No going back

The post is labelled as draft. And the last sentence isn't even finished. A few lines written in haste reflect a moment you weren't ready to understand, or an idea that needed space to grow. But you never picked it back up. You never took the time to reflect. You never tended the seed. 

Now it's dead and the moment is gone. And try as you might you can't quite find your way back to that place. That feeling. That urgency to record something that felt like it mattered. 

The moment is lost forever, like so many others that you didn't even care to notice. 

It feels like an opportunity missed. If it was important enough to start writing, why wasn't it important enough to finish? What if this was the poem or the story that would have made everything clear? What if you would have finally understood yourself in the untangling of those feelings and thoughts and sensations? 

You will never know those answers. Even if you found words for an ending they wouldn't quite match the start. You're not the same person. It's not the same story. Too much time has passed.

Maybe they are best left unfinished. Unexamined. Unpublished. Maybe that state in itself is the story. Something half felt and half complete. The idea of a thing that never quite took form. A moment swept away and lost in the rush of life. 

2020

Well. It's been a while since my last post. It's been a while since I even checked that this blog still existed. But here it is. And here I am, trying to find my voice and my reason once again, in a year of global chaos. 

Do I make a grand statement committing to a post a week? a post a day? like I've done so many times before. Do I pretend there are still people reading blogs? Or do I just start writing in the way that I've always wished I could. Beautiful stories and poems and moments that touch people and change people and change me. 

I don't think much of anything still matters. So I am just going to write and see what happens. 

Forgotten

I'm conscious of the silence. Acutely aware of the weight in my pocket and how it tugs on my heart. The smallest sound sets off an alarm. A false alarm. A roller coaster of hope and rejection in the space of a single heartbeat. It's not you. It's never you. It's been days since it was you. Days since you didn't kiss me in the dark.
Now there is only the silence of my phone screaming how easily I am fucked and forgotten.

Losing my religion...

I identify as a creative person. I always have. If you ask me, I am someone who draws and writes and paints and sings. I say these things even now, when I have come to a point in my life where these are things I never really make time to do.
Drawing and painting has gone from being a peaceful, joyous, enjoyable activity to something that stresses me out so much that I can't even start something let alone finish. I'm certain that this is a product of my insecurities and need to overachieve in everything. I feel the pressure of performing. I'm too old to draw terribly. I start a drawing and think it's great, but then I can't finish because what if on that last pencil stroke I make a mistake and ruin the whole thing. Insecurity. Imperfection. I fail before I even start.
My blog is testament to how little I write at the moment. I still keep a diary and I write in it most days. It's not creative writing. It's not poetry. But I tell myself that that's better than nothing. I read and tell myself that it's almost as good as writing something myself. I feel so uninspired. My life is so the same. So stable. What is there to write about at this point? I've seen it all before. Uninspired. I don't know how to start.
The only thing I still do is sing in the car...but even that is being replaced by listening to podcasts...A more grownup use of my time. Or something.

I'm losing the will to make time to do things that are a huge part of how I define myself as a person...
Is this depression again? Am I changing as a person? Or do I just need to shake up my life and do something inspiring?

Night

The sun sets,
and our walls tumble down.
Our secrets spill,
like stars on the ground.

Our minds go to sleep,
and our hearts come alive.
You whisper my name,
and I'm lost in your eyes.

We laugh, we cry,
we fall in love.
We may fall down,
but we get up tough.

The taste of liquid silver,
dripping slowly past my tongue.
The pain of love remembered,
the smell of battles lost and won.

Just a shadow on the winds breath,
is every day I'm living now.
My soul runs wild through forever,
every moment that I allow.

There is nothing to hold me fast,
to the moment currently passing.
I live completely in the past,
and in the future everlasting.

Fire shimmers in the meadows,
until spring is lost to slaughter,
but all that was will be again,
I am the full moon's daughter.

Damn it 2017!

So in my previous post I mentioned how 2017 was already off to a rocky start and I expressed my sincere hope that this year would get its act together real soon. 

Well apparently the universe took that as an invitation to make one of my chickens sick. 😔

Damn it 2017! 

My poor little chicken has been unwell for a couple of days. There isn't even anything I can do to help her. I just have to make her comfortable and see if she pulls through. 

I'm very upset because as anyone who follows me on Instagram knows, I'm pretty fond of my little chooks. They have such awesome little personalities. 

Here's hoping she looks a bit happier when I get home this afternoon. 

Things like this make it harder to ignore the weight of all the sadness and loss in this stupid world. 

Welcome to 2017

The last few years have been pretty average. Things haven't gone super well for me or my family, but 2017 was supposed to be different. Things were supposed to get better. I wasn't asking for a perfect year, but no major disasters would have been nice. 

It's only the 8th of January and already my super health conscious uncle has had a stroke and my nans alzheimers has gotten so bad that she needs to be moved into a home. 

2017 had better get its act together real soon or we are going to have some problems. :/

On the plus side I am sticking to my resolution to write more. So hopefully I'll have some new stuff to put on here soon. :)

I'll lock myself away and scream into the dark Turn the music louder so I can't hear my heart.

Ebb and Flow

Some days I feel like a person. Some days I feel like the last 9 years have meant something. Like I have progressed in some meaningful way. Some days I feel like the years have allowed some kind of healing in my heart.

Then there are the days like today. Today it might as well be 2007. Today I am the same girl who sat in the dark in my room with the door locked and music screaming watching the blood drip from my arm. Today I am not the person I have fought so hard to become. Today I am that broken mess of a girl that I used to be.

I hate that this person, this weakness, is still in me. I hate that I can fight for years to be better, to be happy. And in a second it can all just disappear.
I know it will be better tomorrow. I know tomorrow I will wake up fresh and put all the pieces back together again. But that's small comfort right now. Right now, even though I know that this night can't escape tomorrow, the sun coming up seems so impossibly far away.

And what's worse is that there is no one I can talk to. I don't have much in the way of friends. And the guy I am sleeping with isn't really into me. He just does me 'cause I'm there and willing. Plus, there is no point alarming anyone because I'm not going to do anything and tomorrow I'll make myself be fine again. So I come on here to write a post that no one will read because this is the only way I can get all this stuff safely out of my brain.

Why do I have to live like this? Is everyone else this miserable and they just keep it locked away like I do? Or am I as alone as I feel?

I just can't even

Patch up the cracks

unbreak the stone

even living in ruins

beats being alone.

Overwhelmed

Recovering from my fight with a lawnmower was never going to be easy. I have worked so so hard to be positive and strong for everyone. Downplayed every problem and setback. Stayed positive in the face of every unknown.
Recently it's been getting harder though. I feel like the number of people I can turn to for help is getting smaller all the time as people go back to their own lives. Meanwhile, the things I have to deal with are piling up.
There are so many things I have to do. Physio to get mobility back in my arm, massages and ointment and pressure garments to minimise all the scarring, foods to eat to help me heal, doctors to see, bandages to manage. And on top of that I have to look after horses and dogs and chickens because mum is away looking after my nan who could die any day now. It's just too much. I have been getting so dangerously close to the limit of what I can deal with without losing it.

Fortunately my internal stitches are being well behaved at the moment or I think I would have lost it already.
I just feel like I am so alone...

It's good to have a place to vent though. Now I can go back to being tough and positive for a bit longer...

Small Bumps...

As I mentioned in my last post, I recently flipped a lawnmower on myself and got a couple of pretty impressive cuts. My recovery so far has been incredibly good. I have been very very lucky.
That's not to say that things have gone perfectly though, so I'm going to take this opportunity to complain about the few small bumps I have experienced.

The problem has been with the internal stitches. There are probably about 100 stitches beneath my skin holding all the muscle and tendons together. I thought these stitches would be the kind that dissolve after a while, but it turns out that's not the case. They are made of this spiky fishing line kind of material.
So far two of the stupid things have caused me problems by pressing up against my skin from underneath. Fortunately I have had help from some incredible medical professionals who have done their best to get me fixed up, but I'm not convinced that it's all over yet. One of the spots where the stitch had to be cut out still hasn't healed, which might mean that the wound specialist has to go in and cut something else out.
What makes it worse is that it's entirely possible that there will be more stitches that cause problems in the future. :[

The Time I Tried to Fight a Lawnmower

So I haven't been super active on here in a really long time and for once I actually have a really good reason. I had a bit of a run-in with a running ride-on lawnmower. The thing flipped over on me when I was mowing in the paddock. I fared better than many and walked away with all my limbs and digits still attached, but it wasn't fun. I had to have surgery to fix lacerations on my legs and arm and it's taken over a month for me to regain enough mobility to get up and walk around on my own and be a bit independent.

I'm not complaining though, I really have been very lucky to have everything fixed up with no major infection or long term damage. Plus there's the fact that my parents have been incredible. My dad took weeks off work to stay with me every minute of every day that I was recovering in hospital and at home. My mum made sure I got the very best care and looked after my injuries when I was discharged from hospital (she's a nurse). I'm so so grateful for all of it.

It's not over yet and I still have a long way to go with my recovery, but I'm well enough now that I
can at least come on here and type away without too much discomfort. Hopefully that will help fill the days and I won't be so lonely. :]

Danny

Outcast

When I am crying you walk right past.
When you're in groups I'm an outcast.

I sit by myself throughout every break.
When you're seen with me you shudder and shake.

You bitch about me when I'm not around.
You giggle and laugh when I fall to the ground.

You are cruel and mean in every way.
You make me loathe every single day.

You make me simply want to die.
While I stand alone and cry.

I took a gun from the draw where it lay in wait.
and took myself to the schools open gate.

You were all there laughing at me.
As I stood so silently.

You watched me put the gun to my head.
"It's all your fault" was all that I said.

You let out a scream as I fell to the ground.
You and your group huddled around.

You ran for help as quickly as you could.
As my blood spilled out over the spot where I'd stood.

My last words followed you around.
As the memory flashed of me dead on the ground.

My last words were stuck in your brain.
As you start to suffer from some of my pain.

The guilt ate through your mind through night and through day.
You saw I was right when I said that you'd pay.

Your friends drift away and you start to see,
Now that I'm dead, you've become me.

This Shadow Life - Taking a Day Off from Mental Health

I have this pretty sweet set up at work at the moment where instead of working five eight hour days, I work four ten hour days.

Now, when people find out about this they always seem to imagine me doing something glamorous on my day off. Like sipping coffee in a trendy cafe or out meeting boys at the park. Or at the very least they imagine me being productive by cleaning my house or catching up on laundry.

Honestly all that couldn't be further from the truth because for the most part I actually use my day off as a day off from mental health. My day off is like a free day to wallow in depression, go for a relaxing walk, binge on netflix, listen to sad/angry music, and basically just give in to my disease. It's a day when I don't have to be strong and together. I don't have to get dressed if I don't want to. I don't have to answer the phone if I don't want to. I don't have to do anything. 

That's not to say that I spend every day off in my room with the curtains drawn and heavy music playing while I stare blankly at the ceiling or cry my eyes out into my pillow. Some days I'm a normal person and I get stuff done, but the option is always there.

Some people probably think that having a day off from mental health is kind of counterproductive. Like all week you do your best and take a few steps forward, but then you have one day to give in and you take a million steps back. 

Frankly I don't think this is true. I think that having to be strong and working at your mental health all the time so that you can function like a normal person is exhausting. It's one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. and I have discovered in the past that when I try and keep it up all day every day, I'll last a while but eventually I will break and everything will come crashing down and there aren't enough sick days in the world to give me enough time to pull myself back together before another day at the office. 

Allowing myself some time off each week has given me a little release valve. A little bit of time when I can just let it all go and acknowledge my pain without having to feel like a failure for doing so. 

I can't be strong all the time... 

This Shadow Life: Distance

One of my nans is pretty unwell at the moment. She is stable, but no one really knows .how much time she has left. She is my mum's mum and she has been sick for a while now (as if that makes it easier).
It's been really hard for the whole family, but mostly it's been really hard on my mum. My mum is superwoman. She is one of those mums who would do anything for you and because she is a nurse, so much of my nans care has fallen into mum's lap.

I have never been close to my nan. It's probably because in many ways I am a lot like her. We are both stubborn, strict, maybe a little arrogant, and definitely not renowned for having a great deal of tact. And even though we have some great things in common, like that we both enjoy writing and painting, we have never been close. We have always managed to clash. That's not to say that we don't love each other, but there has just always been a distance. She was never a fun nan.
But now she is sick and probably doesn't have a whole lot of time left and the cold part of me that has experienced death so many times before just wants to pull back even further to keep myself safe, to start creating the distance between us so it won't hurt so much when she is gone. But the human part of me wants to get closer. In the typical folly of youth, I have never asked my nan about her life and she has lived a huge life. She has travelled and worked and raised four kids and held together an imperfect marriage.
Some part of me feels like it would be wrong for me to do this now. Why should I get to care about her now when I haven't cared for the last two and a half decades.
I feel like either way I go I'm taking the coward's way out. Like I shouldn't get to make myself feel better by getting to know her now.
I don't know what to do. :/

A Perfect Moment

Your heart is beating faster,
the music is playing slow,
But then her hand is in your hand,
and that's all you need to know.

Her smile says "I love you"'
and her heart welcomes you home.
With a kiss you make a promise,
to never leave her alone.

You promise health and sickness,
and love till the end of your years.
You promise support and trust,
through both happiness and tears.

Rose petals are falling,
in her hair and on your shoulder.
But the crowd is miles away,
the world is silent when you hold her.

Her lips are tight against yours,
you feel her smiling as you kiss,
Though you can't wait for the future,
you wish you could stay here, just like this.