THE DOUGHNUT AND SANITY CHALLENGE

Photo Bridget moment Blurt

Well, I’ve pulled myself out from the mire that I’ve been in lately and I’m feeling up to a challenge … nothing major yet but it’s a start (from little acorns mighty oaks do grow) so there’s hope for me yet.

I love writing, especially my blog, all be it a bit sporadic sometimes but reading, I struggle with. It’s not the spelling and grammar side of it as I’d say I’m fair-to-middling compared to most bloggers. In fact, I quite enjoy a tête-à-tête with a bit of vocabulary and an occasional close encounter with the English language.

I’ve borrowed a book from a colleague at university and I’ve got to hand it back within one week. So, in my spare time, which doesn’t amount to much these days, I’ve set myself the challenge of reading and digesting it in this time. No problem … except I have the attention span of a weary ant.

The book in question is a relatively new one called, ‘A Sane New World‘ by Ruby Wax. It’s a brilliant, clever, witty and informative book about her own journey through depression and mental health issues and how she went about improving her situation. Mental health affects 1 in 4 adults, including myself, but this book is written for everyone as anyone of us could become that 1 in 4 ‘mentally unravelled‘, (in Ruby’s words), at any time.

I know most people could knock this out in a couple of days as it consists of a mere 260 pages which I know is nothing compared to Homer’s Iliad or War and Peace but for me, it’s quite a challenge as my concentration when it comes to reading novels leaves an awful lot to be desired. I am determined to fulfil this challenge mainly because I’m interested in finding alternate routes to overcoming mental illness. I’ve made a start have already encountered a good dose of humour and many poignant observances. Hopefully, by the time I’ve got to the end, I will have gained a bit more sanity.

I came across this idea for my second challenge from a local Facebook page. It’s a page for those of us who find life a struggle sometimes, (so, that’s all hands up, is it?). We set ourselves small (or large if we are feeling brave) targets to achieve, to help overcome some of the situations that we find difficult for whatever reason.

My difficult situation? Well, I’m fine going out with Charlie, my wheelchair who some of you might have already met. I can go almost anywhere depending on whether the battery and motor are up to scratch that day but I’m really not good at stopping somewhere to grab a coffee and cake and then sitting with it in a café or coffee shop on my own. I’m great if I’ve got company but sitting alone, I feel a bit of a prune!

So, this challenge is to take my book to a café every day this week; order a coffee and something nice from the menu; sit by myself and then to read as many pages as I can in 30 minutes (just long enough for me to get out of the shop before the usually occurring uncomfortable squirming and panic kicks in).

Today, I had every good intention and headed straight for the coffee shop just after lunch, got to the counter and was just about to order a coffee and pastry when panic suddenly set in and I bolted out of there. I was really cross with myself but I’m going to have another go tomorrow. In the meantime, by way of compensation for my atrocious disappointment, I stopped off at Tesco and bought myself a large jam doughnut, took it home and indulged guiltily. However, I’m determined to repeat the jam doughnut affair tomorrow, only in a coffee shop while reading my book and thereby, at the end of this week, I will have completed both challenges (and probably gained half a stone in weight to boot which I could well do without). Next challenge: to lose that half a stone I’m going to put on this week!

GUNNING FOR A FIGHT

gun to head

This is just an immature little ditty that was all that I could muster tonight, having wanted and needed to come up with something a bit more intelligent to express my feelings. I failed abysmally. My BPD and my mental health are totally unpredictable just lately. I hate it when it’s like that because I’ve just had another  of those days where I just want to take a gun to my head …

Is everyone alright
if I give up the fight
just ‘cos I’m tired
of hurting tonight

I’m just having a ball
when I’m playing the fool
whilst I laugh through the pain
Look! I’m good at it all

So, you think it’s not true
that I’m feeling so blue
I’ll try and convince you
but I’m kidding me too

And it’s really not fine
that I don’t feel divine
just being ignored
by supposedly mine

I am knotted inside
and the tears have I cried
would fill up an ocean
a thousand miles wide

I wish I were sleeping
but to Hades, I’m creeping
I know I am destined
It’s a secret I’m keeping

So I hope it’s alright
if I give up the fight
just ‘cos I’m tired
of fighting tonight.

THE FINAL GRENADE

explosion mind

I am waiting for an explosion
But I don’t know when it’ll be
Somehow I have to be ready
But I don’t have the strategy

I’m dreading the mess it will make
Of both my body and mind
Because when the explosion comes
They’ll be nothing left behind

I’m holding a hand grenade
And haven’t yet pulled the pin
But when it blows, it will release
The tumult and chaos within

I don’t think I can cope with more
It’s becoming too much of a strain
It’s messing with my head
And eating away at my brain

A hand grenade is dangerous
Armies use them in war
I’m standing here holding it gingerly
I feel I can’t take any more

I can feel the grenade rumbling
I can hear the tick of a clock
Counting down the minutes
I can’t avoid the stumbling blocks

I am poised here, anxiously waiting
And really don’t think I can cope
I am sweating and terribly frightened
I am losing my grip on hope

In angst, I watch the grenade
I haven’t yet pulled the pin
But I know that it’s not a dud
This device is genuine

I cannot preserve my life
To learn how to simply enjoy
Because this grenade I’m holding
Is set and primed to destroy

At my birth, already a risk
Due to persistent lack of affection
It was always destined to be this way
No matter how much circumspection

The tick, tick, tick of the clock
Any minute it threatens to blow
It’s going to cause total destruction
My lifespan was set long ago.

© Copyright Elliesofia: elliethompson.wordpress.com 2016

HOW TO SURVIVE A POWER CUT IN THE AGE OF SOCIAL MEDIA

facebook, twitter & pinterest logos

We had a power cut today – only for an hour and a half, but apart from getting cold because the central heating had gone off (bearing in mind it was only 1-degree Celsius outside), I found the greatest inconvenience was not being able to get on the internet. I instantly felt lost and out of touch with the world without it, and given the choice between having my access to the web or having the heating back; I think I would have willingly pulled on an extra layer or two and opted for my laptop.

This incident reminded me of a time, three or so years ago when we experienced a violent storm that brought down the power lines, consequentially blowing up the local electricity substation. Fortunately, the weather wasn’t quite as cold as it was today. But, amazingly, (in this day and age), we had no power for nearly three days! Extra jumpers, thick socks, wooly hats, warm gloves, blankets and such were all dug out of the depths of wardrobes and were the order of the day (or three days in this instance).

I live in a cul-de-sac and all the houses there were affected. After the initial panic, the ritual of striking matches smelling of sulphur, to light the candles took place.  A variety of wax pillars were found with difficulty, bearing in mind, we were searching at the back of dusty cupboards by torchlight. I then thought to Google the Electricity Company’s telephone number to ask when the power would be back on. I won’t say ‘a light went on in my head’ as there weren’t any lights but it then dawned on me that no electricity equals no technology, therefore, no Google. There we were, back in the dark ages (pardon the pun) and I started to rummage for the telephone directory, not realising then that the phone lines were down too.

It was then apparent that social media had come to an abrupt halt which was a shock to the system at first. Gradually Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, Tumblr all became redundant. If we wanted some company, instead of Facebook, we had to go and knock on a neighbour’s door and talk to them face to face. The term ‘Like’ meant the appreciation of a kindness done or fondness of someone. ‘Friending’ and ‘Unfriending’ became hanging out with our mates (or not). If someone had ‘Blocked’ you, they had, perhaps, parked their car at the bottom of your driveway, and the term ‘Sharing’ no longer referred to reposting an article from one FB page to another; sharing returned to meaning to have a cup of tea with a neighbour; lending your last box of matches out; distributing a pot of tea around the family, made from boiling water on a gas hob (at least, we had gas), .

Twitter had been replaced by the chatter of children and adults alike and gossip that was only heard on the grapevine. Instagram and Pinterest were impossible – if we wanted to look at pictures we had a resort to a book, magazine or get a bus to the art gallery on the far side of town. I missed emailing. Somehow, writing a letter, sticking a stamp on the envelope to post it in the mailbox and then waiting two days for it to arrive at its destination lacked the spontaneity of reeling off a quick email.

Computer games were naturally out of the question and we resorted to either playing Gin Rummy or Bridge with a pack of cards or digging out the old, well-worn Snakes and Ladders board and a dice. In my case, I managed to find the family Ludo board which was my mother’s before it was mine! But, I never was much good at card games but I could play a mean game of Monopoly. Just as I’d passed Mayfair and Park Lane and was about to collect £200 for passing go … the power came back on only to be greeted by a mixture of delighted “hoorays” and equally rather sad “awws”. All the nostalgia flew out of the window almost as fast as we all flew off back to our own little spaces to get a fix of Facebook or Twitter having suffered severe withdrawal symptoms over the past three days. I have to say, it left me wondering whether I would turn back the hands of time if I could.

reading by candlelight

 

168 HOURS AND A FRAIL OLD LADY

elderly woman hands

“168 hours”, she said. “There are 168 hours in a week, and I’m alone for 167 of them … every week”, she sobbed (and with just cause). It was her birthday yesterday. She was 85. She didn’t want her birthday – yet another birthday spent alone – “Yet another birthday, galloping faster and faster towards death”, quoted somewhat morbidly by my mother.

Nobody visited her that day, as any other day, as all of our family are spread over the globe and are unable to be there. I am the one who lives the nearest and I’m over 90 km away. I would more than willingly tackle the train and bus journey to see her but I cannot access her house in my wheelchair and she cannot leave it because she has agoraphobia. She has done for more years than I care to remember. It creates a very obvious physical barrier between us and means I can’t even give her a hug which constantly breaks my heart, and hers too.

She received a few well-meaning cards exclaiming, ‘happy birthday’, ‘have a wonderful day’- and it wasn’t – a wonderful day, that is, nor a happy birthday, for that matter. I’d sent a card but chosen it carefully not to have the joyous exclamations on it but simply ‘Mum – I want to tell you how much you’re loved’. It was a simple card with two silver butterflies which stood up when she opened the card. She liked that, she said.

Her health isn’t good although perhaps better than some 85-year-olds I know. But, psychologically she is not good at all. The Social Services will offer her nothing and a local senior’s charity have offered her one hour of companionship a week. Fine … except they didn’t show up when they promised. One hour – out of 168 but her hopes were dashed and any confidence she had left was crushed out of her as if a builder had trodden on her skull with a size twelve boot.

Each blow takes away another chunk of her will to live and she is slowly emotionally slipping away from me. She is so isolated and has no friends or visitors that even call to see how she is (or even whether she ‘is‘ at all). It is all so painfully frustrating and heartbreaking.

She shouldn’t be living alone but we cannot see any way out as she won’t and shouldn’t have to contemplate the thought of moving into a nursing home or the like with her mind as sharp as a new hat pin. “Nursing homes”, she said, “are awful places where men and women are seated around a room staring at a TV screen which is blaring out rubbish at top volume!” “I ought to know”, she says – she used to inspect them as part of her voluntary work in her early retirement days. “Some are better than others, of course”, I add.

I won’t go into the other, alternative options (including living with me, which we would both like, but I only have one small box room to offer her which wouldn’t even accommodate her necessities).  None of these are either possible or feasible. I phone her at least twice a day to see how she is and for a chat, sometimes for over an hour which is the very least I can do.

All she wants; all she needs (for crying out loud!), is companionship (and a hug), and believe it or not, in the whole of a large, bustling city, no-one is willing to offer that! Our senior citizens are emotionally cared for far better in the undeveloped, third-world countries than they are here in our so-called civilized, Western world! Emigrating is not a possibility!

 

 

 

CONFUSED OR JUST CONFUSED?

confusion highway

God … I am so confusing at times. And perhaps that statement is confusing in itself. Is this my exasperation speaking or is it my faith?

I am aware that I have written about two strongly opposing sets of feelings or opinions within two blog posts and only two weeks apart – one spoken of in ‘A Stronger Woman (I Will Rise)’, and later in ‘Forgiveness (A Different Tack)’ and this may cause you confusion and irritation. If you find it difficult, stop and imagine how difficult it is for me as the thinker of these thoughts.

I’ve mentioned previously, I have a tendency towards impulsivity, caused mainly by my BPD although I don’t entirely blame my mental health status. As my son so rightly put it, “we’re all responsible for our own actions”, whether they be wise or foolish, and mine, more often than not, when made in haste are the latter. I have a penchant for opening my big mouth, wide and then sticking my size four foot right in it.

I wrote that first post when I was extremely enraged, almost to the point of being murderous. I don’t regret anything I said: Nor do I regret anything about my second post. In fact, it did at least, give me some peace in thinking about handing it over to God.

However, I often write, late at night; publish it and then wake up in the morning thinking, “perhaps, I should have slept on that overnight”. The same thing applies when I am trawling through the Amazon website before I go to bed – (this is asking for trouble as I usually hit the ‘Buy with one-click’ button as readily as I hit the ‘Publish’ button). Not always a good idea. At least with Amazon, if I order yet another CD when my CD player no longer functions (and I’ve yet to grasp the concept of MP3 players, i-Pods etc with or without docking stations), I can send it back to Amazon whereas it’s very difficult to suck back in a post that I’ve launched into the WordPress ether.

I realise that adding this extra post may cause even more confusion and perhaps I shouldn’t have started this conversation in the first place. Oh, God … I am so confusing at times. But, am I speaking to God and expressing my concern about my behaviour or, or am I just at my wit’s end and crying out to the world in my vexation? Or, am I just whittling on about something of absolutely no interest to anyone other than myself and do I now dare press the Publish button?

On the other hand, there is that  new CD of my favourite band that I’ve been wanting, reduced from $18.99 to only $9.99 on Amazon – and it’s free delivery….