Tag Archives: fighting

Two fighting octopods

I watch you, like an octopus in bed

Lumpy pillows by your head

Twisting yourself into knots and throws

Snoring away all your woes

Dreaming about all the things you love

A sheet wrapped round your hand like a glove

Chewing away as you sleep

I wonder what you dreamed to eat

What made that smile on your lips

As the sheet wraps around your hips

Two fighting octopods in the bed

I wonder what goes on inside your head?

Fast asleep yet fighting there

Amongst all the sheets and teddy bears

What a battle and such peace

The wonder of you will never cease

I shut the door and leave you to the land of dreams

As the landing is lit by moonbeams

Written 2:45am 3rd March 2023

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It’s just not me

I like to be organised and tidy, but if you saw my home you would accuse me of not being honest about that!

The thing is, it’s true – however I am in a constant battle for space and living with people who do not pull their weight around the house.

A large part of my depression is due to the blockages in the house.  What do I mean by blockages?  Large piles of stuff in certain areas, literally blocking my access to books, files, art supplies etc at best it can take me around fifteen minutes to access something I want – I can’t just decide to fetch something and take it away and be immediately productive.  Sometimes the blockages are quite dangerous and have heavy stuff there, so I can’t access thing without inconveniencing Paul in helping me get to them. 

As time is going on, more of these blockages are occurring around the house in more areas that used to be mine and they are blocked by things that are not mine!

A simple idea of getting on the exercise bike needs fifteen minutes of preparation beforehand, because people have used it as a coat, hat and glove stand and used the seat as a place to pile books.

I fight hard to tidy things away, but other blockages means I can’t move some things from one place to another easily without causing another major blockage.  Paul is definitely reverting at a faster pace than usual to his pack rat past, because it is him who is causing these blockages and piles to occur!

Since we have decided to separate he isn’t even trying to stop himself anymore just to keep peace.

He doesn’t care how this affects my productivity in all areas of my life, he doesn’t care how this is actually affecting my independence around the house by accessing things – he just cares about his own convenience of stacking things!

It drives me around the bend, because I am quite OCD and particular about things.

But being the woman of the house, who gets tarred for how it all looks smells, etc?  Not the man I can tell you, not the kids… it’s always the woman’s fault!  That’s just society’s psychology.

If there is a woman in the house, she is the one to blame for how good or bad the house looks inside, she is the cleaner, she is the organiser, she is the one who gets the bad rep for the shittiness if she lives with slobs and happens to be sick!

It’s how I was raised, I was brainwashed by my mother than if I don’t get a handle on Paul quickly, visitors will think I am the dirty cow – I am the lazy woman who allows this to happen and I have to tell you it has always made me paranoid that people will think about me like that!

Because it really is not me!

You know I rebelled a couple of times living here – I actually decided to play them at their own game – throw wrappers on the floor without bothering to pick them up because I got pissed off.  Those wrappers stayed there for days until I got mad enough to literally knock myself out and clean the whole room over an eight hour period, only for the room to look similar a day or two later.

It is normal for people to leave used tissues anywhere they like and throw their wrappers on the floor if it is by the bin, it’s excusable to them – sorry, and for me it isn’t!

Was given the disgusting excuse of how ordinary poor folk live like this – I am sorry but they don’t!

I’ve lived with poorer people than this in the past and they certainly aren’t dirty or messy!

They have their pride, he doesn’t!

The kitchen is fully Paul’s abode, the kitchen is the most disgusting place in the house except for the tops of the units and that is only because I insist in a food preparation area Paul you’ve got to keep it clean!  In the past he didn’t care, I trained that out of him at least!

Why am I telling you all of this?

Because I can’t access my books and art supplies in Paul’s bedroom anymore because he has caused huge blockages – I can’t access half my crystals – I can’t access any art supplies except for a box of sharpies and inks – I can’t access my new laptop – I can’t access the memory files – I can’t get to two thirds of my writing files or my musical instruments – I can’t access the tin food cupboard or the plates if I am hungry when Paul is out – I am finding more and more things out of bounds!

The amount of things I have had I have given away to charity in charity bags of mine over the past few months in order to try and shift things to make room and still there is no more room.  He stacks things differently in a way it takes up more space and I am left in wonder as to how the fuck he managed to do that?

Paul has a very strange incomprehensible phobia of putting up shelves, to make space.  He tells me to put shelves on the walls will make the walls fall down – this is a stone house…

Doesn’t make sense to me!

All I know is, several times this week I have wanted to review previous works done and I can’t find them!  I have also wanted to do some more art, but I can’t access the stuff!

I am going crazy… you have no idea how much at this point right now I actually want to SCREAM!

I really feel like jumping up and down on the spot screaming and screaming and screaming because of it – I want to scream at Paul for it, I want to scream him into action.  But I won’t, because I am passive and I don’t like negativity and whenever I try to assert myself with Paul he screams and usually takes out the mess blame on my son, which in turn starts him screaming and hurting himself and the Paul feels better because everyone feels as shit as he does and he knows that it’s just a screaming match and nothing else will happen.

So he can sit easy for another few weeks until I blow up again!

I don’t leave my bedroom unless to eat anymore.

Around September, I think I gave up. I’ve hardly done anything, because what’s the point? I am using energy without seeing rewards! I vacuumed three days ago and cleared my own personal corner in the living room. But, you can hardly notice now. I saw a banana skin left on the 3 seater that Paul and Henry shares, took 3 hours of nagging to make them throw it away in an actual bin! I’d have done it myself, but there was a pile of junk in front of the sofa where it was and Henry was sitting at the other end blocking access and wouldn’t give me it!

The horrifying things I have found around the house when cleaning I can’t mention, due to humiliation and disgust! One major thing is I have weak lungs and we do have black mould, but Paul won’t help me with it. I cant have my arms above my head for prolonged periods due to black outs and its above the window. Paul just doesn’t care, I sometimes wonder if my depression and apathy is actually a sort of empathic soak and not really my own problems at all. I am like a sponge, I totally absorb the energy around me and reflect it back – when around the wrong people, I become the wrong sot of person, but quickly become a different person around different energies.

That’s me.

That’s life here. 

I hate it.

I hate it so much!

It’s not me to be like that, dirty, apathetic, depressed, giving up – it’s not me at all!

Thanks for reading.

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Precious time

For the past few weeks my brain has been more than just a tad topsy-turvy. 

I have been suffering from insomnia for years but since around November my insomnia has got far worse, sleeping an average of just four hours a day and it really is day time sleeping too – often getting to sleep around 8am to wake up around noon.

It feels so alien and wrong to me, I have never been one who likes to sleep and I have never been one who accepts people who sleep-in; I am one of those people who generally have little respect for people who sleep in bed past 10am (even on a Sunday)and here I am, doing just that!  In fact, before I got sick, I was disgusted by people who couldn’t get out of bed by 8:30am!

But there you go, things change and not always for the better!

For me it is inconvenient to be asleep during the day because Henry is at school and whilst I am fighting with my insomnia and sleeping whilst he is at school it means I am practically getting nothing done at all for weeks now!

No reading, hardly much writing, no art yet, listening to music, not much meditation or conversation, not much of anything. 

When I am awake I am tired to the extent of feeling faint most of the time that all I am able to do is sit and stare and try to maintain consciousness.

So if the quality of the writing in my blog has been really bad lately, you now know why!

Last night was an exception for me considering these past few weeks, I managed to get to sleep by 2:30am and wake up around 10am, which is amazing considering what’s happened sleep wise for the past two months!

I’ve done more in these three hours today, than I have for the whole of last week!

If anybody out there knows me, they know that one thing I can’t stand more than sleepy heads, is people who waste their time by choosing to do nothing!

I have a huge intolerance for time wasting, unless it’s purely for relaxation, recuperation or fun!

I am easily frustrated by myself if I find I am not being productive in at least something – it doesn’t have to consistently be the same one thing, as long as I am being productive in something!  Such as cleaning, reading, honing a skill, writing, socialising, exercising, bonding with a pet, gardening or keeping my brain sharp with a strategy or puzzle game.  Anything which doesn’t contribute to some kind of betterment in the future, or productivity is a waste of time!  Unless as I have said, it is for fun or recuperation – this is where TV and music comes into play for me.

Because for me, the TV and music can be very productive, even though I might just be sitting and watching or sitting and listening, because not only am I relaxing and having fun, it adds to the stimulus for ideas to be creatively productive in the future or a form of research – this is something non creative people can never understand!

Though even watching TV these days is a task not worth fighting for as I can never watch anything in full without being disturbed or someone randomly coming over and turning the channel without asking if I am watching it and to fight to keep it on is not worth it and too much energy!  I live with selfish people who don’t care and are stronger minded than I am, so they walk all over me! 

The idea of sitting down and doing nothing in a brainless manner, even for relaxation has never really made sense to me; Paul does it all the time, he sits down sometimes for hours and I ask him what he is thinking about and it is always the same answer “nothing”, I don’t get it!

Even when I meditate I never go into that state of “no mind” so I suppose then by meditation standards I am doing it all wrong?  But I just can’t seem to grip the state of “no mind” relaxation.  For me, when I relax I suppose it’s a sort of astral travel?  I am wondering round in the throes of my mind in forests, having conversations with people, thinking deeply about anything and often find myself doing the things in my head that I would like to do physically if only!

When I was bedbound sick, you have no idea how crazy it made me just sitting in bed all day every day for so many years just existing as it appeared to me to just suffer!

I exist purely for germs, was my everyday thought – to give life to infectious little bugs as a host and nothing more.  As dramatic as it seems, that’s how I felt!

Sickness, procrastination and doing nothing, is highly inconvenient for me – as is sleep, going to the toilet and travelling in a car, because of the little activities I can do during those times!  Time wasting, can’t stand it!

Yet I’ve done it so much over the past eight years whilst recuperating from ill-health and you have no idea how much guilt I put on myself for it either!

The only time that time wasting is ok for me, is in pleasurable pursuits, then I can waste lots of time doing those things!  I am a hedonist after all! 

But yes, time wasting is my biggest frustration in life and the idea that my health and now insomnia is getting in the way of so much I want to do, life is short as well – is there any wonder why I am often finding myself suicidal?

I wasn’t suicidal before I got sick, in fact I used to be scared of death – but since being ill and lonely, I often crave it now, in fact some days, on bad days, I want to run towards it!

It’s a huge contrast to how I used to be when I lived with my mother, I wanted to be immortal, wanted to become rich enough to invest in discovering the immortal elixir of life and silly ideas like that!

Rich enough to put in research to life extending sciences!

It’s funny now how I don’t think this way anymore, how I just want to fade away because my body insists on being a time wasting shit head, a bum – I don’t like being a bum – don’t respect bums and hate being one, but I am one and you have no idea how much I loathe it and I am fighting against the odds to stop being one!

But the thing is, there is only so much you can do with four hours sleep and a compromised immune system and an NHS system that constantly fails to support you and poverty to boot!

There comes a time when you think about just giving up…

It’s exhausting trying to fight for the little freedoms of everyday life which almost everyone else seems to take for granted!

Those little things other people take for granted, are just mere dreams to me right now.

Thanks for reading!

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Because I’ve died

Is it enough to show the world at all?

That I’ve ascended but now I fall?

Into a chasm of pain

Being driven insane

Will I feel the same… again?

I might as well give up

Stop fighting

Because nothing is righting the way I need it go

Why can’t thing be just so?

Or is it me who won’t let go?

Oh no

I’ve tied, through the needles that bite

I’ve tried through the ashes that burned

I’ve tried through the icy waters

I’ve tried to turn

But things swing round back at me

Fighting me into tragedy

I have struggled with reality until I am through

I am done, I am tired and life’s won

This battle

What can I do?

But fight again, until the end

Until life has gone from me

Into the icy sea

And I have drowned in the pain

And I went insane

And I took my life

With a bloodied knife

And I’m not the same

Fighting spirit I was

I have given up… because…

I’ve died

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The lady brawler

It’s ok, I get it, a lot of people think that I am nice and sweet and I am gentle and ladylike; lots of people think that because I am kind to them and I always generally try to choose to have a passive stance that they can walk all over me.  They don’t believe for one second I’ve had the life I have had, they can’t see how I can be Lady Penelope one minute and then a backstreet brawler the next and I get it, I can see why that’s hard to chew!

Because I have transitioned so far away from what my mum made me into, deliberately.

I’d love nothing better to sit back and be a lady and never to have to use fighting talk again, but when I do that – people take advantage and I am not going to let that happen!

I have had enough of being subdued by people who think that they are better than me, when obviously they are not if they can be mean to someone.

When I used to be thin and I used to be fit, I had a lot of admirers; I had a lot of people wanting to be in my crowd; did I bully them?  No, because I am nice.  The only people I ever said an unkind word to, was those I heard saying things to others, to put them down because they thought I wanted to hear that – because they thought a pretty girl is always like that and they’re not!

I remember my closest friends were bullied a lot by other pretty girls and some wannabes – my closest friends had a lot of problems, such as physical disabilities and one had a particularly bad stammering problem.  A couple of my friends were pretty, but too poor to spruce themselves up – I was a kind and fierce protector of those girls. 

This is one of the reasons why I don’t make friends with women easily, because I hate to say it – there is a lot of body image discrimination and I am not somebody who sits back and lets someone be mean at those who are disadvantaged – I am one of those who will be mean to anyone who tries to be mean in general to a person’s disability or physical bodily appearance. 

Fashion wise, yeah, I can snipe because why on earth would anyone want to wear cowboy boots with a Charleston cocktail dress?  I mean… come on!

But this post isn’t about me being a defender of friends or a fashion critic – this post is a little more of an insight to how I have been raised and partially why my life had been so full of violence regularly, even outside of my family circle.

My parents were rockers, part of the mods and rockers conflict. 

My mum in particular, in her first marriage was the leader of the gang’s wife!

Even when she left the rockers, there were still old memories sticking around even to this day some people will still challenge her, if they remember her and recognised her!

This isn’t all, my granddad was also a backstreet boxer and wrestler to earn extra money over the years and we have associations with others which I won’t name.

Amongst all of this, quite a lot of my family have been alcoholics or substance abusers and well anyone who knows about that sort of thing, can more or less tell, what comes into a person’s life once that happens!

So with all of this going on, there was always a reason, sometimes many for why people would boulder into my family home and beat the crap out of someone.  There was always some kind of reason for it.

Growing up I had to take a lot of scapegoat beatings from people who merely attacked me for my association with my family, some backed off when they found I was the good apple of the family and not like the others – but others used me as a target sometimes to provoke my family into reigniting their wars!

This is what I had to live with and accept!

I think partially this is why during my early adult years I became afraid to go out alone and I still am – I am happier and feel safer in small groups of people and this is a huge part of my PTSD.

But it doesn’t slide away from the fact that my own mother wanted to shut me away too – funnily enough not to shelter me from it all, but just because.  Because wherever possible, my mum used to try and push me forwards into any fray that was happening because it’s great life experience, toughen yourself up and oftentimes she’d leave me fighting her battles alone whilst she sneaked off!

She told me never to phone the police about these things, the last time this happened, I did, because the person tried to set three dogs onto me, whilst mum snuck back off to sit in her car watching it like some kind of blood sport and did so with noticeable relish!

So when people think they can challenge me for my looks or personality, or even think that they can get one over me by slapping me across the face – they are often left in a state of shock!

Because, this nice sweet, polite, timid exterior of a girl – fights and fights hard when challenged and I don’t back down, because to back down shows weakness and I have had harder beatings from my family for showing mercy and weakness, than I can ever get from an adversary!

I remember when I refused to hit someone with a stick once, four of my own relatives turned on me and beat me with sticks to teach me a lesson and I was 7yrs old, two of them were adults!

That’s what things were like for me, so don’t think you could ever knock me down and keep me down – I am too much of a fighter for that and I have a huge amount of resilience and stamina when the instinct to survive is turned on!

Thanks for reading!

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Why bother?

Here’s a little heart to heart, I am not sure where this post is going, but this is the gist of it so far;

Dreams die when you are told no all of the time, or you have to wait or this can’t happen or that can’t happen, because, because, because.

It’s not always money that gets in peoples way, sometimes it is other people, sometimes it is health, and sometimes it is the environment, sometimes it’s the fact that with so many obstacles you lose the will to try anymore, lose the will to fight.

My dreams got smaller and smaller over the years, especially since living with Paul.  My dreams have got so small these days that I am even frightened to dream about what to plan for dinner during the week, even the smallest things – because, ultimately, I will hear a no or a broken promise again.

Or I may get half of it, because the rest was forgotten.

A simple thing like, I think I will have a side salad with the Bolognese tonight, the salad will be forgotten; so I go and make it myself without making a fuss about the fact it is forgotten again – then I am asked, what you doing?  When I explain I am told to sit down whilst Paul begrudgingly leaves his dinner to do it for me, because for some reason he doesn’t want me to do it for myself – then he snaps at Henry because Henry too, would like some salad as well or a fizzy orange drink.

I am made to feel guilty when I get upset that he takes over everything all the time, I am made to feel really bad because he is rushed off his feet and made to feel bad for complaining that I could have helped… it’s a bizarre situation to be in.

The fact that I don’t want him to do everything for me – but he won’t have it – but at the same time he constantly gripes about how tired he is, how busy he is, how inconvenient everything is… yet I have said I will help.  It is like he enjoys being a moany martyr.  Henry tries to help but he gets the exact same reaction from Paul.

So Henry and I sit back and let Paul do everything for us, whilst he moans to the whole world about how much he does for this family who does nothing, because we can’t and I have to sit there and stomach it time and time again, knowing the truth!

I mentioned before, I feel I have no purpose here, because my purpose in every way shape and form has been stripped from me.

For years Paul and I have both denied we were over around 2013, it is only recently when he thought he had found another woman, which we both agreed yes it’s over between us.

My battle for eight years was my health, but my new battle since getting energy and health stabilised is now fighting Paul for my right to do things for myself!

He won’t let go and what is more, he won’t help where it really matters – the things I genuinely cannot do at present without his help.

Mostly buy the cleaning materials I need to whip this house into shape.

Both Henry and I are very concerned about some neglect of the house, the leaking roof in the utility room and the leaking chimney brest in the living room are not priorities and recently, as Paul is getting more tired and since he is struggling with our budget, my rabbit is not getting what he needs and I have offered to use my own treat money to compensate for him, but Paul won’t hear of it – but he won’t do anything about it either.

I have heart wrenchingly told Paul, then we have to give the rabbit up then because he needs to have more than we can offer him, but he won’t have that either.

Paul’s budget for the rabbit tightened when Paul realised I was healthy enough to start cleaning him out myself, every two days, but that’s too expensive and too often according to Paul.

Henry heard this conversation unfortunately; he came down the stairs when he heard us.  Henry got involved too and Henry is more assertive and aggressive than I am and when he felt the same as I did, Henry’s response was his usual fiery temper.  Which meant both Paul and Henry went at each other’s throats again.

Both the rabbit and I recoiled, I went dead quiet like I always do when things explode like that, because I hate conflict and I know if I was to so much as whimper whilst they are at each other like that, I would make them both explode more to the extent Paul will either leave the house for an hour or Henry will try to self-harm to get his point across. 

This is one of the reasons why I find it hard to do anything, because even a small suggestion could be blown out of proportion and I am made to feel guilty for wanting more for the family, even if it is a bit of bleach and a clean rag.

I have said before, it is fine for Paul to live like this but I am not used to it.  I was raised under OCD conditions, my mother’s house was like a show room at all times, never a crumb to land on the floor without a vacuum on it no sooner had it landed. 

I practically live in the bedroom now, not because I am bedbound now, but out of choice; I can’t stand leaving this room anymore, because to be honest with you, my stomach churns at the mess of the whole house.

I suggested to Paul, OK, you are struggling for space I will get rid of a lot of my stuff, my books around the house, the unused art supplies and the leather futon nobody uses and that will make room but then he asks me – how do you suppose we get rid of it all?  I said charity, but who is going to take all this to the charity shop?  I don’t have time, I can’t afford several buses to get there – we can’t afford the alternative skip.

I give up once again.

Every little bit of fighting spirit and will power is just being sucked out of me with every month I live in this place!

It was ok when I knew I was wanted, but Paul has made it abundantly clear to me that yes, he’ll tolerate me here as he feels he has a duty of care for me, but who wants to hear that?  Who wants to know they are tolerated by a duty bound martyr?

Am I the one being unfair?

He took away my role as mother years ago.

I can make no decision about the boy at all, I can’t play with him how I used to because apparently it is my fault when he gets hyperactive, I can’t talk about our mutual hobbies together, because some are things Paul disagrees with and he will lose his nut when Henry obsesses over them again.  I can’t cook or bake alone in the kitchen anymore with Henry to teach him (Henry wanted to be a cook), because it is a dangerous mess out there and Paul generally takes over because he is scared with my disabled left hand that I may have an accident!  I can do nothing.

I can have my opinion about Henry anytime I like but I am always over ridden, Paul rarely tells me in advance if there are any appointments for Henry because he presumes the role of parent and completely forgets I am also the parent!

So what am I here for?

I have no value here and every time I open my mouth it starts a war or a pity me cycle!

What hurts is, when I find something I can do behind Paul’s back, he undoes it just as quickly – like he didn’t even see what I had done, so it makes me feel as though any energy expenditure is constantly unrewarded and for nothing.

When I started to use my exercise bike again regularly, Paul got into the habit of using it as a coat, umbrella and shoe stand, so I have a lot to clear around it before I get to use it again.

The house stinks, I am the only one who opens any windows here and Paul has put obstacles in certain windows so I can’t reach them, he thinks I haven’t noticed his trick, but he has.

He tells me the windows shouldn’t be opened now until spring because of the heat or eat crisis, it will be too cold in the house if I opened it for just one hour a day!

Paul and Henry are both nose blind because they live downstairs a lot – I live upstairs, my window is opened a couple of hours a day and when I leave the room I have to say… it’s not pleasant and is there any wonder I lose my appetite a lot these days?

Three days ago I decided to shut myself in my bedroom all the time, only go downstairs to eat dinner and pet the rabbit a few times a day, that’s all.

I can’t bear being down there anymore, especially with the vitriol between the two of them that seems almost constant these days.

They are bitter because I put my Amazon music on up here to drown them out and when I use it, nobody can use Alexa downstairs that music subscription comes out my treat money.

To think when I first moved in I thought the world was literally my oyster, I dreamt big, I had endless energy and ambition and I was ecstatic to get away from my mum!

I don’t know where all that enthusiasm has gone, but I worry about dreaming about a piece of candy at the weekends nowadays, because that is too big a dream at times.

I had massive dreams in comparison.

Maybe I can dream big again someday, eh?  Maybe…

I’ve never reached for just comfort in the past, I’ve always wanted the best that I can be, the best that I can have.

But now, comfort is the dream as I am definitely not comfortable here.

Paul is fine with making do and coping and adapting to less and less – I am not like that.  I always have this spark of… we can always find a way to get more?  Sell this, do this and do that… but it’s shot down by him hard, because ah, it’s too much effort or whatever. 

You get yourself into a rut when you live with people like that; people without ambition are dangerous energy vampires to the more ambitious folk.

I’ve learned the hard way – you can’t teach someone like him – he likes things handed to him on a plate without any effort.

I am not like that.  Well at least I wasn’t once, these days I think I am too apathetic to try, I am too tired and it is making me feel old and bitter!

I am scared I am going to become like him soon, because… why bother?

Why bother if I am going to get shot down and stopped again?

My son Henry is only 12yrs old; he is getting the mind-set of why bother… that’s too young!  Too young!

I want to bother, I keep tying to pull myself out of the dirt – but I can’t help but feel that Paul is there with a big stick poking me back down into it if you get my drift?

Thanks for reading!

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I won’t judge them!

There are a lot of people I miss from my past.

A lot of holes in my heart that hasn’t been filled by the loss of those people who were once in my life and some of them are dead now and some of them won’t talk to me because of their loyalties to others who have harmed me and so; they are not part of my life anymore.

Even the best of them had a lot of problems that the average Joe couldn’t cope with, but I didn’t mind them as they were the lesser evils in my life.  I know it sounds bad to call them that, but if you had known what I was up against day to day you’d have a hard time believing that some of the people I miss were the good ones, but to me, they were the best!

To me they were brilliant, vibrant, they made me happy and they kept my confidence from reaching rock bottom.

So what if they had problems with their anger, drink, drugs, crime, so what if they were benefit scroungers, scarred, societal oddballs that had dubious leanings to the occult or were overzealous bible punchers.  They were nice people to me and I loved them.

Even if sometimes I would be scared to visit them because their husband is home for once and drunk at the time and I never knew if I would need to stick around for her sake, just in case an ambulance was needed.  Even if I knew that they themselves were drunk and would go on their vicious rants about other people I loved and would then start becoming weird with me, I knew they weren’t always like that and I forgave them because their lives were in some ways just as horrible as my own, if not more so.

To be honest, I think it was only a small margin of people in my life who weren’t addicted to something or another or didn’t have some kind of serious mental issue about them.  To me, I am easily hurt in honouring them – what I mean is, I see people don’t forgive people like those easily.  People don’t really support people like them unless they’ve been there themselves or loved someone who have been.

So it drives me around the twist when I see a lovely person like these people, striving hard against all the odds to become a sober person and someone bad from their past comes along to upset the cart or people who don’t understand or know them judge them harshly for their pasts where the poor buggers are sitting there wondering is there any point at all in being sober if I am constantly going to be judged all the time?

 Is it any wonder they think that at all?  I mean, why do people judge others for their past?  The past is gone, praise them for their efforts now, never wield it as a weapon against them by suggesting that they need you, because oh you know, you’d go back to that way of life without me.  That is blackmail and I have a hard time sitting around hearing that kind of vomit coming out of people’s mouths. 

I have lost people I love to this, suicide because why did they bother?  Murdered because their past friends snuck an injection into their arms when they weren’t looking at a party for an old time’s sake! 

I’ve seen it all and I don’t like it.

I don’t like how people judge them.

It breaks my heart because all I can see are their floods of tears and their war wounds, still fighting hard against all the odds, and yet society wants to kick them down again – because they think that once you’re in that type of life, you always belong there and it isn’t true!

Society needs to change; they need to praise them when they try to get sober.  Not kick them in the gutter because they tried to get a job and you’re judging them because they were honest with you about their past and why it took them so long to make the decision to have that career now!

I am disgusted at the law for locking addicts away into prisons making them criminals, when in fact most of them are actually very good law abiding citizens who only use their addictions as a means to cope with life’s hurdles.

Instead there should be recuperation centres or something, but not a prison.

Why am I talking about all of this today? 

Because I miss a lot of people who have or had had that kind of life, I miss them a lot and I worry about them every day, I love them all a lot and I bet they think I don’t even think of them anymore – but I do!

My family run rife with drunks and junkies, some are law abiding but there are a couple who are out and out criminals, I won’t hide that.

To think I escaped that kind of life, people think it’s a miracle – but I don’t because you know… I see how addiction works, I understand it, I was raised to see it in every possible personality type you can think of.  I did in fact become drunk for a small while in my youth because it made me human or so my mum and brother told me… here have another drink before you dry out and become like an old prune again Tee.

When I was drunk I was hysterical, I mean scared hysterical, not laughing at all – paranoid that the walls are falling around me, where is the floor?  Scary stuff!

My family observed me through morphine when I was recovering from mastoid surgery; they knew what type of addict I would have been based on my behaviour during that time so they said – though it was small doses for two weeks. 

Their observations scared me.  According to them, I tend to be the type to love the world, be in awe of everything that’s beautiful, be easy going, do anything to me and I would do anything to myself sort.  My brother freaked out, this is the type that is going to die on this stuff mum – make sure to keep her away from it!

They told me what I was like when I had it, it was enough to keep me away.  They judged I’d be easy to bed, easy to anything and way too honest with people – a no, no in the family, I’d be a spill the beans and everything else on the floor type, my tongue is loose on those things, so they say. 

I know on general anaesthetic it lasts longer on me too and although it’s kind of different people have also reported similar personality in me to the above observations.  Lover of the world, everything is beautiful, I love you and you and you, yeah you can touch me, yeah I will stick my hand in the BBQ and take the hot coal out for you with my bare hands… seriously, this has happened to me and nobody stopped me doing it either, because the stupid bitch will learn, won’t she?

Nope, that happened twice in my life and nearly a third time when Paul was with me! Up until recently I was naturally trusting because I was always hopeful in finding the best in people, gets worse or comes back when I am drowsy because of meds. I still do try not to lose my faith in people – some will say that’s my biggest fault.

My family didn’t stop me doing things just because I was recovering from surgery and still under some kind of anaesthetic influence, Paul has seen what they’ve done to me, you could ask him yourself if you like?  You have his email up there in the Email me tab.

Paul is sensible; on the two occasions I have lived with him and had been under the influence of anaesthetic he forces me to stay in bed for around 48 hours, it takes a time to leave me.  It’s weird, even the doctors are puzzled why it stays longer in me.

Gosh I miss some of these people.  I miss the console game parties they had, I miss the pub lunches once a month with them, I miss the dogs I had to babysit for them.  I miss the gardening we used to do together as we helped our elderly relatives maintain their gardens, all sorts of things.

I miss the cuddles as they tell me that “you’re going to be OK, you smart beautiful girl because you are amazing and strong and you don’t let people push you into crazy shit like this” they say as they hold up their joint to me.

There’s too many, that are gone.

But never ever feel that I will ever judge you because of your past, that’s not me.  I am not that kind of person! 

I love you for who you are now and who you are striving to be and I wish that you will grow stronger and ignore anybody who tells you that you can’t change – you can change, you’ve probably changed so much already, but NEVER EVER let anyone make you believe that you can’t do it without them!

Never!

I love you all and I send all the positive vibes your way to help you heal whatever wound you have whether you are an addict or not!

Thank you for reading!

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Songs that seem written for me

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

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

The Lady is a tramp;

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

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

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

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

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

Pain by three days grace;

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

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

What happened?

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

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

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

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

It can’t rain all the time;

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

Crush Em;

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

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

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

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

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

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

Champion;

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Smile;

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

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

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

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

Dollhouse;

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

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

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

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

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

Rose Garden;

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Touch-a-touch-a-touch me;

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

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

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

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

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

Cry little sister;

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

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

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

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

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

Happy reading all!

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Cold war brings cold bodies

Since childhood we both would sit underneath this tree, reading books and singing songs and running away from bees.

When we were grown we made love together each and everyday.

But then a war was broken and it’s taken you away.

So long I’ve loved you, so long you had fought.

Many years you had been gone, I grew even more distraught.

Then one day they found you, dead and all alone.

The war had took you swiftly, and away from me and home.

Life is nothing without your love, to hold me, it’s so cold.

The torture I have lived with each day, is more than can be told.

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Just two scars

Sometimes I thought about writing a whole theater production or musical, as I imagine music and lyrics so much, but until I learn how to play music without playing by ear I fear this is a dream doomed to never become reality. 

This song below is something I’ve planned on doing as a musical; it’s about vampires and every paragraph skips back and forth between two characters, a vampire lady and the son of a pastor.

Originally when writing this song I thought it was going to become the love of an angel and a demon, fighting each other but then falling madly and deeply in love with each other, but as all you other writers out there knows; your work dictates to you, you don’t dictate to it, and so as it flowed on it became vampiric, not a struggle between good and evil like first planned.

Hope you enjoy it – remember it’s to be sung, not read as poetry, but I don’t expect you to know the tune it’s supposed to be sang to.  In all honesty, it was supposed to be a poem too, but it never turned out that way, I got something at the back of my head as background music which resembled something Manowar would have.

 

There fire in my soul, there’s a fire in my heart tonight

Tonight, there’s a place where the darkness fights the light

Tonight, tonight, our love is a place that beckons for a fight

With you in my arms, I feel your charms

Happy with me, you’re restless without me

You’re an angel faced fool

I’ve watched how you’ve drooled

As I shimmy around the nightclub

Tooled by my quest to capture you

You’re easy prey

The devil said it and now I say it too

You’re easy prey

A purity installed heart, I’ll tear you apart

Hear what I say

I am bad for you, oh guess what I’m gonna do

I’ll lead you astray

To a place you’ve never dreamed

I will do it this way

Make your heart mine and on a feast of blood I’ll dine

And take your bouquet

And lay it across your coffin

Knowing you’ll be mine forever

Don’t scream

 

I lay in confusion, wondering what happened

I feel very different, where am I?

 

You are with me, my sweet little angel

I have given you a gift

You and I are children of the night, dear

We are vampires, in case it isn’t clear

 Please, have no fear

 

This can’t be true, I refuse to believe it

Let me out of this place, your lies are a disgrace

 

Listen to me, it is the truth

A mirror will prove it

Don’t be so uncouth

 

I don’t believe it

It’s true

I see no reflection

 

It’s true, now that you’ve seen it

You know that forever you’ll have youth

 

These are the trials and tribulations of creating new, excitations

How do you view my revelations?

Do you want this too?

Do you want to be renewed?

Vampires of the night we are

Fashioned by hunger

Our sun is millions of stars

 

Take my hand and become like us

All it takes is two scars

 

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