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.

 

 

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I am not sorry……………..

These last few weeks have been another rolla-coaster. I have started uni and college back up, i have had a relationship break down due to infidelity (his not mine, as usual) and I have enjoyed some of the best days of my life in his absence. It is funny how these break ups work, as before i had a ache when we broke up, A void i desperately tried to fill, with coffee, activities, reading and outings, alongside obviously my poetry and my photography. Now, there is no ache. The ache became so strong because i was so weak. He had the power, he made me feel unworthy, and unequal, so i took the power back and stopped loving him. I did, and it worked. I seen him for who he was, and i realised that he never made me happy, or feel safe or secure. He did nothing positive for me, but i loved him anyway. Thats the cruel thing about love, sometimes you have to be hurt to the point of being dead, before you can be resurrected. When you know, hey this isn’t my fault, your whole world changes, your self worth changes and you perspective changes.

See it is them we always think have to change, they have to stop cheating, they have to stop lying, they have to stop being so selfish. This is absurd because it isnt them that has to change it is you, you have to change. Its you that has to not want to be treated like this anymore and stop allowing them to treat you like this, only them will your life, your heart and soul heal.

This image is a very simple image, and thats what i wanted it to be, because of the simplicity of life, and freedom, and what living is. You can have a simple life if you choose or you can complicate your life. I chose to finally give myself some much needed simplicity and it is the most valuable and beautiful thing i have done for myself. This shoot was the best day of my year, i spent it with my friend and daughter. We swan we laughed we shot, and we ate, and we relaxed. I was free of anxiety, of stress, my mind for once was completely focused on the day i was in the day mentally and emotionally as well as physically. I wasn’t thinking, ‘what is he doing’ i wasn’t looking at my phone, i was fearing what he was up to or who he was speaking to. I was just living for me, and it felt amazing. I know how hard a break up can be i know how hard it is some days to even get out of bed, or even make it through a hour without crying. I understand the sense of loss and the sense of loneliness i do. I have been through it all, never thinking you will ever smile or feel normal again, or even happy. But it happens, i promise, i really do, the moment you start concentrating on you.

Then the inevitable comes, the message from him, the apology, the realisation of what he has done. But I am not sorry, I am not sorry he done what he done, he done me a favour, he killed the last bit of me. And i thank him for that because from my death i was reborn.  And sorry means nothing when its done again and again, he was only sorry he got caught again. I am sorry i stayed too long I am sorry i made so many excuses for him, I am sorry i wasn’t better to myself, and loved myself more to walk away sooner. Don’t relieve my mistakes, know your self worth and never let anyone devalue you…….

Another time

image

Today I had two new tattoos. Every tattoo I have has a very deep and personal meaning. But these two I etched my skin with today both have a beautiful meaning. And the semi colon one being another close one to my heart. I have suffered anxiety, depression as I have bipolar disorder….. I have been suicidal and I have been a mess. But still I am here….. as a writer …poet and artist I chose to have this on my thumb  as from my greatest depths of mental health hell …have transpired into some of my greatest images or most compelling poems …..so I thought it only fitting as a author and artist to have it on my thumb ….where I hold the mouse to my canvas or the pen to leak my pain onto a page……

No escape…..

witching hour5

For when I close my eyes, and surrender to the possibilities of my mind, i throw the dice, and hope my darkest fears don’t liquify to life. Where they have been lurking in the shadows of the thoughts that i despise. In my reverie I find little comfort, as I still immortalise the world I have lived in through my sapphire eyes. In my darkest dreams I am a prisoner to myself bound and tied in worrying of the mind. I seek comfort in the body laying next to mine, but he wakes to my screams and my soaked skin. In the pale blue moonlight dew drops of liquid fear cover my body like marriage diamonds to my inner most hauntings. My nightie clings to the contours of my body, he pulls off my nightie, and holds my naked body as i tremble. Smoothing my snake like hair from my face he asks me what has caused me to be in such a state. My eyes adjust and i see the moons light touching his worried eyes. My heart sinks and i condemn my tongue to never utter the truths that has molested my body and thoughts. I steady my heart and he steadies my hands ………… “It was just a nightmare” he soothes, wiping the curves of my spine …….”Yeah….” I muster.
Hey lays me down and wraps himself around me, and whispers, “Im here, i’ll protect you” My eyes search the room for a comforting sights, as the shadows that dance are not what anyone would see in the daylight. The bear on my bed, sitting watching me, staring with blacken soulless eyes, doing nothing but watching and stalking my body as its paralysed with fright. His smile turns sinister and his arm begins to move, i stare more intense not blinking, my muscles stiffen and Im there again. In the reality of life, where nothing makes sense.

To be human, in these times of crisis both environmental and governmental we forget what we are. Human. I wonder how many people carry with them guilt, the guilt of not being able to do all the things expected of them, with families, partners, work commitments, friends and social commitments, and that of  school or educational commitments, then the laundary or housework alongside the expectations to still be perfectly groomed and appealing. Or if not perfectly groomed at least fit. This is about the worst type of world to be in, whereby guilt becomes our shadow.

The ability to do something we find pleasure in, and find time for, for ourselves, is seen as not important. But this is essentially what makes us human, the ability to enjoy the world and indulge in our desires our passions, our hobbies. If you ask ten people what their hobbies are, at least six or seven of them will have to think on this question. WHy? because they havent got time have a hobby a passion or pleasure. The rest will probably name a hobby, but when the next question comes along,” how often do you get to practice your hobby or indulge in it’ They will probably have to think of the last time they did. Which saddens me so much. Everyone deserves to be human, to do something that is not a means to a end but a source of pleasure and satisfaction.

When was the last time you sat at a coffee shop and people watched, watch the world pass you by and just relax. Not be bound to a appointment so you kill tie at a coffee shop, or wait for a friend, to socialise with. But just sit and indulge in time and peace.

Or when was the last time you sat on the beach, not to occupy the children as a day trip out to meet the requirements of a ‘day out’ but just sat there, watched the tied rolling in and out, notice how no two waves ever caress the sea the same as they meet the shore. See the clouds prancing across the sky, and their changing shape. Into animals or faces or flowers? When was the last time you watched a sunset or a sunrise properly sat there to watch one, the colours of pink and purple merging melting into a liquid gold or amber stream? When did you last sit in the woods, watch the shadows and lights change on the floor or hear the bird singing.

Whether it be reading, ( my favourite) or sunsets (another favourite) riding your horse (another guilty pleasure of mine) no matter what it is that brings you such immense tranquility and pleasure and peace. When was the last time you done it? and didnt feel guilty for doing it? essentially when was the last time you connected with your soul and fed it peace and pleasure.. and enjoyed being human. They say mental health disorders are primarily due to environment, I agree, If i havent done something i enjoy for a week i find my mood dip dramatically.

Schools teach children so much, but they do not teach them the things they require as humans not as governmental commodities. Did you know that your birth certificate registers you as the governments commodity? schools dont teach you your human rights, why? because its normally government run schools. They do not teach you about the government or the voting systems or politics, why? because knowledge is power and knowledge is what makes people question. Children are not taught of their common law rights, either. Why? because alot of legal laws will be flawed by the common law and the government wants to repress and control. The schools dont teach you how to be human, or enjoy being human or what it consists of, it literally just conditions you to become a drone and something that makes it money.

A sad truth, So please everyone indulge in what makes you human, enrich your life’s, your mental and emotional and spiritual state as right now alot the only thing that really defines us as not robotic workhorses is a name.

It can be …… whatever you so wish it to be.

The freedom of a artist is boundless, as boundless as the mind it is conceived in and born through whatever medium deemed by said artist. I guess I am luckier than most, because I have a mental health disorder and i take little pills that keep me as balanced as they can. I often wonder however without such medication what i would be like, and i find it quite said that the chemical imbalance in my brain causes me to live with such a stigma. A stigma that is attached to anyone with a mental health disorder. I know that based on my family, that I am different from them. I have such little in common with them, and it causes me to drift further away mentally and emotionally, and also physically. I see them maybe once every two weeks, maybe. My mother does not understand my illness and as a parent feels somewhat responsible, as for all intents and purposes she created me. I understand this as i am a mother myself. However how she handles such a situation is completely different to what i would with my daughter. But as individuals we handle things different. Me and my mother are not close, she is closer to my younger sister which is understandable as she can relate better to her. Me and my mother have one thing in common our love for my daughter. My sister another subject, we have nothing in common, at one point when she was growing up when i had moved out at 15 were so close and during the period of me being 17 she lived with me and my daughter. I know all families are different, i do not envy families whom are close, as to me, to keep everyone happy is somewhat exhausting. I cant help but wonder however what a close family would entail, a curiosity like anyone would have.

I find it fulfilling however that I have such a private life from my family, although i actually have a sister and mother i find my family is my daughter and partner which is nice. Its like a subdivision that im a major fan of. Those this does pose some issues, As a mother i often wonder about my illness in later years with my daughter. WHen i relapse like everyone with a mental health disorder eventually encounters. I have had two relapses in the last four years. One was primarily due to stress with uni and my partner his ex and a situation that was pure hell. As she was lying he was lying and i didnt know what to believe. Thankfully all that has been dispelled despite a little cloud still being there. Her checking my blog daily and a few times a day, my facebook page, within seven minutes of me uploading something the hit was clicked. Although this does not bother me, its somewhat flattering in a way, it also makes me think why? so then i check her stuff every couple of weeks. And still bitterness ensues. Although she likes to think she has the upper hand unfortunately still does not, knot knowing that my phone has changed and my internet provider three months ago and what she talks about in-depth with on her social media sites has no interest to me. I visit her twitter occasionally because of her daily visits to my in-depth blog, and flickr account. Considering such a toxic situation was apparent with us I am unsure what she thinks she is gaining or what she thinks she is gaining, or winning, by constantly mentioning her ex or having digs. Unfortunately the only person whom perceives themselves as mental unstable at the moment is not me but her. But because i have a label, I have the stigma attached. Which leads me to think that the most dangerous and unstable people are those whom are not diagnosed yet. As they are blind to their own mental state, deeming it as normal. when it is anything but that.

I am a pretty open person regarding my illness I also volunteer a day a week at a call center to offer support to those with mental illnesses, and I attend a self help counselling group whereby i counsel people whom suffer from self harm. This has made my life be somewhat more meaningful. Alot of the people i counsel with self harm are young girls, and this is so alarming. AS a mother i want to hug them, but as a person whom knows and experienced this myself all i can do is educate them, and their families. Their parents namely as this is where the biggest misconception lies in the parents view on this. I know this sounds alarming for those whom do not suffer with the impulses to harm themselves but i think it healthy and normal. A ancient tribe practice this, and call it blood letting. In which they view it as releasing and cleansing their souls through releasing negativity and toxins from the body.  I find people whom binge drink odd, or people who go out start fights, or take drugs, as self harm is seen as a coping mechanism, but so are so many other ‘normal’ things. I use the word ‘normal’ as society deems these acceptable but self harming is not. Maybe its just my perspective, maybe its just i think different because of my illness. But i wouldnt change the way I am ever. And if bipolar makes me think this way and provides me with little additional gifts of intelligence and creativity that defines me different from my family, I say I am glad that I have this disorder.