Write Off

It is hard to be rational when your heart is in pain.

I want to scream and shout like a toddler having a tantrum. Yet here I sit, having to be adult about it all. I thought I’d found my tribe. I thought I’d found a team whose values matched my own. I had. I had that in the palm of my hand. A place to be comfortable. Somewhere that I could contribute, somewhere I felt at home. My tribe. Mine.

Yet some bastard took it away from me and that stings.

I don’t want to be rational right now.  I am betrayed.  Promised the earth, only to find those empty promises melted away like snow on a sunny day.  Dust in my hand. A taste of ashes in my mouth.

I won’t forget. Not sure I’ll be able to forgive either.

And you wonder why I have trust issues??

Makes no sense to you, but it does to me

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Forgiveness

 

They say I have to forgive and let it go

The very thing that has kept me together for all these years

The poison that corrupted my very core

Tainting all that I have been for such a very long time

Knitted into my bones and sinews, driving me onwards

 

And they say let it go

 

The slights (not imagined)

The cruel behaviour (towards me)

The anger I have felt (righteously so in many instances)

The despair of being abandoned for someone or something “better than you”

 

 

Let it go they say

 

Let that which you don’t need go

The friends who contributed nothing to you that you supported for many years

Who sucked the lifeblood from you each time you met

Scooping up your hurt to wear as their own

 

 

The hurt and sting of rejection from the one person you loved the most

The one who turned from you in your hour of need

The one who looked at you with hate in their eyes

And hate on their tongue

 

 

The one who said all those hurtful things that stay in your mind

And pop up, poisoning what otherwise is a good day

 

 

Let it go they say

 

It’s a boulder that weighs you down

That makes you focus on the ground

Rather than scanning the horizon, the future

The pain that makes you scream inside, that you cannot share

 

Let it go

 

 

It doesn’t do you any good

Oh those platitudes of those who don’t have this – shit

Crowding out all the good stuff in the world

 

 

 

And if I do?

What do I fill those empty spaces with?

What will warm me on the cold winter nights when I wake crying out for that which I lost?

Is there a reward for being an adult (there hasn’t been so far)?

 

I have to focus inwards on my stuff

Not listen to those who (always) know better than I

Who have an opinion to share, regardless of whether I want to hear it

 

Dare I contemplate making this change for myself?

 

No platitudes or clichés to find

The strength and courage to say

Enough is enough

 

My heart on this page

Bleeding

Hurting

 

Can I forgive all of those who have trespassed against me?

I am not god (with or without a capital letter)

I am human

 

If I say, I forgive you that doesn’t give you a license to try to hurt me again.

It means, I forgive your humanity, your frailty of being

It doesn’t matter that this makes no sense to you

I just need to let it out, and yes, to let it go.

 

I forgive you.

 

 

My journey to hell: How depression hijacked my soul, and how I finally wrenched it back.

Excellent piece on the effects of depression. Having been there (still have to be mindful of it even now) I totally relate to the contents of this.

Wolves' Wit and Wisdom

An optimistic start

‘Life is 10% what happens to you, 90% how you react to it.’ (Charles R. Swindoll)

This is one of my favourite quotes and life philosophies. But what if you lose control over how you react to it?

Check phone. Again. Nope, he still hasn’t texted. Heart lurches, stomach flips and brain tries desperately to recall That Nice Thing He Said which means that He Definitely Will Text. It’s tough being an optimist, clinging onto those elusive gaps between the rain, and trying to ignore that you’re getting drenched.

But I wouldn’t have it any other way. I believe in life, and people, and the power of positivity. I appreciate how beautiful and precious life is and I walk around saying thank you for things – whether it be an amazing busker at a tube station or a fun weekend spent with friends. I appreciate how lucky…

View original post 8,925 more words

Five-photos-five-stories-challenge Day 5: Lost and found

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Standing daydreaming at the station in the early morning sunshine, I didn’t see you at first. It was such a surprise when you said hello. Oh my goodness taken back so many years in an instant! You hadn’t changed a bit, not one bit. I had: from brunette to grey, from slim to, well, not so slim. Yet you recognised me.

Funny that. Funny how 30, probably 40, years can slip away and memories flood back.

We were the best of friends, so close that people thought we were gay. That used to make us laugh: if only they knew. We were friends of a different nature, bound close together by shared experiences. Drinking, chasing men, men chasing us, just having fun. When I look back now, I can’t believe what we used to get up to.

I guess I didn’t smile when you approached me. I’m sorry, my eyesight’s had got a lot worse over the years. I wish it weren’t so: I hate getting old.

You looked so well. Always striking, at 6 feet, people were never going to ignore you. A veritable Amazon who delighted in wearing heels “just because I can”. You never did take prisoners did you? I learned so much by being your friend. I also saw how a lot of your chat was to hide your vulnerability and shyness. I guess you had no choice but to be loud and proud because, my goodness, nobody was going to pass you by. Your beauty (still there) stunned many who came in contact with you, and that included me.

Of course, we talked and talked as the London train came in. The journey passed in a flash of laughter. No doubt our fellow passengers hated us by the time we reached Waterloo. But what a joy to see you. Such a joy!

I am so glad we had that fun. We never touched on those dark parts, which there always are, until we reached the ticket barrier.

“How’s Dan” you asked.

Dan.

The one thing – no person – that had come between us. I couldn’t speak. How did you not know about Dan? It had been all over the papers and television. I remembered why our friendship had faltered and failed. Even though we had been friends, it had always been about you. So why should I have expected you to know that Dan had died only a few months ago?

For that moment, I hated you. And then you hugged me hard, so hard that I thought I would break. The dark thoughts disappeared as I realised why you’d asked: you needed to touch that darkness once more to get to the light.

You had always known about Dan, hadn’t you? That’s why you appeared today. Even after all these years, you knew. Dan had always said you’d turn up again. He was right. You came when I needed you most. Thank you.

Together we took a cab to St Paul’s for his memorial service, friends once more.

Five-photos-five-stories-challenge – Day 4

Apologies for failing to post this yesterday… I took a day off to pursue my other hobby.  And I forgot.  Sorry.

sweets

Come with me,

Come with me

To the memory shop

Where a package, a colour,

A taste of old

Takes you back to your youth

And makes you smile.

Let us spend (both) money

And time

Choosing those things

We remember best –

The fizzes and crunches

The jellies and toffees

The sweet and acidic tastes

That shocked and delighted us

Come with me

And remember –

Be a child again.

Five-photos-five-stories-challenge Day 3

monster

His big brother always told him there were monsters. Monsters that hid in closets, under beds, in his ears. Billy was always, always frightened cos Sean was always, always right. Of course, Momma told him it was nonsense, that there were no such things as monsters, but Billy knew better.

One day Dadda took Billy out for a drive in the car. Cars always made Billy sleepy. In fact, 5 minutes in a car and Billy would go out like a light. One second awake, the next slumped in deep sleep, dreaming like crazy.

Dadda had some errands to run in different shops and was a bit naughty. Rather than wake Billy (who was actually a cranky chap when roused) Dadda left him to sleep in his car seat.

Five shops later, Billy was still fast asleep and Dadda had a great thought about how to end the day. They would go to the garage to get the car washed in the automatic machine. It wouldn’t cost much to have a lovely gleaming car. Dadda followed the washing man’s instructions about lining the wheels up carefully and switching the engine off.

With a whoosh, the machine started.

Of course it was at that point that Billy woke up from a not very nice dream. The monsters were chasing him. Imagine his shock and horror when he saw the monster slapping at the window.

“Dadda, Dadda, there’s a monster….” Billy screamed very, very loudly.

“Don’t be a silly Billy – it’s only a car washing machine” Dadda said

“No Dadda… I mean it… it’s a big monster with BIG slappy hands”

Silence.

The car inched forwards.  Billy started screaming again.

He turned to look at his Dadda.

Who wasn’t there.