The way I was.

I look like me but I’m not the same, a subtle change.
That catches me out from time to time I find it’s strange. 
Over time there’s been a subtle shift, 
I’m wondering, Do you catch my drift?
The person I was wasn’t built to last.
I look back at her now she’s in the past.
There’s a glimmer sometimes of who she was. 
And I think of her fondly just because.
Way back then she was so naive. 
Who she trusted and chose to believe.
Lessons learned the hard way.
They had their fun, yet continued to play.
Others may take it in their stride. 
There’s fight or flight, or run and hide.
I had no choice I was made to run.
Not sure of the person I was to become.
Spent such a long time wracked with pain, 
Realising my loss had been their gain.
She thought they might just see her as weak.
Can’t quite cope with cruel words they speak.
Situations that put her to the test.
To fix them all she did her best.
When her best wasn’t good enough. 
Was when things started to get rough.
The old me used to be so jolly, 
But the past has left me melancholy.
There once was a time I’d just get drunk, 
Lighten the mood get rid of the junk. 
Realising that I couldn’t keep the pace.
Beat a hasty retreat to save face.
Wouldn’t join their club, didn’t have the fee.
That wasn’t the person I was meant to be.
Life carries on we will get by, 
Try as I do I still can’t touch the sky.
So far away and out of reach it looks so near,
But I can see it from standing here. 
There are sometimes I think of death,
But then I always catch my breath.
Some days it gets me I feel the fear.
It is there still bright and clear. 
There are moments in time that I can touch.
And others when it just seems too much. 
When sadness overtakes it all, 
Did I set myself up for a fall?
Queen of the castle will I be crowned?
Over my kingdom all around.
The chances to fulfil my dreams, 
Are often such a way off, or so it seems.
Before you walk you must learn to crawl.
Wondering will I ever be standing tall? 
I note down the things I’d like the most, 
Have I missed the party or am I the host?
So many metaphors in my mind.
Have to silence the noise it’s too unkind.
The doubts that linger in my head, 
When I am tired and filled with dread.
One negative thought will wheedle its way, 
Like spirochetes which sit and stay.
Morphing again into something new, 
Attacking just the unlucky few.
They get into the blood and make you sick, 
Before you know it it happens so quick.
Maybe someone will throw me a rope.
But for now there’s always hope.
Depression of such magnitude. 
Pardon me I’m not being rude.
Withdrawn to myself I shut me away, 
Overthinking it all night and day.
But just when I think I’m ready to drop.
A brief respite willing it to stop.
It’s not so easy to be positive.
When this is how you’ve had to live.
Now I try to think thoughts so pure, 
To see if it helps but I’m not sure.
Some of the experts highly rate 
To quiet be calm and meditate.
But I’m not calm as there’s constant noise, 
When Girls will be girls and Boys will be boys.
So as I grow up and begin to age, 
I thought I’d cleanse my space with sage. 
Herbal infusions take me from the brink, 
And lavender to help me think.
To ease the mind and bring clarity. 
Open my eyes and help me see.
Rising early morning I see the sun,
The change in me again has begun.
So rather than leave me vexed, 
I’ll embrace the me that I’ll be next.
Divine intervention from above.
The new me I will learn to love.

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Where have I been?

I have on so many occasions in the past few months attempted to write an update to the blog. To give some kind of reason as to why my writing seemed to have just come to an abrupt halt here online. It’s as though I feel that you deserve an explanation for my absence, the hope that perhaps in all this time (dare i say it) My writing may have been ever so slightly missed.

I haven’t been doing anything spectacular. No more trips abroad for the time being. It has been a year to this week when I wrote this when I visited Corsica and the memories have come flooding back, my brother so small in stature, yet still as large as life appearing in descriptive music and favourite songs, special moments, when dragonflies, robins, butterflies and white feathers appear. Reminding me that although he is no longer here in the physical sense, he is most definitely still by my side spiritually and for this I am thankful.  I am still grieving for him and dealing with that it sometimes catches me out and leaves me weak and vulnerable. 

Life in its various forms has taken a bit of a backseat as ill health has stepped to the fore and rather dominated, stamping over hopes and dreams and causing mayhem at every twist and turn. 
I have fought again, to try to overcome the irrational fears in my head of dealing with an illness which still has yet to be given the correct diagnosis. I have tried sometimes in vain, to treat it homoeopathically without causing further health implications and at this present time, again my health is suffering. For a small part of the summer at least, I have been able to enjoy the warmth of sun on my skin and time sitting in my little garden. A small corner of solitude which has been so neglected and yet still rewards me with flowers and colour to lift the spirits and delight the senses. It is good for the soul. Despite the short bursts of scents (my sense of smell has still not returned) and colour it calms the sensory overload. There have been times, when my nerves have spasmed and dislocated joints quite often in my sleep, when I am fortunate enough to get some. These do not follow a pattern they choose randomly and I am left in pain until it reseats itself sometimes days later. 
My neurological symptoms have worsened over the past year and I am still waiting for the neurology appointment I was referred for in November 2018.  Meanwhile the nerve pain is at times unbearable causing me to cry out in pain, sweat and shake and causes numbness which makes me clumsy. The restless legs at night are only controlled by taking  Gabapentin which I’d rather not take. My pain relief these days is Tramadol and I am conscious of the fact that both of these are controlled drugs and could be highly addictive. I do not wish to take them, but since I am unable to take codeine based drugs and no other options are available to me I am left with no real choice. I am regularly covered in bruises from clumsy incidents, my hands don’t work properly and I get disorientated. It is embarrassing, I don’t have a social life, save for visiting a few understanding friends when I am able. On good days I can hardly function for a few hours and on bad days I can’t get out of bed.
One of the things about how things have been is that for someone with a good command of English and grammar, it seems to have gone to pieces.  I often have word blindness and brain fog, I type now since hand writing is no longer an option due to pain. I find that not only do I forget the words I intend to put down, but I often am unable to spell words which I know well. I type them the wrong way round as though some wire in my head has come loose and the short circuits caused by the spasms have dislodged the memory.  It is deeply frustrating and means that typing anything now takes me twice as long and spell checking is always essential.  It also happens when I read things, I see them round the wrong way too.

Anger and frustration over this time has caused me to write things which I do not feel that I should share. Personal feelings when I have been angry or upset I still write about them and hope that I have the sense not to put them into the public eye, for fear of reprisal later. Along the lines of if you don’t have anything nice to say, then you should say nothing at all. 
I find myself asking”When did I turn into a person who got so angry, so impatient for change and yet bitter about the cards I have been dealt”. I am fighting my own demons every day and sometimes it feels like a losing battle. It is depressing. There have been family issues and upset and health scares in my beloved, I have watched his health decline rapidly, reach a plateau where I am grateful for any small improvement in his health, whilst his pallor has turned from white to grey to tanned and everything in between until the depression has taken a hold of him and he has felt as though he was dying and I was certain that he was. His fight against cancer was getting the better of him and he became more and more depressed. His constant pain getting him down so far that he did not feel as though he could pull himself out of it and the positive mental attitude dwindling before my eyes. 
It took a turn for the worse in early spring he was assualted and robbed in the front garden and late spring someone else threatened him with a knife outside his own house. It seems that there are more junkies who will now do anything for their fixes and life becomes as cheap as their next fix from a schizophrenic drug dealer who thinks we are out to get him. 
Yes we have been angry, felt cheated by our health and unable to do a damn thing about it to improve it.  We do not want to settle for a life like this, where our dreams are shattered before our eyes and we are left behind, shadows of how we once were. Life is not supposed to be this way. Our life is not cheap or worthless it is still worth fighting for.
Our darling dog had surgery, he was hosting a tumour on his back which had it been left would have paralysed him. Thankfully the surgeon was able to skilfully remove it and he has now made a full recovery back to health, his skills at assisting us when we have health issues have also improved out of necessity and we are so grateful to have him in our lives.

So after the spring upset we headed north, to our home in Scotland in the hope that it would bring us peace and comfort. I pushed him to go, thinking that it would do us both some good to get away from here. It has always been my serenity and peaceful place up until the horrors of last year and I hoped naively that that was now over. The reality however was far, far different and I am wholly responsible for the worst imaginable Summer there.  Now neither of us have a wish to return there and we had such plans for the place and the things we wanted to do to our home. We had taken up furniture and things and I was hopeful that my creative streak would once again return to favour me with poetry that I could share and things that I could make.

We had a very long and exhausting journey there and once we arrived and set up the house we had been there less than a week before we were both verbally and physically assaulted by our next door neighbour.  It seems that the grudge he has held for so many years since we bought the place now harbours a dangerous resentment and in his mind we need to be eradicated. So it began, almost two months of sheer hell, dangerous goons sent up to scare us away and threats to kill, a man with a knife despatched to finish us off and the daily torment of a workman who ran the engines on tractors, diggers, lawn mowers and machinery for 8 hours a day. He even left them running unattended right outside the house and clearly delighted in his work, when he wasn’t falling off them drunk. Of course we involved the police after the first incident and were advised not to confront the neighbour or his associates at any point. So we became prisoners in our home and were not even able to out in the garden without being heckled, abused or tormented for the duration. We were followed  in the car, had visitors abusing us in the night time and walking about shining torches into the house throughout the night in an effort to scare us. The fully working farm at harvest time made less noise than these guys.  For my part it worked I was a nervous wreck who sat up throughout the night worrying and regularly tearful, it rendered me incapable of doing things and we were around each other almost 24/7 which often caused friction. The guilt of making us go there was huge and excruciating. Our family, friends and neighbours were concerned for our safety and our family were just too far away.

By the end of July we had enough. The police are taking it seriously and we will most likely have to go to court, they were talking about witness protection for us.  It was worse than a soap opera, friends were saying you couldn’t write this stuff and yet. We’re living this nightmare. Both literally sick with the worry and worn out and run down, we packed up and came back South hoping for some rest when we got back here.  The journey was hellish and  my man was so ill that I did not think he was going to be able to get us home, but he did. He still has not recovered, he had pneumonia and a dislocated shoulder and neck, yet still drove us back as I wasn’t able to either. He has some stubbornness and  perseverance! 

So this last month we have been attempting to gather our strength and rest, well he has although the concept of rest and recuperation I believe is is alien to him.   My parents have finally sold and moved out of what was their family home for the last 35 years. It was extremely stressful for all concerned and distressing for my younger sister as she saw her childhood home pulled in so many directions until it was shredded. I found it less so and just pushed myself to deal with the task in hand and try and hold them all together. 
Trying to help go through sections of the house which had remained largely untouched for about 25 years was a voyage of discovery, that’s for sure! I moved out from there 28 years ago. Trying to do this with poor health has severely taken its toll, I damaged myself lifting heavy things and clearing out. But as of last week, they were finished and we all said Goodbye to the house in our own separate ways. I took cuttings from the garden that my mother had cherished and nurtured in the hope that it would gain a new life in some small way as she has done. Time will tell whether they are happy enough to reward me with growth. I was also allowed to give a new home to some old furniture from the garage and my grandfathers and father’s tools. So I am hoping that I will be able to use them for small projects when my health allows.

So as we settle back in down South after the changes have taken place and hope that we remain safe and are able to get well, or at least not any worse I hope that I get the chance to welcome my creativity back with open arms. I am looking forward to once I have the space and have cleared the debris of the summer and my parents house, found new homes for acquired items and disposed of others which are no longer wanted.   I am hoping that the peace I have regarding their home now being gone remains and does not turn to grief, I think that despite my sentimentality, that part of me is firmly in the past and I moved on from there a long time ago. They have new homes now and are living their lives differently, we have all grown.  I can then return to the task of getting my own house in order and going through the rest of my brother’s belongings. It has been over a year since we lost him now and although I feel his presence, it is not necessary to keep every thing that he owned, there are things which can be of use to others. I just need to sort them out. 

I realise that as time goes on our dreams and our priorities change.  Sometimes these changes are forced by circumstances beyond our control. Those changes seem to be the hardest ones to accept and I will be dragged through them kicking and screaming and hopefully come out the other side intact.  
I am still writing, it is sometimes the only sanity that I have in all the madness around me, giving me a moment of clarity  especially when I am awake throughout the night in pain. It is my therapy, helping me to adapt and grow. I just hope that I am strong enough to keep up the fight, to nurture and cherish those around me who show me love and friendship, who have my back when I have theirs, who listen when I need them to and who speak when they need to. The give and take friends, my tribe.

I will once again share my poems with you. Carefully selected of course and I hope to stop writing what I refer to as “whine poetry” and make a return to the happy, grateful side of my personality. Perhaps I will find a new place that will become my muse, some fabulous life experience which brings back happiness, some joie de vivre.

Written on 080919

Sent from my iPad

Intricate dreaming.

It’s happening again, the broken sleep, the intricate dreaming.

Woven stories with such a huge amount of detail that it feels I am not sleeping at all, but reliving a moment in the past, except that it can also feel like the future.

Things that I should know, are laid out before me.  As clear as day.

Unrecognisable places where my life is unfolding.

People who seem to know me, where I am a part of their unknown life.

Like the ghost of Christmas past has visited and gone, is this the present and the future all rolled into one?

There is such clarity, a picture in time, just there. No explanation of it.

No voice to tell me why.

Or a statement of fact or truth, like a lightning bolt, waking me from slumber, forcing me to sit up and take note. Literally.

Sometimes, I am able to return to sleep, much later on in the night. Then I go back to dreaming the same dream, the same people the story growing as the night continues. I awake and can relive these dreams over and over, remembering the minutest detail once I am up for the day.  Sometimes I feel that I don’t want to be there at all, not with a part to play or even as a bystander. Sometimes the subject matter concerns me so greatly that sleep is gone for the rest of the night and I am perturbed or upset.

Occasionally I just awake with a different feeling, as though something has changed its course and I am unable to do anything  about it. I merely have to accept the new direction and go with the flow.

And in my waking hours things have also changed. There are skills that were previously hidden from view suddenly out in the open. Improvement in my mathematics, mental arithmetic and that is a first for me. Also painting and drawing that actually looks like its meant to. Recognisable artwork, just because I have tried a new technique I’ve seen or a different medium.

Things like I have experienced some sort of awakening to the real me. The feeling that nothing is impossible and I just have to try and it will all pan out. Perhaps the universe is finally working in my favour. Teaching me how to be better or stronger, preparing me for some unknown.

Image from Morguefile.com

Home from Home.

 

Esther’s Weekly Challenge Favourite Family Holidays…

Just one week in a new place, one of the last holidays I remember us having all together as a family.

That home from home we didn’t want to leave.

Where we arrived and Mum began to bake,

The farmhouse kitchen just begging to be used. A basement store its dark cavern, full of unknown but interesting jars of produce waiting to be discovered.

A big pine table we could all sit around for breakfast overlooking the apple tree, laden with fruit as the tractors went about their business.

The big wooden bed with the patchwork quilt that you had to climb up onto and window seats to while away the time with a book.

The room I shared with my sister, looking out at the cows who came to the back wall to the cottage curious as to what we were doing laying on the floor looking out over the fields.

Memories of a Summer Holiday and the new friends we made.

A farm with barns and hay and animals, freedom to run wild and free in nature.

A true country farm cottage in the place with a very strange name.

This is a true story, we stayed in a holiday cottage at a place named Normanby-by-Spital, in Lincolnshire when my sister was very young, my brother and I were teenagers and although he was bored by the idea, we soon made new friends and explored the countryside. It turned out to be one of our most favourite holidays together.

 

Upon reflection.

Upon reflection, all in this life game.

I think of you so often and will never be the same.

Reflecting on the tears of joy and those of sorrow

And hoping for a sign and yet a much longer tomorrow.

Love was what you brought to us, it’s there for all to see,

That this is what you gave to all now I have clarity.

The friendships now rekindled, that once were dead and gone,

From every path of life they walked and joined us in the throng.

Flowers and written tributes, for a faithful friend

and later on we hope in time that our hearts will mend.

The feathers all around us, sent from you to say,

That you are never gone from us, for you will always stay.

Emotions up and down the tears we often cry,

Reminding us that we love you as we fought to say Goodbye.

But my dearest brother don’t worry as this is not the end.

Your message carries on here, filled with love you send.

Change is often painful as we reset the pace.

Friends will be around us, locked in our embrace.

Twenty Three

It has been a really tough time lately and although I’ve been writing occasionally little of it has made it to the blog. But on a happier note, it was our 23rd Anniversary yesterday. This is for my darling who has been there for me all of this time. Thank you!

Twenty Three.

It seems that we are twenty three,

I’m wondering how, this could be.

When we met at twenty one,

Our journey together, just begun.

Who could have said or could have foreseen,

That you would treat me as your queen.

For those of them who were in the know,

Who would have thought the love you’d show.

I’ll be frank no need to be rude,

My life is filled with gratitude,

Good times we’ve had there’s many more,

Not knowing what life holds in store.

So if our time is long or short,

Our love has grown, pleased to report.

The futures bright, is our outlook.

Another page to our long book.

What we’ve encountered to here thus far

Would send most off to the nearest bar.

But we get through and carry on,

Because together we are strong.

When we are pulled back from the brink,

Take a moment to stop and think.

Here we remain side by side,

The only place my for heart to reside.

No other person could ever replace,

My beloveds’ eyes and handsome face.

However many more years we see,

That you remain right here with me.

May beauty be there to behold,

In our hearts til, we grow old.

Suddenly we are twenty three,

I wish you Happy Anniversary!

And as I hope for many more,

We start another, our twenty four.

My Brother.

When your world’s outpouring grief,

There’s no relief.

While the grief has just begun,

I feel so numb.

Where I think of what is left,

I feel bereft.

Nerves are buzzing, feel the pain

My memories remain.

Where does all this come from,

Because your gone.

Never again to return,

My eyes burn.

There with me right from the start,

Piece of my heart.

As I’m reeling from the loss,

Can’t count the cost.

As my life enforced this change,

It feels so strange.

There’s no distance near or far,

Small shining star.

Never again to hear your voice,

I have no choice.

Feeling raw and very blue,

Because of you.

Shattered dreams are torn apart,

New course of life to chart.

Which direction to navigate,

Things so highly I will rate.

Back in a moment filled with your joy,

Our beloved and cherished boy.

No longer here to hold my hand,

Can’t begin to understand.

Why you had to go away,

And couldn’t stay.

My loss is heavens gain,

It’s such a shame.

Despite it all it’s safe to say,

You did it your way.

You lived life fast, enjoyed the ride,

Now the pace has stopped I want to hide.

But life will go on and yet besides,

Can’t find release where pain resides.

Silent prayer to the one your soul to keep,

Whilst I sit and weep.

My brother and my very first friend,

It’s not the end.