Tag: love

Normality, who needs it?

I don’t want you to grow up normal. I don’t want you to think that the only way to relieve a broken heart is a prescription for a bottle of pills. I want you to feel that hurt, to remember it… and if it was your fault too, I want you to fix that, and […]

via Why I don’t want my kid growing up normal — larinnachandler

 

This Post, is absolutely fantastic! I had to share it, I  wish that my parents had taken the opportunity to put that permission to be different out there, instead of us trying to conform, and failing miserably…

Some people are meant to be different, we should celebrate the differences.

 

Decay #6 Blessed with a great outlook

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On Bank Holiday Monday I spent the afternoon with my sister.  We chilled out at home talking about all kinds of things then ventured out in the car to a nearby river.  It is lovely how a quick trip to water brightens the day.

She has recently bought a car and I am enjoying the afternoons where we can go out and see some of the great countryside which surrounds us, where I get to show her the places she hasn’t seen before, which are right on our doorstep and she gets to practice her driving.  It makes a change not to be the driver. More importantly, we also get to be sisters again, when we are out on our own and just be ourselves.  We were talking about location shoots since she is after some new promotional pictures for her work and I tried to think of places which were a little out of the ordinary.

I thought of just the place and took her along the river. It was threatening rain all afternoon, so we went over there early evening for an hour or so, despite the slightly grey evening, we messed around with our cameras and I came away Happy with a load of new shots and making new memories as she put it.  Although I will not be the photographer for her promo shots, I also got some nice ones of her.

I decided that I would add some more images, bit by bit to the series called Decay, which I have photographed over a period of time.  So, here goes…

 

I am a Survivor!

I am a Survivor!

The things which I have gone through, I have come out the other side.

Broken, Yes Sometimes for a while…

Forced to hide away and repair myself, when others have chosen to just brush it aside.

Rebuilding each and every time without fail, essential for my survival.

Finding strength I didn’t know existed all over again. To help me grow instead of wither and die, like they expected. Making me a person far different from the one I could have been.

They did not win. They will not win.

I did not fail.  I will not fail.

My Branches may have been cut and I bled, but they grew again.

My wings may have been clipped, I waited for my feathers to return.

My impatience to continue evident, not content just to wait for it to be over.

I gathered the wind under my wings, ready to soar again, back where I belong.

My Spirit, untamed, released at last from my experiences.

Free to Live, to dream and to Be.

The Daily Post – Survival

Gathering Plotlines for the writer on the train, or finding inspiration in the strangest of places.

I am transported back to a train or tube journey, I cannot recall which of the two that it was, but I was in a carriage several years ago. As I travelled across London, a young lady sat across the carriage from me wildly writing on post it notes throughout her journey. Peeling them off and sticking them to her knee as she went.
At the time, it struck me as odd. I was not the only one who wondered what she might be doing, what she was trying so hard to remember. Her brow furrowed as she did so. The pen clearly not writing quite as fast as she was thinking.

What odd behaviour, I thought, like many others around us within the carriage. I wondered if she was alright, her demeanour frantic. Now as I am transported back to this image and memory, I have a better understanding of how when writing, a flash of inspiration can strike at the most inopportune moment, you grab the nearest thing and begin to write, the urge taking hold of you completely. Words tumbling across the page, if you are lucky enough to have a page in front of you at the time, but arriving even faster than it is possible to write them down. At the end of her journey, she collected them all up and shoved them into her bag as she alighted at her station, her eyes darting from side to side as she left.

Thinking back, I hoped that she was a writer. That whatever temporary madness was caused by the stream of thoughts would be outweighed by her talent. That her words and thoughts were wonderful and would be read by many and appreciated. I silently wished her all the best in her endeavours.

We all have our places for inspiration, I have always been a bit of a people watcher, I also have a fairly good memory for people. I don’t usually forget a name and I can recall people and moments in time from many years ago. This is at times both a blessing and a hindrance, but for writing it gives me a plethora of people at my disposal which will form characters in stories, just as they have done in my life. I spend a lot of time up on the hill, which I enjoy writing about, whenever I am searching for solitude, or rest and need to replenish my soul it is my sanctuary, but alas it is not where I spend all of my time. I also live elsewhere, closer to my family and the places I grew up. I have thought about moving from this place on several occasions in the past few years, but have always stayed relatively close, choosing not to sever the ties here.

It occurred to me today that I have the perfect window on the world here for my writing so why would I wish to move… I am perfectly situated on a busy road, which overlooks a school playing field. When the children are not there, it is a green space with rabbits running wild and leads to allotments, where people come and go at all times of the day and night. It is a busy corner of the street, heading towards a nursery, where children are dropped and collected and their play is heard all day. There is also a primary and secondary school. The parents park outside the house and walk their children in, gathering outside to meet their friends, talk, smoke or just walk past. There is also a cycle path, where people jog on a Tuesday night and it is not the best time to walk a lively dog. The scouts meet over the road, the meeting place of an almost secret society, which I have never been privy to. There is a leisure centre down the road, and shops nearby, with enough characters to fill a multitude of books and that is without the ones that I have actually met over the years.

I also have considered that I may have too many pairs of pyjamas in my cupboard. As I put away the washing earlier, I noticed them just sitting in the cupboard all clean and folded in a multitude of colours, ready to sit around in all day, whilst I write my bestseller. More than a different pair for every day of the week is probably just greedy, I have amassed them over the years, not knowing that it was in readiness for such a time as this, when I am sitting up writing at 3am again and feel the need to change into fresh ones when I am finished and ready to sleep. I don’t have the heart to throw any of them away, strangely the different colours can offer inspiration and tone to my writing, dependent on which ones I am wearing. Red can be racy, Sky Blue can be dreamy, Lemon can remind me of Spring, Lavender of France and Black can be just plain dark or sultry. Hmm, Is that more than slightly mad and I wonder, can a girl have too many pairs? Surely they are like shoes aren’t they, a girl can never have too many pairs…

Emotional Blackmail, via email or a Lesson to be Learned.

It’s strange how one quick scan through looking at your email can give you the familiar guilty feelings and bring all your worries to the fore.  These are mailing lists which you sign up for, when you are feeling that you need a bit of help, some guidance in your life, or are curious as to whether you are doing any of it right.  Never underestimate the effect that this can have on someone who is depressed.  I have found that reading emails and seeking out self-help guides is a way to reassure yourself, that others are going through it to, there must be help out there, someone may have the answer as to how to fix that and sometimes they will even share it.  (Darn that practical thinking once again!) A quick scroll through however, will sadly reaffirm all your worst fears, that you aren’t doing enough, or doing it right, your body is not slim enough, your mind is not tuned in to what it should be, your business is not working the way it should be, you can re-set your thinking and your whole world will just drop into place again. There are “coaches” who will be behind you every step of the way.

IF ONLY!    Of course if you would just send them some more of your hard earned, or non existent cash.  They would be able to help you achieve more, worry less, be slim, be strong, help others or the very next best thing would be on it’s way to you by some secret or celestial force.

It is very difficult when you are going through a dark place, not to pick up things along the way, which sit in the back of your mind and eat away at your sub-conscious.   Some months ago, I was desperate for help to ease my worried mind.  I wanted so badly for things in my life to change for the better, that for a moment I believed the hype….  That some complete stranger could show me the way out of this mess I was in.  That’s the trouble when your mental health takes a swan dive. Don’t get me wrong, there are some Life Coaches who hit the nail on the head and whom you actually feel can help and there are people who do.  It isn’t all doom and gloom.

At the time though, I received an email, telling me that I had a Guardian Angel, who was watching over me and who could guide me, they might even be able to tell me where I had been going wrong all this time, or how to avoid any future pitfalls.  For a small fee, they would offer help,  a reading or perform some mystical thing which would set me back on track on the original path from which I had clearly deviated.

At the time, I had funds.  So,  what had I got to lose?  I thought, I paid a small fee, for him to work his magic, (Yes I do believe in Magic but that is a subject for another day) he sent me something to download and follow which would bring me celestial assistance. (Or Not)  Someone I could call upon in times of difficulty who would be there.  (Isn’t that what my partner is for?)  Little did I know that I would be bombarded for months with emails which would send me on a huge guilt trip.   It promised that I would come into some money, which when you are broke is always a bit of a carrot to entice you. Furthermore that on a certain date, games of luck would go my way.  It is very easy to hope that someone is right when you are feeling low, it would have been so easy to spend a fortune on Lottery Tickets and this person’s “Help” and where would it have got me? On a couple of occasions I gambled.  Those “special dates in my charts, the stars etc ” came and went and needless to say, there was no change in my finances.  My natural cynicism must have overtaken the good stuff and Lo another date was mentioned.

As a pretty sensitive person, on the other occasions where I did not even have enough money to buy food or pay the bills, I received the emails which told me off for not having parted with yet more funds told me that time was running out, it would all go wrong for me if I did not take this offer up. I felt the guilt, thought about if I could scrape together just a bit more money, it might make the difference…  Of course I didn’t and it didn’t, then having been berated, a few days later despite me not taking the offer up, I would receive another one, with a different name of something that I would surely need in my life and a new date.

Instead having been on the hook for a very short time, so I thought, When things just got steadily worse and worse, I faced facts.  I had given it a go, but accepted that it wasn’t to be. Perhaps this person’s insight had been off-kilter and wasn’t meant for me at all.   At this point it would also have been very easy to think, hang it all that they were right, “there is some dark, evil force hanging over me, which I need to rid myself of”.  Yes, this was actually the content of one of the emails I received.  But instead, a part of the old me re-appeared the stubborn me and I thought, I’ll show them, I will do it.  I will not be beaten.

Last week, I woke up one morning to be met with another such email.  I suddenly decided to cull the email inbox, it was time. I removed myself from this regular onslaught upon my sense of wellbeing and the threat of a cloud lifted almost immediately.  I really should keep going and get rid of some of the other emails too but hey, one step at a time….

Things started to feel better, day to day and the future.  If the days were meant to go well, then they would. I handed my future back to fate pleased that it would be in her hands for a while, that I cannot push in a direction that I may not be able to go.  I can only do what I do, if I do it well, then life will reward me. If I do not, then Karma will give me that kick up the backside, which I will probably deserve.

And that brings me to my #LessonsLearned:

Fate has always served me rather well that along with my intuition, whom I should follow much more carefully in the future. I believe in Magic, it presents itself in so many ways.  I have my very own Guardian Angel looking out for me all along, he is living, breathing and beside me every day.

The Daily Post – Underestimate

 

 

 

 

 

Family Time with My Siblings

This week has been an interesting one, I have seen both of my siblings, part of my family and I am feeling loved, I hope that they do too.

I went out with my sister on Thursday for several hours, just the two of us in her car, she is a new driver and wanted to get some practice in now that she has a car. We drove to the shops and both she and I had places in mind that we wanted to see although she did not have the address for hers, we went in that direction. Stopping at the shop for some car supplies, we munched on donuts in the car park of a store before setting off. They were the best donuts I have had in years, light and fluffy with just the right amount of jam. They melted as they hit your mouth and were really enjoyable, leaving the obligatory slightly sticky fingers. A clean up and we set off on our little road trip. I loved the afternoon and evening we spent together, it was just lovely to be ourselves, with no one else around, driving through the countryside along country roads, in the sunshine, the car full of fresh air talking about all sorts of things. My partner called to make sure all was going well and asked us how Thelma and Louise were doing today, it made us both laugh. I loved that we could be totally natural, no-one to judge us, no-one to interrupt us either. We arrived back in the evening tired and happy and enjoyed a meal together.

Over dinner she gave me a wonderful compliment, she said to my partner that she has always seen me as always demure and ladylike and seemed to be able to remain calm, she admired me for that. I told her that I had made a conscious effort to be that way, it didn’t come naturally to me. But there is fire within, we discussed that too, that I am not one to be pushed. I will only allow it so far, she said that she had only ever seen me lose my temper twice. (I didn’t ask for details) I am not proud of letting rip, it takes a lot for me to do that. My sister although like me in many ways, is much more fiery, she will say whatever comes into her head and blow the consequences, it has such an effect that she often has no recollection of it afterwards, the steam and the words have gone. Often they leave their mark elsewhere, but once they are out in her mind they are gone. As she set off later that night, we agreed, as we often do, that we should spend more time together and hope to see each other next week as well.

I saw my brother yesterday, it was the first time we had actually met up in about a year. We had so much to catch up on, despite regularly speaking on the phone, it is wonderful to hug him and talk with him. He is working abroad these days and returns for short trips in between his contracts. I was physically ill and couldn’t see him last year when he arrived back, so yesterday we started early and he arrived in the afternoon, staying for lunch and dinner with us. It was great to share some stories, hear about his travels and that he is enjoying getting out and about with his camera he showed me some great photos he’d taken, he wants to do more of this, I suggested Instagram as he goes.

One conversation with my brother yesterday I mentioned to him that I am writing a blog and a book. He asked what it is about. I told him many things, It contains photographs, memories, stories and so far has covered many subjects, such as Invisible Illnesses, He looked as though he did not know what I meant, I explained, Depression, PTSD, Endometriosis. He seemed a little shocked, I told him of my plans to publish a book of poems this year. I have the poems, people are reading my blog and poetry and I have a twitter account now, as of last week with followers there too. Thank you to all of the above on and also being joined by my 50th follower, athling2001 on the blog, another personal milestone for me this week.

He asked me what my own plans were, I told him that although I do not currently have a paid job, I have been writing for some months. That it started out as a recovery thing for me, but I used to write years ago, poems and things and felt the need to be creative once again. I tried to draw, and paint, and make things, but writing seems to have taken off in a big way for me and comes naturally, he had been speaking to a lady we both know, who is currently writing children‘s stories, she apparently told him of her night writing and the times when there is nothing, but then it can return in floods. He laughed, I told him yes, it is real. It has given me the opportunity to express myself. The REAL me. I found myself explaining to him that for so long, I had been stifled by people around me, who expected me to be a certain way. I was facing an inner battle, yes, there were times when I wanted to shout at people and tell them that they were behaving badly, but I didn’t. I held it all in for years and suddenly, I couldn’t anymore. I admire the people I know who can just shout about it straight away and it’s over. I am not one of those people.
I carefully consider the possible repercussions of my words and actions, over think things and then think better of saying things, wise after the event. I should have said…. If I were to do it over again I would do/say etc, you get the gist.

Last year I stopped holding it all in. A counsellor helped me realise that it doesn’t solve things, to keep them put away. I was urged to find an outlet, give myself some me-time on a regular basis and find out what I needed and make sure that I got some of it. It was an eye-opener, just taking permission to do something for me, for no-one else time alone now and then and I have guarded it ever since. Now I have an outlet, I WRITE. I am not carrying all this emotional baggage around with me, I have room in my head, to think, to plan, to have a future. I may not be rich, I may not have a successful job at the moment, but I did, so I could again. But for the time being I am Happy! I am Grateful for the things I have learned, for the people who have put their faith in me, for allowing myself to be ME again. I might be a new me, but it is exhilarating to find the nice bits, bring them out and cherish them within the new person that I am still becoming. I explained to my brother that writing is quite cathartic, the release it gives is wonderful. He looked quite concerned, as though I may have rambled a bit, I think it took him by surprise. I don’t know if he understood, perhaps he never will.

On reaching 100 and Counting, (Still)

Well, that’s one for the list of Yay’s…
To those of you have been waiting and would like to know, you’ll be pleased to hear that I have now reached my 100 poems. This is the goal that I set myself to write, before I would choose which ones I will include in my first book. It also appears on the list of Yay’s. For the uninitiated, this is a list which I made myself in February, just as I began this blog of things that I wished to achieve (preferably) this year. As I complete them, I place the Yay! By way of celebration in the completed column. See Intentions – Things I want to do this year

The truth be told, I have surpassed this particular personal goal in a glut of writing that began yesterday and went on through the night. It was daylight when I finally clambered into bed at 5am having been unable to sleep once again, the words and thoughts just kept coming and I am but its slave. Having been in bed for the grand total of three hours I was suddenly awake again, at 8am the notepad pulled from under the pillow, the pencil poised once more. Round two, ding-ding!

I am not stopping yet though, let’s continue to make hay whilst the sun shines. (Although this morning is actually met with rain) the selection process will begin, just about the time that my current stream of writing falters a little, I will then feel able to edit and work on how it will all come together and final quantity that will be included in the book itself, also on how on earth I am going to get it out there and market it on my non-existent budget. Hold on to your hats.

The intention is there and I had anticipated that it would be my first book, but since my butterfly mind is flitting once again I may conclude something else I am also working on first. I know, I know the voice inside my head warns the old me to finish what I had started, before moving on to the next thing. But there is another deadline I would rather like to meet. It is a competition entry, with a month to spare and would be my first entry for writing. It could be a short story, but what constitutes a short story and where is the line drawn before it becomes a long one?  If last night was anything to go by, it could end up a novel. It started off a couple of months ago, notes on a page, characters in my head, stories to be told. It has sat there, whiling away the time, until more thoughts formed in my head and I began to consciously write it, I somehow knew that once I did it might open a floodgate.

This particular story is of a young girl, reaching womanhood and the people she encounters, who try to change the direction her life should take and the people thrown into her path. The way that it is coming thick and fast at the moment, I might just ,make the deadline for that particular competition, dependent on what else May holds for me. If not, then there’s a rather large shelf full of stuff that I could put it on. I’d been sitting on there myself until recently, but it was time to dust myself off this year and start something new.

Oh metaphors, how I love thee….

I said that May is going to be a good month, where good things happen. It is traditionally so and I don’t want to break with that particular tradition. I have a lot to accomplish this month and so far, progress has been made, so Salut and long may it continue.

There is another goal, which I am so close to reaching on the list, the magical number of 50 followers to my blog. So, if you are reading this for the first time and want to do me the honours, I’d be over the moon to be able to tick that one off too and I‘m oh so close…

I am filled with Gratitude for the people who follow the blog and regularly send me their comments and emotional support, sometimes the road can be rocky, but your words continue to inspire me. Thank you!

 

 

 

The Girls from the Beach

Surrounded by beautiful countryside,
That’s where he took her off to hide.
It took so many years to see,
The friend who’d left Leigh-on-Sea.
Through our teens, we’d grown together,
A storm to fight almost any weather.
But like a cloud she drifted away,
In my heart a place, she’d stay.
Years went by and a message I’d send.
To the girl, who’d been such a dear friend.
Would time have changed her beyond reach?
From one of the girls who sat on the beach.
Had habits wrecked the person I know?
If she was hurting, would it now show?
But we got in touch and to my relief,
The girl I knew was still underneath.
Scratch the surface and you will see,
A part of the person she’d wanted to be.
A passion for travel was her desire,
She’d at last got away from that terrible liar.
Who’d built around her a wall you could shove,
Now thankfully found a man she could love.
They now have a wonderful family
Of beautiful children, I’m dying to see.
So into the car a visit was planned,
Will we stop by the beach, put our toes in the sand?
Should we sit for a time and dwell on the past,
Let’s sit in the park as time’s gone so fast.
A picnic with her and three of her brood.
Couldn’t give them a lift and didn’t want to be rude,
But couldn’t fit them all in the car in the back,
The years have been kind and she’s on the right track.
Stayed there for hours as though no time had passed,
Would she still be my friend? I’d know at last.
In conversation, you’d see that she’s changed,
The same girl you knew but just rearranged.
Is it her past? or just motherhood,
Quietly reserved, are things for the good?
You see that under it she’s fragile,
But what else hides behind her smile?
Was once like your sister, will be so again.
Wonder if she’s managed a refrain,
From the sad life that she’d come to know,
Before way back when she’d decided to go.
Imagine my true happiness,
When she gave me her address.
An invite for her family to see,
A shade of the girl she used to be.
This is the girl who would go with the flow,
Who is lots of fun and a pleasure to know.
She’s gone shy and quiet, doesn’t talk on the phone.
Off with her kiddies for hours she’ll roam.
Exploring the places they’re eager to find,
Space for some thinking or there to remind.
Up and down trees or charging about
“Where are you Mum?” “Over Here!” she’ll shout.
Hide and seek up hill and down dale,
A photo of them sitting on a hay bale.
A great imagination, a thirst to excite,
A great bunch of kids, they’ve brought them up right.
Over the time her children have grown
But a wonderful family they have shown,
That they stay together through thick and thin.
Way back then, he was determined to win.
Not prepared to give up at all cost,
Do not dwell on the time that we lost.
So glad that she settled and turned things around.
Glad that finally my friend has been found.

The Daily Post – The Girls from the Beach

 

 

This Beach, The One…

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This Beach, The One
The first real one that you ever visited.
With it’s sandy spot, where you took off your shoes and pushed your feet into the cool sand.
Where you carefully navigated the section with the smooth pebbles trying not to find a crab or jellyfish.
The swimming pools, where you paddled with friends.
The beautiful views, never ending water, reaching for miles.
The boats bobbing and swaying on the tide.
The mud flats when the tide had gone out,
One of many children searching for crabs.
Beachcombing, to see what can be found.
Kiosks selling ice creams, or chips and the smell wafting along the promenade.
Friendly dogs running up to say Hello and share a picnic.
Sandcastles and random artwork, left for someone else to find.
Listening to the waves, crashing against the breakers.
The trains rumbling past, shattering the peace and quiet.
The seagulls swooping and squawking investigating the remnants of the day.
This Beach,
The one you used to play on when you were ten years old and had just moved close to.
The one you were baptised right out in the open air in the swimming pool, followed by a Barbeque with all your friends from church. A celebration of your life given to God.
The one you used to walk to as a teenager, when you needed to think when you thought you were broken hearted.
The one you bunked off from school to walk to, since it was just far enough away for you not to be found.
The one where you watched the windsurfers and the beach bums and toasted your skin for hours, working on your tan.
The one where you sat and sobbed, when it was all too much for you.
The one where you yelled at the top of your voice, when you felt that things were unjust.
The one where you met your boyfriends, years apart.
The one where you had parties on the beach, listening to your favourite tunes.
The one where you used to meet your friends.
The one where you used to sit on the wall to look at the boys.
The one where you walked your dogs,
The one where you met your current love.
The one where you walked hand in hand with him.

This Beach,
Is also the one where he used to go to think. His favourite beach, where he had sat in the same places, done some of the same things and for years and you had just missed each other. The one where on that day, years later the time was right and walking back from the beach, you met, talked for hours, arranged to meet again and began to fall in love and your story began.

The Daily Post – Beach

In My Baby’s Eyes

lgphone 092In My Baby’s Eyes.  

There is such wisdom, he sees so much.  He is constantly learning, surprising me with what he knows.  I would never have imagined the fun that we would have since he arrived in our lives.  Life will never be the same again, he has touched our hearts.  He is there, to love unconditionally, when I have felt that the world hated me, there to comfort me when I have been sick or sad.  He keeps me safe, when we are worried and has steered us away from danger. He is not as trusting as I am and is a pretty good judge of character. He has a wonderful singing voice and will tell you what is on his mind. He is large, but can be so gentle.

He is our furry son, my mother’s Grand-dog and a beloved part of our existence that makes us more of a family. He is achingly handsome as an animal and beautiful as a person, which he is convinced that he is. He has his likes and dislikes just as anyone does and a level of nonsense that makes us adore him all the more.  We think that he is special, he certainly is to us.