Why write a blog? Why write a blog at all? Why do i feel the need to share with total strangers, my innermost thoughts, my idiosyncrasies, my Pandora’s box of secrets that if written in a diary, would, without doubt, be kept under lock and key?

When i write, i pour my heart out, as if i were talking back at myself, as if i were confiding in a trusted friend or a therapist. I write under a pseudonym to protect my anonymity and to keep the contents away from those prying eyes outside of the blogging world that would tear me to pieces in disbelief if they read my truths which often read as if they are from a horror movie. Unfortunately, the only movie they are taken from is the movie of my true life.

One member of my family who has discovered i keep a blog has said so many times, “what do you want to put your private stuff ‘ out there’ for?” Then adding, “why on Earth do you want to air your dirty laundry in public?” I hesitate, cautious not to make their opinion of me worse still. I fail miserably by saying things like,”i get to know other people who often feel as i do or at least are interested enough to want to read past the first line”. “I get support”, i say. “Who from?”  is the next question. Then they add one long string of anti-tech words like, “what rubbish are you talking about? It (being my laptop), is just one machine talking to another. The machines don’t have emotions and character”.But they completely fail to understand that there are people with thoughts, worries, memories and feelings etc at the end of, and operating these ‘machines’.

I feel i have made good friends; friends who i can share my darkest, deepest thoughts with who do not rebuke me, nor criticize my language skills. And i feel very privileged to be thought of as trustworthy enough to read of other bloggers’ inner worlds. The world of bloggers is as secret as it is public:We spill the contents of our hearts onto the ‘paper’, usually under a pen-name so as not to be discovered and before we know it, we’ve pressed the PUBLISH button and there it all goes, spewing out into the world for all and sundry to see.

Personally, i feel it helps me; it is the time i can let go of my inhibitions and just share what happens to be in or on my mind and that it always a relief. Although when my words go out into the universe, i am self-critical about what i have written and find myself thinking, “what a load of tosh! Who on Earth really wants to read my thoughts?” And sometimes i get feedback to say i have helped someone so that makes at least two of us! Sometimes i don’t get feedback or i have doubts about what i have written and am all ready, and sometimes do hit the DELETE or CANCEL POST button and there it goes, sometimes unspoken, sometimes unheard, into the atmosphere.


Today has just been of those days when i am wondering whether to write a blog tonight and if i do, will it be absolute rubbish?. I’m so tired and my disability is causing me problems today. My legs are painful and my left foot has spasmed painfully inwards. My back has a pricking sensation all the way up my spine which makes me shiver. My left arm has been totally uncooperative today and my dexterity is just so poor that i apologize for any spelling/grammatical mistakes i make this evening. My condition has a very fancy name with a very simple explanation.It’s called Cervical Myelopathy with Cervical and Lumbo-Sacral Radiculopathy!! Try saying that one when you’ve had one too many! You won’t find it in a medical book although you may well uncover something with a Google or Bing search. Basically, what it means is that i have damage to the nerves and nerve endings that attach to the spinal cord, caused mostly, in my case by a injury sustained in a car accident a few years ago. This has left me with partial paralysis, pain, numbness but also pricking sensations, muscles spasms and cramps. I use a wheelchair to get about in a specially adapted home for which i am thankful. I get out occasionally to meet the few friends that have not deserted the ‘sinking ship’ and a very supportive family.


How strange that i will talk willingly about my physical health but so reluctantly about my mental health problems caused by the trauma of the abuse i suffered a a child which i have written about in previous blogs. However, the pain i suffer from the memories and flashbacks of my abuse are far more severe than the pain from my current physical condition which can be readily diagnosed by a medical specialist. 


My abuse murdered my childhood, stole away so many years of my life. My current days and nights are continually haunted, leaving me feeling sick and frightened once again:


         When the voices of children are heard on the green                                                                      And whisperings are in the dale:                                                                                                      The days of my youth rise fresh in my mind                                                                                     My face turns green and pale.

         Then come home my children, the sun is gone down                                                                       And the dews of night arise                                                                                                             Your spring and your day are wasted in play                                                                                   And your winter and night in disguise.

                                                                    ‘The Nurses Song’ by William Blake



The above reading is taken from the book ‘Songs on Innocence and Experience’, so aptly named.


I am tired and weary now, it being way past my usual time of repose and i wonder how i will get through the next haunted day. I write:


The day will put down roots on my shoulders tonight

The sky, dusky, above me; this day lost to time

This day I have made it through, against all odds

And although the sky is now dark, sleep cannot find me


How do I get through another day

When sometimes, I hardly know myself?

Yet sometimes, I know myself too much and it hurts

And my ideas and thoughts sit heavy on my mind


The darkness is my friend but sleep evades me

I tire during the day, and my muscles are taught

Like the strings of an old, dusty Stradivarius

Playing a lullaby to aid my slumber


Why another day when I have had so many already?

Packed tightly together melting into hours and seasons

I long for the navy sky, littered with bright stars

I need sweet dreams. I have nightmares


I am sore and weary through the lack of rest and sleep

Another day I have to pull myself up my bootlaces

And face the world and the human race and smile

When under my skin, tears of pain and sorrow overwhelm me.


It is now the early hours of dawn and i have punished myself for my past by depriving myself of a night’s much sleep. I just don’t understand my complicated mind sometimes. And after all, it is just another day.