Be ready to play

So, spiritual warfare it is

I know you set them to do it

I know you are a coward in your heart

You are too scared to touch this shit

You want to play in the dark

To make a thing go away

But it grows stronger under attack, in every single way!

I know who you are and what you do

And you won’t win for I am onto you

I haven’t messed with magic for love

I don’t do things like this

But I will stand for my right to be

I won’t stand for your piss

I will defend my life with fire

I can’t help his desire

But if you want to play in the flames with me

Be ready to go down with me!

Either way

Well that’s what they said, I don’t know if it’s true

Things are confusing me and confusing you

Dreams come and then they go

I don’t know which one to trust or follow

I don’t know light, I don’t know dark

I think I will just follow my own path

I can’t keep dithering which way to go

Because in reality, I do not know!

All I know is I am in love

Whether he is a raven or a dove

I belong with him

Deep in his arms

Regardless good or bad his charms

And when he comes I will know who I am

Because either way, I could be damned

Silver demon

It’s dark out there

In the night

The moon is the only light

Blinded by the dense black

I look through the window but I look back

I see only myself reflected there

Trying to see out, but there’s a glare

I dim the light to see more

And what I saw shook me to the core

For under the oak I saw a tail

It slithered and made a silver trail

It raised its head at looked at me

Two silver eyes as cold as cold can be

It went to the cabbages and began to munch

On the green leaves his midnight lunch

The demonic snail, the king of them all

Eating my cabbages with fervour and gall!

I’d chase him off but he was bigger than me

Ate the whole row of ten!

Bet you don’t believe me!

But he will be back next month for more

Until then I’ll lock my door

For it’s an unnatural thing that snail

This is why the house is for sale!

Vomiting rainbows?

I’m going to rant a little.

It looks to me as though people really enjoy depressing content.

Since being a little more chipper on my blog and avoiding melancholy, I’ve noticed I have lost nearly 200 followers in a week… really?

I mean, really?

Never mind the fact that I am a real human being who has a hard time and she is trying to buck herself up and get out there in a lighter way, in a happier way… oh no, she’s getting happy, let’s unfollow her!

I’m sorry but I do what I do, when I do it.

You have to accept my ups as much as you accepted my downs.

If you can’t tolerate that, then I am sorry to say good riddance.

It is a real struggle to deal with suicidal thoughts and depression, whilst trying to handle the PTSD of the violence I’ve experienced throughout my life. 

I don’t need private emails from people suggesting that I am trying to cover up my depression by vomiting rainbows and statements like that and how they believe I genuinely don’t have depressions because I try to do that from time to time.  I am sorry, but I do.

I am genuinely suicidal in comes and goes in bouts and I vomit rainbows to try and stop myself from going over the edge! I have to and if you can’t hack it, then keep away and keep your nasty comments to yourselves!

Thanks for reading, for those who stay with me through thick and thin, through the darkness and the light!

Losing the fight

One thing about me is I am good at not showing negative emotions.  Online it seems like I am a drama queen that I am suckered into my emotions and I go to dark places and I seem self-absorbed. 

Offline however, I hide it.  I hide myself when I am down so I don’t bring down others I am around.

I am an empath; I soak up energies of other people, even just by thinking about them I can kind of get a feel what’s going on in their lives.  So I respect that other people might be empathic too.

It’s a real hard adjustment living with someone who is as apathetic in life as I am; it’s like a prison of despair in a very real sense.

I never used to be like this.  I am trapped in depression because I am around apathetic or superficial people, or people who just seem unemotional a lot of the time.

I used to be such a happy Pollyanna type; those days seem very far away right now. 

I am getting to the point I am losing my strength to fight it and carry on, I am getting into a hopeless place.

Gradually over the months I’ve lost more and more of my appetite, to the extent I think soon I will not even bother to try and eat.  I have only just realised today that it’s actually probably due to depression that I can’t eat, because on the days I have been able to eat a little more, things have been a little lighter around me.

I am doing less and less as time goes by, it’s like I am a clockwork doll which is about to lose her energy at any moment and there is no one left to wind me up again.  Isolation has done that to me, isolation and a lazy superficial person I live with.

I needed Samaritans today, but I am deaf, I can’t speak on the phone – they don’t do text speech yet in my area apparently, but it’s coming soon…

Will it come soon enough?

I try to hide when I cry, I don’t like people seeing me like that, imagine how awkward it was for me when Henry walked in on me because I lost track of time and he came home from school and rushed to my bedroom to give me one of his ever increasingly rare hello hugs and instantly his smile became a face of concern. 

Guilt, that’s what hit me when I saw his face, cold hard guilt.

I had my hoodie up and I shielded my eyes but he is a smart boy, he wasn’t convinced when I faked a cold.

He demanded to know what caused it and hugged me as he became firm about getting to the bottom of it.

He left eventually. 

What bothers me is not that he caught me, but that his father came into the room just ten minutes before completely unfazed by how he found me.  He never asked any questions other than when I wanted dinner and was eager to leave again without battering an eyelid.  When Paul left, I got worse, because one of the reasons why I was upset was because I felt lonely and I felt no one could care if I were to die tomorrow.

To me, this proved it.

No one but Henry would.

Perhaps I am selfish, perhaps I am a drama queen – perhaps tomorrow I will snap out of it?

Perhaps!

But right now, I am losing heart to try anymore. 

I am tired of broken dreams, broken promises, and snapshots of a better future without any proof or real taste of it.  I am tired of the lies; I am tired of people using me as a pawn in a game.

I am tired. 

Thanks for reading…

Time lines

I am going to try and remember to get into the habit of posting a time stamp of when certain poems have been written, so you can get a time-line.

I think that could be very valuable or at least a valuable insight.

Because as I have mentioned a couple of days ago, I don’t always post poems immediately when written for that day – there are sometimes delays.  Some days a poem will be up on my blog and it is a dark poem but I might actually be happy that day and some people misunderstand that today is not a dark day, which was a dark moment, days or even weeks ago and this was a scheduled post.

So I think it’s important to start sharing when I have written things.

From now onwards I will do that – but bear in mind that there are at least twenty poems pre-scheduled to be posted that I don’t remember when they were written, so we have to just go with it for a while

Thanks for reading! 

Stinky dog deposit

I remember the cacophonous laughter of all the nags in my life

Picking and tweaking, jibbering and jabbering with their speaking

Tearing fingers and knives into my heart making wounds

Sometimes in spoons they take my faith of man away

Take my dreams to laugh and play

And threw them into a dark room

Locked up and lost the key

Wondering who will come and save me?

Make me remember the time before

They closed me in and shut the door

Called me an evil dark whore

And fed me lies and nail like words

Saying I am strange and absurd

A forgotten thing left in a closet

Like some stinky dog deposit

To this day I don’t know what caused it

But to this day my life’s been shit

Bleak to positive

I’m trying my best to try and think of more positive things lately, it is actually harder than I thought it would be and that is a huge contrast to the person that I used to be; I was often considered a bit of a Pollyanna – if you don’t know who Pollyanna is, Pollyanna is a little girl who always found something good about things that happened until one day she had an accident and couldn’t walk anymore and she found it hard to find anything good to say and the people she shone her light on – all came in mass to remind her of her old way of thinking when she was in her darkest hour.

For the past nine years I’ve suffered from very bad depression bought upon initially by illness and then extreme poverty, around 2015 I had my first true thoughts about suicide and have been struggling with them ever since.

I am trying to find the old me again as it is very clear in the near future, I will be moving out of this home and into a new one and hopefully things will be a little better for me emotionally.

I still have no date for that yet, but I know it will be coming before the end of the year at least, Paul is determined and Henry has resided himself to the fact that he wants to stay with his father and not follow me, because he doesn’t want to make new friends in a new school.

Wherever I go, they have to tolerate a house rabbit, because Ray is coming with me too – because I am the only person who gives him any attention and he would literally pine to death without me!

He is 5yrs old and a dark grey Dutch, so dark in fact you’d mistake him for black, he has dark blue eyes and loves reggae, gardening shows, rugby and Peter Rabbit – seriously he has his favourite types of music and TV shows, he is a house rabbit after all. 

I can’t eat a banana without sharing it with him; he gets grumpy and throws his food bowl at me!  He can be quite violent when affronted!

He needs neutering because he stinks.

Well anyway, there are still dark days to get over and when I have those days I tend to write dark and morbid poetry – but I am trying to break it up and space it out, so sometimes when the poems are being published, I may not actually be having a bad day at all, it may have been days or weeks ago.

I haven’t had a major depression bout for over a week now, but I am slowly slipping into it again as tonight I have been feeling on the verge of tears and being quiet and sleepy, but I am not sure what bought it on.  But at least I am not suicidal tonight.  I am just a bit dozy and I suppose sulky due to loneliness.

I am writing these words at 2:30am on the 19^th February 2023, this will be published in the afternoon – again, to space things out a bit.

Sometimes when I get writing specifically for my blog, I tend to write three to five poems all at once and about two or three diary updates and it would really annoy my readers if they got all of this one day and then just one tiny poem for a few days after.

So I space things out.

I am trying really hard to think about things that are not bleak – anything really so not to focus on the dark thoughts, because I am trying hard to push my old life away for a brand new one, that I believe is very close to coming to me and it’s going to be amazing but terrifying!

Seriously terrifying – but you know what?  I heard Mel Robbins a motivational speaker say once, that psychologists have proven than fear and excitement are formed from the same chemicals in the brain, they are in fact the same thing and you can trick yourself into believing your fear is excitement quite easily, so you don’t panic so much!

So when you are frightened, just think to yourself – it’s all so very exciting – I am excited – let’s do this!

So yes, I am terrified but it’s exciting…

Do you think I am ready for the nut house yet?

Thanks for reading!

Poetry updates

A few of my poems are hard to digest for sensitive readers, I know.

But, there are times when I write loads of the negative poems to post on here when I am having a huge bout of depression – sometimes on bad days, I can write quite a lot and post them at advanced scheduling.

Sometimes I can write up to twenty of these poems in one day – so sometimes I need to post them spaced out over a time. 

About a week ago I had a huge bout of depression which meant that for eighteen whole days I would appear to be getting bleaker and bleaker, because I was really feeling very dark back then.

So I am trying to write poems which aren’t always depressing on good days to try and break up the bad.

Because I am not always miserable or feeling sorry for myself and that could be hard to believe for some of you.

I know it sounds utterly ridiculous, but, I feel ashamed of myself when I have happy days – because I feel that when I am happy, other people are sad and it’s like I feel guilty about it.  Over the years when I have had a happy moment, its like the people I’ve spent time with has tried to make me feel guilty about it by making sarcastic comments such as…

“Oh, I am glad someone is happy at least, my foot is killing me” blab la bla.

I remember the time when I went for an ESA medical, on my forms it said I had depression – I had a particularly good day that day and I cracked a joke and smiled, the assessor outwardly accused me of lying about my depression and suicidal thoughts because as someone who is depressed and suicidal, we don’t do things like smile and crack jokes apparently.

This marked me down and we lost some of our monthly allowances over it, which in turn, made my depression worse again.

Never mind the fact that I had scratched up my legs and a bald patch because the stress about the humiliation I was going to receive at this medical made me self-harm to a serious degree for three whole weeks before it as I was scared stiff of it!  This was during my worst in 2015.

I’ve stopped the self-harming and hair pulling for a while now.  Which is why I am pissed off that Long Covid caused me to have alopecia, I had finally got my hair nice and even and stopped a nasty habit, only for alopecia to come into my life for a few weeks around Easter 2022.

Whenever I am super scared about something I tend to self-harm, or at least used to.  I used to be a big coward, still am in a lot of ways, but I appear to be getting more courageous as I am getting older.  Terrible coward as a child though.

I remember being hit when I was 9yrs old by a 5yr old child in the street and ran home screaming like I’d broken a leg or something – got much tougher when I was 14yrs old though, as there was a lot of violence in my life between those years.  I never used to hit back until I was 11yrs old for example, I used to just run away and cry and hide in toilets or cupboards etc.

Quite an embarrassment upon reflection!

These days I am quick to react if people hit me, it shocks people because people presume as I am so nice and I don’t seem to be like other traumatised people that I’ve had a cushy life or something – so they think they can slap me across the face and I will stand there stunned or something.  Not me – I go into a scrum like action and make sure they hurt worse than I do! 

Which is why some of my college friends couldn’t believe I became a victim of domestic violence when I left college as they knew I was formidable – but my ex did a huge number on my confidence, ego, pride and vanity and I was knocked off my pedestal – he worked as a team to do that with my mum and aunt on board.

In fact the day he dumped me was because I had enough and I slapped him in front of his Godmother because he hit me in front of her – she immediately called him into a private meeting between him, her and her daughter in the bedroom whilst I made dinner – to find later on that night he drove me to the middle of the countryside and dumped me there to walk to the nearest train station myself luggage in tow at around midnight!

Twenty five minutes’ walk in an isolated country lane full of fields to get to the train station, where no trains would be departing until 6am the following morning, so spent the night on a cold metal seat on the platform in the middle of a cold May night, three days shy of my wedding, which was cancelled.

The saddest part isn’t what happened and how he couldn’t be bothered to take me all the way to the train station – the saddest bit was he gave me a 3ft giant purple rabbit soft toy as a breaking up present and I had to sit sobbing in the train station with this giant thing and carry it on the train in the morning and all through London until I got to my parents’ house again. 

I remember a lovely young man who came over to me and sat with me to talk when I was finally on the train, talking to me because I was crying on the train with this big beastie toy – he thought I was a mother who lost a child and he told me I should throw the toy in the nearest bin rather than take it with me when he found out my story – but I clutched it tight to me and kept it.

However, it wasn’t a proper break up, he kept calling me back to him for a while afterwards and I was always in limbo where I stood with him.

I think Henry acquired the big purple rabbit eventually; I never got rid of it.  I am a softy for soft toys; I have a bunch of them, to this day.

Henry took a few, but I am possessive with others.

Yes, I am forty years old and I still have around twenty soft toys from my childhood with me, and a few newer ones I’ve collected over the years. Big kid, I know!

I have a thing for hand puppets, I have a few of those, but they are in Paul’s room in a big box and I can’t get to them right now.  I have Wiley Coyote, Tweetie Pie and a bunch of different animals.

I can sort of do ventriloquism and I like playing puppets with babies and toddlers.

I have digressed hugely.

I want to say that, when I post depressive poems, I may not actually be depressed at the time it was posted.

In fact today I feel pretty chipper, in fact, I’ve been feeling chipper since Friday.  Lonely, but more relaxed and happy about things, I think things are coming together a little bit.

Things are not so mysterious anymore and things are being explained to me in droplets a bit.

The more I know, the happier I seem to get.

But yes, I am getting happier – curious – confused – but happier nonetheless.

I’m also frustrated because I am eager to exercise as I have a bigger goal to reach for now – but I have a sprained wrist and ankle which is annoying and painful.

My ankle comes and goes since I injured it around 4yrs ago tripping over laundry that got twisted around it, I fell and the ankle kind of snapped to the side a bit but didn’t break, sometimes I am absolutely fine, but other times I would walk and it’s like a hammer hit me to the side of the foot and I start limping at random.  It literally comes and goes and it’s so blooming weird!  Paul believes it a tendon problem.

The foot was x-rayed and it appeared to be fine.

But whatever – I am trying to make my poems more upbeat.  But weirdly enough, since a couple of them have been happy this week I’ve noticed my blog follower numbers have dropped dramatically – I guess nobody likes the idea I am getting happy huh?

I’ve lost around forty followers in three days.

Thank for reading…

Writer’s insomnia

Must I write when the world is black and everyone’s lulled to sleep?

May I not sit with muse when the sun ejects his shards of light?

Do I have to be present with my muse at night?

Or is sadism he’s delight?

For I can only ever write

When there is an absence of the light…

Is my muse a demon?

Is my muse so dark?

Is my muse only really having a lark?

For my mind can’t settle to sleep at night

It only thinks and plays

This insomnia a writer has, keeps us in our daze

A tragedy we know so well

We write when he sits and tells

We can’t be free of our muse

We cannot sit and choose

What to do and when and how

We can only sit in the boat he sails

And lose another day