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……

They are alive……

Its a one oclock blog again. I wonder why I do these blogs. I wonder who reads them, if anyone, and what they think. These are seconds that last for a moment and i am cautious of what i say. Then like the ticking of a clock my fingers sing on a keyboard and everything pours. I don’t like to think too much. As its never good. Not for me anyway. Relationships are funny things, you take two humans. These are from different walks of life, different values and experiences and throw them together. I always view the start of a relationship as a ……. Child playing with clay. When she has moulded her visions she then plays with them in her imaginary world of pretend. I think thats what we do, or I at least. I have a pretend world where i have made my clay man. To keep him there i have to play fair. To keep him strong and not for him to crack and crumble i have to understand the way he was made. But i don’t. I don’t understand me. So I am at a loss before i could ever conceive to win. Then in my pretend world everything is great. We can mould each other and smooth over the cracks. But in actuality it doesn’t get smoothed over. I choose my human and decided to love him and play with him in my pretend world. But i knew reality would make him crumble. I am just convincing myself i am now unloveable. Its not really the greatest ego boost that my ex cheated on me for two years and for the last year he still couldn’t be faithful. He would flirt with girls and send such pictures i would find out and feel sick. He handed me complex after complex and insecurities that made me shake.  Then i met another man, he was broken and not whole. I think i attract them you know.

I always saw a relationship of a somewhat unity. A team. If i was going to war the person i was with i would want on my platoon as i know they have my back. Yet i dated a guy a bullet, thats engraved and i wear it around my neck. It has a message inscribed but it was in the language he knew so a lie. I decided that I would wear it not because i love him, but because it was one of the many bullets in his gun that killed me and made me weak. But At least i knew he would never leave me. Then i met this other guy. No insecurities, no girls perfection could of been a good word. But then i spiralled and i fell and i descended to hell. Now my demobs are happy as they have me back. It was quiet lovely really how they welcomed me back. They stay up all night with me, and if ever i need company they are always there. I married demons so i can never marry a man.

I confided in a friend of what made me spiral. And as a friend does they show concern. It was nice to acknowledge the disease i have investigated and learnt thats eating me. Ooooooooh no this time its not my mind. This time its not my bipolar. I think if it wasn’t for my bipolar i maybe worse. I have the disease that consumes so many and that the word alone instills fear. It actually made me freeze. My blood ran so cold a splinter of ice must of pierced my heart, as i gasped for air. Cancer i dare. The womanly parts of me are being eaten alive. Im twenty nine and i have a unbalanced mind and a disease eating me alive. The insecurities rise and i feel bile thrown at the back of my throat. I could cry but i haven’t yet. Not over the thing that i just learnt. I think i’m numb or still coming to terms with this vile thing harbouring inside my womb. Like a spawn of satan i’m nurturing it and letting it feed on me. I am a beautiful host.  I actually can feel my breath unsteady as i filter through this truth. I admitted this two two people. Two which i trust and love and know would do anything to see me smile. But still i sit here in my ex boyfriends zip through hoodie, it faintly smells of him. Wearing dungarees bought for me as a sorry from the cheating ex, and the things i am wearing which look the best are fresh scars. Another chapter of my fucked up life. There was a time where my life was quiet happy and calm. Oh dear lord i wish for that again so bad. The marrow of my bone ache for it. They also ache for a warm embrace. But i know to be hugged would leave this little fighter with a tear stained face.

When it was revealed what i now have to face the cancer of a woman’s delicate place I was shocked nad scared then last night at 5 am i sat out my back garden. The stars weren’t too bright, but the warmth of the night kept me company. The sounds of cars passing on the road behind me made me smile. I wonder how their life differes from mine. I thought about writing, but couldn’t bare to hold my favourite pen. Then a thought crossed my mind, what if this is a pleasure of my life. I have contemplated suicide and attempted it a few more. What if now, ‘This’ disease is here to save and finish me. In a dignified way of course. As suicide is always a frowned upon course. Maybe i have created the work i was suppose too…. release the poems and art i should. Maybe i have changed a few lives, as i know a few have changed mine. I have done alot of good i know in my life, and been a good person to those i know and those i don’t, and those who haven’t deserved my time, but at least if I am lowered into the earth they will know they got more than they deserved and i can sleep peaceful. I tear slide down my face and the smile spread across my face. I own my thoughts and thats what i love about me, I’m not afraid to challenge those of a narrow or closed mind, not to win a argument but to enlighten their life’s. I have handed my notice into three magazines i write for and two support groups i run, one for young kids with self harm issues and one for support and counselling for parents of children who self harm and who have a mental disorder. My own mother do not even know of these jobs, or where i give my time willingly. My own mother knows nothing of my illness as i don’t see the point, she never made me feel ok or accepted for having a mental disorder. So why would she want to support me now, when she can just ignore and spend time with the ‘normal’ child she has. I am not bitter a part of me was. But i know i have done nothing wrong not to deserve what she has or has not done as the case stands. I am due now to turn down the book offer to have a book published, which i started to write. AS i don’t want to be stressed out right now. Writing books are hard. I have my university papers sat on my desk ready to submit to finish my last year. Even though when i printed them off i knew….. spending some time alone has made me think what do i want to be doing for a year? travelling,……… or photographing a series or two that will will remain should anything happen to me. As it’s not as simple as scrape and remove and then a few appointments to ensure things have been cut away. So maybe i will read, read every book i wanted to read. I will travel, travel to the places i want too. Maybe i will visit a few close friends who have been there from the start of my photography journey before i even knew it was a path i would go on to choose.

 

I will visit one man before the year is out. This time four and a half years ago, a man gave me the greatest tip in the world. (shadows) This man has a piece of my heart today. And i want to hold him in a embrace and thank him. For when i have doubted my work, my direction, the purpose of it all….. My darling Luca is there with his Italian charm. He has lasted longer than relationships and gave me more joy than most of them.  And even though i hate Germany, I will find him there.

 

Tomorrow i go and drive for a hour to a tattoo studio to be tattooed. The artist is amazing and I am dying to having this piece on me as for six years i have been in love with the concept of the piece. And i finally put it together and now i get to have a beautiful memoir of it. Then i will have my favourite poem inscribed on my thigh…. a quote or two more and when i lay on the slab or a cold mortuary cradle… I hope they read my tattoos and admire my artwork…. I will be a beautiful corpse in death as i was in life.

Now to try and sleep as seven hours of sleep in five days is something thats killing me. Stopping on lot of medication to be able to undergo treatment is a wonderful way to test my instability. But hey, it makes good pictures…. so at least my instability and insanity will never leave me….. never thought i would say i was actually grateful for that.

 

 

The ‘Word’

Its a early hours in the morning kind of blog again. This time its not because I am bipolar and cannot sleep. It is not because I have had my heart or mind ripped out of me again. This time its simply because….

 

I sit on a corner unit settee, with a marvel t-shirt on and pj bottoms. I sit with my hair scraped back and the lights out. From my macbook the only light illuminates. Unless i look out of the windows, which are straight ahead and i see the sky. Little pinheads of light looking down on me. The night owl that i am, i have become quite acustom to the stars and only really like the setting sun. My daughter is asleep, my lover too. And i lay tapping on my keys, passionatley as if i have something worth telling to anybody else. Or maybe its just good to tap it out for myself. I turned 29 today. I felt a depressing cloud hang over me all day, like the opaque grey cloud that blanketed the sky today. I didn’t cry, though i felt like i wanted too…. but watching the rain slide down the windows of today, i decided against descending into a full depression. I had a friend over, and visited my dad, i waited for my lover to return and only then did i feel at peace.

I haven’t had full blown anxiety in such a long while. But today it was the restless uncomfortable kind of anxiety. I traded uni work to curl on the settee around this man, this man who I am so scared to love. But even more scared that one day, soon. He may stop loving me. He may stop smiling at the thought of me, or even start smiling at the thought of someone else. Being damaged is a terrible thing. As you are gifted a complex you never wanted, and never thought of before. Now every little thing becomes a conscious thought of over analysising actions, tones, interpretations and words. Not realising before this complex you wear as normal as your own skin, what it was like to never even think of such little trial things. But now i do, I watch his phone, and even though its given to me freely i still feel somewhat uneasy. Thats the complex someone gave me, where their phone was a portal to be protected and guarded as it carried on it another life. I watch the way in which he turns when his phone beeps, but i find no flicker or insecurity. That soothes me, but it will be a scar i always carry with me, its now a damaged part of me. I could say i do not care and live free and for the moment. But to protect ones self from danger is instinct so now i act on instinct and not free affection and trust. Someone changed me in a way i will never be the same.

 

I have no doubt that one day i will not be young and beautiful and neither do i want to be forever. But one day when i no longer taste good t that persons palette what happens then.  As i have been a flavour a option for another man. I have been discarded like i was a ten year old newspaper. I have been praised and reeled in thinking ‘this is it’ I have then been left for somebody else. I have died in ways i didn’t know a soul could die, i have been hurt in ways i never knew a heart could sustain. I have believed when he apologised and i have believed when he said he’ll change. I have been violently awoken to a reality where no matter how good i was, or how well i obeyed, how faithful i stayed how loyal i remained. I was still condemned in another way. I still got betrayed. I was never good enough, i was never quick enough to catch him out. I was never understanding enough even after countless girls and a wasted three years, and now a therapy plan. The scars i have been left with are as much a part of my skin as the scars i often myself carve in.

Now, i have a guy who i forgot existed in this world. I thought hey were extinct. He bought me flowers – because he wanted too….. not because guilt had caused him too. He sends me text messages telling me how happy he is, or how much he adores me… not because he was messaging another girl at the same time on whatsapp and didn’t want me to get suspicious. He grabs me and kisses my forehead….. his arms wrap around me in a protective embrace. I don’t imagine his arms to hold me in any other way, than to protect me.  When i lay in bed with him he tickles my arm… or slings his arm around me in the middle of the night and like a bear pulls me in. Half asleep i smile… as even in his sleep he wants me near. He needs me for nothing, his ego is fine, his issues are almost non existence. He is a man with experience and with the most integrity i have ever known a man or human to have. He has emotions real ones, i can see and i can feel. He makes such a effort to make me feel safe, just encase i don’t. When all i need him to know, is that i have never felt safer. I wake every day counting down the hours till i can see him, not because i want to know where he is, or who he is messaging, or watch his every move. I just want him by me as we laugh, and we smile and he touches me and hugs me out of the blue. To watch a film and rest my head in his lap, my hair is where his fingers touch, i haven’t told him but its my favourite thing. I do not care for what girl he speaks to, or what girl he tattoos what girl he works with….. because they pose no threat. As he makes me feel he loves me, his word his promise isn’t tainted.

 

A man is only worth as much as his word

And this man has kept every word, every promise he has made to me. Every word or rhyme i write, however painful it was to write. He hasn’t got to read it to understand the meaning. He can read it in my eyes, with a doubtful glance or a inquisitive look. He understands that there is something more to me. He never asks and i shall never tell. But he pays such close attention he knows me beautifully well. He has seen a glint of my anger but it phases him none. He has seen me down, and it affects him none, He has seen me happy and high, and it phases him none. As long as I’m safe he will take me anyway. But i often wonder about the ‘one day’ when maybe i am a bit too much, when maybe love is not enough, when maybe i won’t do anymore, when maybe he sees all my good points as flaws… as these are the things that have happened to me before. Maybe i think too much, maybe i should just close my mac and creep over to bed and wrap his arms around me. Then I’m safe…. then everything is ok. Maybe i should run over and wake him with lots of kisses and tell him about this idea for a photoshoot….. and i know he will wake, and sleepily listen and agree or disagree or even encourage me a little bit more…. maybe he would grab me and tell me amazing like he has a million times, that he’s never met a girl so multi talented and beautiful and smart and funny, and independent and caring and quirky…brave and loyal…..He tells me how lucky he feels…. to have me… yet I don’t think he realises exactly what my life was before him. But then neither do i fully want him too…as because if he does thats all he may ever see…. a real damaged lost part of me.

I was told a few days ago ‘A piece of your heart has been carved out, its gone it will never return, and that hole thats gone it will forever hurt… but not because it makes you sad, but because it makes you feel lost, and incomplete’  This woman was a medium and she was right…..

But what if a soul mate mends your broken heart by simply giving you theirs…… Tomorrow i wake next to him, and we engrave each other with what we mark our body’s with best. He’s engraving my favourite portrait on my arm and poem on my thigh, and when he has finished…. he’s engraving his mark on me, as i asked him and he said only if he can wear a mark too. Thats when i thought he was too good to be true. But i won’t tell him that just yet…..

love is a loosing game ……

Tonight I sat in Roath park lake, not a cemetery although i know many within my city that would of welcomed me as they did the dead that lays within them.  I sat there with a coffee on a bench in the dark at midnight like i had two years earlier. This time i was alone, alone with my coffee thoughts and cigarettes. I have always thought how beautiful the water paints light in the day and in the blanket of the night. The different shades of black from the shadows of the trees to the sky to the mood that wrapped around me as i sit still. I watched the water and seen the reflection of my life while destiny and fate took a seat beside me and reminded me of all my past mistakes. Love? I blog so much about it…. Its a funny kind of thing. No words that can accurately describe it… the way it feels the way it makes you think differently and act. When we are in love we stay too long, make stupid decisions, and sometimes don’t even know how to receive love or give it so much that it consumes and kills us. It can be destructive it can be euphoric, it can be irrational and it can be gut wrenchingly powerful. Its the most lethal drug and its free.

I have always panicked that i will love the wrong person or that i wont love the person who loves me as i will be too scared or damaged. I have thought i was in love and when the relationship has ended i realised i wasn’t in love with that person i just didn’t want to be alone. There’s a huge difference in being in love with someone and loving someone. Being in love with someone means you would die for their happiness even if that happiness is not with you, its with someone else. Being in love with someone means that no matter what they have a piece of you, whether they want it or not, it is reserved for just them. I loved once he was a English man and he was everything I could want a human to be…. And i died. Well at least my soul did when we finished. Then i met another English man, and the first time we met for a date he smiled at me and kissed me. In that kiss i tasted the demise of my sanity. He was never one to live by the rules, i don’t think he even knew the concept of them. And i loved him even harder for that. Lana del ray soundtrack became the soundtrack for the first year of our relationship…. to me anyway…. he was ‘my old man’ he had a ‘soul as sweet at blood red jam’ (off to the races) it was the months that pasted and the songs ‘heaven is a place on earth with you’ and ‘being in his favourite sun dress’ – Every song within that album was etched on me.

He was my ‘million dollar man’ he was ‘someone who was dangerous and tainted and flawed’ and ‘i loved him, i loved him, i loved him’ ………… he ‘looked like a million dollar man, so why is my heart broke’ …………..

It is amazing how then two years later the album that has the same affect on me is ‘Hozier’ at first it was just ‘take me to church’ …… then it became every track that i heard that entwined itself within the months that followed ……every lyric… every song….. every hum…. ‘when my time comes around lay me down gently in the cold dark earth ….no grave can hold my body down, i’ll crawl home to her’……..

I wanted to save him, I did. I saved him from one person, and i had to save him from another… himself. But i failed. I failed in saving him from himself. The harder i tried the more he self destructed, the harder i loved him the weaker i became and the more destructive he became……. So i walked away. I told myself i didn’t care if he lived or died. I was a inch away from death…- my own. I was two thoughts away from insanity, and a breath away from breaking and snapping my spine into splinters. I left and i left knowing i failed.  Then he done the unthinkable the unspeakable and the unimaginable …… he saved himself. In a selfish way i hope that by me giving up on him i had saved him. That my pain,my struggle, my insanity, my anxiety my tears my anger weren’t all for nothing, that the shards of my heart are but glitter because thats what had to happen to me in order to save him ………… I hope, because that means my pain and hurting and aching to this day has not been for nothing.

Yet i feel so angry and so annoyed that he saved himself and he is working to be his best self, the person, the boy i saw. The one, the boy  i stayed around for…. for so long. The one i fought for the one i broke over the one who i believed in. This boy is going to go and love another girl in ways i deserved to be loved as i loved him hard and pure. But a little bit of me is glad too that he will love another girl in a better way than he loved me……. he wont hurt another girl the way he did me as he is a better person now. Or will be when he’s done. I have lost my boy…… he’s now a man. And he will make someone so happy and i hope they appreciate what he has done for himself and who he has become….. and i hope they love him sooooo much and he feels it and embraces it and it makes him happy. As that will make me happy. His happiness is everything to me, and his life… even if it is not with me. Why? because the red string of fate says no one is a mistake ….. we know ‘every passing minute is another chance to turn it all around’ ……. and you never know we may meet in another life when we are both cats ; )   But for now we are healing…… grieving and learning. Learning to live without one another, learning to love ourselves and ‘consequences.’ I lost my boyfriend the day i gave up on him, i lost my boyfriend and my best friend. Maybe one day i will get my best friend back………because i miss him to the point of madness as no one ‘got’ me like him….. maybe we will be able to tell each other again one day … maybe when i see him again. Maybe he wont need a best friend like me… he will have a new one. I hope they are as cool as me. I hope they remind him of me.

Until then i have places to travel and uni to finish and goals to achieve i will never be able to say goodbye to him. Its just a ‘see you again/around’ As goodbyes are forever and i hate loosing people forever as i loose a part of my identity, my history …..a part of me, as he will hold a piece of me within him. Thats the punishment you get for loving someone, you loose a piece of yourself as you burry it in them……..so love is a loosing game no matter how careful or reckless you play.

Broken knees … A love unseen…

I always blog a image that has plucked at the chords of my heart or mind. This one is no different. This image has done both. I have broken my heart many time over the same guy. I have picked the splinters from my heart and tried to rid the maggots which were his lies from my mind. I have taken razors to my skin and whiskey to my lips in a bid to drown or banish the negativity he left me with.

Like a peasant i would fall to my knees and obey, I would tug at his arm to let him know on my knees is where i would stay if he would just love me one more day. I kneeled in a pool of blood waiting and praying….. I worshipped who i thought was a king. Then i found maggots in my infected knees… they had crept in, …because i hadn’t been paying attention to me, or my health. I saw him,and nothing else. So did i keep these maggots alive harvest them until they grew to flies? Did i pick them out throw them to the side and then fall back to my knees…. Or did i for this last time try and save myself.

I stood up and realised it felt good. I turned to walk away, maggots falling like glitter from my knees. With each wobbling step the maggots fell and left me lighter. The blood on my knees turned to a blacked flaky paint and I seen he wasn’t no king, or saint he was my biggest mistake. I wobbled away and dared to look back ….

I walked through corridors and halls, steps and stairs, through hell and limbo. I nursed my self through the grief. I grieved for me. Not him. Now my knees are still purple and marble blue, but thats the only sign i ever loved a fool. I hold my mind and think of all the times i regret in my life… and not walking away ‘that’ day in May, will always be my biggest regret. Sitting on the bench in September i will hate and forgiving you for your cruel mistakes. One day i will wake and maybe i will make peace and forgive myself because i cant blame him….. i can only blame myself. So with my blame i will take time to rest my heart and soothe my mind … I am taking it one step at a time. I am learning to walk im learning to stand …. Im learning to trust and put my hand in another mans hand. His palm is not violent and his charm not repulsive… Im not blinded and Im not jilted I know nothings for keeps….. but a hopeless romantic like me can dream….

 

You’ll find me among the souls of tombstones

I hold my breath under water sometimes and i see how long i can stay under water and holding my breath. Not because i want to beat my own best score or I’m even timing the minutes. I do it because a self destructing streak in me wants to see how far i can push me.. when the panic kicks in, when the heart beat quickens, when my body writhes fighting for air. Then I gasp up from the water choking on freshly breathed air. I have no fear of death, some days i welcome it, other days i envy the peace i will one day find in it. I actually love to be around it. I have decided as tomorrow will be a beautiful day and i have uni work to do, that instead of a coffee shop or library …I will go with my books to my favourite place with coffee ………….A graveyard. There are the most beautiful graveyards around here. Some are very old, some beautiful and kind of new, others are unkept and sing with a whistle of decades ago. I know them all, and love them all equally. Tomorrow shall be cathays graveyard, tomorrow i will walk for a while, past Henry Williams and his Wife, Iris. I will tilt my head and sigh, to be buried with your lover in death and to spend a mortal life with them alive is really something i admire. I will walk then further down the the stone with barely etched words and wonder what was their first name. Then come the trees and they give oxygen to the living and shade to the dead. Their roots curling round corpses caskets and keeping them safe. I can’t help but think of stories and rhymes, picture who they were and what their life was. I also think of what will become of me, a casket or a pod that will turn into a tree or will i be burnt and scattered somewhere.

 

The graveyard will be my retreat for a few hours of soul aching peace. Their is a certain energy in a graveyard …. I think so anyway. I will place down my coffee and choose one of my favourite spots under a tree. Then i will wait for the caretaker who is always fond of me to tell me at quarter to five he’s closing up. Sometimes he lets the gate at the bottom open for me …. and to let myself out when i please. I never leave it later than eight to slip through the gate. Sometimes people just know you need that extra time. Think its the look people can see in your eyes. So many places to hid and mine is a cemetery it calms my soul and mind. And makes me appreciate life.

 

 

The most unanswered question in history…..

The most scientific and extraordinary minds of the last few decades and even of this era have neither solved or defined what ‘Love’ actually is.  We ask about gravity, its a force, we ask about prehistoric species and evolution. We question quantum theory and the universe, we  know very little about what lurks at the bottom of our oceans. Yet we still ask. Yet where are the questions of what love is? how it came about? who named it love? who discovered this was a emotion a feeling not a sense? How can we know so little about something that governs so much. Why haven’t the different types of love been subcategorised? I love coffee, but not in the same way I love my child. Love is a word that is throw around and used on a daily basis in daily conversations. Both with the people we love and with people who are colleagues.

Love governs us on a spiritual level on a emotional level on a physical level and a mental level. How can one four letter word some up something so big, so complex so mysterious so obvious.

Love the most deadly and destructive drug alongside heroin. Its addictive its yearned for, it changed people, perspectives, personalities, morals senses of who we are, the rights and wrongs of the world. It physically can change us as well as mentally and emotionally. The experiences I have had for me to compare it to one of the most horrendous drugs in the world must tell you something.

 

I always think of love the ‘fantasy type’ the type i want as the poem written by johnDonne ‘The rising son’ The first time i heard or read that poem, i knew i wanted someone to love me like that. I wanted to be that to someone, and i wanted to feel what it was like to be loved by someone so completely that i can almost touch their soul.  I see many poets and writers writing about love, likening it to a summers day, a butterfly or even a personification of a object. Yet when i write poetry about love, I liken it to a hunger starved frenzied fuelled wolf. The ripping of the meat the dying of they prey the oblivious wolf at his own instincts obeying his need for hunger opposed to the precious life of another, whom would not of turned on him through hunger. I suppose that doesn’t make me a hopeless romantic like i once thought i was, maybe it makes me a cynical realist.

 

My experience of love is that ‘ love does not conquer all’ It ‘destroys all’ confidence, self esteem it doesn’t make you feel beautiful it makes you insecure about your beauty. It does not comfort it makes you uncomfortable at the way he can so easily stray. The competition the idealism that i have to compete with with other girls, the images in magazines, and the perfection that so many girls seem to achieve so naturally.  I don’t care much for beauty. I know i am pretty and part of a genetic lottery that i won. Same with my physical appearance my body is slender with curves apple in the right places. I have no stretch marks, beautiful blue eyes, high cheekbones, a splattering of freckles and the ability to be whatever hair colour i desire and still look good. I am intelligent I am smart I am witty, I’am creative and I have my own house, car, business, child etc yet at approaching thirty I have not experienced a love that hasn’t left me scared so deeply that it is more feared than welcomed. Would you welcome a thief into your house after he has stole from you over and over again ? no… you wouldn’t it’s common sense.

 

So when can I ask and who do I ask what love is? why is it craved when its the most deadly thing on earth…… ?

Because simply, when its good……………. nothing else compares to it. When its good its the best drug for your senses to spring to life, for you to glow for you to be excited about. It is the one thing that makes us feel like we are truly someone.

Love is……..

 

It just is the most powerful thing to exist between two humans. I was told recently by a woman that had been married twice and lost her husband of 48 years to cancer three weeks ago to not give up the hope of love. I will share with you her story …..

Her first husband was a bastard and left her with two children, she gave him everything even her love, and was repaid with nothing but abuse and neglect. She met her second husband an used the cliche ‘ It was love at first sight’ As if she could read my mind, she held my arm and said ‘Its ok i didn’t believe in it either’ She then said that from that moment on she she she would marry him. I asked the most obvious question any novice would “didn’t you ever want to walk like leave?” Oh she said ‘We had our ups and down and once i did, I left for six weeks. He had been diagnosed with cancer and i told him don’t you dare die on me and leave me with four kids.” She gave a laugh at the fond memory and i think my heart cracked. I hope one day I can look back so fondly at my time with someone. So I asked why she left….

“I left because he sunk into such a deep depression, he wouldn’t leave the house, and i told him, you are coming to the shop with me, and he protested as his appearance was noticably ill. I told him i didn’t give a damn what he looked like i loved him and i was proud to be with such a fighter. He was mine and i was proud of him. But after he recovered from cancer he ended up taking a lot out on me and he wasn’t the man i married so i left. I had a breakdown and i left i found a little flat and i left. Six weeks and he realised what he had lost how much he loved me and we started dating again and we got back together. And I’m glad we did. It wasn’t easy to trust a man after my first husband, not at all. A cheat and a liar. But my second husband, well he would go out with the boys and get up to some tricks. But he knew who he loved and who made him happy, he knew i was loyal and waiting at home for him. And he respected me and my love enough never to betray me. That is what a man is, a respectable man that knows a woman worth.”

At this point I was crying, yet she was the one who lost her husband five weeks ago or there about, her ‘soul mate’ and i was crying. I had lost someone in a different way seven weeks ago and i wish i could talk as fondly as she could about her husband.

This woman was 76 years old and wore higher heels than i ever could balance in her appearance was pristine and her experience of love amazing. Even the fact on her 25th wedding anniversary they went on holiday and the couple next door were honeymooning, yet the newly wedded couple actually complained about the 25th year married couple for  the ‘noise’ they made. I laughed so hard when i found this out, as she so openly told me. So good sex is also the key to a happy marriage. So i asked her of the wisdom of her experience of love….

Her words simple ‘Don’t give up on love, it does exist the real love the soul mate type does, believe me. But don’t ever settle for anything less than someone loving you the best they can. Do not ever let a love be a sad or fearful type of love, as thats not love. And always be willing to compromise and express your feelings, as someone who loves you will never take them for granted or disrespect them. And most of all, smile, always smile my sweetheart, as its the only time the eyes to our soul opens up, and your eyes look beautiful when you smile.’

How she could see my smile or my eyes through my tears that would not stop creeping down my face i don’t know. But I can’t help but feel a bit cynical about love, as If its so good and soul mates are possible then why haven’t I got that hopeful feeling i once had. What if i had my soul mate and I walked away, how would i know? how would i know if the love of my life has been and gone or is yet to come? I love people in so many different ways and no lover i have ever loved in the same way. They have all been different apart from all hurting me so much it feels like my souls already in hell.

Love – the thing we know so little about but is still the reason we breath