Dysfunction in the Hundred Acre Wood

This was beautifully and brilliantly written by my blogging friend, Meghan. Thanks, Meghan, Ellie xxx 🙂

Finding Hope's Sunshine

brave

Now that I am done with my taxes (long sigh of relief) I am going to spend some quality time with my kids. It is still early in the morning and because everyone is on winter break, I am letting my kids watch a little TV while eating their breakfast. I can hear their munch, munch on cereal while I am typing this post.

From where I sit, I can hear Winnie the Pooh laughing and Tigger bouncing across the screen. Oh, it brings back wonderful childhood memories when I used to watch those loveable creatures. Back then, I counted them as my friends. Their magical forest, The Hundred Acre Wood, followed me whenever I went into my own woods that surrounded my home. I wanted to squeeze Pooh, play with Tigger, tell Rabbit to “chill out”, and just love Eeyore’s sadness away.

They seemed a happy lot, on the most part, and I wanted…

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CHECKMATE

No more will I seek love from war
or expect peace from my enemies
No longer will I play the game
of fetch and carry

Nor shall I bend or my branches break
like a weary tree in a raging storm
and when the guns fire hostility
why should I still grant affection?

I am tired of this game that they insist upon
where my heart and soul are the chess pieces
on the chequered board
and I am expected to play the knight

I tell you that in this grey, grey world
my blood still runs red and fluid
but my veins swell and fill with tar
and my anger sullies the sunlight

When I speak the words
my voice is now silent
And may lips may smile
but my eyes tell no lies.

crying eye1

Please Love Me!

This is such a beautiful and touching poem written by my friend, Meghan. Hugs, Meghan xxx ❤

Finding Hope's Sunshine

cat

Please love me the way I am.

I am lonely and broken, helpless and afraid.

I am a pleaser only to find love.

I smile and comply because I want to be accepted.

I don’t speak my mind, for I am afraid.

I don’t want to be myself. No one will like me.

I’ve been betrayed. I’ve been rejected.

I cry out, “Please someone want me!”

Notice my pain.

Help me to see that I am not alone.

Let me see my worth.

It’s not based on what I do, or who I am.

I am accepted, loved and belong in one place.

Help Your love to be enough.

Meghan

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35 Ways to Say, “I Am Sorry”

This amazingly inspiring list was compiled by a lovely friend of mine here at WP. Thank you, Meghan xxx 🙂

Finding Hope's Sunshine

sorry

I realize that I have a problem saying “sorry” for things that are not my fault. This little word is way over used, and then when I need to use it for real, it has lost its meaning. I have been on a search for other ways to voice my concern, for when something bad happens and you want other people to know that you care for them. Here is my list. Thank you to all that wrote me, giving your responses. These are just a few ways, but should help get us started in sharing our love.

1.    My heart goes out to you.

2.    I am touched by your situation.

3.    My compassion is with you.

4.    I am impressed by your courage.

5.    My sympathies are with you right now.

6.    Can I pray for you?

7.    You must be overwhelmed right now. How can I help?

8.    I…

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MY SHIPWRECK (A POEM)

shipwreck

Today I’ve sunk
like a ship wrecked out at sea,
drowning in the murky waters
deserted and forlorn
with only the coral and plankton
alive by my side.

I sit all day,
curtains drawn tight
as if to shut out the sunlight
as it mocks me with its gaiety
when I indeed have none,
or so it feels.

Despair has set in
and self-pity, no doubt
when there is no need for such.
I wallow in my own wretchedness
and self-centredness,
I confess.

Oh! These BPD down days
where I have no wish
for light nor company
and then complain
that I have neither.
Self-inflicted misery.

And so to bed, I think,
is positively the order of the day;
or more accurately refrained
for certain is a negative outlook.
Another day tomorrow.
Perhaps a little less morose.

A WOUNDED DEER FIGHTS BACK!

Oh, sod it!! That’s put a spanner in the works, hasn’t it? That’s told me!! There’s no pleasing some people, is there? I’m referring to my last post ‘Skeletons From the Closet’. And there was me, actually allowing myself (for once) feeling pleased with myself for the progress I feel I have made….until I spoke to a family member I shall call *Carol* who pulled me up on this one. After I told her of my progress and my decision which I so carefully thought through, I was told that I was either selfish or not as ‘recovered’ as well as I was ‘making out’ to be! I am sooo angry! And hurt! And disillusioned! Apparently, according to *Carol, if I have recovered this well then surely I am being very selfish in not wanting to attend the ‘Telling Your Story’ group to work with other students to enable them to have hope that it is possible to move on (all be it in babysteps).

If I attended that course and listened to other students recounting their awful experiences, I know this would have a negative impact on me and in fact, set me back in my recovery. On hearing this, *Carol pronounced, “Well, if those sort of things still affect you badly, perhaps you haven’t recovered as much as you think you have”. I was brought from feeling a good 8/10 on the positivity scale down to somewhere around my ankles on the positivity scale! I’m speechless, almost! I cannot win. Does she think the sort of memories I have from my past can be simply washed away or disregarded, even after all these years? Yes, I’ve had therapy, lots of it and still do but I now don’t need to talk endlessly about my abuse as I did not so long ago. Okay, yes, sometimes I still do need to talk about these things but how could anyone who has been through such atrocities just wipe them clean from their memory?!

So, now I’m left doubting myself, my decision, my self image, my confidence….I can tell you, this has really ‘knocked me for six’ (as they say) and left me feeling like a wounded deer on the side of the road which I could have well done without. I have been ‘shot down’ many times but always got back up again in the past.

brokenDeer

(Later in the day)

But this time, my anger has risen and I can taste the bile rising from my stomach. I know that I have spoken at length to my college course tutor who has made it plain in no uncertain terms that at no time am I to risk my own mental health by putting myself in a vulnerable position such as this one. But *Carol hasn’t considered that I might not lay down and play dead. She has not bargained for the fact that I will get up again and fight the good fight. Hence, I am still determined not to be dragged down again by some ignorant, thoughtless idiot who I am unfortunate enough to have as part of my family. I will continue in my studies in a way where I know I am keeping myself mentally safe (and I’m sure my psychiatrist would agree). And yes, I do still see a Psychiatrist, my GP, my therapist and my CPN but that’s partly what keeps me on the forward route. It doesn’t make me weak, or any lesser a person. I don’t intend to sacrifice my future well-being because of one unpleasant person’s attitude. So, to *Carol, I say ‘UP YOURS!!’ as I continue to get on, one day at a time, with the rest of my life.

boxing ring fight

Watch this space…..

SKELETONS FROM THE CLOSET

happiness1

I’ve been offered a new course at college – it’s called ‘Telling Your Story’. At first I was keen….I wanted my story to be one of finding some positives from so many negatives in my life. The idea behind the course is that I would look back on where I’ve been (mentally and emotionally), through various ages and stages of my life and then work out what helped me to move on from the darkest places (where I still find myself on bad days) to the better place that I am in now, in general that is. I’m not saying that all my worries and gremlins from the past have disappeared, far from it. They will always be there. My past will always be a big part of my life…my past will always be my past – it’s just that I don’t choose to live there on a permanent basis anymore. I am in good therapy and that is where I deal with any gremlins and Grinches when they do arise. I don’t want to carry them round with me like a great big sack of potatoes.

grinch

I’ve thought carefully about doing this course and have spoken to my college tutor about it at some length. There is something about it that I find strangely attractive and yet, if I am honest with myself and after speaking with my therapist today, I have found myself thinking, do I really want to drag that old pile of skeletons out of the closet again? Do I really want to dig through all that sh*t again? Is it worth risking how far I’ve come just to prove something to others and to myself? And…..I think the conclusion that I have come to is no. There is just too much at stake.

Having said that, there is something to be said for making a neat little (or large in my case) package from my not very neat life, ‘telling my story‘ and sharing my feelings. Equally, there is also something to be said for not recounting my story or doing anything with it for that matter, other than letting sleeping dogs lie.

However, I am still very affected by what happened to me, mostly as a child or as a direct result of that, and I still have awful memories, flashbacks, nightmares, thoughts, reminders, triggers that I’d obviously rather not have. But I am a human being and that is just reality. Then, on talking with my Support Worker, we struck upon the idea of a black memory box. Sound strange?! It did to me at first but then the more I thought about it, the more things I thought of that I’d like to box up and put in there.

black box

Things like the first book I had published which I dedicated to my first therapist who turned out to be very dangerous and has since been ‘struck off’ the accredited list of counsellors in this country. I won’t go into detail about the content of this book other than to say it is morbid to the extreme. There are books and gifts she bought me at the time which are still kicking about my house. The song lyrics to REM’s ‘Everybody Hurts’ which I used to play over and over on repeat which just drove me further into my despair. A photo of my father who abused me for all of my childhood. A piece of classical music that reminds of my further abuse, an empty bottle of alcohol from my drinking days, a razor blade from when I used to self-harm (not that long ago) etc…..all things that I’d let to literally and metaphorically shove somewhere where they can’t hurt me anymore. I’d pack it up and put it somewhere like the attic or the back of the garage where it wasn’t on constant view. I just don’t want to live in that place any more. I want and intend to move on.