In seasons lies lifes mystery

This  is the moment where I should embrace   the wintery-powder snow to come.

Under-wraps.

We all have naive delight to create  snow angels.

So too the  most damaged pimped out  hoes.

The death of every thing I know.

Yet,

I

don’t

know

if

I’ve

 ever

 known

Even one thing for certain.

Always,

I  thought

I blew according to the way the wind doth blow.

until I  walked right into the eye of the

C.louds

 I.ntelligance

A.ir

shouted them down-

No, I won’t go slow.

Voice  ricochets  seeking  a target

breathe exterminated-

The managers above cloud corporation hear my

costly,

cerise

commotion —

derogatory

delirious

temper tantrum.

speech

pressurised protests-

Attacks of panic.

I got what I was owed.

Hitch hiked a lift with a passing tornado.

Whirlwind dropped me off in a place with no directions to  the Republic of sense-at-ors of common.

I walked along the  the uneven, cobbled path —  another independent equality  free flowing  feminist ,

juggling with digits and exchanged words with third eye chakra chemists

Paper –

trees-

All alternate in form — it ends for the same means.

Or is that me unravelling myself from being stitched upped — picking away at the seams?

I didn’t  mean  to lose my way — country side hikes are  not my  governing zodiac  sign indicating

I’m in my element.

This body  contains still waters wrapped in layers of skin.

No  teasing trickle or   babbling brook

nor  a wishing well to reassure my hearts confidence within.

Summer time and the livings never easy

not when you’re a weed  on self destruct,

especially when the sun shines on  and makes blossoming

a gift without the morning sickness

That sense of queasy.

Rudimentary realisation .

Desolate

Deception.

Dark sunglasses can’t  make me ingnioto —

Looking back-

I should  of clapped my hands

,in breathless awe when the  sun set—

lowered gently against the abstract  backdrop

Tropical  orange  salmon ,pink sprayed skies.

Pay my respects —

Let it rest  when it his time to slip down and fall.

Reap what you sow.

I deal with every blow.

Turbulent Winds spirals me off   common ground

I find myself high up  and all alone

the come down — finds me face down in muddy bog marsh — eyes arrested by a

Facetious fog —

Not even a bird to sing me an ode of encouragement  to aid me back home.

Its true what they say we come into this world alone and we die alone.

Money, stuff — the acquisition of property

— it all gets left behind when we lift the veil to step into the next body of energy-

stagnation left in a cadaver —

this is our vessel —

Our only claim to earths  throne.

Seasoned Cycles of

life,

death,

regeneration ,

rebirth .

 

Change –

it’s contradictory to  our nature

Wearily   wallow over wilted ,   dead plants — tomorrow I’ll throw them away.

it’s all procrastination

Embrace the opaque

, the possibility of a welcome winter wave in

undisturbed silence-solace only to be find in untouched fallen snowflakes.

Trigger the cycle to fall — this is autumn .

Death and decay I feel  implacably broken.

This idea of pressing flowers ,dried

Into bookmarks is a nostalgic notion.

Shouldn’t I let it go and embrace the tremors, the blast of the callous   cousins cold and colder

A gift of this perilous  season?

anti climatized.

I live on  an island full of tall trees in treason for being out of season.

Let these words be enough.

Be my reason.

On my knees begging for hands to let go of me-especially those who touch are rough.

Grant  me sight to see-

permit  my body and soul to feel the spectrum

exhilerating and painful emotion.

Facing  forward to a future

 smelling the unsullied  scent of rebirth

A possible sight spotting of   Tigger

ready to  uncoil  and bounce into spring

 For the  awakening of the the blessed bees, Lilly white lambs  and a hereuse  holiday closer to the ocean.

 

 

 

 

 

Advertisements

The power of choice

*Life is busy again -I choose to post this 10 days before I am “supposed” to because I think our MENTAL HEALTH needs care and attention every single day*

Inspired by taking a head ache tablet and the film ‘the Matrix’

It’s a bit abstract and simple at the same time.

Using the matrix as a metaphor to raise MENTAL HEALTH awareness and reduce stigma

What if I asked you This?

What pill will you choose?

img_20170930_191653_4141668701966.jpg

Remain ignorant about mental health issues ,or acknowledge and seek to educate yourself?

If you believe you have a brain and a body -then it makes sense that you have Mental health and Physical health. Both exist. Both can fluctuate along a spectrum of Good- Bad.

Yes. I am aware that the picture shows only one tablet. Think of this one tablet as how  the status quo deal with Mental health -good and bad.

I’m not saying there hasn’t been progress. There has. We have a long way to go still.

Society wants to understand IT and at the same time ignore that IT exsists.

We can’t have both.

 In my opinion,

to think you can live with both:

understanding and ignorance  is INSANITY.

This is what keeps us from understanding and evolving into the mental well being matrix system. 😉

‘ the body cannot live without the mind’

Morpheus from ‘the matrix’

Here is a link to world mental health U.K. website –

it has articles, blog stories and loads of information on MENTAL WELLBEING -good and bad.

I live in West Yorkshire, U.K.

support links for people in my community here

its OK to talk

Hope Mental health charity- Calderdale  recovery college.

Healthy minds  Calderdale services

Wellness

Recovery

Action

Plan

Information in the U.K.

I have done the 5 day  co facilliator  W.RA.P.  and I’ve done the 12 week  program.

I’ve been involved with many of these services  or know people who have in some different capacities and reasons.

I BELIEVE ENGAGING AND REACHING OUT WORKS.

I FIND WRAP HAS HELPED ME.

Invest time in learning about the Wellness Recovery Action Program 5 core values.

What is your understanding  of these values? Click on each underlined link to read another person’s definition of WRAPS core values

  1. HOPE

  2. EDUCATION

  3. PERSONAL RESPONSIBLITY

  4. SUPPORT

  5. SELF ADVOCACY   – (it took me a long time to understand this)

SHORT INTRODUCTION TO WRAP

 

My premature message for #WORLDMENTALHEALTHDAY 10TH OCTOBER 2017

 

Even Lunatics must break fast

The calm before the storm.

I break my fast musing over my odds of being crazier than the norm.

Booming shutters  smash – open and close.

Muttering ,stuttering

— Brain  sensory over load — the cranium structure is deceiving in its form.

The third eye lazily flickers in a state of REM.

Here I am attempting to channel my inner  chakra.

I’ve resorted to stick-on Goggly  eyes to play the part of spiritualist guru ,sipping on high tea, to awaken my  inner rapture.

Dear Goddess Kali  can you save me?

from the howling winds,

The mooing cows spinning around me,  moaning  gutturally for  their new  fateful flight as fledgelings  ?

Glass

My house shatters into  a myriad of snow flaked, razor sharp,jaggered  pieces.

broken ,

unable to repair  the damage .

Take a searing hot iron to my face to smooth  out the grimace in my features .

Sacerdotal screams in the night — a  man stolen from his  lullaby.

Distant but not too far off – I keep my inner warrior on stand by.

In truth, it’s the time of the creatives .

Out come the freaks

Sleepless ideas

patrol ,

brazen in their efforts to destroy,

 my favourite playlist titled: sweet dreams.

I wonder who I will be in 12 months from this very hour ?

Where will all the thousands of words I’ve ploughed through with oars

Will I have sailed?

will I capsize?

Will I have ability to walk or be a cripple, dragging myself by the elbows  under a storm pelted bleached ,grainy beach?

– Will I carry  any legitimate power?

The Temptations won’t knock

They will saunter in .

Oh, it’s to be expected.

I refuse to fall to my knees,

swear my allegiance to make another man’s family richer

Than see mine indicted.

I’d sooner sit on a floor , covered in colours of paint and corners lit with the smiles of my loves.

I’d sooner watch paint dry or read a screenplay loosely based on what I know about when life comes to rouse me with rough pushes or shoves.

Fire ,

water ,

earth ,

and air

Elements balance my kinetic ,

dynamic ,

complex feelings of despair.

Change comes with promise.

Fear comes with very little solace.

Motion  to a new position –

don’t cower from success

It might even suit my  current attire  and my inner prowess .

My time to deliver.

Get my due.

Affection,

laughter,

love,

and living

For me and my few.

My kind words are  still here and my support?

I have some to  spare.

I won’t waste it on those who don’t reciprocate

The err is but their own.

Chosen to remain  frozen-staring down a hall of , pale, mirrored self reflections.

unable to see

they are not the only ones

Who need encouragement and care.

I swill down the remnants of this blessed meal with the rest of my cuppa charr .

I clamour to suppress my applause.

I  catch out the dawn  rising with a yawn  unashamed ,gloriously

naked.

I’m no longer afraid to be the lunatic. I’ve seen the powers of nature.

Forces of rage.

still waters run deep

 This insanity is something I hold dear to me-

The great  mother gave it to me-

I will set with the  sun

It’s my duty  to  consummate  all that is sacred.

Revised stream of consciousness — border line poetry.

*feeling nervous and excited for year two of my Masters , moving home and shizzle like that 😉 ha ha*

Short story- The order of the black Dog

THE ORDER OF THE BLACK DOG

My family. Here we all are, sitting around the circular dining room table- flecked with bits of gold. Ma sits under a hanging portrait of this Christmas just gone. Three weeks ago. We are all smiling in it including Poppy. Poppy sits playing with her Annabelle doll, on my husband’s lap. Sat opposite from Ma, closest to the electric fire hearth is Gran. I find myself sitting across from Gran. An iciness breathes mist over us. It separates me from them, cloaks me in a fog. I try to swallow. The air is so thick it chokes me, I’m forced to put my hands to my throat. Nobody notices me.  Nobody notices me the way they used to. I tune in to the conversation-taking place.

‘Of course I’m not suggesting this is your fault.  I should have known. Done more…’ Nan bursts into tears. A cry out for:

 I need attention I’m suffering the most.

My skin bristles. Nan pulls her scarf tighter around her neck, and then throws out a familiar comment about it being draughty.

‘You know I could catch pneumonia with my Asthma.’ She coughs. Ma gets up to put on the electric fire.

‘I didn’t take her seriously. You know what Angie was like?’  Ma’s eyes are red as the rosary beads she is thumbing; she looks over to an unusually quiet Poppy.

‘Did she just do it to spite me?’ How could she just leave her own…?’

 My husband throws a warning look at Ma,

‘Marie, for Poppies sake.  Our Angie suffered more than she let on.’ Ma sits back down. ‘Let’s put on a cartoon, luv?’  Poppy shakes her head.

 She doesn’t look at us.  I look straight at her, willing her to leave this table. Leave this conversation. She lifts her head and looks me dead on in the eyes. I instinctively smile. Eddie and me always stood together when it came to Poppy. Her face is pale, her eyes sunken, her skin is drawn in so tight I can see cheek bones protrude. Beneath her eyes-, veiled shadows betray her youthful face. She clings onto Annabelle, still looking me dead on in the eyes.

‘When’s Mummy coming home?’

 Silence. Her words enmesh with the silence. Her question disarms me. Marks me. The arrow leaves its bow splintering my heart. I open my mouth to scream out as many words as I can. Condensation steams the air distilling me into silence. I reach my hand across the table to grab hers. She doesn’t see me. I glare at my family sitting at the round table. They say nothing. Smothering themselves in sorrow, they witheringly curl inwards. I urge to shake them, uproot them from winters glaze.

-Answer her! Answer my daughter.

Instead, Gran succumbs to a puddle of wrinkled tears, mechanically Ma gets off her chair, attempts to console Gran and naturally it’s  up to Eddie to mediate.  My calm, rational Eddie. His eyes read as vacant –his beard is wild and unkempt.  It’s impossible to read his face. He clears his throat,

‘We’re gonna see Mummy when we give her… say a proper goodbye.’

Gran flounders in her anglers net of remorse.  Great splotchy splashes of grief escape. She wails,

‘She’s with the angels –looking down at you, darling!’

 I roll my eyes. Of course I love her!  Lately, she grates my skin more frequently with her, melodramatics.

– Confess how you truly feel. Relieved!

I’m so fixated on evoking a response from Gran; unnoticed, a light flickers with an intensity to match my own.  Eddie carries Poppy over to the sofa, sits her down to watch a cartoon. He covers her with a blanket then kisses her forehead.

‘We’ll see mummy soon? To say goodbye?’

 Eddie nods his head, his voice cracks.

‘Aye, love.’

‘When will mummy come back from saying goodbye? In spring? My teacher says it’s winter – everything goes to sleep like her?’ Poppy points to ‘Sleeping Beauty’ on the television.

 Eddie focuses on the image. The Prince is just about to kiss Aurora on the lips. He turns his head away from the television before he can see Aurora wake up to her true loves kiss. He grinds down on his teeth. Poppy’s eyes remain transfixed on the television. Eddie gets up, crosses the dining room table; I’m compelled to follow him, I have to stop him. Tell him I’m still here. I haven’t gone anywhere. I’ve so much to tell him.

 -There is no God! We were right all along. Religion is for people who can’t think for themselves.  We were right to take the piss.  

Eddie flinches, puts his hands in his jean pockets. I follow him down Ma’s hallway and into the bathroom. He closes the door on me. It doesn’t ever close fully. I slip through the crack of the door that is always ajar.

 Head down. Still. He sits on the toilet seat.  I kneel down before him; go to lay my head on his knee. He flinches again. Hits himself in the head. Bangs his fist on the wall screams out:

‘Why? We could’ve figured it out, you fucking stubborn mare’ I bring out the best and worst in Eddie. Till death do us part. What are the chances?

He still refuses to let me go. Stubborn.

My symptoms intensify in the days leading up to the funeral. Everything‘s heightened especially emotions that seemingly walk precariously on stilts.  I can’t walk through walls or levitate. Nothing like any of the horrors Eddie and me used to watch together, on the sofa. 

Unheard, I bellow continuously,

-Just let me go!

 Every time I hear my name called reflections of nostalgia flash and beam over and around me. Prompted, I gravitate towards the source. Someone needs me.  These past three weeks, I’ve been teleported from one conversation to another. I find myself in a room; familiar or not familiar, with people I know and people I don’t know.

Today I’m summoned to the usual bickering between Ma and Gran. The familiar sound of Gran’s kettle boils in the background.

‘I want that picture of her on her graduation day and flowers- blown up .With azaleas. And roses – she loved roses- pink.’  

‘She hates that picture! And she loves- loved yellow roses…’ Ma’s wobbly voice mirrors her jelly struck legs propping her up in her work shoes. She staggers backwards. Like the black dog with a bone, Gran won’t give in,

‘No, she’s my eldest grand daughter and I know her – it is… was pink!’

 Ma sits down, doesn’t speak. I go over to her to put my arms around her then she dissolves into tears. Gran bulldozes her way over to us. Intimidated, I move out of her way. Gran holds Ma and Ma lets Gran hug her. Ma calms down, mentions something about pink and yellow roses

Vexed, I shriek

 – don’t back down Ma, I love yellow. Yellow roses. The kettle whistles for attention. My voice is lost to an object.

‘I’ll go make that cup of tea’ Nan retreats to her kitchen.

Another opportunity to get close to Ma again.   I need to hug her, give her some of my energy. As if on cue, Mum’s tear-stained face crumples just like my heart. A poking hot iron burns a hole right through it. Gran re-enters the room I scarper.

‘Here you go, love. Lost three of my own …, as you know, mind, they never got to Angie’s age. Yellow’s more of a quirky colour like our Angie… was.’     They smile at each other. I move back, the distance seems to illuminate their smiles.

Tonight, I beg for there to be a heaven. This has to be hell. The familiar, incongruous, gravitational pull lures me out of my cavernous abyss. I blink my eyes several times to focus: orientate myself. Hung up around the wall are vintage Disney posters. My eyes settle on Poppies bed. Eddie bends over Poppy and kisses her goodnight,

‘Mummy loves you just as much as I do.’ He tucks her in.

He switches off the light before walking out. I stand and watch my worn out daughter in her bed. She sings herself to sleep just as she does every night. She sings our song:  twinkle twinkle little star. With each inflection of her sweet singing voice, the words serve as a needle. Each word stipulates smelting hot ink into my flesh. My neck is ablaze.  Before closing her eyes, she whispers,

 ‘I love you mummy.’

When I reply, scorching chains wrap and lasso me around my neck. My skin swells up in blisters. The familiar sound of her breathing evaporates the pain.  I need to be close to her, I need to smell her, kiss her. Carelessly, I run over to her bed to touch her sleeping head. Startled I lunge backward as Poppy instantly wakes up screaming.

– I’m powerless

. Eddie barges into the room, throws on the light and takes Poppy into his arms. I watch her body stiffen; then relax. I watch him settle my daughter back to sleep. My hands ball into tight fists.

-She must know I’m here.

Before I can touch her face, she wakes up screaming like – like she has seen a- ghost.

-I’m that Ghost! I put my hands to my mouth in horror.

 Envy bubbles inside me as I witness Eddie consoling Poppy again. I’m half hoping he won’t succeed.

What kind of a mother am I?

I’ve been telling everyone to let me go.

Where will I go?

I can’t drive, no one can see me. There are no other lost souls wondering about telling me to join the dead community!

I won’t give up on my daughter. She needs me. I have to be here.

 The stroke of our clock announces its time; a primitive realisation slithers down my very core. Nausea spirals up into my throat. I run into our bathroom, heave over the toilet, nothing comes out. I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror; I see vicious V-shaped welts where the noose of the rope has cut into my neck. This is what Eddie came home to.

The cloying black dog of depression haunted me. Its delivered dose of pain was exquisite- nothing took it away. Not drinking, overdosing, drugging myself, talking-nothing. Eventually, I told it to sit down.  I told Eddie repeatedly,

– I just want to disappear.

– How can I help you?  His eyes pleaded for an answer.  I would always lash out,

-Unless you help me disappear, you can’t!

 I remained imprisoned in our bed and he would go back to work and look after Poppy and the house. He could walk away from me. I couldn’t. I resent him for that. I can see myself now, googling the various ways people commit suicide. One article struck my eye ‘Men are more successful at committing suicide’.

  -They don’t mess about with poisoning themselves –they resort to more violent means.

That is the moment I reached out to the wrong Alpha.

The black dog and I began sleeping together. It became my obsession. Up-close, I could analyse it, experiment with it. As a couple, it didn’t take much to find that Alpha rage. One phone call from Ma,

-Just snap out of it. If you’re going to do it, get on with it.

-Fine, I will!  I hung up on her before she could hang up on me.

My impulsiveness finds me trapped within this mirror. It’s cold. Everything I read is back to front. Everything I do is back to front.  It doesn’t reflect my true intentions. When I reach out, in fact, the more I reach out the more pain I inflict. I back away from the mirror until I’m pressed up, with my back against the bathroom wall.

 What have I done? 

 What right do I have trying to tell my family how to deal with their loss?

Eddie will never know that I was messing about; I didn’t know if I could actually go through with it. From a great height in a corner of the bathroom my body feels cut loose from itself. I can see it happen in front of my eyes. Like a rerun episode, I can’t pause. The noose around my neck, in the shower. Steam shrouds the mirror, with slippery feet, I accidently knock myself off that chair and in that moment I realise,

– I don’t want to die.

I can’t scream and tell anyone. I made the decision when I decided to sleep with my enemy. I’ve interrupted the natural course of life. A lost soul in life: a lost soul in death. There are no bright lights to come with this epiphany. I exit the bathroom, stumble down the staircase, out the front door, and walk aimlessly down the street. I sense a familiar pair of eyes examining me; I look up and see the black dog in its true form. It waits for me to catch up.  We walk side by side. I don’t look back.  I am the one preventing people from moving on. I have to let go.

Punch and Judy -sober edition

Intolerant society.

We live in a belly fighting off bacteria

Begging other intelligence to disembowel us.

Before

a tsumanima of hate floods our irrigation system of morals.

No lives matter.

Nazi’s aren’t the only few crazier than Mercuries Mad Hatter.

Everyone has an opinion.

Every Judy thinks they are entitled to a Punch – no need to be drunk.

No justice,

infuriating that we can’t learn violence is a domino effect.

Cause and effect

ripples from thrown stones.

Balance in humanity

artifially insemitated tinnitus

is the reality.

We look to archaic verse in the Testament that

‘ an eye for an eye’

is as natural as two beasts being violated while they are in active fornication.

Instinct and emotions show us we are alive.

We feel, we must feel — we have to feel to carry a vigil of hope

Some divine sign,

god, goddess installed a program of free will.

Divine sign?

Why not take back this privilege?

Why make a world perfect and full of sublime, lure us out with the promise of sunshine?

Caters to the needs of every breather, every ecosystem.

No need for uadulterated theft.

God is a Narcissist.

why would someone with such power sit back and watch us destroy one another?

Fuck the lies, the parables,

Jesus dying for our sins!

His resurrection has risen along with centuries a blasphemeous leaders chanting idolific hymn.

In the name of ignoratious barkus dogma

Religion – organised to control the masses

Opium now smells of it’s true odour-terrorisim .

Bombs, nuclear weapons, fists connecting with human bodies, unlicenced rifles blasting into chunks of animals flesh .

Rights?

Who is right?

This game has found us lost in a maze and the goblins haven’t the eduction to translate to us

cuts to every department,

land.

Division.

Revison .

This is prison.

Suicide seems an answer to a man’s motive to rise to heaven and receive a reprisal.

That is a given.

God is a narcissist .

Jesus-is a shoddy carpenter.

Mary Magdelane -the whore,is the only tangible part of this story I find plausible.

Create a world – destroyed by nations.

Give me a sign!

suffering to this extent is for an entity pantomime.

Enlightened gods, sit on Mount Olympus ,never miss an episode of planet earth.

The screen darkens to reveal

another dismal form of the masses , pupils— dilated, babbling words of freedom to.

freedom to insult ,

freedom to obliterate ,

freedom

to disfigure,

freedom to impregnate,

Freedom to do anything.

A society bloated, heaving up piles of excess.

Anarchy doesn’t mean terrorisation

Revolution is for the mighty of heart.

Ones who wish to see change from inequality for the many in parts.

Race,

Gender,

Sex,

We all deserve to be on the earth offender register

Why do we have laws ?

when we take our grievances into our own hands.

How can there be justice?

-when justice fails us with a well practiced pose of inverted corruption?

Trust in humanity.

Live by your true North, moral compass .

Born in navigation mode,

even if life serves you a sentence of physical deformity;

Don’t look to the sky for an answer.

Don’t look to a man with free words dribbling down his jumper.

Don’t tear down statues that can’t fight back.

There is no sense in joining hands with this vicious pack.

We all have it wrong.

Every. Single. One. Of. Us.

Think the death penalty teaches people to stop being immoral?

Tears cause waves, I’m hiding between the reeds and the coral.

Every face has that stoic sense of entitlement

Knitted together,from years of oppressive governments taking our God-given birth sight to see what a plight this truly is.

We all need to hang.

Hang our heads in shame.

Enough .

Cut out my heart

See it bleed

Let it bleed –

examine the appearance of your own and understand there is no difference –

we come into the world

We all rely on another hand for our first feed.

I’ve always been taught to have a plan B

I find myself alone; ready to denounce my mammalian side and take my chances, swim against the tide of oil sickened oceans, in one last effort to truly be free

from;

Not for.

From.

Free from hate,

, free from words spoken with a lingering scent of horse manure,

I denounce my own and seek a new home on the basis-I don’t recognize my own kind.

I don’t see a common interest,

goal –

all I see is another foe.

I choke on these words.

Why can’t we learn!?

I could go on, but we have unread history books, in abundance.

Nothing is censored.

The age of enlightmenent has turned into the birth of disallusionment.

Destination Contemplation

Sometimes I feel like why do I bother.

Sometimes I feel like I’ve used up all my bear care

The cities I lived in .

The people I’ve engaged with.

started to stick two fingers up.

But only to the dickheads.

I dance to these beats cos I rise to the funk masters compilation.

I run for the hills , soul in arms, cos I’m scared of bereaving one beat closer to my final end.

Wasted kindness on friendships. One person knows what goes in my head.

Anxiety takes grip, and I turn on my only friend.

I don’t wanna feel like an unwanted graze.

Take me to a place I love.

Where people don’t talk in haze .

I don’t ever wanna feel like maple honey stuck to a face.

Take me to a place where I can finally come out from the virginal lace.

It’s hard to see the evil in people.

Harder to believe especially those covered treacle.

Atleast, I have a built in shit detector-

this city knows notof me.

My mask falls when the prison doors close.

I don’t ever wanna feel ignored by tramps with tongues for shoes.

Just get me out of this space where my compassion reduces me to tears,

Ignored,

Singing the wrong type of blues.

Under suicide bridge another man lands face down on the ground.

Blood glitters all in an outline and I’ve got scared .

I’ve got to be prepared.

I won’t throw this body away for another

no show.

*song inspired by Red hot Chilli Peppers ‘ under the bridge’

Trigger fish out of water syndrome

It’s been a while since I’ve done a non poetry /stream of consciousness post.

There’s been a shit load going on in the Willows, and every time I think I need to put my thoughts in a post-,life crops up. haha!  Life, damn you!

giphy

Since June  2016 ,I’ve  felt all the positive vibes I usually throw out to the right people shrivel up  into  dead  petals.

The fragrance  of mustard gas  toxins in my mind and body have knocked me out. I’ve tumbled  into a fitful slumber – ignorant to the   natural  effects of the  buzz of Life.

I’ve  become ashamed.

Ashamed because I was finally in the best place I’ve ever been in my life.

And I decided to self sabotage.

Here is the weird logic.

Sometimes, when I feel like creeping back into my comfort zone, I retreat from all the people who  treat me with respect , encourage me to carry on being creative and love me , give me chances to rise and  make a difference in my own life and possibly in others. I become a scorpion in defence and attempt to  sting myself to death.

It’s a primitive response – commanded by his most rational Amygdala.

No chance I’m going to let anyone else crush me. Haha! I will do it myself at my own hands or tail… even.   

Suspicious mind sets in.

giphy1

The thing is my self destructive tail  shrank while I was living life allowing myself to be confident, taking compliments, getting ahead ,  climbing the arduous trek uphill, and finally relishing the view  on top of my own mountain .

I  had already  started the process of  adaptation, in response , to the good fortune I’d made in my life.

Let my guard down.

In fear of being who I have always wanted to be, I fleed with my stumped tail,  roamed the desert and searched  for a medley  of creatures and elements to crush me.

I know this sounds abstract.

I recently went to an open mic night for people in recovery from various addictions, and one girl  came up on stage  and performed a piece about her strange and unusual relationships with toxic people.

It’s almost like a  buzzword. I hear this phrase everywhere’

‘don’t let toxic people into your life

I do get it.

I understand  that I don’t need to be on drugs, or overdosing or starving myself to hurt myself.

sometimes, when I feel self destructive, I seek out people who I think need saving or who can help me escape me or they seek me out. It’s not something I’m aware of until it’s too late.

These people are attracted to me like gravity. Vice versa.

These people become a drug.

There is an allure, a peculiar drive to chase after them. Hang onto every kind word spoken , every sweet gesture.

Then when  they wake from a spell of disallusion- or they feel they have been stirred in the wrong direction,or  an ingredient they needed to feel good about their current situation is added too lightly or heavy handedly; They turn on those they see as weak and prepared to put up with their bullshit.

I liken this behaviour to a rather lethal bad batch of substances or hootch .

I  refuse to walk away,  I guzzle up swigs of insults and snort up the  all the flaws that make up my chemistry.

giphy2

Eventually, they take all their own self loathing, regret, frustrations  and issues and dump it on me.

There is strength and vulnerability in me. I’ve never wanted to build a wall around who I am.

I’m transparent.

I may do shitty things and its no excuse when I say,

I’m always upfront about it.

I always let the people in my life know what’s going on.

Where I am at.

I  tend to do this with people I have just met too. I’ve hid myself for so long. If people can’t get me from the start, then I’d rather know sooner than waste precious time.

It’s not an excuse to do shitty things to other people.

I choose to tell people what I’ve done/doing. Good and bad.

I confess, I usually  have a lot to lose -most of the time.

9472470aa2469ef2d22810e89b602815-depression-suicide-truth-quotes

 I’m blessed to have a small circle of  family and friends who are  ready to take my hand and help me out of the jungle.

Help me leave the ones who are in the thick of it ,simulated  and hanging out with  familiar,  estranged  animals. They are trying to survive.

It’s hard to take a knock. It’s facile to blame others for your setbacks. I’ve done that in my life over and over.

Many times.

It’s only when I decided to make a conscious choice to make peace with my past, and take responsibility for what I do now, have I been able to bounce back quicker from life’s trials and moments of fuckery.

It’s obvious, right?

 Blaming others for how you feel is hardly going to solve your problem ,is it?

I’m full of passion, empathy  and I can be blunt,I do speak my mind  and  I can be a soft touch.

Disastrous in the wrong hands.

It becomes difficult to keep my mouth shut and not  turn the remnants of my poisonous tail  on those who hurt me.

i-am-a-thug-and-i-will-cut-you-prettypussy-9626746

Passion floods through my veins. Bubbles over.I retaliate  especially after seeing someone else’s  imperfect life. After listening to their feelings and ideas and dreams. Reaching out and saying, ‘ I’ll be there for you’ .

These people usually say: I didn’t ask for your help – ( it doesn’t stop them from taking it when it suits them)

It’s hard not to retaliate when family, friends or an acquaintance who  I’ve trusted to divulge so much about myself, in things I trust they won’t use against me, because of our common acknowledgement that we listen, don’t judge and empathise.

I retaliate at hypocrisy and denial.

I retaliate  when a person uses ammo to hurt me and then cries in a murky pond of self pity  at what a scoundrel I am! 

 when I give it back to them- in their language. People dont like being spoken back to  in fluent asshole. It’s usually my last resort.

It takes courage and stupity  to allow another to  hurl a  barrage of abuse at you. This can be subtle- only you know it is abuse because of what it does to your mind and emotions.

To have  someone  not understand how or why or  even care, that  they are poking my underbelly;

To try and  reason with a person who can only see how hurt they are – how what has been said  to them is far worse than what they have said, is frustrating.

Bashing heads  together-over and over. It becomes consuming and frustrating. I just want to record what we have already gone over, press play.

Stuck in a loop. Trying to move forward.

Attack!

Go away. 

Wait, I need you.

Welcome to radio station FM  mixed signal.

In my experience, I’ve met many people who are going through their own shit storm,and instead of looking to fix themselves they will  throw sticks at another’s issues.

Some do try and fix themselves but are surrounded by other toxic people who hold them back.  Their dreams and goals become more obscure and more difficult to make out.

The  other ones caught up in the spiral of habitual self abuse can’t help but bring others down with them.

So,

Why do I feed into these wonderful people who are full of heart  and pointed edges?  I can see they  are clearly awash with troubles.

Why cant I leave them alone?

 the nature of addiction is  compulsive and obsessive.

It’s agonising to know the psychology of toxic people and know what they are doing, feel immoblised and, desperately hanging on to my sense of self. The voice that usually stand ups and says

I won’t take this. I know who I am. 

is replaced by a mouth stitched up in apathy.

A shell of myself holding tightly onto hope.

Its not the person its their behaviour.

Hard to swallow until my passion and sense of justice regurgitates all their abuse, the cold words, the push and pull effect.

It’s hard not to expect people to be on your level- it is worth training your mind and heart to expect little from people.

Especially the people who let their guard down.

Am I the only one who can be around certain people and not feel self conscious?

 Not doubt  my intelligence, ability, my ideas and my very being?

I’m not left questioning  If I am worthy.

Then,

there are the people in full bkoen toxic mode, who will take all the positive energy from you ,and then discard you. It’s because they are   highly  absorbed  in their own life of misery. They know deep down they are better than their current situation. The anger is a reflection of the weaknesses same weaknesses they see in those they use.

 I say:

 don’t hate these people.

Most toxic people have good hearts, and when in a good place (if ever) have a lot of love and time to give to others.

By all means walk away from them, let them push you away.

Yes, sometimes we have to be pushed.

falling-off-the-cliff

Sometimes, we have to put aside the good we can see in them, and realise that they can only help themselves.

I know all this because I have been toxic.

I’ve done all these things.

We can all be toxic.  Always take time to refocus and reflect.

All experiences can help build on your character and teach you important lessons about yourself.

We are all works in progress.

36186390-368-k525336