SINK,SWIM,FLY,CRAWL-how I fought social services to get my child back

First posted 2015

Content: How I got my daughter back-  and issues of control/ being out of control

Well bloggers we are already into week three on blogging101 course. Today’s topic is about when you hit writer’s block and using a prompt and to make that prompt personal to your blog.  Let me know what you think.

MY PROMPT:’SINK OR SWIM’ 

This morning I woke up with a feeling of loss and  a heavy anchor weighing me down. I should have been buzzing. I was three hours away from meeting up with a girl who works with a mental health charity and to work together on a one off workshop to close the stigma between the volunteers and the people they help. Below is all I had to type this morning: warning alert: very woe woe woe is me and not WOW WOW at all. BEFORE I CONTINUE: It came about that THIS LOVELY LADY has recently launched her first novel. How amazing is that? I can’t wait to read it. 

THIS IS WHAT I MANAGED TO WRITE  YESTERDAY MORNING :

Why do I only see ugly? What is wrong with me.I can’t love my cat or daughter or partner cos I have trouble accepting me. Why is outer beauty so important to have when I see the beauty of people in all their different guises. My heart has been rung out . The salty ness stings increasingly as it courses through my veins. pumping –you are ugly  you are not good enough.Why now? why these feelings now? My next challenge – like a bull waiting , snorting – A Red mist descends. Red mist that at the end will be..  I had writers block I couldn’t think of anything poetic to say. All words seemed shit and I felt shit.  

So let me get real and tell you what is really on my mind My head has been doing 360 degree turns lately like that possessed chick in every movie about hauntings and possession.  Except it has been me not some movie.  My weight has been going up and  up – I have had no control. Even with me eating healthily. The numbers have  kept on  going up. I have been getting a  daily beasting from the  Goddess of hard core exersises -Jillean Micheals. No bullshit. No pansy-ing out. No quitting. I am no quitter.Not a sinker. No Titanic. Why is this fucker in my head fucking with me now. I’m finally getting somewhere with myself and what I want to invest all my working time in.

Yup, so I have really been struggling with my mind for a few months Isn’t that crazy? Me wanting to help people who are struggling? I’m struggling. . I had to let go of the figures on the scale. I’ve never done that. How did I  do it?  well,  I decided  I like eating (yes, Anorexics can like eating)  and I eat healthily  already so, I was not about  to go hungry and become ill again. No, this is my time. I wasn’t going to start taking overdoses to cope with the madness inside me – skewered. grilling me .It was bedlam in my head. True bedlam.

I stopped weighing myself every day. I CAN’T BELIEVE IT EITHER.  I carried on with 40 minutes of  an intense cardio workout . I didn’t carry on doing 3-4 hour workouts like I have done previously. I did not start monitoring my fluid intake.  In fact I did the opposite and btw  my skin looks the best it ever has. I had to get moving. Get out the house and live.  The critters inside jittering and chattering and  fluttering  chaotically in my mind could carry on.I  carried on with life.

I got out there and I followed through on my next goal. I have my daughter back . I’m already a student with full BA(hons) in Arts and the humanities. I’ve booked our wedding for next year. The one I was never ever going to have. I am finally in a place to help people.

I don’t care if I don’t get paid I’m getting so much back from this.

You know what is even more chaotic than my recent state of mind?  okay -ready?  The training I have been put on to do, is all stuff I worked out on my own and with my family when social services wanted to put my daughter up for adoption.

Why didn’t they get HOMESTART in first?

Or THE FAMILY INTERVENTION TEAM?

How come they didn’t tell me about a 12 week course called called WRAP ( WELLNESS RECOVERY ACTION PLAN)  that helps a person put together a support package if a person’s  health starts to get distressed?

This is not some new concept or specialised training. It’s been going on for years and being taught in prisons and schools today. Why didn’t any of the social workers I know signpost me in these  directions?

I stayed up into   the early hours of the morning for weeks. Researching online to find an answer to convince  social services that I could be a mom and  have times when my mental health isn’t all that cracking.  In my research I came across something called ‘ the circle of protection’ (very Lion king – the zulu bit -youknow what I’m on about? an epiphany or something.

Why had none of these highly qualified social workers, guardians of the court, these professionals.. but me thought to put a contingency plan in place?

When my daughter  was put under an interim care order. obviously, I  attended court. The letter for the court date arrived days after the court hearing. I was lucky that I had my family to give me the heads up. I didn’t know that the  alleged assault charges against me , that had been dropped (because their was no physical evidence to suggest that I shook my 12 week old daughter) was only the beginning of  an incredibly long fucken journey home. I was like Hercules and his 12 labours.

Back to the morning of 14/12- Confused, in a state of panic -The former manager of social services – I like to call her Miss Hannigan-you know from ‘Annie’ the movie?  I swear she looks and acts like Miss hannigan – every professional I described her too- could not keep a straight face.

Do I hear happiness here?
Do I hear happiness here?

They knew exactly who I was on about. Anyway, so after court, the wooly and rather snivelly  cardigan came into view- like a red flag. Her voice was the second thing I noticed ,she sounded like one of Marges sisters from the simpsons.

I was like : Where is my daughter going? you can’t just take her from me!

She spluttered in that voice.  

Stop the drink- stop the shit and sort your life out . I wish she could take her own advice.

I found out about a 12 week group called the  FREEDOM PROJECT that was running in my neck of the woods. In a nutshell it is a 12 week group that helps women understand why we  enter and stay in abusive relationships. I took Miss Hannigans advice  and self- referred myself to my   LOCAL SUBSTANCE MISUSE TEAM and  I  engaged with a wonderful woman to work out what my drink issues were and how I could manage them. We tried various plans until we  both agreed  that whilst all this was going on, drinking was probably not going to be drunk for the ‘right reasons’. I went to every mother- baby group I could could go to.  I could only see my daughter 10  hours per week. I missed 7 contact sessions in 12 months. There was  a local contact centre only 5 minutes up the street from where I lived. I had no problems with anybody in that contact centre. Lots of positive feedback.  The contact worker who had become emotionally involved told us she had been taken off  as  our contact worker. Social services and my ex felt that the contact worker was being biased. It is not my fault that every other person who met him thinks the same thing. Whatever that may be.

So,a new contact lady comes on the scene. We did not mix well. It happens in life. I can’t love everyone 😀 Next thing I know and I was now taking  two buses to go and see my child – in a contact centre monitored by cctv like a criminal. This is how the dynamics of our relationship went. If I got on with spending time with my child and didn’t talk much with the contact worker-  she said I was being hostile. If I did chat with her -she said I was distracted and not mentally focused on my child. This contact person has no mental health qualification. Her job  is to collect children from carers/family homes and take them to  a ‘neutral’ meeting/ contact centre and to make sure the child or children get back home safely. She is a fucken flawed human. All her notes ( she was a fan of all the disney songs – those notes were just as agonizing to hear)  were being gurned  into the social workers reports.This is one opinion from someone who was not even qualified. It felt like she was there to prod and provoke a reaction out of me.

I asked the court to authorise  a hair strand test for alcohol and drugs  to be done. The test was only done 7-8 months after my baby was taken into foster care.  It came back negative that I was an alcoholic and drug taker. I am on prescription meds  so that obviously came up.  The non alcoholic levels  of drinking found in my hair proved to them I had drunk alcohol but not at the levels they were making out.From  the period  I decided  to go teetotal the levels had reduced even more.  It all  came back negative.

I was in a very violent and manipulative relationship. This  ahem.. man treat me like something he found in the gutter. He warped my mind.  My mental health was exacerbated in that relationship. I dealt with this issue and I don’t want to say more on here out of respect for my daughter. He walked away when he lost control. When my daughter is at an age she can make and formulate her own opinions  that will be the time I decide to give her the information about her paternal father and seek him out and ask him whatever questions she wishes too.

I paid nearly £400 to do a parenting course online because social services stated I could not do a certain group because my ex was attending it and my daughter had to be over 5 years of age.  He got on it because he has two sons under 18. I got my daughter back under a  full care order -on the 28/04/2013 .  She was not even three  years old and all of a sudden I could attend this 12 week government funded parenting course for free. I had THIS IRO ‘professional’ come into my home and threaten me. She tried to wind me up because I made a comment about her not even having met my daughter and she was the person to ratify the adoption plan. She sat on my living room suite and re-iterated that it was her that ratified the adoption plan and still held that view.  If I had a problem with her then I could change  IRO’s.

I looked her straight in the eyes and I said “NO, you and me are going to see this through to the end” -It was like something out of a western movie. Eyeballing one another.

“Yes. we will” she puffed out her chest and chuckled to her ‘henchman’ .The person she brought with her to intimidate me. What makes me want to poke out her eyehole is at the final LAC review meeting she was hugging me and saying I had taught her something about people with mental health issues and  she realised how ignorant she had been. This woman works with dozens of cases like mine everyday. Mental health is not a new endemic in society. I hope ,you the reader can see why I am ranting at this..

I always say ‘ I hold up my hands  I am far from being perfect‘. I would actually like this to be emgraved on my grave. I have said the phrase so many times.  The thing is  but I put in the effort in and they did not want to own up that they fucked up and I wasn’t what they read on paper and what they thought I would be like. ALL PEOPLE WITH MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES ARE DELUDED RIGHT? HAVE NO SENSE OF REALITY..

Here is my point, It didn’t have to go straight to adoption but it was easy for them to place  my innocent  12 week year old child. Blue eyed  with blonde hair and  not soiled and tainted from being ragged around a defunkt system.  No behaviour issues. An easy adoption case. They call it ‘twin tracking’

Ha , you should have seen the  guardian’s face when I told her that the chances of my daughter being adopted after being told that mental health issues run in her paternal and or maternal family drops. She was 25% less likely to get adopted.  Oh they loved me. My legal team were ace. I communicated and I asked questions and I researched.

As a volunteer I have a ticket to go to this PARENTING AND MENTAL HEALTH CONFERENCE

I hope a few social workers will be there to learn something about mental health .

I’m not angry. I finally know why I went through all this shit. now I  can do the professional training and help other people.  I’m not bitter- AM I FUCK?  Thank you social services for giving me such a hard time. It has led me to take the actions to   where I am in this new chapter in my life. I am strong and empowered and passionate and every time I have fallen in my life,  I get up.  Everytime. These other less invasive  helpful  services should  be taken into account and be brought to the attention of a person before they start taking kids off their parents and family without the full facts. I’m not talking about the families where abuse goes on. I’m telling you what I have experienced  There is so much wrong with the system. I’m gonna volunteer my heart out.

Thank  fuck for silver linings. I not only have my daughter and my partner and my beautiful  family and friends  to live for but I have been given a gift of knowledge and I will be trained to help people who need some support and advice. I must share this knowledge of how I got my baby girl back and how much I have changed and how fucken exhilarating and terrifying   it is but it is worth the fight. I’m not the only one. There are so many more who are terrified to talk because they feel threatened and bullied by social services. CHANGE  must happen and I will do anything I can to be a part of that.  If you have read this far. Thank You. Never give up your right to speak . I had a  ‘gagging order’ imposed upon  me when my child was a ward of the courts( This is the law in England) . I don’t anymore and I am well within my legal rights to post this.  I want to use my skills and my creativity in writing and acting to help people remember  how to communicate again and it is a right of theirs to have a voice…

P.S. I still am partial to a cocktail or two  when I’m not looking after my health  for one thing or another -usually for a dress to fit in to  go somewhere.

P.P.S. I have written a stage play inspired by these events with a Brecht like influence. I wrote it for my final end of module assignment for my degree at the Open university and I got a 1st for it.  I might put it up sometime . I might not.

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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.

Hi Lo Perspective

*If you want to find out more a bout the inspiration for this piece and raise awareness against all forms of violence and abuse-Trigger pictures of me looking bruised -HEAD OVER HERE

share #It’sok2talkaboutabuse

If not read below.

It’s not Saturday and I’m feeling non conformist. I guess its kind of my way.

Haven’t done much this weekend — except nursing bruises, swellings, scrapes and down right painful blisters on the mouth.

I’m fuming.

The lows of last week found me beaten to a pulp like a survivor from a war jump.

Didn’t get no gangrene or scurvy-I suppose that’s better than dying on a row boat at Dunkirk – on sheets of ice.

Spinning around not a La Kylie Minogue mode.

I’m over the worst of the beating-

I “secretly” hope these two bastards gets their come( t)uppence.

It would be easier to get high and escape from the down side-

Look out my window and the skyline is blocked by housing estates.

Crumbling – it’s always a better view at low tide.

Three a.m. wake up calls for months-every  time.

The creative freaks come out so, I suppose I’m in good company and I will be..

just fine. 😀

Physical strength is the only thing that let me down in this fight against the Alphas.

If guns were legal I think I would use the second amendment to plea —

Y.ankee

O.scar

B.ravo

S.ierra –

Give at least one of the limp cocks a belter.

Only one would be laughing — this bruised weed — always making sure her brood is out of the firing line;

Standing in the shelter.

Ballroom blitz and shammy with my king.

Oh how we will dance!

— cowards should carry around organ donor cards.

On second thoughts, who would want the innings of someone who can’t fight to their  own strength —

Run little boys to your Audi and drunk mommy-

The one you beat up on a regular basis.

You think this is a female annihilation version of the crusades?

I’m low not in mood but my body says — sit down and feel your boo boos

My head says life is for living.

I don’t want to walk out of my house,

like a beast or looking like a victim of domestic violence-

Here comes the freak in an endless hued complexion of distracting tutus

The highs are the times when I hear my child laugh, my husband he bathes me and kisses me tenderly,

loves my sense of spirit when I look bloody unsightly.

In truth I look hideously ghastly—

Green beans and asparagus — home made by La Bonne chef, ma Mere.

I struggle to eat more than ever, but I won’t let two stomped out cans put me off the future horizon I’ve cut out —

The scenic view from here is a — plethora of orgasmic sight sees.

Lows inevitably come with highs.

I’ve accepted a hand

taken that step off the top roof.

The next time I’m up their , I’m going by lift.

Agenda?

To dance and rub shoulders with people channeling the same level — hearing a sub woof.

Clearly better days ahead.

Wasted time on talking pin heads.

Its fine, its mine, Its life.

Yesterdays news is on current recycle mode.

This Mary Poppins has already started making UP fresh linen beds.

A break from the toxicity of incurable idiotism — helps me see far up the winding road.

Perspectives easily imagined —

There goes a heavenly striking stair case.

It may not lead to a conventional heaven .

I’ve already stated my unorthodox ways right at the beginning .

I missed the word that rhyme ending three sentences up,

So, I’ll close SOCs by stating:

I’m recharging my load.

I’ve missed LINDA G’S. SOCs -today’s prompt -High and lows

Good to be back – Take part its fun heres a link!

socsbadge2016-17

For better or for worse

how to be a good wife. 😀 😉

Cause less sorrow.

Talk less tripe

Paper,

rock,

scissors, or masking tape

Talk less.

listen more

love free from doubt

talk .

Decline an upgrade of

 buying into a get one free argument.

Another year passed.

Still eyeballing  the ferocious stye of the hurricane.

 numerous days swept by

side by side

Together.

Manage to keep one another extremist  sane.

Paper kites or paper cuts?

Endure and expand on our own perceived ins and out.

A  test to keep harmony on a scale

Genetically modified pesticide free.

Take one for the team

Roll over Beethoven.

Parasite recoils – breathless corpse.

Rise  scientific soul mates

Abandon host in search of a live love that remains.

 Keep it organic

Atrocities often committed when primitive bare feet leave a  trail  mix of impulse.

Picking out unsavoury nuts  in an odourless panic.

Allergic reaction

 pause on moments passed

lovers instinctive need to recreate

happiness .

Words

displaced.

misplaced.

replaced.

Recapture the beast of time.

never once dawdling – unaware of its power to desecrate.

memory injunction

turnabouts.

Maple honey  squeeze  leads to a scent of forget me nots

Souls connect – diffuse the trigger  wire in the brain.

racing  against accruing

increased deficits

from   the memory bank.

fall

to the knees,

begging,

 ‘please cease fire’

Weeds need no moonshine

When you’r feel you’re hanging on the vine,

remember- a seed push forth a mighty sign.

You must  take the sunbeams and treasure what’s thine

Wild Kansas City  is but one destination on the sign

Take hope, light and lose the animosity ,

for inside there is no monstrosity

Get yourself  caught speeding in high  velocity.

It’s not a train smash —  no not a catastrophe.

When you’re stuck in the middle of time.

Jump off the fence ‘cos that’s doing yourself a crime.

Don’t you let commoners  think your words cannot define,

Your value , worth and dreams  are not benign

Take it from the apple tree

He allows fruit to aid in his victory .

oh don’t , hide yourself like a willow tree

Cry, but remember you have a destiny.

Everything will be fine — look up —  allow the clouds to throw some shapes.

Open  them wide , mind expand — understand the lessons from life’s true greats.

You’re already one them-slightly chipped — still most valuable of porclain plates.

Never doubt  what you can do —   take a leaf from natures golden ratio

You radiate when you guide the fates.

Lets’ lasso this  up and keep your spirit wild

Grow tall — never lose your inner child.

A silly poem  to spread to the crowd

Accept   her quirks  — light hearted ,silly sap —  never lose a day when she has smiled.

*I’m feeling less heavy hearted and more like my old self these days. I was inspired by the song ‘This little light of mine’. live, love, don’t hold as grudge. Remain true to who you are and you won’t stand alone for long.

A song a mate shared with me. Happy vibes. I defy you not to feel happy listening to this. 

 

 

i

 

 

 

 

Nah!

Life update

 What a difference 7 days can make!  The only way I know to keep myself out of trouble is to scare the shit out of myself  – ha ha!

Write  to recover and then perform to recover. ;D

I’m moving forward again.

‘Fight the good fight’ as Charles Bukowski said.

Go big or go home.

The video isn’t great quality but I’m. sharing it more to reaffirm to myself that I have just as much to bring and give as the next person.

Something I jotted down last night. I’ver  lived in big cities and   many  small towns in different countries  (maybe some people can relate) and I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m done trying to show others (especially people who live in small towns)  I too have my own ideas and share similar interests etc…

It doesn’t mean I’m better or anyone else is better than me  It means I am  who I am and the world is bigger than where I currently live.

I’ve been looking for a genre for the kind of poetry I do. I couldn’t find anything that I fit into. So I introduce ‘in yer face ‘poetry.   Inspired by ‘in yer face’ theatre.  That’s me and that is how I write and I’ve found a niche and I finally feel okay. with not being everyone’s favourite read  or person.  ha ha!

IN YER FACE POETRY –  first coined by me, Daisy Willows  aka Natasha Bodley – taking 100% full credit for it.  ha ha!

 

I’m finally going to take the advice of other people and get something published- not because I want to make loads of money but because it shows me that nothing is impossible.

So far when I’ve  applied thais  mantra to my thoughts and life  -It has worked.

My definition of in yer face poetry 

‘ poetry that is blatant, honest, provocative ,emotional and not pretty or fancy or written to hide reality.

DAISY WILLOWS

women1

 

‘ Don’t be disappointed if you get rejected especially if you have made an effort to fit in. Farms are driven by human chains to contain. It’s highly unlikely that an animal bred to serve will accept you , especially if you are an animal who was born in the jungle or the savannah. Adapt , be resourceful and keep your spirit wild and free.

March to the beat that allows you to walk side by side with others, to lead others, be led  or walk alone. Acceptance is but one way you feel secure and shouldn’t be a reason to stay in one place.

Remember those who wander and drift out of their comfort zone will always find kindred souls who get the idea that acceptance can be found in those who know security comes from within. Choose to roam and meet other spirits who remind you why you live life

. Don’t stick around waiting for people to get you or accept you. Keep moving and you will never be far from those who accept your different attitude, culture and traditions.

Embrace the misfits . They are the most intriguing and loyal spirits who will make an effort to teach you their ways and be as eager to understand your ways.’

 

 Daisy willows

The one word summary  to the above is this.

ROSA park

Back on track….  Thanks to those who have been so supportive.

I’m still a newbie at doing open mic but what a great crowd and I’m so honoured to have had a chance to share a space with so many incredibly talented singers, comedians, poets/artists  who welcomed  this blooming weed into their little home and embraced me like a friend who had been away travelling.

Apologies for the poor quality video. Will try and upload a better one but tbh all you see is the back of me ha ha!  Not very exciting.

Still waiting for my MA results but I’m ready for year two!

 

Mr Willows takes over the willows

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’m waffling. 

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

 

Introduction

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

Weight: 89.7KG

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   

16th May

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.

17th May

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.

 

okay……..

I’m off.

Dealing with life 😀