Releasing me from the blue?

I lick the knife that wounds me

My pain it tastes so sweet

My tears are salty I like the flavour

But it isn’t really a treat

Its bittersweet you love me

It’s bittersweet to know

Because I can’t fulfil a dream

I can’t glow

Because one thing is lacking

My heart is dead as stone

My world is crumbling round me

I am turning to bone

I can’t stand the fighting

I can’t stand this life

I can’t stand only living

On the edge of a knife

I can’t stand the loneliness

I can’t bear the stain

I can’t bear what you do to me

Should I start again?

The blade is at my wrist now

The words I say are true

How I wish for something more

Something more colourful than the blue

I am washed in my own blood

Clothed in the cloak of death

Soon my life will be ended

So I will breathe the last breath

For you have chosen wisely

I’m not the one for you

Your words are not taken lightly

But at least I am released from the blue

I will not see the sun shine

Not again my dear

Please do not cry for me

Don’t shed a tear

Be confident you chose this

Be happy and stay true

I forgive you darling

For releasing me from the blue

In April you won’t see me

Not ever again

Because I won’t be here

There will be no more songs to pen

For I will live within the grey

Of the lost in limbo corps

But at least my heart won’t heart anymore…

Who is Catalina?

DISCLAIMER – EXTREME TRUE LIFE BODY HORROR MEMORIES

There are things I thought I have shared on my blog, only for me to find that I can’t find where they are when I want to refer back to them; what I have done is, lost the confidence to post some things and put them on a private journal on another site, like blogger; where only invited people can see what is there, because sometimes I am ashamed of my past.

Even the things that I should be shameless about because those things weren’t my fault, I feel I should hide them because it is too graphic for my audience.

But I have to write those things sometimes, as a form of therapy to myself – also as I write things down it is easier for me to zone out and just read out loud for Paul to know things about my past, without me feeling too attached.  Because I can zone out and read something out loud, it’s a weird skill I have developed over the years to protect myself from hurting again.

I don’t think anyone can understand how that works, I know I don’t.

One of those things for example is an explanation about who Catalina is to me.

I thought I had shared this here, but apparently not – or at least I can’t find the post using the keywords I was trying to find in order to reference for you who she is.

So, this is why this post exists – to tell you who she is to me.

This is why I have to state right now DISCLAIMER – THIS POST IS NOT FOR THE LIGHT-HEARTED.

One of my exes put me on birth control against my will so that he could have unprotected sex with me whenever he liked, he made me have the Depo-Provera injection – however, my mother didn’t trust me when I told her that I am on Depo-Provera and so she too, forced me back to another clinic for the mini pill and another injection on top.

I told the doctor at the clinic mum doesn’t believe how I got that bruise and the doctor said that if I had a double dose so quickly like this as well as have the mini pill, I could permanently damage my fertility in the future – mum was eager to make me do it and forced the doctor to agree too.

So I had it done again.

My ex, who I will name G here, was happy to do as he pleased even though I was suffering really badly for a month with a very bruised back.

He and I were confident there would be no unwanted babies coming our way, for him anyway.

Unfortunately for G and my mum I am one of the 4% that seem to be able to get pregnant on contraception whether it is in double doses or not.

Believe me when I tell you, I freaked out by this as both homes would have kicked me out if they knew I was pregnant!  But I love babies and I could never abort, personally.

So I continued in our relationship, hoping he’d grow to like the idea, but instead he thought I lied to him, because he worked in the medical profession and in his eyes this was impossible!

He was already domestically violent to me before this happened, but after I told him about the pregnancy test and showed him the evidence of it, he got more violent with me.  He completely denied the fact that the test was genuine and wouldn’t acknowledge or talk about it with me.

I started to suffer during my pregnancy and I wouldn’t tell my mum I was pregnant at all, because it would have been a mixed race baby and she told me at the time that she’d beat me up and kick me out and burn all my stuff in her house if she thought for one minute I would be pregnant with a Peruvian Indians baby.

I couldn’t get medical assistance to see how the pregnancy faired in London with mum, when G sent me back to my mother for weekends and the occasional week and I couldn’t go to a doctor in Wickford, Essex because G wouldn’t let me sign up in the area.

I started to lose a lot of weight because of extreme morning sickness and I started to get really bad bleedings and I felt I needed a doctor ASAP, so I begged G to get me to a hospital as I was getting really ill – all he could think about was how horny he was right then and wanted to have me immediately, no matter how I felt.

So frustrated he beat and raped me, this made the bleeding worse and he went for a shower humiliating me about how the bleeding was on him and how I need to get cleaned up.

When he got out the shower the bleeding got a little worse and I started to get a lot of pain and I told him, I believe I am about 5 months pregnant according to the dates and the size I am.  This made him furious and he told me he will show me how much he believes I am pregnant and full on punched me right in the stomach and stormed out of the house, telling me to sort myself out and get the idea of a baby out of my head!

The bleeding got worse right before his eyes and I said, I need an ambulance!  He just turned on his heel and left me there, with no phone.  He took our only phone and we lived in a dense rural place.

I bled hugely in the bathroom and had to cope on my own, I struggle to this day seeing pictures of foetuses and premature babies because of what I saw that night.  She was almost perfect and weirdly transparent.

When he came home in the morning I was still in the bathroom on the floor unable to do much because I was distressed about the dead baby, he forced me to flush her down the toilet and said she’s just a clot, but I knew she wasn’t.

He then threw bleach and towels at me and told me I had to clean the mess up whilst he went to bed.

Her birthday would have been the 7^th of November had it have been a normal pregnancy to full term.  This day has always been a day of remembrance for her.  What makes it hard for me is that nobody acknowledges miscarriages as child loss.

She was definitely a girl, at 23 weeks, she could have potentially lived as a premature baby had I of had the proper care, there is a 50/50 chance at that stage.  She might have been disabled, but she would have potentially lived.

So, I named her Catalina, because I couldn’t live with myself without acknowledging her life and giving her a name and I knew I would have honoured G’s family with naming her after her aunt, the one who raised G.

So every year, on November 7^th I light a candle in remembrance of her, because it is what my catholic family would do.  My aunts Catherine and Christine would understand this about me – but not many other people understand it.

She’d have been 19yrs old this year, probably going to college now or working full-time, I expect she’d have been short and a little stocky, as her dad was 5ft 6 and chubby and I have weight issues too.  She’d be half Latino with an Islamic great grandparent by all accounts, with all of my ancestral mixes rolled into one.  She’d have been quite a diverse little lady.

Henry once asked me about the candle on November 7^th and was hurt when I wouldn’t tell him once, but it happened so regularly, that when Henry was 8yrs old, I finally told him about her.  He too, lights a candle and even bakes a cake every year for the family on this day, to remember the big sister he never knew!

I am unsurprised if people don’t believe me – because it’s very rare to get pregnant when you’ve had contraception, let alone double doses, but a lot of people struggle to believe me, because of the violence and the lack of care around it too, nobody can believe in evil people.

Because I couldn’t seek any medical attention whatsoever about this, I had no after care.  I bled non-stop and heavily for several months, my mum knew about the bleeding and took me to the doctor – but she never knew the cause.  When the doctor examined me, they blurted out how I’ve had a miscarriage, but I said, that’s impossible – mum you tell him.  Because she was in the room and I was terrified about her finding out. 

Mum told him, he is a useless doctor, I felt bad for him – but I had to keep it quiet.

He diagnosed menorrhagia.

I hate lying, but I just had to.

What is terrible is that this caused a lot of long term mental damage, not only because of what happened to me – but because my mum forced me to watch a pro-abortion documentary to sway me into the mind-set of accepting abortion at any stage the woman wants it.  Unfortunately the documentary she chose was a pro-life documentary, documenting what exactly happens during abortion and the scenes were uncut and horrifying.

Not something I needed to see after what happened to me!

My mum was disgusted about it and she was the one who became swayed to a new way of thinking!

I believe anyone should be able to do anything to their bodies – don’t get me wrong.  But I find it hard to accept abortion on a personal level.

Sorry about such a graphic post.  But I needed to explain who Catalina was and how big an event this was for me and how it has affected my life forever.

Thank you for reading!

Sleepy caterpillar

Today I feel quiet; it’s a solitary and reflective day for me.  I just want the cosiest clothing possible, to be warm and snuggle up with my laptop writing stories, doing tarot readings, playing with my crystals and reading some books.

Though I feel like being kind of social, I just really want a quiet day.

I really miss having a wandering pet in the house like a dog or a cat, because I could do with fur baby snuggles right now too and I really miss my border collie Candy who used to lie on my feet whenever I was reading, because she kept my feet warm in the winter, whilst bill my shih Tzu kept my abdomen or lap warm and his sister Beau to my side.

I often sat in piles of dogs or other fur babies, it was quite normal for me.

As much as I miss her I don’t miss her habits, Turquoise my tortoiseshell cat, she could never get close to me thanks to the dogs, so her only option was to sit behind the back of the sofa I was on and half lie on my head whilst I read.  Kind of itched a bit as she made my head too warm!

I miss the occasional tweet from my budgies too and the sofa suddenly moving like an earthquake because Amy the Irish Wolfhound has decided to hide behind my sofa right now, disturbing the whole pile of animals around me as she blunders her way behind the sofa to hide again, only for her to re-emerge sticking her wet slimy nose into my ear for a tickle almost immediately.

I miss them all.

But today is a cotton and cotton lace kind of day, with fleecy socks and blankets or shawls; light colours for me, like white, pale yellow or cream, maybe a smattering of oatmeal or coffee, but only very small amounts. 

It would be too cold to go out in what I want to wear today, unless I took an oversized oatmeal or banana yellow fleecy shawl or poncho with me.

Today however, is a day where I just want to be home.  I’d like some company, but quiet, tranquil company.  It’s a reflective day after all and a day of words for me.

I have done a lot of writing today, but not towards a novel.  I have done a lot of words towards blog posts and therapy essays I am doing for myself, as I am trying to heal some major emotional wounds.

Spiritual energy is quiet today, it’s like there is a major focus on me, to give me lightness, give me energy, sending healing my way.

I thank whoever it is doing that.

I certainly feel a lot of inner calm today, like someone has given me Valium or something.

My spirits have tried their best to encourage me to sleep a lot over the past few days, but I haven’t been listening, only for me to nap suddenly whenever I get comfortable.  Henry got afraid yesterday as I fell asleep twice and I wasn’t even tired, but I told him it’s OK.

My spirits told me, “you are not a butterfly yet; you are still a caterpillar and it’s time to get your sleep, because your transformation is very near”.

I suppose it explains why I am fat, then, I am a caterpillar.

I am fighting against their advice though; life is too short to be a sleepy head.

But they insist, I should sleep as much as possible until the second week of November, because after that, I won’t have a chance – things will move too quickly in my life and I may not have the energy to keep up with it, and I must keep up with it!

It’s a strange thing.

But there you go.

Thanks for reading…

Do they resent me?

When you’ve been bedbound sick for a while you learn coping mechanisms, to keep you going; especially when you start to believe you are failing as a mum because you can’t do the things a normal housewife could and should be doing.

You learn to release responsibilities to your husband so that you can heal, so there are less hospital trips due to you collapsing over exhaustion as you try to pretend there is nothing wrong with you!

You learn that there are things you can still do as a bedbound parent, but it doesn’t feel the same.  As a bedbound parent you learn to make the most of a small space, you learn that you don’t have to need a desktop PC and you can use a laptop in bed with an adjustable table.

You start to think that you are a burden, but you can’t help it.  I became this badly sick when Henry was 3yrs old – Henry hasn’t really known a healthy mum, he is twelve now and my health is stabilising slowly.

You start to believe that your rocky relationship with your son who is worried sick about you, will improve as you get better – but that’s a fallacy!

Since Henry was five years old, he learned that the best way to have time with me and play is by sitting with me drawing, reading or playing Roblox games every moment he is out of school.

I was wrong not to set tight boundaries about that, because in all honesty, I never believed I would get better – in fact I thought I was going to die before Henry becomes a teenager!

But now I am getting better, I am trying to make a life for myself – I have lost nine years of freedom from my mum since becoming sick and I want to make it up to myself.

I really thought my immediate family would be pleased I am getting better, but far from it, they resent it.  Paul feels less needed and is dropping things at such a rapid pace nowadays that it is leaving me feeling like he is sabotaging my healing process because he is afraid that my health may mean he’ll lose me.  Because he knows I am unhappy with the state of the house and unhappy with the morose behaviour the people of this house has!

Henry doesn’t understand that I need to drop the games because twenty minutes of fun always ends up with six hours of lost time.

I am trying to hone my skills as a writer, keep this blog alive, learn how to use social media, networking with other creative people, trying to learn how to set up a YouTube channel and how to get into screenwriting professionally and learning Italian because I want to get back to my Italian roots.  I am trying to do this by my own set schedule and goal and time is running out!

Henry’s behaviour has become sour since I seem to be getting better and in the heat of the moment he has screamed that he wished I would get sicker again, just so he’d have someone to play with all the time again!

There is no emotional support from Paul regarding this – as Henry storms off because I won’t play for longer, Paul runs after him telling him he knows how he feels and how mum needs to do this and that, but also how I really should spend more than just half an hour a day with him and he knows its not fair.

Proverbially slapping me in the face in the process!

Paul is tired of updating my friends when I am too busy, sick or absorbed in free courses – he has made his stance very clear to me. I ask him not to be rude to them, because sometimes he can be a bit too terse with people; he isn’t known for tact.

I am in this on my own.

It’s my fault I am getting better and chose to actually pull us out of poverty because I can’t hack just making do anymore, so I have to do it all myself now!

It’s abundantly clear and it’s a lonely place to be.

I have resided myself to the fact that perhaps this family doesn’t want me unless I am in bed all day playing games to keep the boy happy and out of Paul’s hair.  We’ve had this discussion and it’s clear, I might be moving away from them soon – we don’t know when – but it’s something that’s coming.

The prospect of complete independence is stomach churning.

I’ve never been alone before.

I’ve always been dependant on others, can I do it?

Who knows?

Am I being fair to them? I can’t help but feel guilty for wanting this!

Thanks for reading!

Looking for The Dream World

I’m looking for the dream world, a place where I can play

Whilst I am wide awake and living life that’s grey

I yearn for the dream world; I yearn for its truth

I’m searching for the dream world like a determined sleuth

I slither around corners, looking everywhere

I ride up and down funiculars, I will find it, I swear!

Tirelessly I rummage through boxes big and small

Through ottomans and cabinets, I have been through them all!

I am tired with my searching, my eyes are heavy now

I know that behind my eyes to the dream world I will sail

But that is not the point

My mission was quite clear

To find the dream world when awake, it has to be near

I will start again

Tomorrow when I wake

But right now I’m sleeping; do not wake me with a shake

I am happy in my dream world

Make no mistake

Songs that seem written for me

Ten songs that match my personality or feel like they were written by someone who knows me and below them explanations of why I think this, also a huge insight to me as a person! 

1. The lady is a tramp especially the Lady Gaga and Tony Bennet version!
2. Pain by Three days grace
3. It can’t rain all the time by Jane Siberry
4. Crush Em by Megadeath
5. Champion by Three days grace
6. Smile by Nat King Cole
7. Dollhouse by Melanie Martinez
8. Rose Garden by Lynn Anderson
9. Touch-a-touch-a-touch me from Rocky Horror Picture Show
10. Cry little sister by Gerard McMahon

The Lady is a tramp;

This song connects well to me because I will eat a couple of hours before a meal out, as I can never guarantee whether or not the meal will be enough… you know nouveau cuisine and all that – if I am hungry, I hate waiting around for food!  So to be polite, I tend to eat a little before I go anywhere! 

I won’t ever wear real fur, I hate the cruelty of it, though it’s pretty I tend to wear faux versions a lot and have a lot of faux blankets around the house.  Though I happen to like pearls, so that part doesn’t connect! 

One thing I can’t stand is gossiping with other women, it’s not my thing, hence why most of my friends tend to be men.

I don’t really like to make myself up too much to impress others if that means I have to be uncomfortable, but I do like to look impressive generally.  Clothing must always be comfortable or else I would rather go naked and being someone who isn’t an exhibitionist, that’s something I won’t do!

I like being fashionable though and I do like showing off a bit, I am a bit of a peacock – I think this is why I love Lady Gaga, I see a lot of me in her!

Pain by three days grace;

There was a time that I became afraid that I would never feel again.  My post-traumatic stress syndrome got so bad I became what they call Non-comprimentos, I don’t know if I spelled that right I tried to google it, but found nothing.  I wouldn’t speak and hardly ate for nearly a year, I became numb to everything.  Conscious, unlike people think I was, but numb.  I didn’t want to react, I didn’t want to speak, I didn’t feel a thing.  It’s a scary place, it’s like I gave up and didn’t die, but I was supposed to, if that makes sense?

It took a long while for me to get out of being such a poker face, so pan faced and unemotional, a very long while.  I wouldn’t smile for nearly four years and when I did smile it was at the irony that people were trying to save my life (due to mastoid infection) and all I really wanted to do was die; but I smiled because of the darkness of it all.

What happened?

I was a huge wrestling fan; in particular I loved The Undertaker.  I was afraid of becoming brain damaged due to the surgery and my mother came into the operating theatre to help settle me down for the injection which would put me to sleep – her comforting words came out without realising what she had said until she saw the horror on the anaesthetists face.  “Don’t worry, just think about The Undertaker” she said, smiling down at me.

I didn’t just smile for the first time in years; I full out laughed and then had to explain to the nurses around me that my mother isn’t mental, it’s my favorite wrestler!

But after that time, I did decide that if things hurt me, I’d rather feel it than be numb.  Strange I know, but if you have been there yourselves, you’d understand the loss and the loneliness of it all.

I soon developed into transferring that to physical pain rather than emotional after a while and entered the dark phases of self-harming, it helped me to cope and though the scars I have are bad, they make me feel like a warrior.

It can’t rain all the time;

That’s kind of my motto nowadays; there is always sunshine through the rain or after it, though the bursts of sunshine in my life are usually short, it’s best not to take them for granted and to recognise them when they are around.  It’s easy to forget the light side of life to the extent it becomes alien at times and you can often miss them!

Crush Em;

At times I feel like life is a war, you have to fight for who you are and what you stand for, because so many people want to change you or destroy you.

I used to submit a lot, but as I grew and suffered so much, I decided that if I am going to suffer, I am going to suffer in order to stay true to myself because living a lie hurts me more than I can bear!

I was suffering either way, really.  So it’s best to suffer to your own painful tune than somebody else’s.

I’ve had so much of other people thinking that other people’s lives are their business, their personality, likes and dislikes have to be critique within an inch of their lives to the extent I’ve had enough! 

I say and do what I want, but I am always ready to roll my sleeves up and start to fight and often times that leads me to gas lighting the other person, because I am not determined to just say my piece, I am determined that they can absolutely be themselves and they can absolutely hate me for being myself – but they absolutely cannot try to change me and I absolutely cannot try to change them, only enlighten them to the fact that all forms of hate is evil! 

My intention when I am in an argument is to shed light on the fact that it is ok to love and hate, as long as you accept each other’s differences and learn to live in peace.  If the other person isn’t being peaceful and won’t leave me alone after I suggest we agree to disagree, then they have to be prepared that I will defend myself anyway possible and that it could lead to problems.

Champion;

I have fought so hard to be where I am and who I am I have been dragged up and beaten up and bruised and battered in so many ways, not just physically – it is hard not to become something formidable after it all.

I have learned that the harshest of words and the hardest of beatings can make you stronger and in doing so, it can make a person become so strong that they develop into something that their haters and abusers can no longer fight – a true champion!

When a person tries to destroy another, it makes them feel strong when in fact they are weak.  Some people allow themselves to be destroyed, others learn to get back up and fight and I am one of the fighters.  Very little can intimidate me these days and I do not shy from throwing myself in front of others weaker than me, to take the hits!

Because I know I can cope and I can see that the world is full of weakness and it needs a champion sometimes!

I have a deep fire in me to teach the world, but also shield the weak from it.

I have even learned not to hide my tears anymore, I am no longer ashamed of them – though people may read that as a sign of a broken weak person, for me, it’s a sign that they’ve hit a nerve and with love I will show them what they’re doing, but carry on, I may feel pressured to fuel my fire.  I never say things lightly and I am a compassionate teacher, who gives other people time to think before I react!

But as they say, you can’t always help the stubborn.

Smile;

It took me a long while to get my emotions back; it took even longer for me to learn to put a mask on my face for the sake of the others who are much weaker or disadvantaged than me. 

I learned that the world definitely needs a champion, it needs compassion and love and tenderness and I leaned that it starts with me, my actions, my love, my care; yes don’t take on other people’s problems for your own, because it won’t help them in the long run, but you can hold their hand and give kind words to make them feel a little stronger in their battles.

It starts with a smile, then listening, then trying to understand and then holding their hands whilst championing them along the way, but never, ever let their battles become your own.  Stand back and let them do it for themselves, whilst quietly nodding and smile, you’ve done it little champ!

When I laugh at some people who try to do me down, it’s not mockery, its irony.  They are trying to be strong by showing the biggest weakness they have.  But I am delicate, I don’t laugh in their face, that’s not compassionate, my laugh is a smile and a small ha, I try to be amicable amongst the discord.

Dollhouse;

I really resonate with this lyrical line “I see things that nobody else sees”, for two reasons, one is that I am clairvoyant and clairsentient, the other is that I have seen the true faces of various people behind closed doors and I know the truth about a lot of things – many things, big, but they will never be exposed.

My life is like the twilight zone at times, but enough of that.

I often felt played like a doll in the past by other people who were always changing my shape and my form and personality to suit them and they isolated me in a little house most of the time.

A particular person in my life played me like a doll so much that it was almost like I was her ventriloquist dummy and her hand was up my arse even controlling what I said.  I didn’t realise until I went to a psychologist in 2012 that she used a lot of NLP against me, with little subtleties that made me behave a certain way – they made references to the Pavlov experiments in how she raised me.   If you are not familiar with these experiments here is a link. https://www.simplypsychology.org/pavlov.html

Like most paradoxes in my life, it is the very thing that hurt me to begin with that is helping me to heal.

Rose Garden;

I could never get over the fact that people want to be in relationships with people who accept their baggage and everything is going to be perfect, when the going gets tough, they leave each other!  I never understood this.

Love needs work and compassion, it’s not a given, you can’t just waltz into someone’s life and expect a picture perfect romance, because things like that may happen to some, but it never really lasts.  Love needs time and work. 

Most of my best relationships happened through friendship first and I know it sounds weird, but a long conversation over two or three picnics about what each other wants from life and each other and then almost like a handshake and business proposal we get together.

You have to lay your entire self on the table in front of them, reveal all; dark and light – then you make a decision on whether you are suited together or not.  Do you have the same life goals?  You see how many compromises you are willing to make with each other and if the BIG things don’t match, don’t go there, don’t choose them and start the process over again with someone else – life is too short to be unhappy with someone you live with!

When someone develops an issue with me it is usually because they were not honest in the conversations leading up to the relationship, because they wanted to tell me what I wanted to hear, rather than stay true to themselves!

You must never do this, because you can’t mould everyone!

So I always remind people, I am sorry but did I promise this to you initially?  It’s hard and I know I sound like a bitch, but I am only trying to save hearts from being broken in the long run, because I have a terrible guilt conscious.

You’d be surprised actually how many people hate people being so open like this.  But I feel it’s essential; you could be spending your life together some day – what have you got to hide?

I sound dominant but I really am not.  This is something that shocks people when they get to know what I want from life, because I seem so assertive off the bat – but that’s the point.  It’s to show each other your boundaries so you can live happily together.  I am not a huge feminist, I do believe women can save themselves and they can do many things, but I am super traditional and submissive in my best relationships that most feminists don’t find someone like me acceptable!

It’s a contrast I know, but as I said – it’s vital to be open with people.

Be strong enough to say “I need this, and I need that” and “don’t engage me with this, or that”, it’s important.

I welcome you to my garden, but I didn’t offer you constant sunshine, a perfect lawn and neat borders, I have brambles in there, some nettles for the playful butterflies and some beautiful thorny roses!

Touch-a-touch-a-touch me;

Self-explanatory really; I have been isolated most of my life that I get thrilled when people want to get close to me, even more so when touched.  I have been touch starved most of my life.  Though I can’t be called a slut as my life experience hasn’t reflected my inner most thoughts and feelings, I have the mind of one though.

I am not ashamed to admit it either.  I love being touched, I crave it, but I only desire it from certain people I feel are worthy!

This is not an invitation for anyone to come and touch me without asking first, but it is an invitation to ask if you could get close to me – I don’t mean to sound threatening but I will deck those who take advantage!

I am also very much proud to be considered a creature of the night, because my life has been filled with darkness and in darkness I found my strength, the light weakened me.  I am dark and to many people I resent to say, I am dirty – though I see it as cheekily playful and clean fun!  Dirty is a bad word when it is pertaining to fun pursuits and I don’t like hearing it!

To me the most sacred thing in life is sex, the meaning of life is sex and we should have more of it in our lives and we should spread the love ashamedly!

Cry little sister;

I have always wanted to spread love around the world and make it more acceptable and available to people I come across; I wish that the world was a more open place, a place where people are not afraid to be who they are and do what makes them happy without judgement.

I’ve always hated the lack of love in this world, particularly the kind where you can be free to touch the hand or a knee of a person in order to comfort them, without all this fear that surround’s physical contact with people.

I’ve never found it a healthy aspect of society, though I do appreciate the fact that it protects people from being touched by people they don’t invite into their lives.  I remember a time where I had to get the police involved because of a stalker who readily kept touching me up and I didn’t invite that.  But generally, when you know someone that is beyond a mere acquaintance, why is it still shunned?

I have seen pained expressions in male friends eyes when they see me crying and you know they want to put their arm around you and comfort you, but they are afraid of so many things if they do that.  Will I misinterpret this as a romantic interest?  Will his girlfriend misinterpret it as having an affair?  Will I take him to court for it?  So many things, so I sit there crying more or less alone, when all I want is the extra courage by having someone hold me tight; I wouldn’t care who it is, if they are nice and won’t take advantage of it further.  But most won’t even try.

A gentle touch can spark a healing energy and break the cycle of loneliness, breaking chains that bound us.

Happy reading all!

The untold grief

My recent poems are because I miss various friends who were involved with drink, drugs, which lead to crime and depression which lead to suicide or lead them losing their natural spirit entirely because they were absorbed too much in the darkness of the life they got into; many didn’t get into it by choice, I might add, some were viciously coerced and in some cases were literally beaten into taking various substances which hooked them.

I have lost a lot of great people and there is a big hollow in my heart, people who never experienced this kind of loss couldn’t possibly understand how close this is to actual grief of the death of a loved one, only they aren’t dead – physically.  It is something that is hard to explain and in my experience, there is very little help out there for people who are experiencing this type of grief.

If you are someone who is addicted to substances and you are tired of your loved ones constantly nagging you about your life, please take into consideration that they are hurting too and they miss the old you! You won’t realise it, but you’ve changed and it’s like you’ve died to them and got replaced – it’s hard to get over, especially as there is no professional help for people with this kind of loss – not to my knowledge. Please understand their point of view…

Thanks for reading.

Mr Sunshine

You was my sunshine, your smiles were big and bright

But then you went and played with fools and took away my light

Your happiness spreads like the flu

I really, really miss the old you

But you went and played with those fools and now I’m in the dark

I dream of a time when you come back

Find your path off that beaten track

And back into my arms where you belong

So there is a happy ending to my song

I need you now and I need you true

I am really lost without you

You’re my sunshine in the rain

How I wish you come back again

Oh Mr Sunshine how I need you

You haven’t  even got a clue hoo

How I need you in my life

Guess I see you in the afterlife

It’s a shame you was so bright

But now your smiles are like the night

I feel bad for you

Without the light what can I do?

Mr Sunshine you were my friend

Some would say my godsend

You bought me hope when I was down

You turned my smiles upside down

And then you went to play with fools

Right on after you left your school

You became a DJ and forgot your spirit

I tried to warn you, but you wouldn’t hear it

You kept on with the moon and crack

How I really want you back

But you are gone now and away from me

I really, really want to see

My Mr Sunshine again

Mental health experiences

Descent into madness as a trope is something I have written in a couple of my novels, I have always been lured into reading books that have this as a theme and I think it has something to do with personal experience.

I have been there, twice in fact and I have experienced the rollercoaster of having such mental illnesses, so I can identify with certain characters.

I remember being put into such a violent situation so regularly and though I would fight against engaging in any physical conflict with my aggressors, I did succumb once to a violent frenzy that was uncontrollable, my doctor reckons it was my brain going into survival mode as I explained how I experienced the red into black vision as I went into a rage that I can’t explain to anyone what happened during it, only that others were absolutely horrified at what had ensued.

I went through eight months of daily torture, having to share my life with a group of aggressive adolescents because of a day care school I was sent to, a school which ironically was supposed to have helped me heal from my post-traumatic stress experiences of the isolation and abuse I had at home.

I had recently had lifesaving surgery because of an infection that got too close to the brain thanks to the mastoid problems I had, it was literally just two months before the incident I had the operation.

So you can imagine how delicate I was in the head area, so when the group decided to push me over a wall that had a nine foot drop, I went into such a rage that I had no idea what I was doing and a girl nearly got severely hurt because of my actions!

It was surprising for another reason, I couldn’t bend over and care for myself for two years after the surgery and this was within two months of it, yet I could find the strength in me somehow to drag the ringleader girl across the playground and into the girl’s toilets where I nearly drowned her!

There were lots of witnesses who saw the entire thing, including teachers, who knew that I was a good pupil who didn’t like to interact with anything that would cause me problems (I had enough at home and was often sat in the library to get rest), I was shy and insecure and healing from awful surgery from which I nearly died.  They knew I was badly provoked and they supported me through this time and managed to expel this girl, even though she did come off the wrong end that day – this was enough for them to feel that she was never meant to have been around vulnerable children – this school was just a stop gap for her as she had been expelled before.

I’ve experienced such deep depression and loss to the extent I have become anorexic and addicted to exercise to the point of collapse.  I have been there; I have even experienced the loss of two pregnancies, one due to violence and the other as an ectopic pregnancy.

I have been a victim of domestic abuse, sexual abuse, emotional neglect and rape. 

I know what it feels like to lose control.

When I used to engage with English tutors they would be horrified at the graphicness of my writing, particularly when I used to write horror and thriller more than I do now.  I said to them, you told me that it’s best to write what you know and that shocked them even more.

Some people just can’t believe that one person can have gone through as much as I have; I have even had therapists quit on me, due to the extent they didn’t know how to help me as there was just so much to work on – so much crap in my life!

I have experienced a huge amount of discrimination from ex-boyfriends who don’t believe I have gone through all of these things, because it’s too much.  Paul is different; he understands and has witnessed a few things for himself.

I have only written about four characters with this trope, horror, thriller and dark fantasy.

Usually the character has some kind of background as being a victim of abuse.

I know the feeling of the spiral of hopelessness, that darkness that descends over you and clouds your vision, that experience of losing control of not only your mind but your actions.  Losing such control that no matter how much you really want to talk it through to people, you can’t utter a single word, it is like your mouth has been sewn up and there is nothing you can do.  You can’t move your eyes to look at them, it is as though you have been paralysed.

Yes, I have experienced the total breakdown, where I have well and truly become non-comprimentos, it lasted nearly a year.

The thing is, when you are in that state, you can see and hear what is going on around you, but you can’t respond, it’s like you have been turned into stone.

You can still remember what goes on around you sometimes, but you just can’t react.  I reacted once, finally, when in this… it shocked me too, as well as the people around me… because I wasn’t eating they threatened to put tubes into me to make me eat and on the day they were about to insert the tubes, I came to again.  Fighting against them doing this to me; I don’t know to this day, why it was that which woke me out of that state.  But I spoke them into allowing me have half an orange to see how I go.  They didn’t put the tubes in me.

The problem was my keyworker loss her kindness for me after this, because in her eyes, I must have been pretending all this time – I wasn’t!

Happy reading!

Revenge of the ice Queen

There is winter in my heart

Losing you has left my heart cold

I am iced through to the soul

You have betrayed me and I will scold

Frost bite your being, right to the core

I will leave your heart raw

As you did mine

And my revenge will be divine