is the man he is and doubtless I will support him with it in whatever way possible.  We are a team, a partnership and I stand by his side.

15/11/16 I wonder what will come next…  Am I apprehensive? Maybe a little, but change is supposed to be good. I should welcome it, goodness knows we needed so much to change and are fed up with leaving things to chance so why am I unsure?

Last night there was a Supermoon, he encouraged me to make wishes.  Although there were sightings of it the night before, I was waiting to see it but it was hidden by fog last night here.  I wish we had been up on the hill, where I am sure it would have been huge and bright and I would have bathed in it’s glory.  But I did manage to get a good look at it the night before and the dog and I sat in the back garden gazing up in wonder at it.  Will my wishes come to fruition, I hope so but am pleased that some of them already have.

The Daily Post – Waiting Image: Morguefile.com

Hello To The New Boy

Hello to the New Boy
Who has come to us to stay,
When we’ve got more used to him,
He’ll come to join the fray.
He is just a youngster, with character so large.
With kindness and good manners,
Through a doorway he won’t barge.
Will greet you with Hello paws,
Not uninvited climb.
And when asked whose is that Dog,
I’ll be proud to say, He’s mine.
Cuddles and sweet nature, will brighten every day
There’s lots of love to share and so much time to play.
Will bring to you a toy, so you’ll not be lonely or become sad
We’ve just adopted him, our soppy little lad.
He’s been sent to join us, to stay here till the end,
Hello to the New Boy, our little furry friend.
So as I welcome him and I am pleased to say,
Come on in my darling, Happy Gotcha Day!

Now It’s Time

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Was it time for a furry person?

Were we sure? Well nothing’s certain.

But whilst we aim and try to strive

and remember we’re alive.

That time is there to heal,

Whatever we may feel.

And the day will come,

When we will meet our son.

So, it’s time to find another,

not a sister, but a brother.

To the one he’s never met,

but they’d get along, we’d bet.

A new chapter has begun,

we’re off to meet our son

He is a growing Lad,

who’s already had a Dad.

But not really had a Mum,

I’ll be the only one.

We travelled off to meet

and he sat by me to greet.

I knew it from the start,

he’d grabbed hold of my heart.

There is room in there.

As his eyes held my stare.

And as he went to say Hello,

to his new Dad, he would know.

Oh yes, he saw it straight away

On that Happy, fateful day.

Came away without a doubt,

Of what will be, will come about.

Our new boy who will come to live,

and who has so much love to give.

One to join our family,

return us again, to “Us Three”.

A small one with so much to learn,

to teach him how and not be stern.

I will treat and when he’s good,

with loving care and just reward.

A fine boy he will come to be

Just you wait and you will see…

 

rocky3

 

Wrapped Up


Wrapped up in my thoughts like a blanket pulled too tight.

Trying to release me, twist and turn with all my might.

The blanket offers me, some comfort from the cold.

But thoughts are hiding there in the crease and in the fold.

They creep unexpectedly as I lay here on the bed.

Dance round the subconscious and here in my head.

Sometimes I’ll wrestle them and pull them to the floor.

Hoping I can sling them, far out of the door.

But as I try to do this, they often come right out.

Leave me tired and sad and exhausted from the bout.

They are sometimes mixed with anger, so often filled with pain.

So I sit and write them down so they’ll be gone again.

I hope a while later, when my head it starts to reel,

That I can give it time and the space in which to heal.