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
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.
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.
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…
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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.
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.
Apologies for failing to post this yesterday… I took a day off to pursue my other hobby. And I forgot. Sorry.
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
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.
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”
The car inched forwards. Billy started screaming again.
He turned to look at his Dadda.
Who wasn’t there.
Prompt Words: cheese, perks, dead end, bell, passion
Fred threw the cheese sandwich with curled edges onto the table.
“Bored, bored, bored” he said, “Bloody dead end job, no flaming perks, nothing to get me teeth into!”
“Yeah” Harry said, “me too.”
“What you saying? You ‘ad enough? You only just started.” another voice chimed in.
“I been here 4 weeks now” Fred continued, “promised the high life… a bit of travel, wine, women, song. Bit of passion, hanky panky, you know?”
“Yeah” Harry said, “me….”
“Shut yer gob before I knock five bells out of yer!”
Fred’s fist landed with a wallop: he wasn’t bored now.
All I can say is never trust little old ladies.
There I was, sat in a room with this old dear who looked as though butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. Tiny thing, wouldn’t reach my waist if I stood up. Thick white hair, blue eyes and makeup that wasn’t really put on that well. Looked proper innocent she did, peering over the top of those half glasses, what are they called? Oh yeah, half-moon glasses. Proper dowdy, all twin set and pearls, frumpy old lady. Know what I mean?
Well, she was asking me about my life and stuff. Didn’t matter what I said, she weren’t bothered. I swore, used words I’d not use to my own family and she ignored them. The questions seemed really random, nothing to do with what had happened, the reason that I was there.
As if we was just old friends chatting over times past. Think she must have been planning it all along. Family, friends, football. You name it, we nattered about it. Turns out she’s a Chelsea fan as well and knew all the teams going back to when I was born. The craic of talking footie with some old dear really took me by surprise. If only my brother had been as knowledgeable. He was too thick to even notice when the Blues had won the Championship.
We had tea and biscuits too. Sometimes we stopped so I could go outside to have a ciggie, didn’t matter really. Funny how time goes past when you really are enjoying yourself. It’s only afterwards I understood where she was leading me, the clever cow.
We was sitting there discussing next season’s prospects when she leaned forward and her voice dropped to a whisper.
“What was…..” she said, coughing over the last bit.
I couldn’t hear her so asked her to speak up.
“I was just idly wondering,” she said a little louder this time, “I’ve always wanted to know. What’s it like…?”
She sat there, waving her hands around vaguely, looking up at the ceiling and then at me.
“What’s it like… you know? What does it feel like to k….” she stopped mid-word.
So comfortable was I by then, I filled in the bloody blank didn’t I? Stupid, stupid mistake!
“Kill! Oh it’s amazing. The power… the…”
No vague look now. She gazed at me. No, she looked like a hawk that’s just grabbed its prey. Keen and satisfied. Gotcha!
The door opened and they took me away.
This morning I had my last meal. Anything I wanted they said. Big Mac, fries and a glass of champagne. It was great.
Shame she couldn’t have joined me: we could have talked about football again. It would have taken away the fear of what’s to come.