With my husband’s permission. I will let his words dominate this post. Not easy being Mr willows – just kidding. Slightly…..
No one said that life is easy, no one said that marriage or relationships are easy or perfect.
It’s been hard for me to write about my feelings on my blog lately,because of all the shenanigans going on in my life. It never stops, does it?
There is a lot I want to say before I pass over my blog to my other half. I talk and type way to much for my liking.
We are all struggling and we are all working on our dreams. It’s easy to give up and I don’t know many people
-anyone -who has ever done this to show how much he respects and wants to know me and understand me .
I will not hide that we have problems and we both fuck up. I’m not proud of some of my actions or my behaviour.
I do know that the man who is so different from me brings out the best in me and the worst. Mostly ther best.
Usually, the men I’ve chosen have brought out the worst in me. ( they got issues just like me.)
For the first time I can say I chose a good man and some guys have been proper knobheads to me.
I’m not making excuses for those men.
“You are wankers, no more making excuses for you. I hope you get what you deserve. I don’t know what you deserve. Karma is not something I have power over, or even wish to have. ” Daisy aka Natasha Bodley
I have a man who has shown me what is feels like to be loved,respected, cherished and who wants our happiness.
Here is a man, who I get to call my husband.
I’m uber emotional.
I didn’t know he was doing this. Our marriage has been crumbling from the start tbh… (laughing, nervous laughter)
I’m at a loss for words.
So this Mr Willows
This is a rather difficult situation to talk about; my wife and I are at odds with each other, she suffers from a horrible illness call Anorexia, it is a controlling and manipulative entity. Anorexia has taken a lot from my wife and maybe even our marriage. Through researching this illness I have realised I will never know truly what my wife has to go through on a daily even hourly basis, So to truly understand what she suffers through I have decided to walk a mile in her shoes. I know that Anorexia is more than just restricting foods and liquids, but I aim to try to discover more. The last time I had anything to eat was two days ago (12th May 2017) and I will try to document both my physical and mental states through this journey of discovery. This may not be enough to save my marriage, but at least I will have a greater understanding.
15th May 2017
10:15: It has been a struggle this morning, it is very hard not to eat when things are very automatic, the struggle with suppressing hunger takes a lot of energy and mental fortitude. My physical state is that my hands are shaking, and used caffeine as an appetite suppressant. This is my second day doing this and will try and document often when things change.
10:30: I have been aware that this illness is also about body fixation, I have been aware for some months that my inner legs chaff when I am warm; I am going to use this as a point of fixation because it genuinely makes me unhappy and uncomfortable.
11:00: Housework is both a blessing and a curse. The blessings are it takes up time so you get to switch off the brain for a while and you are doing something so it takes up part of your day. On the flip side I know it is taking up valuable energy and that is going to leave me very weak in the days to come. I know it is going to be hard to hide my non eating but Anorexia is a selfish and manipulative illness. The coffee I had over an hour ago has hit me like a truck, I feel jittery and my heart is racing. I will be doing a small shop for some bits, this is going to be very different because I am no longer free to just pick up an impulse buy, I feel a little anxious about going to be far but I feel I can handle it.
20:07: The household shopping was hard when it came to doing the food part, my stomach ached so bad. I managed to force myself through it. I guess this is something my wife has to often, it takes so much energy to get through all you want to do is hide away and sleep off the hunger. It fails in comparison to having to cook for my daughter, it was hard not to pick at the food or fall in to what I have always done (cook a little extra for myself. I just want to see this through because I need to understand what my wife goes through on a daily basis. The fuzziness in my head feels very strange; I will stop if I see it going too far.
22:28: I understand why she chooses to binge on bread and cheese, right now, it is looking very tempting just to grab some bread and cheese and just go mad. I hope that I get better night’s sleep tonight
11:34: I feel very shaky today almost hyperactive. Finding it very difficult to focus on one task when you have so much running through your head. I can see why this feeling is attractive because you get a big buzz when you complete a task, even if it is something you do regularly. I can see in my face that bags have become to form under my eyes and have a yellow tinge, I look a bit more washed out and drawn. I dare not weigh myself because of both fear of seeing the numbers change. I can’t believe how hard it is to battle with something so simple as standing on something, what I can understand even more now than ever what those numbers represent. I promise myself that this cant continue to long.
9:30: Yesterday afternoon I had a large hyperactive spurt, I was walking round the house very giddy and wanting to spin people around, this lasted for about a half hour, during this I was running up lists of all the things I can do with the business, being a success at finding work, been a good partner and farther.
So to conclude what I have discovered doing this is this, Anorexia has a lot to do with control and hating parts of yourself both physically and mentally. It takes a lot of energy to get through the day and do simple things. Managing moods has been very difficult, riding high can be very addictive and the slumps take so much away from you. The stress on the body is frightening and I have lead a very active life. Sleeping is valuable if your body and mind can rest, this is because I have found when you are asleep you are not thinking, it breaks up the day and it conserves energy, plus I suspect that when someone is in full anorexic mode they don’t have to worry about eating. To think about food is a pain, caffeine helps supress appetite, gives your mind and body something to do and the caffeine and sugar gives you something to get through the day. Being around food can kick off a lot of anxiety because all you want to do is eat, and you feel disgusted and ashamed of these feelings. It feels like you are in a constant battle with parts of mind and body. I am unhappy with the way my legs chafe when I get warm, when you become uncomfortable with how you feel, you become very fixated on that area, you notice every time you move, get dressed and when you look at yourself. Weight gain and weight loss play a key feature because upon weighing myself for the last time I had lost 0.02kgs, with how much effort it has taken, I can see this been very devastating to sufferers because the results do not match the effort that is put in, this will lead to a big drop in confidence and mood. In a final note, I have a newfound respect for people who suffer from this illness because it is a minute by minute, second by second battle with what can only be described as fighting an intruder in your own mind. I know I will never know the true extent of the illness but I have a better understanding of how I can better support, listen and what actions I can take.
MASSIVE RESPECT FOR YOU, WE DO HAVE A STRONG CONNECTION ,AND SOMETIMES WE NEED TO REMIND EACH OTHER.
Dealing with life 😀
She conceives words as they follow. Military soldiers conform to order.
Dissident few stutter in a withheld, race identity, chalk circle.
Her brain won’t allow her to move on.
Lamenting for a trusted source.
Collapses onto hot tarmac. Too tired to alter.
Melt her heart.
Resuscitate the breathe that gives her corpse a reason to impart
For a creative outlet,
Her own personal work of art.
Hands raking through her hair. Grip at the sides, pulls out a chunk,
She’s dating an alopecia hunk.
This funk makes junk.
Eyeball sockets sunk.
It would be better if she didn’t care if the words weren’t her own.
It wouldn’t matter if the characters didn’t continue to harass her.
Calling for their story to be heard.
Multiple attempts. She can’t cut out cardboard citizens.
Maybe in an empty space, yes.
Verbatim theatre could work.
She submits to an elusive entity.
Virtual paper work-enough to bag a colostomy.
Not been on here much.
The guilt makes her turn her head away.
She gets it,
She needs to reciprocate.
Sincerest apologies for not being present.
She’s surfing the web.
Googling data analysis and Lady bosses fine tuning their hold on her own grip.
She prefers to lie down on green pastures than make love, on a bed,of green bills any day!
Unfortunately, life says she has to pay in paper too to make some headway.
It’s all right. It will pass.
Shivering from the inside. Lack of carbon dioxide.
Waiting for the critical to report how much recovery time she needs before Muse Goddess ups and leaves.
It’s a look of a person. Shrivelled into crass.
Thought-rhyming is a pain in her ass.
She’s laying it down in quick dry cement.
she knows we all want to be that portrait
She’s a portrait too.
Has her needs
Open your eyes-reach out to touch her.
These layers of skin hide organs, bones ,
And a heart so tense-all it can do is wheeze.
“This is me. I can’t deny it.”
We all have a life.
Hers has become a familiar rendezvous with Alien Jackson sporting a mullet.
What does it matter if characters are Black, White or Hispanic?
Social realism settling on common ground upon its release.
Not for an escapist’s palate.
What is the state of theatrical politics, on the horizon, beyond that place we call-
Not even two Bonds can be saved.
Pearl earrings engraved.
Her gums are in recession.
Blame the bank and the Tories.
Her feminist views will place blame on those next in succession.
One larger – hangs limply from her chest.
Commit a mastectomy on her femininity
Humans fight terminal illness, homelessness…
How dare she think her position is dire.
Disbelief that that her renegade words follow in a Capitalist order.
She falls onto her knees,
Thanks Ashanti for her daughters.
Time to shove a half pill down some pussies throat.
Its nasty ,
Doubts whether deep throat works
She’s trying to stay afloat.
Her illness-the chronic versus the opposite divide
It’s her personal narrative that finds her margined between this blank space on each side.
Calm and serene.
A mother is reborn.
Lost for 3 days — late – couldn’t rise,
Her mind was indeed full of scorn.
Today, she waits,
Wrings out her anxieties.
Maybe new teeth will win her virtual friends.
Give her more appraising likes
Maybe, they will finally see that she is real,
rearranging her mask-unsure of what reflects back at her multiple ‘Me’s’
Her reflection is divided into pieces.
Cant fathom out that there is a whole entire being to examine
Jig saw puzzle unresolved ,
yet again crippled to her knees.
Fervent sweeping up of shattered glass.
For a figment of a second she saw an outline
Stories march in protest – for plot out lines, dramatic structure, scenes, reveal characters in lace
Just enough exposed to show.
Three more weeks, one year down-more time for unadulterated fun.
If you don’t hear from her,
Know she weeps every night into a whisky soaked bun.
It’s a metaphor.
Let go and melt the sun.
Cool down its temper. Versailles gardens make her think of France cut into a jambon quarter.
Carry on till the end.
All the books say she ought to.
Humming a song
Doing her thing.
A mere whiff of failure invokes convulsions from within.
‘Write for myself ‘
Truth , integrity and courage is the only way she will let herself be heard.
If you can’t accept her-carry on peeking over at her life, not mentioning if cuckoo finally flew.
One day, you won’t be able to tighten Ids screw.
*Inspired by a kish kash, Mish mash of nerve endings and beginnings .
*Please feel free to throttle me/ unfollow me. This is worse than Trollope tripe -it would be more pleasurable watching a live abortion. Maybe that is inappropriate. I don’t think there is anything pleasant about what I have just let myself type. Apologies*
I think I feel a little sick.
Success is opening up her arms and people waving flags with my initials on it.
Sounds narcissistic but I guess I am afraid of the things I want most.
Success, Praise love, and Happiness.
Seamless drama is never far from a molecule in a foreign body on an abstract shoreline.
Possibly an inch closer to the imperial mix.
Take me up to shallow waters to bubble blowers and fellow talkers.
Don’t say it was me who created this venture.
I should have known ‘off the bat’ how it all works,
I’m feeling the inferiority rapture.
No, I don’t think I’m grand.
I don’t have time to glance in my Id crescent- shaped reflector.
I’m too busy overtaking the speed of light
working on the next bender, I mean.. adventure.
Praise me. I say thank you. I might even put a smile on for the finale.
Inside I’m thinking:
If you knew me I would be the one laughing when I hear some dude pronounce the G – in the word gnarly.
This is how I push people away. I make them think I have the flair to take every offer going spare.
Guaranteed, I will hike up the rent on the boardwalk by the glitchy sea.
I don’t know who to talk to.
These four walls and a cerebrum of characters have overspilled,
bulging out of their zippers.
appealing for me to gaze down to the center of all taboo.
Replace this mind below the gentry hippers.
Inside I need a pressure valve replacement.
Are they right?
the ones who make me feel I’m wrong like I’m a pyscho.
I tipple over the mountain edge in fright.
Who to believe?
The ones who make me feel I’m ugly inside?
an object on the outside – something to be used – an animated tool.
do I believe the ones who make me feel like the sun shines?
every time I reach out
pouring my words over anyone who feels the need for a breeze of air:
Legit fresh cool
Inside I’m tumbling.
A Scotsman in true fashion – rolling down hills with wee scant from a below eye level.
The mailer in this ale is taking its time to zoom around this corpus Christi.
The one in whose image we are declared.
Hear them all rebel when I tell them to leave my goat- she has her own bell.
I don’t believe in religious carnality.
I believe I’m here.
Think I can only post something reeking in banality.
All the time.
I look for a reason for why people are wrong to love me.
I get bored and frustrated.
I look back when Evolution dictates to reason that I must move forward to reach the charlotte caramelized sea.
Don’t look back in anger.
Avalanches of prejudice awaits me.
Raging in a carnival of colored palettes.
Two-tone is a note to hear something based on sweet civility.
Chivalry crept up on me and I made a splash.
Juxtaposed in the style of the clash.
More whale than mermaid -not quite the sight I was hoping you would remember me.
bobbing on a skyline.
Can I stand up or will I end up putting myself out?
Surprised at how I manage to keep the white cloaks from rapping at my window.
I’m sure I made a terminal agreement to sign myself in if
my face didn’t resume back to timeless position after a session of ‘the heavy pout’.
To make up or not to make up.
To share and be open or hide and whisper Goethem.
Reeled back to a cause – a club with red tape around the chill out room.
Stumped, I could be in a forest, for all you know, I could be higher than that blue kite.
Erect like her witches wooden broom.
My minds a place of genuine fear at times.
I can feel people waiting to hear what will come out every orifice.
Laugh with me or at me.
Make sure you got a clue what you on about – in every topic up for discussion.
don’t look around for a bar room tit,
just so you can feel a head higher than the king of Epileptic fits.
The most viscous harness whip I encounter is my own corpus callosum.
It comes out at me, at you,
at the crowd.
Prey eyes – fear the bird with the talisman.
Some days I think about being ordinary, then I think,
of course, I’m beyond that station of being so free.
I let fools rush in – I make a meal with plenty of meat and two servings of potato
I doubt myself too much.
I talk way too much shit to get any credit for how this piece ends
Did you know I have long toes?
My favorite ice cream is the one with the little Eskimo.