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Reflections 2019 w03

Some people have a natural ability to tune emotions out, it’s a defence mechanism to prevent emotional pain. Some tune out the good emotions, also as a defence mechanism against pain. ‘Staying’ with the darkness seems less dark if the light is not allowed to shine in to illuminate the shadows edge.

Especially if the light shows us we are much deeper in the shadows chill than we thought.

Even if the choice was to hide in the shadows, away from sight, it does not guarantee that we won’t stumble in the darkness ever deeper, unknowing, until it is to late.

And when the mind is in wracked in pain, there is no positive.

The rapids have just got to be rode out, hoping that the rocks do not cause too much damage before the water calms and a chance to get out appears.

But sometimes those rapids just seem to keep on going, knock after knock, after knock.

I have a friend that is in the rapids at the moment, in the pain; hiding in the shadows. But she is with help. That is going to be the the difference between scrambling to shore, and not having enough strength, slipping back into the water to travel the rapids some more.

The journey is going to be hard and the trek up the bank steep and long, but, we, her friends believe she has the strength left to do it. And we will lend her our strength when we can.

www.awanderthroughthemind.co.uk/reflections-2019

 

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Oh Christmas Time…#Poem#Poetry#Prose

Oh Christmas Time

 

Oh Christmas time,

what joy be had.

When places known,

in plastic clad.

 

Arrows are placed,

as Santa’s lure,

Blinking, pointing,

to darkened door.

 

Corner turned,

I’m face to face.

In grinning Santa’s,

dead eyed space.

 

Rudolph floats

with ethereal look.

Thought Halloween,

was fears right hook.

 

They should not be,

we’ve had no snow.

But snowmen move,

and snowmen glow.

 

We happy told,

this season be.

So fake emotions,

as we fake tree.

 

And remember,

right present get.

Got no money?

Then he’s some debt.

 

Oh Christmas time,

for some a struggle.

It’s all too much,

it’s all a muddle.

 

So feeling anxious?

or feeling Low?

Don’t grip at mask,

just let it go.

 

Seek some help,

with someone talk.

Before you take,

the sombre walk.

 

Past light that flash,

from all things drape.

This winter,

wonder,

fake

landscape.

 

A§M

20/12/2018

Thank You

Over the last week I have passed the 100 mark for followers, something one would not have imagined at the start.

That sounds almost clichéd, and it appears almost everyone who puts work out onto the internet has the same self doubts, but I did this for me. It was my therapy. My work was even hidden from friends and family at the beginning.

And likes – everybody loves likes…

Well I’m – not sure, because the likes usually come with a connection. Something I have written has struck a chord with someone else, and from the comments I have had, sadly not for the better.

My work has found people that also struggle, that also find help; lacking.

I can only hope, and one does not use this word lightly, hope, that at least a sense of not being alone has helped at least one person to trudge on a little further, when your dragging a black dog behind you, one can only trudge. Or at least put into words what is felt so that it can be read by someone who does not know.

It is sad when kinship can be formed more easily after suffering, when a group of others suffering have found the place and security to drop their masks and be. But get the right group…And we can not only heal, but also grow.

One thing is for sure – without looking we will not find.

So please keep looking, and thank you for reading.

 

Reflections 2018 w50

It’s been puppet time again this week, things didn’t go as planed, so the sowing machine, pins and needles came out. I’m not entirely sure if it’s not a form of self harm, I can probably play catch with a cactus and have less holes in my hands.

But the puppet has now got its character starting to show, those that follow my Facebook page will have seen the photos, and I now have to go shopping for an outfit to match.

With this being my second puppet, and of a different design, mistakes are present. However, he is turning out alright, next time it will be worth travelling out further afield to get supplies. As there will be more made. Puppets are escaping my subconscious, vying for my attention, one in particular would not let me see her face for hours after staring at the materials I had bought to build her, I just knew the parts had to be got at the time.

But I know why I have an affinity with them.

It’s not due to a love of Sesamea st, the Muppets, or even Finger mouse, and even though I was a fan of Basil Brush and Hartley’s house none are connected.

It was a glove puppet named pipa, named after a polar bear named Pipaluk who was the second successfully reared polar bear at London zoo at that time (1969).

My pipa was brown not white, and the material in the head was rather hard and scratchy, not a plush toy by any means. And it was not because it was made by Mum that made it special.

No, it was that no matter how bad the bullying was, in school or out, no matter how much hurt was inflicted from the taunts, the rejection, not fitting in, or not being myself – trying to fit in, the shame of being singled out in class by teachers, no matter how crummy the day. I could go back home and pipa would be there to listen.

If the feelings we’re overpoweing, we would hide under the bed covers as we whispered, fearing the power the words could have if they were picked up by the wrong person. Hiding in the makeshift cave, not daring to breath, lest the monster on the outside would hear, and we would have no escape, nowhere to run. Pipa all too often went to sleep wet with tears.

So no, I am hypnotic surprised they are “talking” to me now.

www.awanderthroughthemind.co.uk/reflections-2018

Reflections 2018 w49

This week I write just to keep my routine going, if one had a shell I would be in it I think.

My mind won’t focus and my body aches, I am begginning to think the pain is mind made to keep me inside, it’s worked. At least I stayed away from the bed.

Sometimes you just have to ride out the body shots and just get through, it’s group tomorrow so that means I have to go out. It should get the ball rolling again, and it should be dry, it’ll be a long walk for Spot and myself if it is I think.

Even when I don’t want to do anything, I still don’t want to not do this. One just has very little to say this week.

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