He calls for me… not you….

Have you ever met a girl with the saddest eyes you ever seen? They penetrate into your soul with a stare…you know she is more than just the coat of perfectly formed flesh she wears. Have you ever met a girl who can figure you out, better than you could ever figure yourself out…. but she still hasn’t figured herself out … she still doesn’t see her magnetic essences …..her mind blowing presences…and her invisible beauty that could lure the devil himself to pray to god….

There is a girl… she can captivate your attention with an expression, she can retain your interest with a sentence should she require it… but she never will need your attention… and that is what will make you want to invest more in this girl….

This girl can pull out the depth of you, that you never knew existed, she can enlighten you to worlds and emotions you have never experienced… if she was a drug, she would be ‘limitless’. If she was a goddess, she would be the goddess with which the devil himself would pray to God for her love and attention …..to touch her flesh….

Have you ever met a girl who carried as much dark as she could radiate light…. the kind of girl that when she smirks, her eyes become a brighter blue and she and you know, you are powerless as she could ruin you…. love you and leave you and you would still love her long after she has gone….
A girl whose flesh she could sell for a price with no remorse… as she knows the difference between her body, her mind, and her soul.

She could sell her flesh so she has money to dream, but very few could ever make love to her mind, and this is when she will fall in love with you…. but never will she dare to let you see…. She keeps her demons on a leash and she enjoys them scratching at her skin…. as when you touch her it burns their blood away….She likes to watch your chest rise…. trace the ink beneath your skin.. and watch it move when she makes love to you……

She can be cruel, she can be kind, it depends on her state of mind. She will never apologise for the cuts she caused, as you let her in, you let her close enough, she didn’t ask for you to fall in love…..

This kind of girl see’s magic in the world, magic most people never see, and if you ever should be lucky enough to share her time, and air she could point out a few to you…. in those moments you will see her inner- most workings…. class it as another wonder of the world, as not many get to be let in this far.

This girl i can write about….. as she can light up your world, destroy it, or leave you stuck in despair in it….. for very few she will trade her heaven for their hell, as this girl had learnt love. She has been cut by its shards, and she has baptised herself in her own blood, in the name of what she thought was love.

Give her a challenge…. and she will never disappoint….she will always surprise…If you can’t find her she’s lost between ink spots and dusty spines…If she is ever in need of peace in a cemetery is where she will be… and if she is hurt don’t be surprised when you see another masterpiece…

This girl will not conform.. will not be kept or surrender …. she is the earth and she can nurture or bury you… and if you ever lie or deceive her she will never forgive you….

Girls like this exist and they are the ones that will always be loved…..
They are broken girls, with burnt wings….. and these girls understand EVERYTHING …..

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who are/were you?

Are you comfortable in your skin? is there a hollow or a ache, a longing or a absent sense of belonging? Yeah thats ok, i have it too. A piece of me is missing. I have my own black hole inside me. But, I am ok with that. I haven’t blogged in a long time, due to alot of reasons. When i become somewhat depressed if you will. I close down. I let very few people in. This is normal – I am told. My photography has always been a strength or resource to get me through the depression, to release the emotions the thoughts, to set them free. Before my lungs implode, from holding my breath, while screaming at myself not to cry. I learnt a very sharp lesson a few weeks ago.I was hospitalized because of previous physical problems. And in that week I learnt who everyone around me truly was. I had people who were two faced finally splatter how they felt and who they were at me. It was disgusting, and to be honest a welcomed relief. I wiped away the bitter and cynical slathering of a perspective that was projectile vomited onto me by this person. There was another person who i also let go from my life. This was a figure who comes with expectations when they are blood related, or at least paternal. But, i had alot of closure from their departure. A sense of relief and a knot that disintegrated in my stomach as soon as I saw the ‘real’ them. Again i wiped away the negativity that spat from their tongue. And like a snake shedding skin i felt anew. I decided to loose a man from my life and it was ultimately the fact that whenever i come to be in a situation whereby all i needed was emotional support, he is beyond unavailable. He was more….. ummm in a selfish coma of his own. But, there agin he always was. |I saw this man foe who he was, selfish and ignorant, and arrogant. I had seen these traits before, but they stung a little more this time.

When the fluorescent lights click off and the distant cough or shuffle of bed sheets on a ward are all you are comforted by. You realise who you actually would love to be there with you. The constant drugs through IV keep me numb enough not to scream or cry myself to sleep. The thoughts that whispered like the blue dressed ghosts on the night shift came and went. Leaving a sting in my body, somewhere. While in hospital i lost the choice. I had been told i was ‘lucky’ to survive. I had been told ‘it is time.’

It is a phrase that whirls as i go to sleep now….. ‘It is time.’ The time whereby a decision is made by you, for you. Or it is a decision made by another for you. I made so many decisions in that hospital stay. To lock two people out of my life. To welcome the one in and try to not loose him – i’m still working on that one. Also to never let myself believe or trust the intentions or words of the compulsive sleazy liar i knew didn’t care for anyone but himself and his needs. I made a decision he was a boy. He was/is/always immature, selfish and gutless. A coward to himself. I left that hospital knowing my dad loved me, even though he was estranged (through no fault of his own) for my childhood through to my adulthood. It was time to make a decision, and I did. I went to Paris and done my wedding work. I tried to make something work and I failed. Well i didn’t, just some people will never change its in their DNA. I decided to finish my last year in Uni and go to my graduation ceremony next year – I wasn’t going to go. And i have to book seats. So i decided that i want my dad to see one of my achievements, as he was denied so many. My uncle, whom is a/was a massive influence in my early years and later years in my life. Even his absences was a influence.A driving force so to speak. And my daughter as if it weren’t for her I am pretty certain i wouldn’t be here. And because she has had to sacrifice certain things while i study, and never once has she complained. The child who has given me more of everything, and anything, than i could ever hope to give.

The people in my life now are people whom I dearly love. From BBQs up my amazing dad’s, with my closest friend James, and my oldest friend Mark, to the ever surprising Justin. All of these men know me. They know me and observe me and connect to me for different reasons. These men combined have a weight to them. A sturdiness in my life. They have such vastly different backgrounds, and previous and current professions, and hobbies and interests. Yet, me my dad, James, mark and Justin sat with a current of intrigue and interest in each other. A genuine one a pure love, and energy driven by respect and principals. It would of taken my Uncle to of been there for it to be my favourite place and scene in the whole world. The lesson I learnt that night, was what comes with love. With the love I can relate too and understand. If i know someone loves me I can feel it. I can feel it in their energy their tone. And then i know i am safe. Thats all anyone wants to be, is to be loved and safe. With being loved as a child by my uncle, I felt, I was safe. A protector from the woman i called my mother. – so If freud had any theories the early childhood linking of love is a pretty solid one for me.

So now I am a month on….. I am free of cervical cancer. I am awaiting a big operation. I am at peace with the people in my life. I love and dote on each one and thank the universe every day for their existence. As I was able to compare the standards I should hold a man too, what a man ‘should’ be and what a person should hope to be. I am never going to be comfortable in my skin, locked in a purgatory with my mind. But, I am comfortable with being uncomfortable. I laugh alot, I smile at every beautiful sky. I watch the way everything can be magic if you look at it from the right angle. I am excited to close a chapter on a person I never thought i could ever possibly not want in my life. But, with what they brought with them, I am happy they took it all with them too. My anxiety is beautiful my nails are long. My quick witt is back and my dark humour. My passion for life and fun and love is seeping from every pour. I broke and now ‘It is time’ to put everything back together again. My way. For me. As thats what i deserve and i will take from the universe, everyone and everything that ignites me.

 

Finally today someone said to me “Being around you luc, it kinda feels like being around someone famous, or different – Like the way you light up, and are so raw and honestly funny. The way your are its like a bubble and when i see you in person its surreal. Its like you give me something, but you dont give me anything. I just feel good” – I am hoping that  what he said i took the right way. I am a spark, I am light, and I can make someone feel alive. Its a gift. Its what makes me, me. And those who meet me or spend anytime with me, will understand what this means. Today soothed my soul in a way i needed it lifted and rejuvenated my energy. (she says at 1am)

 

Its ok to be lost, as long as you’re not lost and hurting people. Thats not ok.

Compartmentalisation …..

Well, hello.

For those who read these things heres a few lessons….life is a puddle and you human made up of 97% water. To live you need to drink. So whether that be sicking, sipping, splashing, or face-planting that puddle to truth of the matter is the puddle is your means to living. So instead of saying life sucks, stop sucking from the puddle and splash in the damn thing. I have learnt it is sometimes what you need to do to smile while you are staying to survive.

‘Triggers’  – So I am bipolar. Hate being labelled but i have to admit i am learning things i wouldn’t if i wasn’t. Thats got to be good right? Well I know everyone has triggers to things that make them angry or sad. Well, I have a massive trigger that doesn’t so much trigger my emotions as my moods. Its kids. Other peoples, I cant stand them. To be around them or to even look at them. I have never been the most maternal woman in the uterus, and my uterus now is literally just for show. But it is children, they affect me so bad. I think its because as a person with bipolar i need stability and to a certain degree, control. Control of who is around me, as adults, their behaviour is somewhat more stable than a child. I recently went to a trampoline centre with my daughter and a friend. I had no intention of jumping on trampolines and my anxiety wasn’t the best (social situations another major trigger) However i was in the indoor centre less than two minutes before i bolted quicker, faster and more wild than any horse. What is it with screeching kids? Kids who scream. I cannot handle it, whether it be with fun or pain, or upset I cannot stand the screeching of a child. Now im sure a few of you think this maybe callus. But, as a woman a human I am entitled to say as I please and to not feel guilty for how i feel. I do not like other peoples children. I have no control over them so if the parent becomes angry at the child in my presences my mood plummets as then i have to be around a crying, or screeching or sulking or tantrum throwing child. The adult seems to go oblivious to this where as im in hell. The fact also some parents choose not to discipline their children ( i do not mean beating them, but being able to warn them that their behaviour will have consequences should they continue) So the child just goes around, ( in my house is the worse) with as much respect or regard for personal space as genital warts. This makes me detach so much from the people and children. I just want them gone as soon as possible. Which i suppose is why i never work  (photograph) children. As parents seem to think this thing that escaped their ball sack, or fell from their uterus is the most perfect thing in the universe, and does not need any moulding or refining. This is why society is slowly being ruined. Parents like these. Which in-turn makes me not like venturing out into society, as there are ‘these’ parents and ‘these’ children.  This may seem like such a harsh blog, but to those who know me i never sugar coat anything, for anyone. I am not that person.

So my ‘trigger’ is children, other peoples as they affect my mood so quickly and so intensely. Its the younger children more the 5yr old and under i suppose. Yes, those. I seem to be anxious around children which slowly begins to drain my emotions. Should this carry on for a prolonged period, just from this encounter alone, the following day i feel drained and numb. A bit dazed and not connected to reality. I find my friends children the worse, opposed to strangers children. Though some strangers children have that ‘i don’t care who you are’ attitude towards them and will just outright be a spoilt little brat. But friends children see me as more familiar…. which I do not like. As they then feel more comfortable to display negative behaviour around me which makes me become completely cold towards my friends as i want them to leave. Its a trigger. A trigger that always puts me in a mood I do not like. Its a trigger that will then ‘fuck me’ over the next day as the anxiety, the caution, the annoyance and the combusting anger i have to supress drains me so bad, i cannot cope with life the next day.  So another little lesson I learn is how much emotional impact things can have on me that i have not paid attention to before. The way a friend can argue with his/her partner on the phone, and if i am there and stuck (i have no car to escape in) it becomes a ‘trigger’ that emotional impacts me so bad that i don’t want to see that person again for a good few days. Because, to be honest, If i wanted to witness or be involved in a argument i would create one or i would watch people argue. It takes me hours to even be able to even smile after being subjected to that. Which then makes personal relationships difficult. As you don’t just get into a relationship with the person you like. You have to get involved in a relationship with their mother or father and siblings and friends. NOOOOOOO THANK YOU. As people come with their own problems, work, job, house, issues, and normal things. Which i can handle, but then their parents or siblings or friends are somewhat attached and bring their issues to the person you are in a relationship with… which then means you have to deal with them, although you didn’t sign up for that shit. Well i never do. I think of it like, your family? Is your family, your problem part of your life to deal with. ( don’t get me wrong if their mother needed a blood transfusion and i was a match i would do it in a heartbeat, but thats because i’m a good person, not because i like other peoples families. Other peoples mothers fathers etc have that attachment that warped perspective of their child or sibling and their loyalties will always be with them, not matter if you marry their son, friend or sibling. It is just the way it is. SO i learnt my lesson. Just  be civil and polite, avoid family gathering and social events, as this is just another situation whereby (if they know you have a mental health issue you are not judged, and you wont be put in situations that ‘trigger’ your mood to spiral) PERFECT SOLUTION to me. That way i have my own little world with my partner he still has his own friends and family etc and i have mind. There is no need for them to cross, or  burden our relationship as a couple or each other.  As lets face it when your relationship breaks down with your partner and it never really ends amicable not straight away anyway, then any relationship you have with THEIR family, THEIR friends breaks down too. FACT.

One thing in which i have decided to do it to be more selfish. I have decided if a mother of mine cannot be bothered to text or to phone me, or ask how her granddaughter is. That is ok. That is fine. I will not chase after a relationship with someone just because I have alike DNA to them. Neither shall i be bitter at the parent who puts a wedge between her two daughters and granddaughters by only bothering with one lots and not the other. That is her choice and i respect that. It saves me having to listen to the mother whine about the other daughter or bills that everyone has to pay and to turn such trivial things into such overpoweringly dominate things to create drama is mind-blowing to me. Life is complicated enough without wanting to complicate it even more. Any one with any form of intelligence in my opinion should consider two things when facing a problem or potential problem.

1) Can i control the problem or situation or change it?  If the answer is no, then accept it and move on.

2) Can i control or change or alter this problem and the way I feel? If the answer is yes, you can. Then do it, nobody needs to know about it, nobody really cares but you when it comes down to it, so quit wasting time and sort it. problem solved. Time saved. Be happy again.

Some lessons are learnt the hard way, some lessons are never learnt. The only lesson we should ever be taught both at home and in school is – ‘You have one life, so does every one around you, one day they will leave or you may. Do your best to leave them with good memories and a positive impact and you only get one ‘true’  chance with someone, any other chances are just because the person is polite, not because you deserve it’

Now i will bore you a little with his image and my concession of recent images, which i think have a additional element within them. The Art. I do like photo manipulation but the process from;

sourcing dresses

making props/buying them

to finding a location/another model

to taking the photogrpah setting up, ensuring all angles are covered etc

to them coming home syncing in lightroom and then editing

between taking coffee breaks, replying to texts, altering my you tube playlist

sourcing stock images or rummaging on my hard-drives for mine.

To the naming layers the lighting balancing and the sewing together seamlessly about twenty different photos I am then left with one image upon my screen. That i usually am never completely satisfied with.

But……….These last few of heavily manipulated photos i have been happy with. They are not as emotionally throat punching as my portraits. I like that. As sometimes even i look at some of my Portraits and I am like…WOW…FUCK LUC thats deep, or dark or rendering. Whereas alot of my heavily manipulated photos have more of a story….. than a emotion. But still can be something of a emotional piece if one attaches a emotion like the one that inspired me to create said image. So These last few images have been about change, rebirth, enlightenment and somewhat cleansing myself. My mental health hit a pinnacle point. And the only thing that calmed or soothed me and let me escape from reality was editing. As anyone who knows anything about lightroom or photoshop will understand how complex a interface it can be. A friend or two has helped, James because he is the Angel that has been ripped of wings and condemned to live on earth…..Poor sod. And more unfortunate for him he crossed my path a few years ago. But a kindred soul he is, and the person who is helping me to create a utopia out my garden, now my dog has died. I love a graveyard and James is helping me cast tombstones and lay some grass. I am so excited for this, i cannot comprehend the words. Not the fact i will have this graveyard out my garden but the fact he suggested we do it, and that he is the one pushing for it…. and the fact whenever i shall sit in my garden, James will always be the memory that i remember. The memories we shall create, casting and practicing, painting and laying the memories that make people the worst kind of people when they leave…. as then i’m left with painful splinters of memories that hurt every time they are remembered. Then i have a beautiful friend who isn’t a close friend but she is close enough and long enough old a friend by almost twenty years to know that my child will always be safe for as long I need that security should anything happen to me. There are a precious few people who come into your life and never leave… sometimes just sitting on the side lines. Then you have other people who cross your path… and you learn something from them… They never stay, they never mean what they say. So to those people, the door was open, now it is closed. Another chance i’m sure will arise because i’m polite, but the ‘true’ chance has a headstone in my garden ready to be laid.

These recent pieces of Art have not been inspired by sadness, as much and many of my images are…. but of progress, each one I am climbing unsteady chairs…. Or morphing from a human to a raven, symbolising freedom. The dark within me being wild and taking flight. The elements of nature, Earth, Air , Fire and water…. and me…..’Spirit’ The symbolic blue dress is the morpho butterfly i adore. Which cycles through a life recently like mine, Or I, like its. The UNKNOWN, was a image whereby i walk down steps and hands from beneath the slates wait hungrily for me. This was massively to do with a brief interaction I had with a man. He was the unknown, and I was walking blind. Lesson learnt. The puppet, and puppeteer with my Tim burton styled background, symbolised a lover i once had. Who showed me what i could have a lover and a happy life, but he was in control and it was never a situation that he proved we would ever be in. So i left. This was shortly followed by the skeleton and I sat on the floor. The skeleton my ex lover, the smoke from his cigarette another girl he would bring between us…. and me. It was me seeing what our relationship really meant to him, those precious memories, of laughing smoking and drinking coffee were nothing more than wasting time. The Egg timer and I, Is where my fears lie. This was me acknowledging my mental health was rapidly fading, and the less time i had, the more erratic i became. Then the last one within my ‘Progress’ images was me sat up against a wall with my demons, and how i fell back into their traps… how they laugh and mock, how the light in the corner seems like a escape… but misery loves company, and i know that I am not alone, with my demons, but in the light, in the scape, in the new batch of pills, i may never again find me.

So this is me…. and today, I like me. Someone gave me my smile back, and a happiness in my heart… but tomorrow they have the claws to tear it apart… lets see what becomes of us……

He fell in love with, with a…- A strange girl.

I have decided to blog, only a paragraph for now. Today i have indugled in having my front door open to cool me in the breeze that sulks in. I have subjected my hears and soul, and my neighbours to Hozier, Slipknot, Korn Sabbath, Rye and some Celin Dion. Well variety is the death of life ….

Through all of the songs i noticed the beat in my heart and the thoughts that filtered through….I am a strange girl. Oh i do not complain of this conclusion. But i do wonder what man can fall in love with a strange girl?  I wonder if his hair is long, or his fangs sharp. I wonder if his hand trembles when he concentrates. I wonder for what his accent will be and when he speaks will the words be true. I wonder if his body will be etched with scars or art or if he will keep his thoughts in his head his anger in his fists and his soul deeep inside and he will just be a blank canvas on the outside.

A man made love to my mind last night, and it was the best sex i never had. The man excited me and it was a long time since such nerves had electrified my skin. He lives a million miles away and his accent made me smile. His intelligence made me miss the man i lost some years ago when i wasn’t such a strange girl. I was conforming to him, loving him and his rules, because he made love to my mind better than to my body. His knowledge made me fantasized and it got me through some hard times. He would lay with me, my head on his lap and tell me things and stroke my hair. His accent would soothe my mood, my panic or anger. I could leak a tear for the man i left behind……Then i almost found him again.This man had accent and eyes the colour of burnt honey, and in the sunlight they were of a pond green. That mans eyes now, i fell in love with as the light revealed the depths and colours they held. He knew i was a strange girl…. his tone was calm and his stare was meek…. I never once saw a glimmer of anger. I fell in love with this mans brokeness, Its a shame to say it is what ended us. But his smell lingers in my mind and every time i see the sun setting in the sky i want to cry. I don’t want to look, i dont want to see the colour and how beautiful it can be. How it can transform and ignite my soul. I rather stay awake and watch the sunrise. And i dont even care to much, he stole my sunset. And a little part of me hates him for that.

So now i wonder if he will come back to me…. or if he will choose to  leave me this way….. I am a strange girl and i want my sunset back….. and the man that sat beside me running his fingers through my hair….. telling me of unknown wonders to me. But when i turned to look at him, all i saw was a broken man, and i knew it wouldnt be long before he couldnt stand….. A strange girl she is……

 

A unbalanced mind, a silent fighter only feeling peace in the humming of the night. A beautiful creature she can be, but then she can transform to a creature so free, uncaring and careless that she fly’s away free….. It will take a man who understands ecstacsy and agony and their need to exist in everything especially love. To her, love is pain. It s always been this way. Art is a release, blood letting is where she finds peace and her soul and love is inked into her skin. But to get close enough to read her tatoos and feel her scars you have to be armed. As vicious she can be because no one has ever came in peace without a excuse to eventually leave…….I will give you so many reasons to leave. But if you can stand before me and tell me one reason why you want to stay. I guess i will give in, and love you anyway.

Today frayed…

I woke today with a heavy mind, inspired to create a image, but lacking the courage to do so. I left the house today and went for coffee, it was a planned date. But the sour taste it left me with was not the quality or taste of the coffee.

People need to be whole. I have a habit of loving somewhat broken or lost souls. Through lessons and heartbreaks and betrayals, i actually spotted one before it turned into a destructive type of thing. Meeting people can be a beautiful thing, but the impression they leave upon you can be a stinging reminder of what you actually have to face up too. The impact we have on one another is some what lost in its importance. My medication needs changing, I need to readjust my life. The thing with medication is it strips you of something, sometimes feelings, or intensity. Other times it gifts you with things, mostly side effects. But all in all the medication for the mind is no medication at all…. its just a crutch, a painkiller to soothe the ache or the hurt, the thoughts the imploding thoughts that pierce our nerves. Medication always takes a bit of someone away, they change that person. I didn’t realise that until a ex pointed out how the medications change aspects of me. And its true. I have had my medication changed a few months back, and this time its not working, i have gone through the adjustment period, i have gone through being a zombie. I have even adjusted the dosage myself. Then comes the realisation, ‘its not working’. So then i have to face that i have lost three months of my life to adjusting to something that doesn’t work, and now i have to loose another three months in a medicated induced state adjusting to new pills. I have to identify which part of m has changed then…. and i have to see if these make me stable, which means i expose myself to all the things that trigger me, to ensure that these pills have my back and won’t kick my arse.

 

I know this guy and he is about to be re-introduced to medication, after trying to deal with it by himself for so long. I am proud of him for trying, but i also seen a look in his eyes that made me want to cry. It was the look of ‘i have no other choice’. I have feel that every evening when i take my medication. I have to look at my reflection and i see that look in my eyes. I have never yet seen it in someone else’s.

When is anyone ever whole? And do you need to be whole to be loved? as if you aren’t can you sustain as much, enjoy as much, or even appreciate as much?

I have never dated anyone who has to be on medication, normally i am the ‘one’ on the meds. I have never seen so much of a reflection in someones tone and eyes as i did today. It broke me in ways i didn’t know i could break. But i know that i saved two souls from a mistake. That made me happy and proud of me today. It will be alright in the end, and if its not? Its not the end.

I have decided that to celebrate i have booked another tattoo….. which makes me a little bit more happy. As its a symbol of actually things to come.

Coffee and cigarettes …

Its a early hours in the morning kind of blog again. Bipolar kicks my arse and sometimes i let it… its nice to feel something other than medicatedly numb.

I was inspired to buy a camera because my heart got broke… I knew nothing of the damn thing, only the man who broke my heart had one. He captured images of me i was his subject and his muse. Then my heart was broke and he became my muse. Every image was haunted with him. Things i wanted to say or scream, things i wish he would see. Other things i just needed to release… find a part of me. With every self portrait i looked at the mens, like i did before when he held it. I gave the expression with my eyes. As a model you are not allowed to pull a expression with your face, no muscles must move within your face but you must pull your emotion through your eyes as if it were your soul, your heart. And you had it over to the camera. As soon as that shutter shuts, its captured a part of your soul. Anyone can pout, and anyone can smile, but to say it with your eyes… and let someone read your mind and soul is being naked.

It was through my images i met another man….. I thought my heart was broken and i had lost the love of my life. Then ‘this’ man strolled in. Well strolled is the wrong word, more like crashed. And for the first time in so long i actually ‘felt’ i felt something other than hollowness…. emptiness and anger. I felt love again. We went through so much from him leading a double life. From anger and rage, from both of us. From trust issues to lies. From prison and restraining orders and random stalking and phone calls. Theres always that pull. I think in loving him, i lost a piece of me. Every image over the last three years has some way been inspired by him. If it wasn’t through hurt, or anger, or betrayal. It was through despair it was through confusion. It was through painful aching love and worthlessness i felt. He was my inspiration. Every hurtful word he would say, would inspire me in some way. Every lovely gesture would inspire me. He is my portfolio, of my emotions, my journey. I think because of the bipolar i may feel alot deeper or react alot stronger to situations. Maybe its the writer in me? maybe its the melancholic soul i have? Maybe its because i’m a hopeless romantic? Maybe its because i don’t want to believe i fell in love with a monster and then he turned me into one. Theres alot of maybes and questions and ill probably never get them answered not really. Truth is i don’t want them answered as then i’m in a reality of the real. I have never been much fond of that. Maybe i read to many books and enjoy being tragically in love. Where is the fun in being happy? Its alien to me, it scares me, it panics me. It terrifies me. At least when things are wrong you know they can get any worse. But to be happy and then to fall…….. i know what that feels like. The happier you are the higher the height you fall from. So my advice ‘ never get to happy, enjoy it, but don’t think it will last. Trust me it never does’

 

Now for the worst confession of all time……. ‘Happiness writes white’ If i am happy no images appear, if I am happy no poems are written. I am inspired by heartbreak, by depression, by pain and by being hurt. I am a fucked up girl.  Theres ‘life’ and ‘death’ and then there nothing but sadness in-between, thats what i capture…. thats what I release. Everyone can look at a pretty image, only those who know the colour of the depths of depression and pain can look at ones that aren’t pretty and see the beauty. I guess thats why i wont do pretty pictures…. I don’t want fame from my images or to be ‘well known’ I refuse commissions that aren’t my style and pass them on to someone else. I wont change my style or message to cater to the masses…. or the majority. I fit in with the minority. The people who have not only been to the edge … but know whats over it. But to do that i cant be happy. I look through my stream on flickr or 500px and i can tell you the month and reason and feeling and why that photo was created. When i go back to Oxford, my happy place, my safe place, my home. I never do a shoot or take a picture. I take my camera every time but i cant take a picture i’m too happy and safe…. Im too in awe at being peaceful and calm.  I have to now torture myself with the insecurities i have, the questions and the hurt and suffer i sustained through my last relationship to still create images. For as long as i do that i’m never to move on…..

 

Would i prefer to be a tortured artist or a happy wife/girlfriend with mundane pictures?

Tortured artist every time.  I don’t want to see the world as it is… I want to see it and the other worlds within it. I want to show people they aren’t alone…. everyone can relate to one of my images. When that stops happening i will sell my camera. I have decided however to challenge myself like only i can do….. I am going to do short fifteen second videos too. So now i need to learn how to edit videos. Because for the things i cannot capture in one shot ……. which is rare…. but maybe if i can maybe do video editing maybe it will help me overcome some of my inspirational block. Or maybe i just need to be with the person who breaks me best as thats the only time i feel inspired or alive.

Tearing chunks…..

Whenever i blog, it is always intensely personal, some my ask why i choose to share such personal experiences or details. Like with every image i create it is a release, a release from the emotion. In each image someone will gain something, relate in some way to words or the picture. Everyone can relate to relationships, whether they be platonic, or something else. Everyone can relate to sadness as at some point our sunflower smiles has decayed like the autumn leaves. Throughout the last three years i have experienced a relationship like no other. I found such a deep connection, so powerful. I also experienced such twisted actions and I suppose as human what i endured i projected back. The truth is when is enough ever enough? When your mind has been broken, or your heart? When do you say I cannot do this no more. I say it in a moment of strong, yet my moment of weakness i wish i didn’t. And i long for what i had back. Afflicted with a unbalanced mind is a cruel twist in which fate gave me. Sometimes i can be irrational sometimes i can be logical sometimes i can be predictable other times dangerous. I think too much and love too deep. I have bipolar disorder… though the doctors now think it is personality disorder. Which one i do not care to be labelled with as each are nailed to me with things i cant control. But oh lord from the depths of my soul i wish i could. The way someone can have a best friend, loyal kind and protective to the death. That best fried with unconditional love that you could place your life in their hands. Thats what most people have, thats the relationship most have with their mind. I wonder if it is as calm and comforting as i imagine it to be. I hope that if i was granted a fairytale mine would be to own a mind not a enemy that fights me for every breath i try to gasp.

No one can understand what a mental illness is, not even those who have one i suppose, as we don’t know what its like to be ‘normal’ but for me, being normal sure looks good. People who are ‘normal’ or who do not suffer from the enemy of their mind, can understand other people as they know what its like to feel like the other person, think like the other person. Its like talking the same language. But if you have a fractured mind, you talk another language and even those who do also carry a fracture will only understand so much of what you speak. Like broken english. This effects everything, and makes everything a chore, from even thinking to not thinking, from talking to even breathing. And when you have a unbalanced mind you have these two things that have to be stabilised, a pill is never a cure, if anything its worst. Still alive but barely breathing, is how i would describe medication. It takes the edge of the pain, the edge of the thoughts, but it makes you live and watch people talk  language you wish you could learn. You resent these perfect people who look like they can have these perfect relationships, these stable lives. Then it just makes you sad. Why was i put on this earth to watch this, what punishment is this, its torture.A anti- psychotic pill and a mood stabiliser thats what i take everyday. They are sat in-front of me right now. Almost laughing at the fact i need them more than they need me, without them i’m in a hell on earth. But with them i’m in a hell on earth that makes me less suicidal, less aware… the walking dead in a way. Existing and watching others live.  Have you every thought of the way you turn music up on a hifi system, you turn it up so loud the room shakes with vibrations,nothing is clear everything is just amplified. Yeah well thats the up i get, like i’m a human whose had an amplifier plugged into me where i feel, think , hear everything 100% more than most humans, to the point of insanity. And then on a low, like a person can be paralyzed from the neck down i’m paralyzed from the neck up. My body can work, but my mind tells it no to, my mind shuts down, it hates me and itself and it doesn’t exactly switch of it just lays idle. In a state of limbo… to the point of the only thing you feel is this heavy heavy leaden feeling throughout your body. You want to almost break out of this shell and run, but you cant, because you have been injected with this serum that all hope has just left the world. The colours of everything change, as hope has gone.

When Isolation become your only friend, your thoughts however bully9ing your only comfort.  I have been told i over react i go ‘mental’ when someone hurts me, emotionally. Yes i do. Attack is the first form of defence…. in a way. But when i have thought about why i do this, i know why, because how can you expect someone who feels everything so deeply, react so mildly. The oceans depths are unknown, and its capabilities with such a unpredictable deep thing. How can you not expect a tsunami when it reacts. What did you expect a puddle? Thats kind of foolish of you. logic comes in the form of…. if something happens once, there is no certainty it will happen again. But if i happens twice it will surely happen again. So if someone expects something to happen as it has happened so many times before then logic is that it will happen again. Yet, I am told this is not logic. Maybe thats my fucked up mind, that thinks that this seems accurate. As thats what i am told. I have no logic. I would say its less about logic and more about trust. But if i cannot trust my own mind, how can i expect to trust you or yours. You don’t speak the same language as me ….remember?  How is a person to explain how it feels to another to die if they have never experienced it. I don’t even know what i am trying to say or if i am even saying it properly to a degree where i am somewhat understood.  If a person has coloured skin, its wrong and degrading to call them a nigger. And rightly so. If someone is disabled it is wrong to call them crippled or a retard or spastic. And rightly so, its degrading and humiliating. If someone has a broken mind, people call them a nut case…. a freak. People turn their backs and create more prejudice against these people than anyone else. Why? because how can you understand something you cant see or feel yourself, as a ‘normie’ Skin colour someone can understand they understand history, they understand discrimination and how a colour is irrelevant. People who see a person without a leg, could imagine how hard life might be for them. If someone has special needs, people can see the difference in their actions their appearance.

 

But what if there was a white person, who looked like a ‘normie’ ( a normal person) and they had all limbs, no appearance to assume they are incapable of the things you are. )emotions, stability, ability to process thoughts) You wouldn’t mind sitting with this person on a bus at this point, maybe even being locked in a elevator with them for 48 hours. You would assume you could have a polite, maybe intellectual or funny conversation. Or like humans do, interact to find some common ground of interest to be able to relate to this person and understand them. How about if they spoke Russian and you spoke English and neither of you could understand a word each other said. Well it would be a silent bus journey after you established you cannot relate to each other. And even a awkward 48 hours in a lift of sideward glances and  half hearted smiles.  Now what if the person ended up talking to themselves or less take it back a few steps. Say they spoke english and you did too. And as easy as you asked for their name they can disclose they have multiple personality disorder, bipolar disorder, split personality disorder, or psychosis. Well then you would be counting the stops till the bus pulled in at your stop. The elevator would become a prison where your heart would beat a little faster. And you would pray to god they had taken their medication that day, or they don’t have a episode while you are stuck in this space. You essentially would be on your best behaviour to not provoke a reaction. As most people do not know of the complexities of mental health conditions. Yet most people can name and disclose symptoms of various cancers. maybe its not a stigma maybe its a ignorance. What if this person then started talking to themselves … maybe like a religious person would in pray. This would be alarming, but a nun talking to herself in pray would not. And no doubt when you escaped the journey from the bus or the elevator i’m sure you would say to someone you knew…. ‘ I just got stuck in a lift with a nut job’  but not ‘ i got stuck in a lift with a cripple, or nigger.  Yet to degrade someone who cant change but would love to change their mental health disorder is like condemning a black person for the colour of their skin. It cant be helped.

 

Then how do these people go about living and relating to ‘normies’ they know they are different. They know they are not accepted. But do they go demanding respect or understanding, no…. they hide away isolate themselves in a corner and hope and pray they haven’t got to fight for anything else that day, as fighting with their mind and emotions is hard enough. And too much for them to deal with as it is.  If you do some how encounter someone with a mental illness be a little bit extra kind, they will appreciate it more than anyone. And never ever give or bully anyone no matter how normal they look, because they haven’t got their diagnosis of cancer, or mental disorder, or dementia or Parkinson’s nailed to their forehead. It don’t mean they aint fighting their own battles and loosing their self worth every second … as they are loosing hope.

 

If you ever have the fortune of ever falling in love with someone who has a mental health disorder…. know you have fallen for a warrior who fights every day to be as good and normal as you. Know that certain knocks will have different effects…. they can love deeper than oceans can be measured, but they can react like tsunamis when they feel something they cant control. Know that the person who doesn’t trust their own mind, has to trust you, and your mind, as like a guide dog to the blind you become their logic their reasoning. You become the calming pill no doctor can prescribe…. because no pill has patiences no pill can understand or try to….. no pill possess the ability to love, the strongest most purest emotion in the world. No pill can protect them from harm… no pill can hug you when you cry. Send you words of support, and make you smile with good times. So if you do fall in love with someone with a mental health disorder you could be their panacea… Their cure to a happier more worthwhile life. But also know it will never be easy, but if you can teach each other the language you speak, and how you love and receive love and understand that from each other …. then what other language needs to be spoke… love is a language understood by all….

 

I have a mental health disorder and it adds to me and takes stuff away from me. If i am mental, then when i am not i am funnier than most. If i am sad i am more perceptive and creative than most. If i am a nut job, then i will love and care more than most. If i am weird, then odds are i will surprise you more than most. If i am unstable chances are that i will be more thoughtful or supportive than most. I have flaws and if i cant always speak the same language as you, then just turn it into the language i can speak….. how i receive love, don’t be too angry or mad with me, as i’m probably already angry and frustrated at myself. Insulting me wont help. putting me down wont neither. Because then i will leave bruises on you, just like you have on me. Then we are just two people not in love anymore.