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Monthly Archives: November 2018

Reflections 2018 w47

Tomorrow One once again does the Market Drayton round trip to get my nephew, a trip that as of late, due to my niece being in hospital, has ended up becoming an auto pilot route. Twice last week I had to be corrected before heading that way instead of the actual destination.

For the most part my mind likes the idea of routine and of patterns, except for my room. Here the creative depressive has a hold, occasionally it is sorted, but quickly it reverts to chaos when multiple projects are in the making.

But elsewhere, familiarity rules.

With familiarity comes safety, avoidance and boredom. Procrastination is an easy pattern to form, and can become a problem in itself.

On my last holiday one tried a little experiment with my green tea, the flavoured ones that is. Instead of just having the de-boxed flavour per labelled bag I mixed the tea bags together. Even the choice was haphazard, which is how one lot with mango and pineapple ended up in the mix, one does not like mango. Luckily it was more a mheghhh reaction than yuck.

Risky, but having no real shops by the campsite, and no way of re-sorting the bags to flavours, one knew the pick and mix would have to last until the end.

It was a stimulus idea, so that one could not get bored and look for a fizzy sugar laden alternative.

It kind of worked, but it had to be expanded to get to its full potential.

Now having finished off the last green tea and jasmine stored in the pantry, I once again have emptied different flavours into a bag. This time upping the mix to four different flavours.

One I know I like, one I know is mheghhh, and two I have yet to try. “Why the mango one?” I hear you ask. For some reason having four flavours that one likes seems to be the opposite of stimulus, and more toward comfort. And where is the fun in that?

Hopefully a little random can go a long way.

 

www.awanderthroughthemind.co.uk/reflections-2018

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Yo-Yo life…#Poetry#Poem#Prose

Yo-Yo Life

 

I live life

Yo-Yo style.

 

Down I go,

maybe up.

 

Not return,

to the start.

 

Have not skill,

but have heart.

 

Try and try,

walk the dog.

 

Sideward spin,

bird nest string.

 

Cradle rock,

fail that too.

 

Keep on trying,

what else to do?

 

Gave up before,

but still I’m here.

 

Untangle nest.

Reset the string.

 

And

Down

I

Go.

 

A § M  16/11/2018

    

B-WELL Poster 2…#Poetry#Poem#Prose

Oneself – it starts with a simple seed 

However, not all journey well.

 

Some are shelved,

and gather dust. 

 

Locked away 

in cage of rust 

 

Shaped by others, 

not treated well. 

 

But tis a tree, 

no one can fell.

 

A group you find, 

where nurture taught.

 

A place to heal, 

a place for thought.

 

The tree grows strong, 

n’ fruit will flourish.

 

When shares oneself, 

each other nourish.

 

If self cared for, 

reserves are built.

 

To cope with life, 

when at full tilt.

 

Find simple things 

can set you free.

 

Within B-WELL – community .

The B-WELL Poster number 2

This was a commission of sorts, having liked my previous painting I did for the group, and my creation of the B-WELL people for my version of the Blobby Tree, I nearly always draw my own character because I do not relate that much to the trees pose/setting/action, so it was a natural step for my humour to take, they asked me to if I could do a painting of the ‘journey’ based on that – either as one painting or several.

By eck that was a long sentence.

One explained that that was not what the tree picture was supposed to represent, but I would have a think about it and what, if anything, I could do.

The first stage was to write down the journey, both taken and wished to take. Above all else it was to be positive, I can slant toward the negative, and even if part of the journey has been negative – the positive should be sought.

Armed with a bunch of statements on my pad, the shuffling commenced.

Left, Right, Left, Right, Keep in step, order followed.

Pattern formed, then came a poem.

Rough at first, but still it came. AhHa! My painting is just a background for the poem. Simple.

The poem gets worked on some more…Poem done. Along with some doodles.

Doodles that match the poem segment…Each segment started to have its own picture.

Oh no! What have I done? The poem has 13 segments.

One thinks at this point it should be mentioned there was only 5 weeks left before it was needed, and one of those weeks I was away. And the poem had taken a week and a half to do, well stop tweaking.

Only one thing for it…A calculator and a long canvas. This is what I ended up with…

46498368_193476248246602_1110829317572526080_o.jpg

It took many a shuffle to get the pattern right, and then the script at the right size,  before the artwork was even sized around the script. All done on separate paper then transferred onto the canvas, ready for printing.

I ended up pleased with the result, and so was everyone else, some strange reactions were had, or was it strange people having reactions? One is not sure, never have I had an itchy nose as a reaction.

The final picture is here.  www.awanderthroughthemind.co.uk/b-well-poster-2

www.awanderthroughthemind.co.uk/the-art

Reflections 2018 w46

Well this one does not normally do. Reflections on a Friday night?? Unheard of.

However, today I did not have to push my neighbour or the trolley around the supermarket, and once more did my normal routine of sitting by the tills waiting until they finished shopping, note book in hand.

But it has been a while since I last wrote anything not project related, so I blanked.

One has used the technique of just writing anything before, with some degree of success, but after a page that started with…

‘I haven’t wrote a poem for an age – this is being wrote just to get me into the idea of writing in the supermarket again.’

Out flowed a poem/prose that even after typing it onto the computer, is complete, finished. Scheduled release is Thursday.

Normally one has to tweak before publishing, but not this one.

So, if you ever have writers block – try writing everything that comes into your head until it has enough of being mocked and starts working on the task you want.

You never know…

The results may surprise you.

 

www.awanderthroughthemind.co.uk/reflections-2018

Reflections 2018 w45

At what point does a task become a chore to be avoided; no matter how small the task?

One could have sworn that one had kept up with the updating of one’s website, however it appears to have been avoided for ten weeks. Just when did the avoidance set in?

I have my suspicion that it was at the second week…I’ll do it later…never to get ‘around to it’.

The task of catching up took all of ten minutes, thats a minute per cut and paste and tweak. Plus the whole process took no effort on my part, but I will avoid it if over a week is to be caught up. Procrastination is nearly always my natural choice, especially if it is connected to changing the procrastination process.

It appears to have self awareness and  a survival instinct.

But why?

One can see no benefit from it, nor a practical use, even in my distant memory the effects were negative in results. A baby will hold onto a favourite toy or blanket for comfort, getting upset if they get separated, I hold onto procrastination like that comforter – even though it brings discomfort, will I get upset if we get separated?

It makes no sense.

So one had better get to doing the cut and paste of this to the website before it comes back again.

 

www.awanderthroughthemind.co.uk/reflections-2018

Reflections 2018 week 44

Whilst being on a camping holiday alone, to try and work out a routine/pattern of living in a tent for walks next year, I faced some of my ‘daemons’.

This years camp was more flexible than before and it was to create coping mechanisms whilst camping, allowing Spot and myself to do multi-day walks next year as part of my healing, not far to start, but the aim is to increase over the year.

However one knew that there could be challenges with my anxiety and depression, so after a visit to my new psychologist, one went with a new drug to have with me as backup. But this in itself created a new problem.

Spot was with me, and my ‘deal’ with myself was to not to do a lot of running around to different places, but rather work around the tent and the sea side at camp. A chance, one hoped, to get to a mindful place and quieten my internal voices. My voices apparently did not like this idea, and my insistence of taking all my equipment that I may use, again this was to hone my ‘main kit’ for the multi-day waking trips next year, became known as clutter. Car camping allows one to take far, far too much stuff. Coupled with not knowing how kit like the sleep system would work, with the expected low temperatures, multiples of ‘just in case’ items were taken along.

Anxiety or panic attacks, depends on who you talk to, are common, also, are the feelings that are associated with them. One has been on the back of an unbroken horse as the horse does everything that it can to get you off it, and yes, the ground hurts when it succeeds. And an anxiety attack is just like being on that horses back, out of control, trying to stay on, and trying to avoid the shuddering jolt of hitting the ground.

The main difference between them is – the horse is on the inside for anxiety.

So yeah, they were fun.

But this holiday one  had something new – not an anxiety attack but more of a depression attack. Frustratingly I do not know what to call it for when I next see the psychologist, if I do not give it the correct name, they do not listen and dismiss it. Parts of what I say are cherry picked…Paranoid?

Here is something that I have said…

I go to weekly NON CLINICAL group workshops, that is workshops not connected to or regulated by my mental health psychologist, something they cannot measure,  that help to examine negative perceptions one might have to life, these have been created by a lady that is a qualified counsellor.

Gets turned to…

Attends weeks counselling sessions.

Never have they asked what qualifications she has, or what method she uses. For all they know she uses lumps of coal to suck the depression out. They heard counsellor and figured that they are off the hook for non drug treatment, even if they did not think this, it is what it feels like.

Now the attack, and how it differs from the anxiety attacks.

Think back if you can to when you first learnt to swim. Think back to feeling of drowning, the swallowing of water as you tried to breathe, the pressure on your body from the water trying to pull you under (this I know is the panic thoughts and in reality when relaxed you would float) and the hopelessness of the situation when sinking below the waters surface.

Now sit and watch the clouds drift over the distant mountains, no thoughts in your head, relaxed.

Snap!

And your drowning, calmly drowning. Swamped by the hopelessness, the utter despair, and the need to cry. It snuck upon you like a mugger in a dark alley, it chose you with no apparent reason other than you were there at that time.

As you sit in the near paralysed state, trying to work out the cause so as to reason it out, with nothing coming to mind as the catalyst, crying uncontrollably, confused, dazed and lost. You realise that it is most defiantly not an anxiety attack. There is no wild ride of a bucking horse, it’s more a calm sinking of a small boat on a still pond. There is no erratic heartbeat or breathing to get under control, no shaking or sweating, the only physical response is the crying, the uncontrollable crying. Even Spot was caught unawares of the changing mood, she is my depression barometer, usually noticing a dip before I do, changing her reactions and thus alerting myself to the approaching change.

Half an hour later and its gone; for a couple of days, but it returns twice more.

Now I did mention that I had new drugs with me for if I struggled. However the last drug I had to ‘take the edge off’ left me not giving a s@!t about anything, so I was too afraid to take them with no support network around to help me if I had a less than favourable reaction. With wind chill the temperature went sub Zero (deg celsius) not giving a damn could lead to hypothermia. And thus a battle of fear began…

Fear of not taking them and having the depression and anxiety attacks or taking them and placing Spot and myself in danger. So long as the depression did not go down the road of suicide not taking them seemed to be the safest option and was the one I took.

Now it is just a waiting game…

Are these new attacks isolated, or are they a new symptom?

I hate this game.

www.awanderthroughthemind.co.uk/reflections-2018