injury

this post is slowly written by my left hand. I have injured my right hand quite badly that all computer work and any kind of movement with my usual right hand is extremely painful, I do not know how long this will last. So, I expect to be inactive on this blog for at least a month.

Sorry everyone xx

Henry’s project and vampires in the family?

Henry has dragged me into his school project and the school has requested the family tree.  Well, it will take me around 2 weeks to type and print it all up from Genesreunited because I can’t afford to have the site deliver it to me.

Curiously I realised there is a historic name there of a 2x great grandmother who apparently fled Brasov in the 1870s because of accusations she was a vampire, which is interesting and funny, considering I am obsessed with vampire mythology and never noticed her name before!  Vakarelski! 

It is even more amusing that she is on my father’s side of the family, because my grandmother of my mother’s side said we are Romanian on her side (though I found no proof yet), so it looks like I may have Romanian in two lines after all!

No dreamtime respite

I used to look forward to going into dream time because it was a respite from the harsh realities I have to live with; but in recent months, sometimes my dreams are worse than reality.

It seems as though everything in dream time is hyped up into showing me my worst fears or accentuating my deepest worries into something more sinister.

I used to have nightmares like this all the time right up until I was 19, then they faded until only last summer.

Usually the dreams would be symbolic to the problems I was facing in real life, these days, those very problems are very clear and prominent in dream time, and they are no longer hiding in the facades of monsters and giant aggressive animals like when I was a child.  They are for what they are, the people I have the problems with and with the exact concerns I have cropping up into my dream time every single night.

There doesn’t seem to be a safety place anymore, it is gone, dream time was my safe place and it’s betrayed me.

Only last night I dreamt that a person I have problems with in real life, was there, we moved house, but a worse neighbour was waiting for me at that new house, so we decided to move back to our old house.  So, it seemed in this dream that whenever we tried to go back to the less worse problem we would arrive at a cul-de-sac where worse problems and scenarios were turning up to ruin my plans.  Every movement made the whole thing worse at every turn.

Though we are planning to move house when the money to do so comes, we are still keeping the house in a trust for Henry my son.  Henry wants to keep this house in the family, because it has been a part of his father’s family for 64yrs and Henry loves his ancestry and is currently doing a big project at home about his family tree to show his school at the end of the year.  This project was not prompted by his school; this is just something Henry wants to do.

One thing is clear though, I no longer feel there is privacy or safety within my own home anymore; especially when the neighbour causing problems is leaving ladders out in the front garden overnight and won’t listen to Paul when he suggests that maybe not a safe thing to do?

What makes it a whole lot worse is I had insomnia before he became a problem, now I just fear to sleep at all now, hence why I do nothing anymore, no energy!

Health update 12th June 2021

Because I am spending more time in bed due to my immune system having a major crash for the last week, nearly two weeks now, I have re-established my addiction to Codeword puzzles.

I seem to be completing them faster these days; I am starting to become a bit more of a word geek than I was before. 

Also, I tried to get back into playing online word games such as word tornado and scrabble on my laptop in bed as I decided I could do things in bed on my laptop as at least I would be more productive than just watching YouTube videos on TV and reading books.  But guess what?  BT decided to update this areas exchanges so internet connection has been tetchy and almost non-existent, so I can’t do that or watch YouTube on TV without a disruption every 15 minutes.

I thought only last Thursday to do this, take the laptop upstairs, play word games and update my blog in bed as I don’t like how my illness dictates to me how much work I do, because I’d rather work downstairs on the desktop computer.  Friday afternoon BT alerted us for the coming week that they will be updating everything and they apologise for any disturbances that they might cause during this time.

I would say “typical” but I am not that kind of person, because I know that certain thought patterns can affect your reality and make things happen.  But I do take it as a sign that Paul is right about the universe trying to get me to rest, because it is hard for me to sit back and rest entirely.  I have never been the kind of person who relishes in relaxing and living with Paul has been an education in that at least.

So, I am here, on my desktop again, only to update this blog and have my dinner before going back up.  I am having a really bad day with my arthritis, inflammation, ear infection and migraine.  I can barely eat because my IBD and IBS is bad too, in fact it is becoming a major concern for Paul and the doctors, because I am now eating in deficit, I am losing inches but not weight which is also confusing.

Since Christmas I have lost 3 and a half inches but no actual pounds, it is visible loss but not scalable other than measurements.  I am not exactly changing my diet either, I just physically can’t eat a whole sandwich anymore, I am having what Paul terms as micro meals or not-so-posh-nouveau-cuisine, just to eat something.  Thing is, I really need a tiny half tea plate of food around 5 times a day to be at the calories I need, but I only really get around 2 now.

My mother if she knew about this wouldn’t believe how little I am eating lately and it’s not by choice, it’s because of pain and the inability to keep things down.  If I eat a whole sandwich, I will vomit some of it back and that’s not bulimia, it’s just my body rejecting it.  I have a stupid amount of vitamin and mineral tablets I have to take daily because of this.

I joked to the doctor once about how I must be the only fat person they will know to die of malnutrition, in fact they shocked me with their reply; “it’s more common than you think”.  He said.

Let’s put it this way, my mother used to serve me up 6 to 8 fish fingers with 2 or 3 fish cakes, 2 slices of bread, half a can of beans and half a plate of chips as a regular once a week meal.  These days, she doesn’t feed me; she hasn’t seen me in years.  But now if she still knew me she would be shocked that I could only be served 2 fish fingers, two slices of bread, 1 fish cake, 1 spoon of beans, 1 tong serving of chips and I won’t eat everything before my stomach plays up!  This is a bad example of my regular food intake, because that is what I am eating today.  Usually I have stir fry, salad, and veggie frittata (despite egg problem), casserole with veg, or chili (for some reason my stomach can cope with chili despite the disease, which is baffling to everyone).

Yesterday I had quinoa, with beef chili, loads of Mediterranean vegetables, yesterday’s meal was the biggest meal I ate without a problem all week, but I still only ate half of it, but at least it was around 800 calories.

Which was a big contrast to the day before that, as that dinner was 2 slices of vegan cheese on toast, onion, tomatoes, peppers, and a side of celery and carrot and that was it, I couldn’t eat anything else the whole day!

But this has been normal for almost 2yrs, just got worse around 3 months ago.

I’m permanently exhausted and in pain and I am bruising way too easily too.

In a nutshell, my life sucks.

Happy reading!

Am I wrong? A poem

I don’t like life

It hurts too much

What is the point of living if I can’t do such and such?

Why am I here?

Why do I live?

What does a person like me have to give?

What is the point of carrying on?

So I can sit and write you more depressing songs?

Or tell me please… am I wrong?

Immune system bites

I feel whooped by my own body

I wake in the morning feeling like I have been in a fight

My immune system bites

And I do not like

Life is pain

So is love

Life is Hell

But… Oh Well…

Gardening was a help

My depression was getting better and the suicidal thoughts were abating on a huge scale three years ago, because of gardening.  Last year my neighbour has got into a new relationship with a man who is creepy and weird and likes to harass and make me uncomfortable when in my garden to such an extent I haven’t touched or been in my garden to do anything since September 2020. 

The thing is, Paul says there is nothing we can do about a neighbour who is like that unless he becomes an actual physical threat, unless we record him on film doing things.  We don’t have the money to set up cameras with microphones to keep tabs on his behaviour so Paul more or less has a shrug it off attitude about it.  So I don’t garden anymore.

I miss it a lot and I wish we could move away, but Paul just can’t.  We can’t afford to for one thing and for another, this house is suffering from rising damp and the roof is broken in two parts.  We also have persistent black mould, which we have to constantly clean away.  The house is worth good money, but we have to knock 40k off it because of its condition, there are no houses in this area we could buy with what would be left for us, on the sale of this.  Well, not a house in which I could have a garden, there are houses but their gardens are literally 10ft by 10ft, they are basically courtyards of townhouse terraces.

It wouldn’t be so bad but this neighbour is also wilfully destructive, he will lean over the fence and literally cut anything he sees peeping up, whether it is leaning into his garden or not.  He has leant over the fence quite a lot on some cases and nearly fell into our garden to do so in order to cut branches of our pine and ash.  He has started to do something I don’t like as well, which is he is trying to reach over to get my blackberry and train it on a chicken wire netting he has placed on his fence, but Paul keeps going out to snip it just as he thinks he has a chance to get it.

He is a rotten man, there are other things but I won’t mention them.  He also accidentally on purpose stumbles off our shared garden path in the front garden to stomp all over my forget-me-nots, dahlias, lilies, nasturtiums and I have caught him trying to take tomatoes, strawberries and mint from the garden too.

He doesn’t like birds sitting on the fence; he will scare them away or spray them with hoses.  He knows we have two bird feeders and like birds in our garden, but he makes sure they don’t stay long!

My cousin taught me a saying once and I laughed at it, it really does apply to this man “that I can’t believe he was the sperm that won”!

Ugh

I miss gardening and I miss lounging in the garden for hours on end reading from April to October every year.

I really have a strong desire to create a food forest garden, but with a nature hating neighbour like that, it is not going to be easy.  Our gardens are 30ft wide and 50ft long in the back garden; he has decked three quarters of his garden and terraced it making the other bits just lawn. 

He is also an insect squisher.  It is hard for someone like me who loves nature and wants to protect it and rewild spaces with my silly hippy idealisms, to see that someone like that exists only to be destructive as it would seem. 

I am particularly sad that I am very passive and I am not known for being particularly assertive, for me to live with a man who is the same.  I feel there is no defence against such a rotter and I have heard him loudly proclaim in big raucous laughter to his brother and friends that we don’t care what he does to our garden and that makes me feel very hurt and angry and sad.

I asked Paul to get some kind of advice about this, but he seems to think it’s all hopeless, there is no one and nothing we can do against such a person.

So I don’t know what to do.

I hope he doesn’t stay there, but it looks like he might be there for a long haul.

Happy reading I suppose.

Poetry.com is back!

I got an email telling me that Poetry.com is back, up and running again and this is so exciting for me!

I used to post on there daily and sometimes several times a day and I was getting a good reputation on there until it closed down.

I may now post my poetry only on there, but I am unsure. I did originally want this blog to be more focused on my redefining myself, finding myself, my path to a better me and my creative career. I also wanted this blog to concentrate on snippets, advice and short stories. Poetry was not really meant to be a part of this blog.

I don’t know, perhaps I will still post here but also Poetry.com?

I know that Poetry.com also likes songs and lyrics etc, so I will be more inclined to write those again, which is great!

My username at Poetry.com is TardyCreative, so see you there!

I am not giving this blog up, don’t worry, I plan to become active on here for a very long time!

Happy Reading!

Internet bliss

I lived my life becoming what you wanted me to be

A nothing, a loser, a carer, a woman who lives solitarily

So you can have your nursie when you old become

You hoped I’d have no intelligence; you wanted me to be dumb

But I was bright as a button and I did my lessons well

I wanted children, a family

To you that’s a life of Hell!

So you treated me more cruelly in the hope that I would stay

Because my confidence you’ll shatter, of course I couldn’t stray!

But you didn’t understand solace, with books and with my friends

The internet provided them; they were my god-send

You cursed the day my brother presented me with this

A world full of possibilities, the internet was bliss!

So you tried to make me isolated even more than that

You said you’ll pull the plug September

I was absolutely sure of that

So I left in July and met Paulie

He is the one who set me free

Your cruelty can no longer touch me

For I have woken up you see!

The art of indifference

Struggling with depression on a major scale in the past four days, it could either be because of my immune system crashing around me, my hormones or the fact that there is something I miss deeply and no one understands.  I am desperate to express myself on this matter, but I can’t without coming across as nuts, so I don’t bother.

No one understands the kind of person that I am, I have tried in the past to talk it through with other people, but let me tell you, there is only so much another person’s mind can take, before they switch off and decide perhaps you’re too messed up to talk to again?

Yet to me the only thing that remains abundantly clear to me and would be very healing to me is this… just talking freely with a non-judgemental person, whilst snuggling with said person and being loved, genuinely loved, without obligations for anything other than my reciprocation to them.

The kind of person I am, the liberal-mindedness that I have as well as my spirituality makes me a difficult person to befriend. 

The notion that I see everyone as family, but will avoid certain people if they make me feel supressed or judged in any way, is something that some people find hard. 

The fact that I believe in open relationships and I am bisexual and I am quite open about my likes as dislikes as I am not ashamed of who I am, so why should others be?

 The fact that I am both a humanist and a spiritual person; which cannot really describe my beliefs as I am my own unique mix: 

The idea too that I am healing from a huge mass of abuse and hiding a truly awful history and only tell people the thin surface of my life via getting in touch with my inner child and creative self, which means to onlookers think I am an irresponsible weird, immature, Pollyanna who is a tad too spooky for their liking. 

The idea I grow and eat weeds in my garden and let most of my garden be wild and talk to the wildlife that I come across as freely as any child. 

The idea that I get hyperactive after consuming candies and I react like any high child would!

The fact that I get so absorbed by my own imagination and blocking out the bad stuff in my mind from the past with fantasy after fantasy, to the extent I lose track of time and sometimes forget how old I am. 

All of this… is hard for other people. 

Which I find ironic, because I have actually lived through harder things that just listening and observing someone healing themselves!  It’s quite funny really, that people have the audacity to tell me, that they find my life too hard for them, that they have to leave.  Don’t they realise that in order to heal and be better, they need someone to care, but someone who can be impartial, just a listener, just a support with kind words and affirmations.  That just sharing who you are as raw as possible, should build such a strong friendship, a bond to last?  It’s not someone trying to offload their burden onto your shoulders, that is impossible, you could never feel as bad as that person feels, because your experiences are different! 

Until those moments, a lot of those people in my past were very nearly, very close friends with me.  But they, like everyone, wants to know you more and want to pry into your secrets, but then they run away when once they know the true past you’ve hidden from them!  My past is not criminal, my past is not the past of a junkie or a drunk or an abuser of any sort, my past is the past of a victim.  That is all.  I could understand if my personal past was more sordid, but it’s not, that’s what baffles me the most! 

I often want to shout at people who decide they can’t cope with what they know about me to the extent they can’t look at me anymore, but I don’t because I am very passive by nature.  I am very accepting that nobody really cares and I am alone on an emotional level in the world and perhaps always will be.

I want to shout out “Well what about me?  I can’t do that, gee thanks for leaving me to cope on my own then, you coward”!  Who needs friends like those anyways?

Then there are those who say they would stick around, if only I cried.  It’s the fact that I don’t cry that gets people thinking it’s a lie.  They don’t consider that showing emotions and crying is actually extremely bad in my family and that being an emotional person is beaten out of you!  You are around violence so much that you learn when someone shouts at you, that you don’t take their eyes off them a moment, you stare unblinking at them and don’t show emotion, because it could be dangerous if you did.  Much better to switch everything off whilst staying fully alert at all times! 

So, because I don’t cry, they think I lie. 

It is this reason that I find it hard to truly heal, even therapists have had to give up my case because they too, couldn’t cope and they were in tears, whereas I was passing them the tissues with dry eyes unmoved by them!

Ironic

This is why I often dream of suicide, dream of starting again.

But I am terrified.

Because if life is a lesson that I have to learn before I am allowed better things, then do I have to live through all of this again in another life?  Hell no!

I can’t!

My soul will surely self-destruct if that were true!

Thing is, I do cry.  I cry all the time, alone in my bed when no one is around.  I cry alone in the spare room, if it is night time, because its ingrained into me, no one should see you being weak, not ever, not no how!

Happy Reading I suppose, I wasn’t happy writing this and felt I should delete it, but who knows, maybe you’ll care?