Future memories

For as long as I can remember, the one dream I have always clung to, even during times I let go of my poetry, I’ve always, always wanted to travel.  There’s so much to see in this world, that I’ve never really been sure where I’d go.  Then, I wonder, does it matter? I certainly know what kind of experiences I’d like, that’s what it’s about.
I learned so much about myself when I went to India, however I was too young to appreciate just what it was I was doing.

These days, I put as much effort as I can into creating memories, ones I can look back on and smile when I’m old. Sunsets on exotic shores, full moon parties in Thailand, I’ve recently been speaking to someone who spent six months out there volunteering at an animal rescue centre. She told me all about Bangkok, the night clubs, the people, but how much can you understand through second hand experience?

What has triggered this trail of thought is receiving word from my brother (the nice one, he’s a Buddhist) in Shanghai, and meeting more and more people who have told me stories of their travels.
You know, I don’t want to die on this rock of an island. I’ve always said that, but before my recovery I believed I couldn’t look after myself, now I have absolute faith that once PTSD is dealt with, or even during the time, I can start work, start promoting particular projects with the idea of beginning a cash flow, as I will have more freedom to do this once I’m in work, and save like crazy.

My brother is travelling round Asia. His initial plan was to go for three months, but I was like, three months? Really, just go for it. He’d obviously thought about it, he then revealed he has set up provisions to travel for a year..  That’s more like it.
I just think the world is such a huge place, there’s so much to experience and see, why wouldn’t you push to see all you can. 

Things have always kept me from executing these sorts of plans, then, these days, little stops me from doing anything, since realising the importance of personal boundaries. Drop the boundaries, they no longer bound you. 

I’m getting itchy feet, I’ve had itchy feet for years and now that me travelling actually feels like a realistic goal, man, I’m super fucking excited.

I have no idea if I’ll go it alone or not, to be honest I think I’d be happy to have some company… However, not having it will not stop me.

Little could..

Tuesday tit-bits

You know what, I’ve actually had a bloody good day. It started out with pretty heavy arse fibro pain, and feeling pretty physically crap as everyone around me is being brought down by the English Seasonal illnesses, and that resulted in me feeling pretty fucking shit.  I’ve had relatively high levels of brain fog all day, rather than fighting it, I just went with it.  I figured it’s okay to have the back of my mind in fog for a couple of days, if I fight it and it doesn’t go I’ll only get pissed off. 

So I underwent the process of surfacing my emotions and releasing what I could. I was able to do this repeatedly towards the end of last Summer, and going into Autumn, however I lost it somewhere along the way, it has returned which I’m grateful for.
At times it’s like this huge ball of everything lives inside me and bits keep breaking off and hanging around, until I vent them in any way I can. Needless to say I have been utilising the diary ap on my phone and tablet, and my little black book I write in, in general. I’m onto my second actually. I jot poetry ideas, art ideas, diary entries, etc into it, like the last one, just to keep a timeline for myself really, if I should ever choose to look back that far.  So far, I haven’t, I’ve no doubt I will though. 

Anyway, after I vented I moved on with my day, achieved a couple of very important things to me, then came home, like yeah, spun that day around. Up until about an hour ago, that is.

Thing is, I’ve found out some information to be true, with concrete evidence, that I previously suspected to be. Now I know what I know, I wish I just didn’t know. This is so very rare for me, rarely would I not rather know the truth, it just kind of feels like although this is mind blowing, it’s kind of pointless me knowing, really, it’s just winding me up.

I need to do something about this because it’s just playing on my mind a lot, I’ve no idea how to even approach it, so I wonder if I should just not approach it, but infact walk away.
I’m not usually one to just walk away these days, then I’m also not usually one to seek out pointless confrontation.  Yes, I can be confrontational, but to me it is with good reason, a move towards a particular goal, what ever that may be.  This, however, is just turning out to be pointless stress. I don’t do pointless stress, it’s pointless.

I think I need to do some serious private writing about this, and reach a conclusion sooner, rather than later. 

I can’t be doing with this shit…

Monday Matters

Admittedly, I had not intended to post today, however I have so many thoughts &  notions whizzing my head, I had to get them out.

I’ve been considering the areas of my life that need the most attention, aside from the obvious. I think more to do with mental health progress than anything else.

I’ve been interacting with a lot of people over the last three or four months, more so than I have done in a long time. 
Before recovery, I used to talk to everyone, anyone, about anything. These days, although I can talk about anything, to be fair I rarely want to.
I will sit and chat about other people’s shit, that’s totally cool, I will talk about my shit, infact I love both because I love the creativity that can flow into conversation simply in the structure and choice of words. In fact, I tend to enjoy conversing with people I can learn from,  the other way round or indeed, occasionally on both fronts.
I am one to talk emotion and logic through, in fact most of my inner circle are and we are all very open with each other, whether it be from their stance or mine.

Sometimes though, I’ll be in social situation and will be absolutely silent. Maybe just taking it all in, or genuinely feeling like I’ve got nothing to contribute at that moment. 
Other times, occasionally, I choose not to converse with people who I’ve tried to talk to before and it’s just been one big fail. Why put us both through the pretention of having to search for words that will not come?
If people approach me I will always be polite, but if it fizzles out, then it fizzles out.

As I’m becoming more relaxed with particular aspects of myself and the world I’m finding conversation is fizzling out less often.  This is because I’m not spending time with people who can’t converse themselves.
Now, I’m no expert at the art, I’m continually swaying off on a tangent, but then a lot of my friends do as well. We talk about everything from music to politics, art and science, language and learning, so on and so forth.

Now, I used to be on this whole “clicking” with someone. Then, I remembered essentially, we all the same, there’s just particular things with about certain people that will resonate with us more.

Like, in love, when you find that which resonates, for me everything just falls into place. I was made for this shit.
With friends, I love instantly, how ever I seem to struggle to maintain a sense of sturdiness, for a multitude of reasons.
I think part of it is, is I’m very comfortable on my own company. I still converse with people via the mobile, however I’m not bothered about company. Even when I’m not conversing with people, if I have something to say that I feel is that important, I simply write it down.
Through realising that I only have people in my life that I really fucking want in it, I have realised that I need for nothing more on that front.  I love people, because I’m such a soppy bastard with all of my loved ones it then goes onto need. Everyone needs friends, I just don’t need just anyone.
Essentially, because I don’t need to be in a relationship, but I’m good with or without them I end up being able to be certain and static, however with friendships it’s a lot more raw. They become like my family and well, it speaks volumes I have hardly any of my family in my life, becoming like family to me is not the easiest thing in the world. Not that partners haven’t been like family, but its always taken me a lot to give up on a relationship, I know how to take the knocks and steer the whole caboodle through stormy seas… I know where I stand firmly.
Friendships are something I’m very much learning about at the moment, the finer details at least. It still takes a lot for me to finally end a friendship, I’m just a lot more unsure in them. I’m glad to say this is changing, as everything else has, it just obviously needs my thought and attention rather than free styling it like I do everything else.
I have to go to certain bits of my life, stop free styling, change my approach accordingly and then eventually return to the flow, but a better one.
And this is one that will happen gradually, so I guess it’s not so much attention and focus it needs, but a little more thought. This is difficult at times, I really am all or nothing and that’s just the way I am, for now at least. Who knows about the future? I certainly don’t.

What family means to me, and what family is to me are two very different concepts. My friends who become family are lodged in my heart forever, even when we don’t talk and I’m fully aware of this fact. A friend in my world has the power to hurt me more than love ever could. I understand love whole heartedly.. That kind of love at least.
People have hurt me and fucked me over all my life who love me, family and relationships, I’ve learned and moved on.  Friendships like family though, apparently I’m no fucking master at.

I’ll just do what I did with the rest of it and learn as much as I can, I just struggle with it because I know they don’t leave me… I’ll sort it though, I always do.

7 months on

I literally just realised something that kind of shocked me, I only received my diagnosis for OCD 7/8 months ago.  That’s insane, soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo much has happened since then.

In fact, I was having a chat with my buddy earlier about how long the last three weeks have felt and even the fact it feels like eras have passed, ancient kingdoms have fallen and I still haven’t had any luck with therapy.

Anyway, back to the OCD. I just remember sitting up in bed one night in February writing about how I’d known for six days, and was quite worried about it affecting the length of my long term recovery. I was unaware what exactly was what, symptoms, etc wise.. So I had very little idea how it would pay out in the long run.  I’m not worried any more.
Firstly, this is important, so very important, so it takes as long as it needs to, plus I’ve figured out more on my own than I believed I would. The thing is, yes I dealt with a lot of CPTSD this way, over a few years. The difference is, you see, me.
When I received my initial diagnosis I was just kind of brain dead, I was there, but I wasn’t under that pile of that once was, that will never, ever be again.
By the time the BPD traits & MDD , I was beginning to switch on, which was right before the beginning of our final term, which was er, fun, that’s not for this time though. Once my 30th came and went, something had flipped on in me permanently.
Then the old OCD label, by which time I was pretty much not bothered about what mental health labels stated. Of course, since then I have learned the value of the opposing attitude

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’ve always been aware, I was never completely tapped out, I’m sure my writing kept me ever present. It’s just different, I’m aware of every aspect of myself. Each and every facet.
I hear people say all the time that everyone’s in denial about who they are. I consider this, it makes me doubt the blind faith I make myself possess, simply viewing the evidence of my survival, ya know.
I had to rip myself to shreds to delve down to the deepest parts of myself, then I started rebuilding. As the construction commenced, each aspect was assessed as to its use and deemed worthy of holding onto or not.
Now, I know I’m not complete, but who wants to be complete? There’s always more out there to experience.
I don’t really necessarily like myself much, but I certainly don’t hate myself like I used to. I have simply accepted who I am, that is the basis for change. To change something, we must first acknowledge and accept it exists.

I just keep thinking about the differences between now and then. I do this regularly to remind myself how life could be. When ever I compare I’m always surprised at the differences even between now and this time last year.
This time last year I was pretty fucking miserable. I split with ex partner then before we got back together, that’s in about 7 days, so I then went to live with my cousin. I was just unhappy in myself, in every aspect because I was still unsure as to where I was heading, or more to the point, I was unsure if I trusted myself enough to follow wholeheartedly.
I remember I was writing in a way I’d never written before, I was practicing distant Reiki nightly for my cousin, his partner, my neighbour, and my ex’s sister, and I was at college.
I was taking the short creative writing course to get some inspiration, meet other writers, etc. During the course we were taught and shown various methods of writing practices and such, I already did about 70% of them in my daily practice. Funnily enough I’d introduced this before term had begun, so it was kind of ideal really. I had the opportunity to bring a lot to the group m, therefore I got a lot out of it. I did have fun and the writers were awesome, some from TV some from radio, published poets and authors all about 65 and then me with my shaved head and baggy shorts. It didn’t matter though, they didn’t see just that. The thing is, is I think I did.
I saw myself as the 17 year old in baggy jeans, and tees with my hoody and trainers, and despite the fact I’ve adopted an array of colours & styles since then I still felt like that girl. That girl was not a happy person.
Now I don’t see that girl, I see the 31 year old woman I am and I can accept that. This 31 year old can’t help but feel for that kid though, if I could go back I’d just tell her to hang the fuck because life wouldn’t always be that way.
Anyway, I digress, the comparisons. So I was at college, I’m not now but that’s mainly because I thought I’d be in therapy by August, back when I made the decision I was unsure as to how badly triggering would affect me during therapy.
The whole relation ending, both times have not been a negative thing, for me at least. Last year it resulted in me pushing myself to perform at my first open mic in Camden Town. What wasn’t ideal was my living situation for my then mindstate. I was still in need of that particular space, rather than just any fucking space.
I am really, really looking forward to moving though. Getting my shit into my own flat and cracking the fuck on with it. I think, in fact, I’m pretty sure my brain has moved beyond the point of relocating, as in I couldn’t previously imagine life Beyond that because it felt so impossible. Right now, not a lot feels impossible, if I’m honest. It’s a good feeling, I’m gonna try to ride it through tomorrow and the weekend to keep myself smiling and as relaxed as I can.

So, the general conclusion after the comparison is a very good one. Even under all that which I’m unsure of, is a growing collection of that which I’m very sure of. That sturdy base I always lacked I have gained, am gaining and it feels bloody good.

Again then, onwards & upwards.

Later that day…(Mind Over Matter)

Okay, well I feel better, not 100% better, but better none the less. I feel like I’m beginning to unclog a block in me that’s been there for months. The wonders hindsight grants you. I’ve been so tense.
I even remember walking in my flat the day before the split and feeling the tension in the flat.  I even said I was going to ask a Reiki Master to come and clear it because I swear it restricted my breathing, then intake of oxygen resulting in one seriously stressed self.

It’s weird really, because last year is repeating itself, about 3 weeks early on every level. It’s almost like last year didn’t happen properly. Like, I cannot express without my ever animated body language just how similar it is, but different at the same time.
I’m different, I feel more determined, even though I’m not always sure what it is I’m determined about. Never the less, it always finds an exit, even if it’s not the most ideal choice.

Life is so strange these days. I remember existing in such confusion for so long. I thought I didn’t know who I was, I knew all along. I think, maybe, that I was confused because what I was doing felt right, but I was told it was wrong. I mean, not that it made much of a difference. I learned to stick up for myself from a young age, although I can’t imagine I would have made much sense. I’ve only learned to access basic logical thought while the adrenaline is Pumping within the last few years. I had to, I can’t deal with not being able to communicate at the best of times. I think that’s what years of sworn secrecy can do to you though, it makes sense really.

Sort of on the same lines, I watched a TED Talk last night with my friend about mental response to stress. They refered to the whole mind over matter and of course, I was like, pfft yeah I know this… I was then put firmly in my place.
Studies have been carried measuring difference in physical stress symptoms. The study was split into two groups, one group were taught how to relabel the situation in their brain, as in changing your primary thought pattern regarding a situation, it’s not easy, believe me, I’ve done it for years especially the last three.
Anyway, the two groups were there put through a series of “social stress tests”, which were basically a round of raw humiliation. Everybody in both groups reacted to the stress in the same way except one. The group that had been taught how to view stress as any other situation had fully dilated arteries (vasodilation) . As in the blood flow to the heart wasn’t obstructed. In the usual reaction, the blood flow becomes restricted (vasoconstriction) thus reducing oxygen to the heart and so on and so forth. This vasoconstriction is exactly why stress is such a big killer.
Anyway, this got me thinking, as things do and I thought about how much it would benefit me in my recovery. Now, I’ve done primary thought patterns all on my todd, but physical response symptoms? I’m not so sure.
I’m going to spend some time next week doing some further investigation into this to see how realistic it is.
You see I can operate through my anxiety, my thumping, at times painfully pounding heart, it’s still there though and I still worry (I try not to too much) about how much damage has been done to it during the times of extreme adrenaline rushes. Now I can count 10 off the top of my head in the space of three months. I’m 31,you do the maths, because I don’t really want to know right now.
Anyway, I figure I do what I can to reduce long term damage, and to make myself as physical comfortable as possible around the old nerves. Well, if I do get time for proper consideration I’m sure I’ll write about it anyway.

On another disorder related note, I’ve decided it’s time to tackle one of my physical Compulsions. Admittedly, I only have like 2/3 but this one is annoying and it hurts. It’s cracking my knuckles, but repeatedly, sometimes I end up doing it on a loop without even realising it. Anyway, my hands cease up as it is at times from the tension, so I want to phase it out.
I stopped biting my nails last year. I’ve done it a couple of times, but one of them was pretty serious at that moment so, ya know, ya win some, ya lose some. Anyway, to tackle this I’ve been thinking a while about using prayer beads. A friend of mine went to Greece a few years back and brought back her male friends prayer beads each. They were so beautifully crafted, I couldn’t stop playing with one set. I thought of it, it got me thinking that when I notice myself cracking my knuckles, I can let my hands play with them instead. Gradually it will become habit.
I guess that kinda does link to the TED talk thing, the whole idea of living what you want to be. Rather than preparing, or planning forever, just doing it.

When I finally took the last step toward making poetry my every day,  I simply lived as a writer. I practiced, writing about anything I could think of, in fact that’s when I started this blog. I needed to make it a habit and now it’s one I can’t break. For all the time we are hesitant in becoming who we are, manifestations of our true spirits, we could just be doing it. And yes, it really is that easy. Obviously the improvement takes time, and so does improving upon the quality of your words, of course, but at least you’ve started.
It can be used across the technicolour reality of life, really it can. It’s like these days, I get an idea, it’s considered and either stored for future reference or released back into its natural habitat.
The stored few then seem to grow, develop into further ideas and creation and manifestations.
My mind seems to have the knack of pin pointing pivotal points at which my ideas develop into something more tangible. I could actually sit down and the relevant points and each source of inspiration for every element of my street poetry, the whole project, formats.. I have vivid mental images of snapshots of these moments in my mind. It doesn’t do this with everything, only weirdly specific stuff, like a memory I know just from what someone was wearing, or a particular smell.
I should track my own creative processes a bit more really, they might actually be in some kind of basic order then, actually the street poetry progress has its own little book, my personal creative strategy, however is ever chaotic and mounting. When I think about it, the screen of my brain turns blue. I digress, I’m just rambling now.

The point is that mind over matter really is achievable. You don’t have to intensely believe in yourself, just do it, fuck it, we remember but one life at a time, make it worth it and live your own true worth

The Pain Staking Process

I’ve been thinking of my family, not at the forefront of my mind, but what feels like the very back. It seems to be that more stuff is processing (really, again?), which is a positive thing in the long run.  I must view it this way otherwise it’ll just break me, again.

It’s overwhelming to think, actually bring it all to the forefront of my mind without writing, art or music. I just can’t get past what actually happened.
One day, I knew I was beaten, then one day I didn’t know anymore. Two years ago the realisation came flooding upon me one morning in bed after having flashbacks in my sleep (severely hung over feeling, with no reason for it at all).
Now, I knew I was sexually abused by my brother, I acknowledged that, I always did.
When I started my recovery back in 2009 I remember the psychiatric nurse being surprised at how badly I’d been affected by the abuse as it didn’t go on for more than a year. In hindsight it all makes perfect sense.

I don’t know when it started, after I realised though (weirdest experience ever) I started asking people questions to find out what happened. I didn’t get a lot of straight answers but enough of the right information to go a long side how well I know my Mother.
I’ve said on here before that she tried to plunge a knife into my arm when I was sat the dining table, when I was three. I’ve mentioned some more embarrassing points I remember that to be honest I’m surprised I mentioned at all because it’s horrible to think of. I know Mum wasn’t hitting me anymore, not like she had been, at least, by the time I was 14. I know this because this is when I became her fully fledged counsellor.
It started when she told me at 14 that when I left senior school at 16, she was leaving my Dad. I know she came in when I was 7 asking me what I’d do if she left Dad, making sure I’d choose her. I also know she did this to my nice brother when he was 7, when I was 3.
It became weekly practice for her to come into my room crying, seeking comfort over some thing or another, pouring her heart out, feeling better and fucking off, leaving me in my room by myself.  Come to think of it, it’s when I was 14 I started spending less and less time in doors and was out with my mates as much as I could. Hell, I remember going for 3 hour walks at 2am when I was 15, man, I used to love those walks, me, my music and the silent London night.

I know the last time my Dad punched me was when I was 17, clean broke my fucking nose, I disappeared for a while after that, my friends mum offered to take me in, I can’t remember why it didn’t work out that way, but I ended up back at the family home.

Strangely, I’ve thought about the last few months in that house and how empty it was. Mum had gone, both my brothers had moved out m,  Dad was at his then gf’s house all the time and I’d just moved back from a 10 month stint at my cousin’s. I used to sit at that dining table crying my little heart out, mulling over the years (see, like I remembered then, when the shit did I just not know anymore?) at the house. How I couldn’t stop considering how I had always been there to support Mum, I listened to my shit head brother for years, and my Dad after mum left. Crying into his double malt, sometimes 2 bottles a night, that’s two fucking litres, a night. I hated watching them drink themselves into an oblivion. That’s why I steered clear of drinking for so long, and took the class A’s route instead.  Admittedly though, it was always the partying, socialising with my friends and actually having a lot of fun.  I mean, I wouldn’t recommend it, but if I had drunk like them, it would have been like that. But I didn’t, I took drugs, I partied for a few years, met some amazing people, partied in some amazing places. I was determined to not only have those memories, I don’t even know what memories I’m referring to.

I keep reaching the only conclusion: my Mum never loved me, or my brother, she loved the shit head, she would have done anything for him, but she couldn’t admit she was ill, she couldn’t face her Demons for her own children. How could you do that? Now I’m not just talking depression, or drinking, or a slap round the face, I’m talking me on the floor, fists and feet and verbal abuse.. And then now, when she cries, I actually go cold inside, like I feel it.
Usually I feel warmth from my chest, always, spreading out to my limbs, I always have, people tell me I’m like a heater, but in those moments I’m more like the iceberg that sank the Titanic. That’s not me, I love all the time, even when I’m angry, or sad or whatever, I love and that’s how I recover from the emotions, but she makes me feel dead. So fucking intensely numb.

I think about how this has affected me, not so much me These days but my interpersonal relationships, how the confusion inflicted for my entire childhood of conflicting safety and severe harm, man they confuse me still.

Now, I can hold a conversation with pretty much anyone, about anything, but so rarely do I seep into it. I’m not being fake, it’s still me, but with some kind of filter on.  I’m still a bit nuts, I’m a still a bit woo, but I think it’s the love. Again I’m not being fake, I’m never one emotion at a time, never. There is never just one thought trail but many, so many. I guess it just depends on what the deepest thought trails are, I think it’s them I don’t let out very often.

I don’t really admit to people in conversation when this is on my mind, I’m not hiding it, I just, I dunno I guess I feel it’s not relevant. It’s been there for this long, it keeps coming back and I always get past it at some level.
I guess, like anyone, I’m just protective of what needs protecting, in my head.

I’ll talk about the abuse, but very matter of fact, at times I don’t really think people want to hear the rest. I mean, nothing to do with them, I dunno, I can’t explain it.

I guess I just have to stick with the process until it’s resolved, otherwise there’s like an 80% chance it will bite me on the arse on coming days, it’s just becoming harder as the day goes on. Even then, it might not end at the end of the day.

If someone could say to me, you’re gonna be feeling this for x amount of time, then I reckon I could hunker down and dealing with it. It’s just not knowing, not knowing what will come next, or when and it’s so difficult dealing with this when I’m not at home.  You see, eve then that’s not my home anymore, not really. I don’t feel at home there.
I think not having space to breathe is pulling me up in my head space, I just don’t seem to be able to find any other space, although most interaction between technology & I is my utilisation of the net as an external hard drive. Sometimes it feels like my head isn’t big enough for all that seems to go on up there.

I just have to hold on, cling if need be, until things become a bit clearer… waiting again then.

The Morning After the Night Before

Ah man, yesterday’s notion has carried through to today, which in my eyes is a very bad thing. I usually wake up with a more positive, thus powerful outlook. Today, I feel very weak, and complacent about the past and present. At times like these my head is too stuck in the past to really consider the future.
The thing is I’m loathed to try to pull myself out of this as it’s obviously what I need to feel.
Things like this have been on my mind, but I guess I haven’t felt it fully in months as my attention has been taken up by all that has happened, boy has a lot happened.

I feel a shift in myself, it’s not a negative shift, it just takes a while for the surreal feeling of a new aspect of perspective to dissipate and to settle into the swing of things.
It’s natural to feel this way during times of transition, I fully comprehend this, it doesn’t make it any easier though. Alas, life goes on and I can’t just stay the same all the time. I’m not designed that way, I possess an avid streak of mutability a long side my stubbornness. It’s learning what is required and when. So, I’m just gonna go with the flow, best way really.

Today’s flow isn’t so much of a flow as grinding halt. I think, as I’ve been out the flat a few days now that maybe the next point is happening, regaining independence, (not that I lost it completely, I’ve always been an independent person) . I just know my brain associates this with old attitudes and feelings and needs time to understand the difference, not every time, but my life has had one intense over haul in the last 8-12 weeks. I can’t believe it’s only been that long. I swear when insomnia is rife, which it was for at least a month, a day feels like a week, a week a month, a month a year, because sometimes time doesn’t stop. You don’t have a defining line between days, at times even with 2/3 hours sleep it feels like their hasn’t been one. Cessation of stimulation of the mind. Ugh…

Well I think the current flow will involve lots of writing, lots of down time with my thoughts and probably buckets of tea, although these days sadly, I just can’t drink tea all day. It makes me wired when I already have so much energy 75% of the time, the other 25% I’m an extra from Resident Evil. As usual, all or nothing, rarely happily in between.  But then, I don’t want to be in between, I’m too used to living life on the edge. I don’t think I’ll ever feel a part of humanity, yet it’s my humanity that makes me who I am. 
I can’t help but love, it’s just who I am,  I can’t help but express this love to all who it engulfs, I love caring for my loved ones, it can make it difficult when I know I need to be alone. Really there’s two people in the world I could happily sit like this with, one being my best bro, the other…

I think I’m just gonna sigh my way through the day, and write when I’m not sighing. I can’t be fucked to put a film on or anything, I don’t seem to much in the day these days, a film distracts me from my thought process, which I prefer being tapped into, unless I have brain fog or the flame has been burning brightly producing a horrendous amount of smoke in the noggin, then I’m happily tapped into it, it’s turning the faucet in the opposite direction that becomes the problem. Today though, today is about feeling this and hopefully, letting it the fuck go, I pray to a deity I don’t believe in that this doesn’t stick. Alas, only time will tell, as always…

Missing Sentiments

Today my Dad has been on my mind, all day.  It’s his birthday in a couple of weeks, then my brothers 11 days later. (Cue the time of year.) I only really realised that when I sat down to write this.

I can’t help but wonder if I should just contact him and make sure I make this all right, I miss him.  Then everything that’s happened over the last three years cones flooding back to me and I must remind myself I can’t have him in my life.
So much time has been spent mulling over the situation, I never reach the conclusion I wish I could. It’s sad, we got on so well when I was in my twenties, then it occurs me I spent half of that in Yorkshire so really, did we get on that well? Was it just a matter of I didn’t see him enough not to? Most definitely. Still, I miss him, I can’t help it. It doesn’t detract my day like it used to, although it heavily distracts me.

It’s returned that sadness, that I get when I think about them both, mum & dad. I’m sad that they took the opportunity away from me to have them in my life. I’m sad for the childhood I mostly can’t remember, mostly I’m sad that I’ve concluded for the last year and a half that I don’t think they’ll ever be in my life again. It’s an underlying sadness, I feel it in my chest and under my ribs, and I get it everytime I think about them.

That’s it really, short one tonight. There’s just not much to say on this matter that I haven’t repeated a trillion times in my life. It makes me feel empty, so, no more of that then. 

I just don’t think I’ll ever understand why they did what they did and why everything happened the way it did, I gave up trying, it was killing me, slowly. And I struggle to swallow it all really.  It’s hard, thinking about it.  But it’s always there in some format. Just gotta get on with it really, haven’t you?

I really dislike missing them, I can’t deal with the fact that I still love them and the only thing I actually hold regret for is the years I’ve cried for them. They never loved me, so why do I still?
Because I’m a fucking idiot.

Spam, lies and lateral thinking further down the thin blue line

This weekend has afforded me some much needed headspace to consider a lot things that have happened in  my life recently, from every angle.  Surprisingly, I actually really quite enjoy doing this, it’s needed to keep ideas level and motion constant.
I assess, and I reassess, well not really consciously because my brain does it quite happily whilst I’m otherwise occupied and then just sort of comes to with the answers when it’s done processing information.

I’ve realised, over the last couple of years just how much information I take in, quite often without realising it at first. This happens most often when I’m insomnia is ever present. When my brain winds down it’s finished dealing with all the relevant facts and then by the end of my chill time I usually have the answers I’m looking for. If in doubt, I meditate and practice on the Reiki front and by the end of it everything is crystal clear to me. This is certainly a very useful tool, and quite often keeps me level and sure of my own actions.

Anyway, the process. I mentioned a few weeks back someone was lying to me about something important. Well, this resulted in the end of my then relationship.  We have since sat down and discussed what happened, I always talk things through with people, it saves on any confusion. We agreed that it feels like nothing has changed, we became friends probably about six months back and I reached the conclusion that it’s fine with how things ended because sometimes you just need something to boot you out of your comfort zone into the real world. I mean we weren’t a proper couple for at least that time. It feels good, I feel really good about it all and am looking forward to actually getting to therapy now. 

I’ve also reached a conclusion on the therapy front too, I’m not changing it.  I can do this, I know I can, and I know I’m going to doubt it but the rough ride of EMDR is what I’ve set myself up for and my sights Firmly on. 
Seriously, the idea of being symptom free just blows my mind, I can’t imagine being without it.
I was concerned, I probably will be again, that I would lose my approach towards creativity and how I write and such, I just don’t think it’s going to happen.  My creativity has become my life and I fucking love it, all of it.  It feels so natural, and I trust my own actions on all front.  Even IF it works out that I need to go into something else temporarily to get things off the ground, that’s fine as long as I don’t let myself get comfortable.  Thing is, I only used to do this because of the problems in my life insomnia causes.  When you’re brain dead, brain dead employment is the dead cert, but I always got so bored, worked ten times harder than everyone else and still got my shit wage. Without the insomnia, this won’t be an issue, plus with the bits I’ve got under my belt during recovery, plus the fact I will always have creativity, and my somewhat ceaseless venting through out my diary and the net, they keep me from the depths of ongoing depression.  Sometimes, I’m hanging by a fucking thread over some endless blackhole, but the thread is always a strong one and I’m flexible enough to work out how to pull myself up using that single element. It’s not fucking easy, but what else can I do? I’ve come too far to afford myself that much down time, especially as it takes me over when it gets that bad and I just don’t talk about anything, or vent, or think or create or anything even remotely positive. This hasn’t happened completely in years now, though., there’s always something I’m passionate about, this is the key.  Even if I’m pissed at something I’m doing, it’s still passion otherwise it wouldn’t bother me at all.
I just don’t think I’m that guy anymore.  I do sink, but not for more than a few weeks, in my experience always for good reason. 

Like, if I sense something that isn’t quite right with what I’m experiencing, man does it spin me out.  It’s only because it triggers that whole safety thing.  My brain is aware that, as a child, certain things convinced me I was safe when actually I wasn’t, two conflicting realities, it’s the dysphoria present in the development of CPTSD.
Very little triggers that these days because people tend to not lie to me.  I mean, I hate it people lie to me so very obviously, because I trust people and then I doubt myself because I think, nah, they wouldn’t lie to me so I end up concluding that’s the thing my brain is convincing me of that’s not real, but then, it usually is and I usually reach the same conclusion when I’m thinking clearly.
I used to react quite badly to things like this, especially with mum, these days I don’t so much.  I reserve judgement until I find out reasons, nine times out of ten they are honourable enough so I just move past them and get on with it.  There’s no point on being held up on little things in most situations, still, it does piss me the fuck off, I just feel it and let it go, but when it keeps happening it can become more difficult to let it go.  I always do, but the more it hurts me, the more I struggle to move past it because I feel things at such an incredible level. I feel with my mind, body & soul, wholeheartedly for I do not possess half a heart.
Like with mum, I found out half the times she lied she had good reason, it’s just, ya know, the length of time she lied to me for, and u always found out because people can’t lie for long periods of time consistently, no one can do it, and ya know other stuff I struggled to forgive her for.

So many people have fucked me over in life I reached the conclusion that there’s much some really quite horrendous shit going on in the world so little things don’t really matter in the long run, as long as they remain little and don’t just escalate.  They’re just minor details, it’s the bigger picture you need to consider when it comes to the crunch.
At the end of the day Honesty & patience are the sturdy base of any human interaction, so when the first can’t be maintained, the second is the failsafe. I only break this re when someone actually fucks me over, like something truly serious, which rarely occurs these days, I’ve removed all of the idiots from my life, this I’m sure of.
I’ve even had a recent clear out of people who clearly don’t give a fuck about me and dangle threads of friendship in front of my face, never taking the time to get to know me or have a conversation about something more than the weather. For the record I actually love talking about the weather, it fascinates me, just not on a “Oh, the sun’s out”,  “yeah, yeah it is” kinda level.
I like talking about storms and tornadoes and intense weather phenomenon, how the shift of the gravity of the moon guides the tide, our reactions to the changes in atmospheric pressure, positive & negative ions in the atmosphere, man, I could talk about that shit for hours. Not hours of forced small talk.

There was only one person this occurred with. It struck me when she said I was a quiet person, mmm, only consistently to people who don’t know me. Most say to me, yes I’m quiet during time of reflection, however I only don’t say things when I think what I’m thinking is going to get a negative response I just can’t be fucked with or blow someone’s mind, like they just could never understand, usually from previous experience. I mean, I’m talking about subject here, and my mental health.
I notice when people don’t ask me questions when we could talk for a couple of days in a row and clearly important things have been happening, when people don’t even ask me how I am. Now, it’s not that I feel the need to tell people how I am, if something is bothering me 9/10 I’ll just say “Yeah, it’s fine though”, or “No, but I’ll be fine, everything will work out”. Not because it’s anything to do with them, if it is ill definitely say something in some manner, or because I don’t trust them, I simply don’t talk to many people about myself. If questions go further then I’d say, not gonna hide shit, but in the midst of general conversation, there’s often no need for it. I only really say stuff to people I want to know things about me, saying that, it clearly is levels of trust. Only 1 or 2 people do I actually confide in. I have a lot of love for a lot of people in my life, but very few in my time have even taken the time to attempt to know my multi facetted self, in fact so many see just one or two. Not just the fact that I’m incredibly versatile and my mutability affords me to take on new information, this is it, purely and simply. I’m incredibly flexible, even when I’m sturdy because I have a strong base. Me dodging never means the feet moving, sturdy am I in my foundations… I am well grounded while my head is in the clouds, it didn’t used to be this way, I only think it’s this way when I doubt myself… But it most certainly is.

Anyway,  it’s cool though, because I’m an expert at looking after myself. It’s never been lack of knowledge, it’s usually lack of sleep. Then other people in my shoes aren’t half as productive as I am. I’ve learned this from speaking to fellow Insomniacs. There’s a few who are really upbeat, productive and even getting involved in community work. Alas, I started my own community work, in a not so standard format, actually several communities…
These people are like me, they’ve pushed hard past their Demons and are now living life towards the Sun. 

You know, life these days is like this in general, I am sure of so much, I like it.  I was always so unsure of everything that I kid, but now I just don’t need to be sure of all things, just some.

So, as one chapter closed completely and successfully a few weeks back, and I now stand before both a blank canvas and a blank page, I’m excited to see what the little images I create and the words I write will amount to. 

Life is good, through my (sometimes daily) ups & downs, twiists and turns things seem to be ever on the up, continuing the trend apparently, this is what both evidence and my soul are clearly stating, so this weekend closed on a positive note to open this week in the same manner. Life is for the living, so live it I shall continue to do.

“To live is the rarest thing of all, most people just exist.”

Oscar Wilde

Forward, ho!

So I’ve been trying to sleep for quite a while but I can’t,  so I thought I’d have a ramble instead.

I’m in good spirits, seemingly unbreakable which is refreshing. I feel like it’s been a while since I’ve been even remotely unbreakable. But, I’m feeling determined.

This weekend has been lovely. I’ve relaxed, I feel level and really quite good about the coming week.
I’ve managed to get some headspace, literally and figuratively, to finish filtering through all that has happened over the last month. It’s a relief, let me tell you.

I’ve got some calls and such to make which are another step in the abode direction, after that the world is my crayfish. I don’t wanna say oyster, although you can get them from Whitstable, London just doesn’t feel that  exotic. Either way, I love my crayfish, we go way back.

This week my crayfish is on my doorstep, well not my doorstep, but temporarily my doorstep, boy am I going to utilise this. All that was a not so long, more long winded, distance away is all a bus ride or walk away and I’m going to play tourist, I even have a plan.. Yes, I can stick to them when I make them, ha.

And, of course the boring therapy chase, this time through the docs, last time my doc actually wrote to them so gonna give them a buzz as well, see what some polite conversation can get sorted, shouting certainly never solved anything. Alas, my continual venting is quite useful in that sense, feel it, deal with it, done.

The best thing is, my sense of humour seems to be returning which just makes everything more amusing really. I’m returning to the “Fuck it” mind state. Just do what you do and get on with it, this attitude is most welcome at the moment and will afford me my highest level of tenacity whilst trying to convince private Landlords they should rent me their property.. I mean, really, they should, I’m such a great tenant. However leaving council properties is difficult because people just think you’re a bum, which is encouraging. But, it’s cool… It’s not like I haven’t dealt with worse, it just takes time. So, yeah fuck it…it’ll be fine, I always end up on my feet, it’s my party trick.

Onwards and up, forward ho!