Are the voices in my head too loud for you?

Always Look On The Bright Side of Life

A rare moment today when I experienced complete, unconditional generosity of spirit from others.  News came through and reached to the very heart of this grumpy old woman that she will have an opportunity to do some of what she loves doing at a future date.  It was like a shaft of sunlight on an overcast day.  I was mopping around feeling a wee bit sorry for myself because I had not gone to the conference I wanted so badly to attend when, bingo, an alternative invitation is received - open handed, gracious and generous.  I no longer feel the victim once again of circumstances beyond my control.  Sometimes such circumstances can turn up a golden opportunity.  Today was that day.

The post bought a good read from a dear friend.  The title was enough to make me giggle - Never Have Your Dog Stuffed.  Well it worked for me...  It is the autobiography of the actor Alan Alda.  As a die hard West Wing fan and M.A.S.H. officianado I couldn't have been more delighted.

I am getting together some information for our foster daughter about her early life.  She now has a thriving family of her own and we were very touched she should ask us for details - such as we have.  My partner has just emptied the loft of the large A4 twinlock files that hold the story of this particular young person.  It was a shock to see just how much paperwork there is.  I can see I will have a long evening ahead scanning material onto a memory stick.  I think it will be interesting to re-read some material.  I suspect some of the official documentation will make me pretty angry.  At the time I felt frustrated and despairing but rarely angry in the moment.  Frustrated because we were never listened to or supported and despairing because it often felt a herculean struggle to get even the simpliest things done.  It's a shame I don't drink - I suspect I could get through a few vodkas this evening!

Humph is doing well.  My partner bought him a large rubber Kong yesterday at the pet shop and an even larger one for his older pack member Mungo.  Needless to say Mungo has eaten quite a lot of the teething kong and Humph can barely lift the big one!  He has discovered the joys of packaging and has eaten the cardboard it came in!!!  He has also picked up Dido's habit of creating inspired installations from paper.  Dido will remove paper from the refuse sack in our study (yes I know most people have a wastepaper bin - but there we are) and take it out into the hall where she carefully shreds it into tiny pieces.  Humph has enjoyed watching her do this and has even tried to playfully bark his way into being given a piece of paper of his own from Dido's store.  But so far she is ahead of him and keeps her paper under her paws until she is ready to shred.  Not to be out done, today Humph created his first paper installation in the study.  A refreshingly zany piece and much less challenging on the senses than his usual offerings from organic waste.  We are resisting calling our latest pup a genius - but we may succumb sooner rather than later.

Off-setting Anger Emissions

After a few belly flops from the diving board of life into the stagnant pond of anxiety, I have dried myself off and set myself up and am starting over.  The problem is what to do with my anger.  I have been so used to imploding it - that now I am much healthier in the deepest sense mentally and physically I can no longer do this.  This means seeking out its appropriate home and naming it for what it is.  I am practising the art of treating other people as grown ups rather than patronising them with my solicitude.

I have not made it down to Windsor for my conference.  I am angry about that too.  The main reason I haven't gone is that I have needed more time than I anticipated to 'regroup' after a recent family crisis.  It was pretty gruesome and challenging by anyone's standards.  Still the ground is shifting; life is changing once more; and I am learning how to vent my anger without doing a passable impression of a volcanic eruption!  Typical me - I either show no anger at all or feel the potential simmering, quite suddenly to go ballistic.  Fortunately I never do - but I heartily dislike the feeling.

I have named my anger today to someone who needs to hear it and I feel good about this. 

Humphrey - the chocolate drop of life - is growing rapidly; now knows his name and 'sit'.  He is smashing and keeps me in the moment.  There is nothing like playing with a puppy to remind you what's important in life!

Say it with Flowers

I am having real problems posting blogs at the moment.  Fingers crossed this will go through.  If it does I'll try writing more.  Having lost the last three I am fed up with trying!

Weaning

I am thoroughly enjoying my chosen status of 'the first days of the rest of my life'.  I have been working on an abstract canvas and it has been surprisingly hard work to get it how I want it.  I have needed to somehow 'listen' to the picture - sit with it and respond so I don't over paint or leave it too soon.  It is a very pleasing process.

I am trying not to feel self-indulgent.  74,000 dead in China doesn't help - but I have to be in my space, doing what I am put on the planet to do.

I have received some brilliant celebrations of my birthday; a school friend sent a card depicting a wonderful painting of a shop named after her!  Another sent a beautifully evocative worship song; another - a witty handmade card designed around a spider's web!  My brother bought me a novel with the subtitle "God is dead.  Now meet the kids!" which I will read when we travel South to see our son.  He also found a wonderful contemporary interpretation in picture book of "The Tragical Comedy of Punch and Judy".  This was a particularly absorbing choice as our Dad, Mum and maternal Grandfather were all skilled pupeteers.  My Dad and Grandfather were both Punch and Judy performers in the traditional mould - and my Dad and Mum were excellent at using a swazzle - the reed which makes the high-pitched Punch-voice.  As a family we could all handle marionettes from toddler age - but Punch - apart from setting out the booth (my job) was very much the 'grown-ups' domain.  Funnily enough I wrote a dissertation on Punch and Judy when I was an undergraduate.  Somewhere I have a copy of Dad's Punch script.  It would be interesting to see whether it has dated - he would have last performed in the mid 1970s.

I have been trying to get a sense of why I suddenly seem to be surfacing after this last mental health relapse.  I remember exactly the same thing happened the last time; it was as if I suddenly woke up - and felt better.  This time I have made some big decisions about how I want to live. For once I intend to take my own advice and live in a way which in-fills and enables me to thrive - for my own sake and not at the expense of any one else.  I am fortunate to have a partner who has courage and knows himself.  That makes any transitional behaviours in me much more manageable.  He isn't trying to pull me back all the time into old ways of relating or doing.

The main difference is that I establish what I need and want before I begin to ask whether it is appropriate to adapt or develop my thinking to include or enable another.  I feel I have energy; humour and a zest for life.  The interesting thing is that the life is still a fully vocational life - but driven by practising what I preach rather than preaching what I long to practice.

Designed for Living

 

Waking to a blue sky and sunshine when it is pouring with rain.

Dressing with a song in my heart, when the post brings bills and the phone demands I concentrate and I lose my socks to a Golden Retriever having fun.

Settling to tasks, with half a mind playing with my imagination and dancing with the angels while my fingers answer e-mails and delete those concerned with primarily with my sexual prowess.

Taking time to be; to rest and enjoy while there are still numerous tasks to be done and calls on my attention,

Knowing it can wait and the ceiling won't, actually, fall down.

 

JEWG

Born to be Free

Happy Birthday to me!

Happy Birthday to me!

Forty-seven today.  The first day of the rest of my life - and I am doing the very best to treat it so.  Claiming my freedom!

I've had a smashing birthday - taken out to lunch by my partner and then attending an art therapy session.  It was hard work in the session as I touched some parts of my story which still feel raw.  I was surprised.  I'm working on an abstract in these sessions in pastels.  You can spot my mood at any one point by how vigorous I have used the colours!!!  Good work though.  Opened some past experiences up for a bit of an airing.

I am struggling with the media reporting on the castrophes in Burma and China.  Having recently finished Hegemony or Survival by Noam Chomsky, I feel my eyes have been opened about how stark globalisation and capitalist interpretations of it really are.  There is no such thing as open-hearted and handed offers of aid and emergency support by western super-powers to regimes that operate a very different social order.  The power differential is wrong for a start - but in addition - there is a justified suspicion about the underlying motivation in such apparent acts of charity.  Having read Hegemony I have a certain sympathy for Burma's Junta in particular wanting to sort it's own internal needs without western 'interference'.  History shows there will always be a moment when a pay-back is required.

The pictures and articles showing so many lives lost have left us all feeling helpless.  Throwing a donation or two at a relief charity or Christian AId - helps assuage some of the guilt and horror - but feels to me, atleast, as a fairly easy gesture; I am left feeling too comfy and untouched somehow by the power and tragic nature of all that has happened.  Some of the reasons why these disasters have been so horrific are due to endemic issues.  Schools built in a possible high risk area with insufficient safety and structural endurance.  Inadequate infrastructure; poor disaster planning; corruption and misappropriation of funds at all levels.  Some of the pain and suffering is caused by aspects of living which are well within human control.

One of my old friends recently died.  She requested donations to her local church youth club - but had she lived and heard news of Burma and China I am sure she wouldn't have minded me remembering her through a donation to these causes instead.  She would probably have accused me of being my usual woolly liberal self.  I will miss her hugely. She would argue on a purely intellectual level the hind leg off a donkey.  We rarely agreed but loved each other all the more for that.

I've missed my mum, Bea, today too.  First birthday without her.  It's funny it's her bossiness I've missed most!  She was always a busy bunny around birthdays whereas my partner and I are hopeless.  We aren't good at the 'say it with cards' stuff and have a very laid back attitude to buying for the sake of having something to give.  I spotted my presents a while ago.  Better to have things I would really love.  Courtesy of on-line shopping I ordered what I wanted.  Not romantic - but great to have the chance to choose.  I am beyond being polite to my partner - and he would much rather I had what I like rather than wore something he had chosen and I felt obligated to wear - like the year he bought a pendant suitable for a size 8 midget - not good - you needed a magnifying glass to find it on my ample breasts.  (Too much information I know - but you see my point).  Still he enjoyed finding it.

I've received some super cards which have made me feel loved and special.  Last night as I prepared for bed I was singing *I'm gonna be born tomorrow, born tomorrow, born tomorrow!"  Sure enough I have been.  I am well enough now to have a choice and I have chosen life; a vocational life which still gives me goose bumps and tingles when I think about it.

I have received some smashing gifts too.  I am intending to raid the art shop in Nairn over the next few days - mostly for canvases.  To me, chosen by me from my partner and me - to me - a Skye Batik smock (coming in the post) with a repair to one of my old ones.  (One of the dogs got to the smock when I had foolishly left dog treats in the front pouch - huge hole as a result).  Skye Batiks have been stars and have darned the hole (a little technical for me - who thinks sewing involves Bostik) and I couldn't resist a new one!  Also a pair of very fetching patchwork trousers.  (I think I am claiming my individuality BIG TIME just now!!!)

SO what are this particular new borns' plans?  To keep evolving a sense of well-being.  Wait for the next invitation or opportunity - they always have come in the past - and I haven't had to go looking before - so I will see what turns up.  Alongside this - a top priority is to increase my social network locally.  Plenty for a pre-toddler to cope with.

I saw a neighbour this afternoon walking another neighbour's dog.  She seemed genuinely pleased to see me out and about and she simply said "Keep it up".  No odes of sympathy or arias of empathy - not even deeply expressed concern - just "Keep it up".  I think that pretty much sums up the present moment and my heartfelt future intent.

Watching and LIstening

I imagine it is me who climbs

to the very peak

and sits alone,

weeping on the hill.

Looking out I can see

The tragedy of life thrust into eternity.

Shattered lives

That leave me help-less

Interred in desperate, guilt-driven platitude;

Yearning to make things better

Yet stultified by the vastness of the task.

Into the void, does not come human comfort.

Into the devastation, dis-ease and un-rest disarm.

In amongst death baleful silence;

The stench of hopefulness dying,

A vision takes shape of a just and safe world.

Where human beings are not valued

By geographic location.

Where any disaster; anywhere - is like a

wound to all our souls.

Where compassion and mercy are the crack squad

Sent to relieve human misery

And clean water and rice are the communion of love

Made known.

Beautiful Day

Just started working up notes on Generation X for a paper later in the summer.  Mmmm. 

Mended curtains in Edmund our caravan with my unique style of invisible needlework - stitching that is so large even I can see it at a distance!!!

Am horribly aware that our gardens looks like a jungle - and must make an effort to clear it a little.  Everything is dancing with health and almost growing as you watch - so I am disinclined to spoil the weeds fun.  (That must be the ultimate liberal position).

Planning a major pilgrimage to the vet.  Bertie - tabby has a tick on his lip; Mungo needs his booster - collie x and my guide dog Rainbow is making smells that have the potential to knock me out at several paces.  Incredible pongs. 

Teazle our older cat has been hugely loving since he spent a week at the cattery.  He has become quite possessive of me - insisting he sleeps next to me on the bed!  During the day - he snuggles with Jo, our collie who 'owns' the duvet once the humans have finished with it.  Amazing sight the two together - touching and snoozing the day away.  I feel quite nostalgic for duvet days.

Perfect for being outside today.  Water catching the light.  Beautiful.  Peaceful.  Extraordinary.

The Routine of LIfe

Routine.

I am establishing one.  This is key to managing my anxiety and mood.

I have been reading a book about hegemony and feel a certain empathy with the military regime in Burma's decision not to take aid unquestioningly from potentially hostile, western superpowers.  Can aid ever be an open handed act with no strings attached? 

It is the time of the funeral of an old friend as I write.  I am at home - the funeral is in the South of England.  She asked for donations to a local Christian Youth Club.  I hope she won't mind that I would very much like to send a donation in her memory to the Burma relief fund.  Somehow the immensity of this tragedy is almost impossible to grasp.  The slightly emotionally detached style of reporting has also made it feel as though it isn't entirely relevant to our every day lives.  I am caught by the human loss; the waste - and the fear of a junta - sure that they will be undermined by western affluence and influence.  Human life is increasingly politicised - it is no longer about giving a bowl of rice and a plastic sheet - each person has a value to the more powerful economies.  Burmese people do not carry the same worth as Tsunami victims - that much is already apparent.

Routine

Face the fear

Talk to the face

The hand's too aggitated.

Face the fear.

Routine is the crutch;

Enables you to walk the road of anxiety.

Going out is the therapy;

Just listen to the humdrumming.

Be present and don't falter;

You are seeking for a healing-ness in time.

Face the fear

You will not be bored

You are sewing up your inwardness.

Face the fear - just get up and walk the line.

JEWG

Another Day Another Country

Back after The Great Adventure.  Our foster daughter was married in a moving ceremony surrounded by those who love her.  It was smashing to meet our latest grandchild -a nine month old baby boy - who looks very much like our son - his Uncle.  Enjoyed re-connecting with a familiar area.  Went to see an old friend and spent a good day with my brother-in-law.

Several parts of my brain made new - or perhaps refreshed - old connections.  I very suddenly remembered I am a priest to the core.  It was a very great gift of insight given by an old friend.  I realised the huge difference between grieving so deeply for not being able to exercise a priestly ministry and feeling I no longer want or believe in such ministry.  My religious journey is always going to be reflected in a tension between faith in ultimate good, compassion and mercy - and a huge range of open, inconclusive, work in progress thoughts about the out-working of belief in an institutional form.  I reconnected with the reason why I feel ordination is in some sense ontological - I was transformed by the experience of caring.  My persepctive was altered.  I need to remember that when I find it hard to accept care from others.

I returned to some old haunts.  Our son wanted to drive past the Church where I had omce been Vicar.  I felt a warm pang of nostalgia - but no great desire to disrupt the Ascension Day Service by going in.  My son had many memories too.  He felt a sense of connection with the place.

Visiting the town where I was Curate and then going to favourite day off beauty spots was a whistle stop tour of one, important past chapter.  I have a strong yearning to be more active as a priest - but the spiritual soul friend in me wonders if this is more about a deep desire to belong.  The friend in me says "Does it matter?  The point is you have a sense of something you would like".

The real problem is my current location.  The options just aren't here.  Or maybe I'm not an option.

Harder the last few days.  I've been taking higher doses of medication with excellent results.  The last day or so - despite the increase in medication I seem to have been back in a highly agitated state.  I couldn't get my head around why.  Fortunately the duty CPN has done a brilliant job at reassuring me - and I am now trying a higher dose again.

I loved it when I first hit the higher dose because my two contrasting internal voices were under control and I felt I could make myself heard - and practised good self-care.  It was such a shock when they returned suddenly on the way to art therapy.  When they whoosh in like that I feel as though I am being knocked over and forced to comply against my will.  Yesterday in bed.  Today up - but I feel as though my head resembles a Greek Tragic Chorus - commentating on my every action.

Probably need to snooze for a bit.

Death of a Friend

Eyes met and in a shattered, shard of a split second

Two worlds collided, embraced and danced the almost forgotten reason for living.

Both knew this breath and glimpse of hope would be your last in the narrowest of dimensions.

In touching our spirits entwine momentarily;

You have no need

of the tired, failing body which once grew your soul

to such dizzy heights of knowledge, intuition and harmony.

In being there, I have no need for rumination simply the symbolic signing off and thanksgiving with the cross of life on your passing skin.

For you epitomise freedom to be and I sense you

reminding me in the scent of flower

and the animal shufflings in the undergrowth that all manner of things are,

in the blinking of the eternal eye,

remarkably well - all things considered

All manner of things.

Are well.

JEWG

Green Beret

I need to have my medication reviewed.

Nothing.

I am pleased my partner is representing carers of people living with BPD on an NHS group.  He will be good.

I am disinclined to go out; see people or do anything much just now.

Nothing inside.

I need to turn this around, but it is hard to be positive when I know that sooner or later there is a high chance of relapse.

I am holding on to painting - but can't paint yet. 

It is hard to be motivated.

I am happiest just now alone, in silence with dogs and my green hat on. 

I feel I need space.

The phone ringing is a massive 'invasion'.

I think some time back at the day hospital might help or as an in patient. 

But I don't think I qualify now.

I don't have the energy to think this through just now.

I am just so sorry for all the trouble I cause.

I just need a kick up the backside or a good shake to see some sense.

Thankyou to everyone who is supporting us.

"Cool Man"

New drug regime - new personality facets emerge.  I need to check the new dosage I am experimenting with is OK - but at present I feel like Dylan in The Magic Roundabout - everything is "cool man".  New facets emerging - calmness inside and not just on the surface; a desire to have fun again; wider range of emotions; desire to be active.

At the moment I am trying to find out a little about how others see me.  I find it really helps - and 'places' me in my own mind in a reasonable place when I am very quick to reduce my personality, skills etc... to zero value.  I have noticed that when I am wearing my thinking hat - literally and/or metaphorically I often dwell on past experiences where I feel I have done something utterly reprehensible or unforgivable.  I never focus on my successes.  The priest in me tells me on the scale of reprehensible I rarely make it onto the nursery slopes - but I am interested as to why this conditioning occured or whether it is a pre-programmed predisposition.  Truth is it is probably a bit of both.  The important thing is that I have spotted it and I can see it for what it is - chill out Dude.  Extraordinary how a sense of shame can gain such a hold.  I think some of this is how the church conditions us to think about ourselves.

Talking of church - I quite shocked myself the other day.  I saw an advert for a job as a priest and my heart missed a beat.  This may well be an example of a delusional response but I was rather touched.  The institution I effectively married at nineteen - still has the power to rouse a warm rush of affection, interest and curiosity.  I am glad the church's power to move me hasn't died as I feared.  The job was a little one - part-time in Cambridge - at a church with a progressive, liberal style and with a lay training institute attached.  I know both reasonably well although I haven't been to either for a good number of years.  I know the answer the professionals caring for me will probably give is "not yet" - but I am thrilled the desire is still there at some level.  Goodo.

Quiet morning - sleeping.  Not a good night - so I caught up.  When I wasn't dosing I was planning my next couple of canvases.  Having done a few 'scapes' and had a tough week or so emotionally, I am going to sooth with a couple of abstracts.  I find I need to do a lot more thinking through with an abstract about how I will achieve what I want in technical terms.  I find it much harder to simply over paint because quite often the part I want to re-work is inextricably linked to something else.  This will certainly be so in the next couple of pieces - all the work will be in setting up the foundation of the paintings.  You know I am quite getting into this.

Inbetween daydreaming about wearing a dog collar again (I do hope this is a sign I am getting better not worse)  I am back on my hind legs and engaging with the world to some extent.  I went out shopping yesterday - short but meaningful trip!!!!  I also spent ages putting old family photographs onto my computer.  I have promised my brother copies - and I was - overall - delighted with the results.  I have scanned in four of my mother's photo albums.  It was very gentle and so rewarding.  I was watching my parents, my bother's and my life go by in a series of snaps.  Funny how often dogs have taken pride of place in the pictures.  No wonder I've ended up with such a menagerie!

Jane W-G writes:

When there is no light at the end of your tunnel do not refuse the offer of a torch.