It’s possibly evidence of bi-polar however I think not. The last year and a half has been ‘challenging’ but I’m accelerating out of the bend and I’ve got my knee down – no chicken strips for me!
I realised I just had to let it go; admit some truths and show a little faith that everything’s going to be OK. I wouldn’t have left the starting blocks if it hadn’t been for my family and support from friends, for that I will be eternally grateful.
Now I’m in a very cool place, surrounded by very cool people, making new and very cool friends – exciting.
I don’t have two pennies to rub together and this has created a simplicity that is exactly what the Dr ordered. I’m content – how many people can say that authentically.
I love you lot.
Thursday, 16 July 2009
Friday, 8 May 2009
Ethereal light
The time of darkness is diminished – for the first time in a year the upset I felt is barely present, an itch… a spot on my peripheral vision.
In two weeks time I will be visiting the old house, loading a van with personal items held hostage there and turning my back on that period of my life.
In just two weeks I’ll be free.
What a wonderful, beautiful, joyous, delightful word that is… FREE.
Today the grass looks greener, the sky has never been so clear and the scenery around me is breathtaking. It doesn’t matter what window I’m looking out of, or where I am; this vista is my future.
In two weeks time I will be visiting the old house, loading a van with personal items held hostage there and turning my back on that period of my life.
In just two weeks I’ll be free.
What a wonderful, beautiful, joyous, delightful word that is… FREE.
Today the grass looks greener, the sky has never been so clear and the scenery around me is breathtaking. It doesn’t matter what window I’m looking out of, or where I am; this vista is my future.
Thursday, 5 March 2009
Fragile
Why am I so fragile?
I tried to get the car taxed this morning but I’m missing the log book, without it they cannot tax my car. So, on advice I need to go to the DVLA in Sheffield and pay £25 for a new one, when I have that I can then, over the counter, get a tax disc.
So why the fragile statement? I was in the post office trying to understand why, with the SORN document, the MOT and my insurance certificate they couldn’t just look up the registration number of the car and pull up the details – hey presto! It appears this is not possible; they need the log book because it states me as the owner, the SORN is not enough. So knowing that I need two new front tyres and a tax disc before Monday… I felt myself welling up!
Had this situation occurred a while ago I would have calmly thought to myself ‘how do I resolve this’!
Certainly I’ve been in tougher situations!
I’m not afraid to admit the last 9 months have been the worst on my record but I’ve never been fragile before. NEVER. In fact I have historically been accused of being overtly strong, determined, focused, independent, capable, tough and by some people ‘intimidating’!
Now I have the term ‘needy’ thrown at me which is ironic!
Why, after leaving home and looking after myself for 20 years (6 years looking after my husband), am I fragile now? I’ve worked and travelled around Europe predominately on my own, I’ve been a company director, and I have managed large and small teams, dealt with difficult situations and always come out with a positive attitude. Nothing.
NOW
I can’t even go into a post office and be told I can’t have a tax disc without wanting to cry… I was even agitated in the queue…. This is madness isn’t it? Am I going mad?
When does this disappear, when can I wake up and be whole and complete again?
… I’m not broken and I don’t need fixing… I’m not broken and I don’t need fixing…
I tried to get the car taxed this morning but I’m missing the log book, without it they cannot tax my car. So, on advice I need to go to the DVLA in Sheffield and pay £25 for a new one, when I have that I can then, over the counter, get a tax disc.
So why the fragile statement? I was in the post office trying to understand why, with the SORN document, the MOT and my insurance certificate they couldn’t just look up the registration number of the car and pull up the details – hey presto! It appears this is not possible; they need the log book because it states me as the owner, the SORN is not enough. So knowing that I need two new front tyres and a tax disc before Monday… I felt myself welling up!
Had this situation occurred a while ago I would have calmly thought to myself ‘how do I resolve this’!
Certainly I’ve been in tougher situations!
I’m not afraid to admit the last 9 months have been the worst on my record but I’ve never been fragile before. NEVER. In fact I have historically been accused of being overtly strong, determined, focused, independent, capable, tough and by some people ‘intimidating’!
Now I have the term ‘needy’ thrown at me which is ironic!
Why, after leaving home and looking after myself for 20 years (6 years looking after my husband), am I fragile now? I’ve worked and travelled around Europe predominately on my own, I’ve been a company director, and I have managed large and small teams, dealt with difficult situations and always come out with a positive attitude. Nothing.
NOW
I can’t even go into a post office and be told I can’t have a tax disc without wanting to cry… I was even agitated in the queue…. This is madness isn’t it? Am I going mad?
When does this disappear, when can I wake up and be whole and complete again?
… I’m not broken and I don’t need fixing… I’m not broken and I don’t need fixing…
Tuesday, 3 March 2009
For god sake please don’t read this…
For god sake please don’t read this…
…was the last thing Aubrey Heckster wrote before inserting the pencil into Margery Hecksters buttocks! She’d been dead for 3 hours and the first signs of rigour mortis had set in. For sixty years he’d listened to her screeching, filthy, wretched potty mouth and for the first time, in his now befuddled memory, it was quiet; the kind of quiet you assume deaf people live in.
He scratched his nose and sniffed, instantly wishing he hadn’t.
With a sigh Aubrey creaked to his feet, shuffled to the kitchen and washed his hands with Fairy Liquid. He sniffed his fingers, nodded and satisfied went back to Margery absently drying his hands on a kitchen towel.
She lay there like a blow up doll; her arms outstretched, eyes and mouth wide open in a look of guilty surprise - pencil firmly sticking out her backside. He started to chuckle, the chuckle turned into a laugh and before long he was howling, near doubled over with mirth, tears streaming down his face.
It took him a good few minutes to regain composure, the odd involuntary giggle threatening to break his control, taking deep breaths he steadied himself on the back of a chair and wiped his eyes with the kitchen towel. Aubrey spun the chair around 180 degrees to sit purposefully and work out a plan when he suddenly realised he didn’t have a pencil!
…was the last thing Aubrey Heckster wrote before inserting the pencil into Margery Hecksters buttocks! She’d been dead for 3 hours and the first signs of rigour mortis had set in. For sixty years he’d listened to her screeching, filthy, wretched potty mouth and for the first time, in his now befuddled memory, it was quiet; the kind of quiet you assume deaf people live in.
He scratched his nose and sniffed, instantly wishing he hadn’t.
With a sigh Aubrey creaked to his feet, shuffled to the kitchen and washed his hands with Fairy Liquid. He sniffed his fingers, nodded and satisfied went back to Margery absently drying his hands on a kitchen towel.
She lay there like a blow up doll; her arms outstretched, eyes and mouth wide open in a look of guilty surprise - pencil firmly sticking out her backside. He started to chuckle, the chuckle turned into a laugh and before long he was howling, near doubled over with mirth, tears streaming down his face.
It took him a good few minutes to regain composure, the odd involuntary giggle threatening to break his control, taking deep breaths he steadied himself on the back of a chair and wiped his eyes with the kitchen towel. Aubrey spun the chair around 180 degrees to sit purposefully and work out a plan when he suddenly realised he didn’t have a pencil!
Maybe baby
I have Britney Spears revolving around the vast catacombs of my brain causing all sorts of problems concentrating.
Price check on Prune Juice
An alternative to regulating your bowel movements, other than prune juice, is trying to get Employment Support. I first came across this new age remedy when I was recently made redundant. A friend from the CCCS suggested I call them and within a matter of minutes my life long relationship with IBS was over!
These clever people have also invented a softer form of toilet paper – the SSP1.
So can I please acknowledge and appreciate all those wonderful people at the Job Centre. Well done you, I was beginning to think I didn't have enough effluent in my life until you came along :)
These clever people have also invented a softer form of toilet paper – the SSP1.
So can I please acknowledge and appreciate all those wonderful people at the Job Centre. Well done you, I was beginning to think I didn't have enough effluent in my life until you came along :)
Miff Studios
"About Miff Studios"
Mum has a new website, finally joining the online revolution. I'm thrilled to bits and so incredibly proud or her and her work. Commission your own original artwork or pet portrait... something new, exciting, unique and beautiful...
www.miffstudios.co.uk
Mum has a new website, finally joining the online revolution. I'm thrilled to bits and so incredibly proud or her and her work. Commission your own original artwork or pet portrait... something new, exciting, unique and beautiful...
www.miffstudios.co.uk
Monday, 2 March 2009
move on gentlemen please, there's nothing to see
I've been separated now for 9 glorious months. I've no regrets other than the obvious one of putting up with a money grabbing leech for 6 years... not bitter just Murphy's
I've made some friends since the shift which has been lovely, sad and sometimes upsetting.
I have a wonderful ‘friend for life’ whom I cherish dearly, someone untouchable I fell in love with but can't have and a confidant who's happy to give me the odd reality 'slap' every now and again when needed.
It’s been a very tough 9 months; deaths in the family, a decision I made which will haunt me for the rest of my life (I'm still not ready to look that full in the face) and the crumbling of consistency.
The move to Weston for me is an opportunity to draw a line under what’s happened and create a solid platform to launch from. Launch is such an exciting word; it opens so many possibilities :)
I’m ready to move. I’m more ready for this than anything I’ve ever done.
I've made some friends since the shift which has been lovely, sad and sometimes upsetting.
I have a wonderful ‘friend for life’ whom I cherish dearly, someone untouchable I fell in love with but can't have and a confidant who's happy to give me the odd reality 'slap' every now and again when needed.
It’s been a very tough 9 months; deaths in the family, a decision I made which will haunt me for the rest of my life (I'm still not ready to look that full in the face) and the crumbling of consistency.
The move to Weston for me is an opportunity to draw a line under what’s happened and create a solid platform to launch from. Launch is such an exciting word; it opens so many possibilities :)
I’m ready to move. I’m more ready for this than anything I’ve ever done.
Sunday, 1 March 2009
times they are a changing...
I had a lovely day today, walking through the dales with some good company. It was nice to let the wind blow through me; I get the same sense of calm when I’m walking along my sisters’ beach at Sand Bay. I’m ready to move, I’m ready for a reinvention and a life change. I’ve done so much but it’s time I did for me.
Friday, 20 February 2009
bottom
This week has been odd... I've been up and down emotionally and feeling bruised by it all. The weekend was great visiting a friend, eating too much and putting the world to rights. The rest has been painful.
Monday was horrible... it was a stormy morning; someone, not named, was VERY angry and confrontational - not a good start. That evening I went to bed at 8:30pm with a hot water bottle.
Tuesday... I can't remember Tuesday at all!
Wednesday... I went out for lunch with Jenn, when I count my blessings, I count Jenn twice.
Thursday... I went to Hull and spent most of the day needlessly worrying, as it turned out, about nothing. I'd be a crap mum; over protective and a worrier. I spent the rest of the evening feeling completely shoite.
Friday I met a friend for lunch and we talked like 20years had been a blip. However I still can't shake this feeling of overwhelming sadness... I went to morrisons and on the way home cried. I just don't understand what's happening why I feel so low.
This isn't me; I'm the unshakeably positive person! As Andy B says... put me in a sleeping bag and shake me up!!!! *grin*
Monday was horrible... it was a stormy morning; someone, not named, was VERY angry and confrontational - not a good start. That evening I went to bed at 8:30pm with a hot water bottle.
Tuesday... I can't remember Tuesday at all!
Wednesday... I went out for lunch with Jenn, when I count my blessings, I count Jenn twice.
Thursday... I went to Hull and spent most of the day needlessly worrying, as it turned out, about nothing. I'd be a crap mum; over protective and a worrier. I spent the rest of the evening feeling completely shoite.
Friday I met a friend for lunch and we talked like 20years had been a blip. However I still can't shake this feeling of overwhelming sadness... I went to morrisons and on the way home cried. I just don't understand what's happening why I feel so low.
This isn't me; I'm the unshakeably positive person! As Andy B says... put me in a sleeping bag and shake me up!!!! *grin*
just plain had enough
I know I've two stories to finish, Denton illustrations to catch up on and more forms to fill out for Job Seekers allowance and Employment Support.
I've also got packing to do and I've no idea when I can start to collect stuff from the house because that all falls under the bankruptcy trustee jurisdiction. The date for my hearing is March 16th.
Meanwhile my ex husband is happily still living off me in the comfort of a home I furnished.
And my private life ... well that's as confused as ever but I do acknowledge I have dear friends who bring so much joy and happiness in my life that my cup truly runneth over.
I'm so privileged to have new friends join the fold:
I've also got packing to do and I've no idea when I can start to collect stuff from the house because that all falls under the bankruptcy trustee jurisdiction. The date for my hearing is March 16th.
Meanwhile my ex husband is happily still living off me in the comfort of a home I furnished.
And my private life ... well that's as confused as ever but I do acknowledge I have dear friends who bring so much joy and happiness in my life that my cup truly runneth over.
I'm so privileged to have new friends join the fold:
- Jenn - who makes me laugh so hard I pee
- Paul - my poker buddy, pizza guru and 10pin bandit
- Andy - my reality check who loves TCM as much as I do
- Dr Mort - my morphine of the mind
- Albert and Mirror Dog
- David S - my inspiration
- David AB - who is so creative it puts me to shame
- Mark - pure energy and enthusiasm
and all my old friends who have loved me unconditionally... I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU.
Tuesday, 10 February 2009
The Play
Lately I’ve spent too much time lost in a fog of things to do, things that needing doing and things that I just don’t want to face yet.
I’m completely paralysed. I can’t find the impetus to just do it… It’s like I’m waiting to break and that only by shattering completely can I pick up the pieces and start again. So part of me is slowly creating a stage play supported by a range of characters each different but equally important. They are maneuvered to, at the right time, cause maximum damage. This isn’t scripted, it’s completely improvised which can only add to the danger I’m facing.
So; the curtain has been pulled back and the audience still don’t know if it will have a happy ending or not.
Act 1 – Being Me
I’m not sure I remember how; I’d been the successful business woman, the loving wife, the unconditional friend and the doting daughter… all prefixed with a ‘the’ not a ‘just’.
How do you become JUST?
How do you recover the basis of who you are when for so long you’ve been a different person for different people?
I walk onto the stage; lights hide the faces of people who sit and silently watch from their comfy seats. I am aware of them, I hear a disembodied cough, the rustling of programs, £5.99 from the ticket hall, and can smell a heady fusion of feminine perfumes and mens aftershave.
I place myself centre stage. The consummate actress, the fraud, the liar…
“Fallow land” I reach down to nurse my stomach.
[this is a story]
I’m completely paralysed. I can’t find the impetus to just do it… It’s like I’m waiting to break and that only by shattering completely can I pick up the pieces and start again. So part of me is slowly creating a stage play supported by a range of characters each different but equally important. They are maneuvered to, at the right time, cause maximum damage. This isn’t scripted, it’s completely improvised which can only add to the danger I’m facing.
So; the curtain has been pulled back and the audience still don’t know if it will have a happy ending or not.
Act 1 – Being Me
I’m not sure I remember how; I’d been the successful business woman, the loving wife, the unconditional friend and the doting daughter… all prefixed with a ‘the’ not a ‘just’.
How do you become JUST?
How do you recover the basis of who you are when for so long you’ve been a different person for different people?
I walk onto the stage; lights hide the faces of people who sit and silently watch from their comfy seats. I am aware of them, I hear a disembodied cough, the rustling of programs, £5.99 from the ticket hall, and can smell a heady fusion of feminine perfumes and mens aftershave.
I place myself centre stage. The consummate actress, the fraud, the liar…
“Fallow land” I reach down to nurse my stomach.
[this is a story]
Thursday, 5 February 2009
February 8th - The Battle of LadySmith (01)
I had seriously misjudged a number of events, all innocuous on their own but collectively had the impetus of a runaway train.
I was levelled not by a feeling of impotence but by the heavy weight of guilt. I knew, KNEW I was responsible and wanted absolution; those magical words that would grant me a remission of sin.
I’d forewarned people but the more I pleaded, cajoled and threatened the more determined they became until finally my resolve dissipated like fine sand escaping from a clenched fist.
I scanned the desertified landscape swathed with the bodies of fallen men their limbs contorted and twisted like a forest of bleached dead wood. The thirsty soil had long since drunk it’s fill of blood and the cries of battle were replaced by a kettle of vultures screeching overhead.
The preponderant were countrymen, running their farms from the back of a pony with a rifle in one hand. These rural Boers brought marksmanship to the war further exploited by a consignment of Mauser magazine rifles and modern field guns supplied by Germany and France.
Our tactics were not flexible enough to adapt to a loosely formed force, we had been trained for tight formations to keep overwhelming enemy numbers at a distance which worked well against the Zulu and Sudan War but not here… not here.
We were incapable of winning battles against entrenched troops, we made the same mistakes over and over again; with the same disastrous consequences.
I was levelled not by a feeling of impotence but by the heavy weight of guilt. I knew, KNEW I was responsible and wanted absolution; those magical words that would grant me a remission of sin.
I’d forewarned people but the more I pleaded, cajoled and threatened the more determined they became until finally my resolve dissipated like fine sand escaping from a clenched fist.
I scanned the desertified landscape swathed with the bodies of fallen men their limbs contorted and twisted like a forest of bleached dead wood. The thirsty soil had long since drunk it’s fill of blood and the cries of battle were replaced by a kettle of vultures screeching overhead.
The preponderant were countrymen, running their farms from the back of a pony with a rifle in one hand. These rural Boers brought marksmanship to the war further exploited by a consignment of Mauser magazine rifles and modern field guns supplied by Germany and France.
Our tactics were not flexible enough to adapt to a loosely formed force, we had been trained for tight formations to keep overwhelming enemy numbers at a distance which worked well against the Zulu and Sudan War but not here… not here.
We were incapable of winning battles against entrenched troops, we made the same mistakes over and over again; with the same disastrous consequences.
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