Are the voices in my head too loud for you?

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

Penetcost

Pentecost

Come, Wisdom,

Swoop and quiver on the wing;

'Til I catch your call

and halt; scanning the air

hearing your whisper,

longing to catch a fleeting glimpse:

to translate your insight into life-care.

Come, Intuition,

My heart's desire

And warm the emptiness of soul's love spent.

Thaw my meanness of spirit - fear

And guide me as I learn once more to repent.

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

Wonderful Day

The most glorious day weather-wise.  The sea - a bewitching blue green, sparkling in the sunlight.  All the daffodils bobbing in a gentle breeze and still snow on Ben Wyvis.  The warmest day of the year.  Nutmeg, our rabbit, has sensed Spring and the trees are showing the first hints of blossom.

Preparations underway for our Great Adventure South for our foster daughter's Wedding.  My partner is busy preparing our caravan - Edmund while I am feeling like Mr. Toad about to set out with everything including the kitchen sink!!!

Today we shopped for dog harnesses as the old ones were worn or chewed - so each dog will be secure in the car.  Also indulged in large raw hide bones for certain smaller dogs who get bored and some new discs for collars as one is lost - another 'bald' and unreadable and the other two do not give an up-to-date mobile number.  They will all look smart in matching blue bone discs!  I was tempted by a dog t-shirt with "Little Devil" on it for Mungo - the smallest, loudest and most extrovert - but decided that was an unwanted side effect from  my current medication.  A dog is a dog.  Felt a little broodie for a Newfoundland as I caught sight of the Giant Dog Puppy Food in store.  The time will come.

Started reading Waugh's Scoop! which is beautifully written and still speaks to media engagement today. 

Noted with huge sadness the death of Humphrey Lyttleton.  I am a fan of his Jazz playing and his humour.  His timing was impeccable and his humour has never failed to make me laugh even in the darkest of times.  A wonderfully generous artist to other performers and a massive loss to broadcasting.  Pure genius - absolute attention to rehearsal and presentation - which made his skill look effortless.  Barry Cryer paid tribute this morning on Radio Four, describing him as the only person he knew who could get a laugh from dead space - the pause before he either responded or gave a punch line.  A rare and timeless gift.  Gosh I will miss him.  When we get the Newfie I think he will have to be Humphrey Lyttleton Jethro (my partner's choice) W-G!

Myself?  Bubble like - desensitised quality to the day - but the weather and the signs of Spring are heartening at an almost subconscious level.

Tribute for Humph

Caught the rthymn,

Blast precision,

Made us laugh.

Word incision,

Hate derision,

Super fast.

Tap and tonguing.

Inuendo coming,

Clown,  rest atlast.

Humph RIP.

Temporarily Engaged

Out today.  Bought our son's wedding outfit(s) for his half-sister - our foster daughter's wedding.  We bought two contrasting outfits for him to choose from - one is a 'take' on Dr. Who and the other is a more formal suit.  He can mix and match whchever way and we will take back anything he doesn't wear.  Shocking to realise he is now a small man rather than a growing young person.  A message he has been giving us for a while but has become a reality in terms of sizing.  I think he will be chuffed with the choices. 

Wedding present purchased and I spent a token - so I did quite a lot really.  Felt special spending the token.  Generally felt very distanced from the activity of being out and shopping.  I felt as though I was watching a movie rather than actively participating.  Yet, at the same time, a part of me was fully engaged in organising something I hoped our son would enjoy.  I can do things for others still.  Just in a disassociated way.

Had a very powerful card from an old friend in Suffolk.  I was very moved.  It caught me deep in my psyche.

Have purchased Tommy, my father's ventriloquist dummy and an important part of my childhood.  He will be collected in July when I am South.  I suddenly thought that I might have a problem taking the doll back to the place I will be staying as security is high at the location.  I sent the strangest e-mail I have sent in ages to the co-ordinator asking what I should do about bringing a large doll, that might look a bit like a body, into the building in a suitcase on my day off!  Fortunately she took my enquiry entirely in her stride.  The hope is the police will do no more (probably) than check and move me on.  (I could imagine the headline:  Major Security Alert - Priest has small boy in suitcase! Priestess in strange sacrifice of wooden boy - ho hum!)

Not present - but a little more active and engaged.

Jane W-G writes:

An empty mind dazzled by retail therapy is distracted for a moment.  An empty mind cosseted and loved remains available even when it feels remote and distant from the places others stay.

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.

St. Trinian's

Have just finished watching the DVD of St. Trinian's - released earlier this year.  Excellent.

Fun.  Full of laughter.

"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.

Space Hopper

I think my nickname should be space hopper.  I am delighted to discover that I really do bounce!  The trick now will be to learn how to bounce not too high and not too low.

I used to help out ringside at Blackpool Tower Circus as a kid and I can remember that one of the acrobats always said if you think about what you are about to do too hard, you would never do it; best to imagine the thrill of flying and let reflexes take care of the business.

My partner gently talked to me and listened this morning.  Time to get up, freshen up and fly.  I have showered and now smell very Evelyn & Crabtree - a sign of middle age!

My partner did a courageous thing - he challeneged my perception of what I needed and he was so right.  I said he reminded me of my guide dog, Rainbow, who now and again has to take a unilateral decision and cross my path because he has seen something and needs to halt me or change my direction rapidly for my safety.  In a sense that's what my partner did this morning - he changed my thought direction and challenged my reasoning that staying in bed was the safest option in this weird business called living.

I feel hugely better.  He was right, things do change perspective when I've done something as simple as take a shower wash my hair and put on some favourite clothes.  Tie dye today rather a slogan t-shirt.

No extra sleeping pill last night - and as predicted no hangover or need to sleep half the day away today.  I do feel that I need to get off the drugs as much as possible - I am beginning to feel a grim delight in taking them - the first signs of dependency.  The anti-anxiety drug is good - but the side effects on a higher dose leave me with a mushier brain than usual (no comments please).

Today I MUST finish Heat.  I refuse to be beaten by literary style.

I am going to walk today too.  Not far - as my back has been a problem since my June 2007 fall.  But somehow.  I have dug deep and now faced one of my greatest fears which is despiar.  I have had a chance to hear her call and understand where she is coming from.  I can face her again in a less guarded way.  She is a very significant part of me in that she holds immense power.  I now believe she is much more concerned with protecting me from more pain (mother voice) than she is in contemplating the ending of my life.  She does not want to terminate my life as I have always feared - but protect me from myself by removing the pain.  The outcome could have been the same if I had not listened attentively and risked going down deep inside.  Now I know from personal experience that if I listen and then take action which evidences I am protecting myself from desolation at the deepest, existentialist levels, she happily retreats.  I don't want to go back there too often, but I am beginning to understand the darker parts of my personality - in as much as any of us can.

Alot of the time during this present illness I have been told to work hard on destracting myself from the worst symptoms.  I have really struggled with this as a naturally contained and introverted personality.  This morning I came to a better understanding of distraction which is adding to my tool box or strategies for coping.  When I see going out for a walk as a destraction I immediately feel I would be much better sitting tight and thinking/feeling my way through the current emotional rift.  When I think of walking as fitting myself literally for purpose - it becomes a potential pleasure because I want more than anything else to be well - and I have a sneaking suspicion I can be a more honed and finely tuned version than I was before I became ill.  So although re-framing has always been an effective tool for me to utilise, for some reason I hadn't applied it to things like this.

Step forward.

Back talking.  Not chatty - but talking.  I feel I have been on an internal 'experience week', but like Moley I am now ready to put my nose above ground.

Jane W-G writes:

Hiding under the duvet of life can only take you so far - there comes a moment when you must learn the joy of filling your own water bottle.

Ps  One of the reasons I need to blog is as a writer this is the best way of bedding new ideas and ways of thinking into my psyche.  In this blog I've just planted my onions I guess.

Available for Short-term Let

I am feeling better.  Hell's teeth I do not want to go back to the place I was last night again in a hurry - that really was touching rock bottom.  I pulled myself up short by e-mailing The Samaritans.  It was brilliant - and I received the help I needed - so another downward turn has been grappled with and is beginning to bite the dust.

A wise soul in my life has suggested that blogging may be encouraging my introversion and self-analysis which makes a lot of sense to me.  I will try not to blog quite so much I think and see if instead I can stay with the moment more.  Although I would have to admit that last night blogging was a real life-saver.

I felt quite suddenly this afternoon as though I was being pulled upwards through clear, blue oxygenated water and hit the surface into fresh, warm air.  I came up as suddenly as I nose dived.

I am not chattery quite yet - but I am feeling much more energised.  The weird thing is that it coincided with an ear infection starting.  There's a lot in this mind over matter thing.  I have really intense ear ache - and suddenly I felt emotionally on much better form!  Deeply nuts but mildly endearing! 

I have been taking too big a dose of sleeping pill.  A real pain that I have to drop the dosage I love the feeling of sleeping most of the day and night away.  Alas I have now been found out and must take more of the anxiety reducing drug.  I don't think that drug works any more.

So tonight I am in a different place.  Still a bit fragile but holding out in front of me the thought of our foster daughter's wedding.  I am determined to enjoy - and seeing our son - doing something together as a family.  I also very much want to visit an old friend who has been under the weather of late - just a quick - 'love you' visit - not a long, drawn out thing.  If I can I want to see something of Cambridge - my third home.  South London born and bred via Lancashire - Cambridge is a favourite out of the places I have lived.  I want to hit a bookshop and we have to put the finishing touches to our son's wedding outfit.  This will be fun.  I am thinking we may get him two outfits to choose from or mix and match.  One which is a sort of mini Dr. Who as he is a great fan and now wears the glasses and the other is a bog standard suit, tie etc...  I am sorted.  Simon - pretty much.

If I am well enough we even have a family invitation to go out to lunch on the Sunday after the wedding.  So much to look forward to.  I can do this.  I have it worked out in gentle, easy steps.  I will take far too many photos that's for sure.  I can't wait to see our son's choice.  The last suit he had was bought for the cruise I took him on after he had spent a while in hospital.  He looked very smart indeed.

For now I am floating gently - bobbing along, singing a song...  The great news about an ear infection is I can be a painkiller junkie for a few days!  It hurts rather like a tooth abcess - so I shouldn't really make light - but it doesn't hurt as much as being emotionally at a dead end.  However, Ibruprofen and Cocodamol are almost as good as a sleeping pill!

I have ploughed on with Heat and it still reads like something from The Daily Telegraph.  I was giving the author the benefit of the doubt until he started to take pot shots at aromatherapists - what have they ever done to hurt him?

They may not be carbon neutral - but they're not exactly high consumers of fossil fuels unlike witches!!!!

I do find writing blogs cathartic.  Sometimes I'm sure they can stir and reinforce my negativity - but more often as a writer I find I can lay some things to rest, particularly emotions by writing - even indirectly.  I am not someone who often shares much of herself with anyone other than spiritual mentor or therapist - and so this is as much an exercise in believing that even my inner most thoughts are acceptable as it is a record of how things are.  The last time I relapsed I was teaching in Cardiff - and I have, effectively, no memory of three months of my life.  Now I can at least re-call something - and know friends will understand more by hearing how things are.  Maybe less is more when I am emotionally particularly fragile though.  Wise people are not wise for nothing.