Category Archives: Recovery

Filtered mumblings

The Daily Post today asks you to write for 10 minutes, without pauses and editing. So here goes.

I sit here now with 10 minutes of unedited and unfiltered mumblings. It’s a difficult thing to do. To not think about the consequences of what you may write or the level of honesty that may tumble from your fingertips is a good thing to ask to do. I have done this before, on,y on a larger scale. It has been known to me as ’emptying my head’.

Quite often the thoughts that take up free rent in my head are totally disproportionate to what is reality. I quite selfishly think of myself most of the time and my concerns. even that, in itself, is a aspect of myself that I don’t freely admit. It’s hard not to pause with the thoughts of should I, shouldn’t I or to correct what you have just wrote.

Many years ago as part of my healing process I had to write ‘unsent letters’. They were unfiltered because I had thoughts, feeling and fears that dominated my life, not in the ‘psychiatric’ way just that bogged me down or dominated my ways of thinking and feeling. As part of my recovery I wrote these letters. I had to empty my head from the anger, sadness, questions and lies that I had believed or thought for such a long time.

It had a very powerful effect.

I got rid of the awful feelings that had dominated me for years, sometimes decades and felt for the first time a sense of freedom. I was shown the truth of situations and I could see clearly what I couldn’t see before, it truly was an awakening. Like a flower emerging from a constrained bud. I was free.

I recommend it to anyone who has things they need to say or want to say to anyone. They are unsent for a reason. You need to empty you. Not to offload or make someone else feel dreadful. Quite often people are none the wiser to the way you feel and they live their lives free from any sense of obligation or blame. Yet creative souls walk around carrying burdens that are totally unnecessary and instead of unloading the baggage we add to it as time goes by all based on a dishonest perspective. I may not be making sense and to be honest that’s the point of the task I suppose, to see a new side to the blogger. I hope you like this side of me.

Thanks for reading.

PS excuse the grammar and punctuation. It never is my strong point with or without the pauses xx (Thank God for autocorrect :-))20141002-235004-85804798.jpg

The elephant in the room

There’s an elephant in the room.
It is large and squatting,
so it is hard to get around it.
Yet, we squeeze by with,
“how are you” and “I’m fine…”
and a thousand other forms of trivial chatter.
we talk about everything else
except the elephant in the room.
We all know it’s there.
We are thinking about the elephant as we talk.
It is constantly on our minds.
For you see, it is a very big elephant.
But we do not talk about
the elephant in the room.

I am sure there are many blogs today about Robin Williams and the sad news of his illness. It would be wrong for me not to acknowledge his passing but also to raise him up higher than any other human who suffered with depression and sadly also took there own lives.

The elephant in the room can be any form of mental illness which debilitated a person. Depression just seems to be the most diagnosed. I am a sufferer and can relate to the thoughts of escape but thankfully I have never actually taken it further than a thought. Am I lucky, yes.

But why?

I grew up in a home where we danced around several elephants in the room. There was no mention to anyone of the happenings inside our home and although it was not a deprived childhood, it wasn’t normal.

I learnt from an early age to answer correctly, I didn’t know any different until I started to suffer myself. I didn’t know that depression was an elephant in the room and that it explained many behaviours that sadly affected my self esteem, trust and dependency from an early age.

I had always been creative and as a child I would write poetry rather than speak about anything that didn’t make sense. I hid behind a guitar and microphone trying above all to be the best Christian I could be. I walked away from church (not my God) when I started to feel emotions such as shame and guilt. These emotions I was carried for many years and I am sure contributed to the depression I felt in 2006.

Life has been like a pond. If you watch a pond, it is still. Occasionally something will come to the surface and will need to be fished out. My experience has been that aspects of my past have come up when they are good and ready and thankfully I have had people around me who carried me until I found my feet.

I have dealt with many issues over the past 8 years and I have learnt through bereavement counselling for both parents that it is always best to talk about the elephant in the room. At times I can wind myself up to the point of total depression and unmanageability. At this point nothing makes sense and I fail to trust my own thinking let alone the advice of others. Left to my own devices God knows what I would do. Never say never.

So today I make sure that I don’t suffer anymore, that I welcome the elephant and introduce it to my friends. Eventually it will be finished with me when it realises that it has no chance against the support I have around me.

It will return and try again from another angle but thankfully I know that I no longer have to hide anymore, that I am free. My friends can usually see it before me. Those that have walked away due to ignorance I can only hope never experience the illness themselves.

I am grateful for those that have stayed and for the new friends who have been part of me finding me. I dedicate this post to all who didn’t make it.

Karen W. Terry. Linda. Paul. Marita. Robin W. God bless you and your families. Xx

It took all my life

According to the story, some decades ago a woman was strolling along a street in Paris when she spotted Picasso sketching at a sidewalk cafe.

The woman asked Picasso if he would sketch her, and charge her accordingly. Picasso agreed.

In just a few minutes, she had an original Picasso sketch of herself.

‘And what do I owe you?’ She asked

‘Five thousand francs’, he answered.

‘But it only took you 3 minutes!’ She said.

‘No,’ Picasso said, ‘it took all my life.

Quite often, I forget the experiences in life that have made me who I am today. I forget that my artistic ability is the result of a lifetime of love for colour, creativity and ideas generation that inspire the different artistic disciplines I engage in. I also forget that this insular type of activity has acted as an escape route when I needed to just disappear.

I have generated artwork which has reflected times in my life that have been problematic for me but have turned out to be a great source of strength.

‘Smashing the addict’ is a piece of work I created about 8 years ago. My need to escape led me to a place where I became so self absorbed that I failed to see what was real or imagined. I became enclosed in a way of life that was unbearable for not only me but for the people around me who loved and cared for me. Thankfully I was helped to ‘smash the addict’ and obliterate the negative way of life.

So when I read this abstract in a book I thought about all the time, life experiences and love that is poured into every piece of work I create, every photo I take, every brush stroke, every movement of a mouse and line of a pencil and I begin to value what each piece is worth.

I’m no Picasso and would never profess to be any like an established artist yet but I have a lifetime of experience, 37 years of drawing, creating, painting as well as 13 years teaching. It’s a never ending journey of developing personally through the ups and downs of life.

Of course I refer this to my art because that is what this blog is about but I also think about those friends who underestimate their own worth. Each day they look after another person or persons life as a parent, what a responsibility that must be. How much time, effort, love and affection is given to being there unconditionally for another little person. The little person(s) who relies, trust and waits to be held, read to or played with.
This in itself is an art and I am forever amazed at the shear unselfishness of such people.

I urge any one of my followers or readers to sit back and truly look at how far they you have travelled to be where you are today. and realise it also took all your life to be as perfect as you are.

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