ripple effect

I don’t know how one twisted woman can be responsible for so much emotional damage to a family. This woman is at the centre of this pernicious ripple effect. Tides of toxic emotion are flowing outwards in ever-increasing circles reaching as far as myself, my eighty-year-old mother and many relatives who are caught up in the middle of this turmoil.

[Since my last post, (Justice Stinks), the situation concerning my son and my grandchildren has got progressively worse. There is to be another important court hearing this week because my daughter-in-law, *Kate and her family are being totally bloody-minded, making everything as difficult as possible for my son, *Tom. Also, they are poisoning a little girl’s mind by telling her lies about her daddy and will doubt start to coach my one-year-old grandchild before very long. Going back to court is costing *Tom another $2,500 in legal fees (taking the total up to $25,000), not that you can put a price on a child’s head.

In the meantime, my daughter, *Clare, has become involved as she is supporting my son. As a result of this, my daughter-in-law’s family are making life hell for *Clare and her two young children too. At the bottom of all this trouble is *PL, (Kate’s aunt) who is the linchpin of this nasty situation. She was the one who, (if you read my blog post ‘Abduction’), is the cause of all the trouble].

How does one sick mind impact on so many people and have the potential to harm the emotional well-being of four children and numerous adults? It’s beyond my comprehension why someone in their right mind would go out of their way to wreak such damage. But then I have to ask myself whether, in fact, she is in her ‘right mind’. Should I (in this case) have more compassion under these circumstances?



learn me slowly

I am at a loss today. This isn’t going to be a clever piece of poetry or a blog as such; more a tangle of words because my head is muddied today. Love, compassion, charity, honesty and practising at least one random act of kindness every day are important to me. Friendship too….I have very few close friends but we know each other very well and that’s what matters. I also like my solitude; time to think, feel (not always desirable), dream, hope and more…

When I love, I love with passion in my soul; not a burning desire for sexual intimacy but more burning desire to understand other’s thoughts and feelings. My own, I trash! I’ve been told that I don’t give myself the respect that I give to others. I feel I am not deserving of that. I anger slowly with others, but rapidly and ferociously with myself.

I am confused; I am angry: I am hurting; I have had ‘the book’ thrown at me in this life that I do not desire today. I have been used and abused, beaten, yelled at, abandoned, trodden down, smashed to pieces but I bear no malice and I fear conflict with a very deep rooted fear.

Yet, I know that am, too, a survivor. I know that much although remembering it is not always simple and it is far too easy to slip into the victim role. I do not want to be there! I do not want to be that! I am a tough cookie, so they say.

But still I question, who am I though? Who am I really? I am a daughter who fears terribly the thought of one day soon, not being a daughter anymore because life gets snuffed out as is the order of nature. It is so unfair at times. I am a sister; I am an aunt; I am a mother (all be it unwanted by my children); I am a grandmother (all be it denied me). I am, however, forever blessed in that I am a daughter of God, my Father. I trust God; I’m just not sure I trust the rest of the world.

Am I making any sense? Am I being rational? I think not? Sometimes (like now) I seriously doubt my sanity…I feel so often that my life and my sanity are (in the words of Paul Simon, “Slip, Slidin’ Away”.

Sometimes I wish I was……..


Having Emotionally Unstable Personality Disorder or BPD really does make me emotionally unstable which I guess goes without saying! One minute I’m in the depths of despair and the next I’m touching the moon; I go from shovelling coals in the basement to then flying a kite.

On Tuesday night, I found myself distraught and counting out sleeping pills and paracetamol which I then overdosed on hoping for permanent oblivion. Not good. Not clever. I know that. I woke sometime Wednesday evening and was promptly sick which did no good at all as my body had already absorbed the drugs into my bloodstream. I had a pounding headache, racing heart, nausea and chronic stomach ache, all of which I realize were self-inflicted. And then was angry with myself for not ‘doing the job properly’, and angry that I was still on this planet that has brought me so much pain and heartache. It was raining…….’good’, I thought……at least there is no sunshine to mock my persistent emotional  pain. It was nearly dark now, the sun having gone down behind the silhouette of the trees.

I slept right through that night and woke Thursday morning, actually feeling clear headed and feeling more positive about my life despite the fact that all the problems are still there… closes it doors for the final time on Friday afternoon; I’m still torn between the two churches I’ve attended; I haven’t seen my children or grandchildren for months now; I’m in debt; Mum is getting on a bit and not in the best of health which I constantly worry about because my fear of losing her or being ‘abandoned’ is so horrifically, truly and absolutely terrifying.  I find myself thinking over my past life, full of pain and sadness, regret and sorrow, and my future which is a completely unknown entity. I wonder if there is another way out of all the chaos of my life, the past horrors, my fears and phobias. I’m daydreaming. I come to my senses. Will I be forever waiting for the storm to pass and watching the days melt into weeks, into months and into years of misery or do I begin to weather the storms and learn to dance in the rain, as the saying goes….


Perhaps a more positive mindset, if I can maintain it, will lead to more positive experiences and a more positive outcome. At this present time, I am ready to try to dance in the rain – I have my wellies and raincoat on and am out there jumping in the puddles. I know this week, in particular, will have more than its fair share of emotional challenges but I have to keep reminding myself of this:

‘Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass,

It’s about learning to dance in the rain’.


SHIT!!!  Why do my emotions go spinning out of control for no good reason – I hate the unpredictability of having BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder). I have days when I’m laughing on the outside and everything in the world seems rosy, when really I am screaming silently in the blackness of the depths of my mind.

black and white head

My world is BLACK and WHITE – everything is either fantastic or everything it’s bloody awful. Where is the GREY in my world?. The normality of humdrum life. Can you guess where I am on that scale right now then??? And ANGER is in there too. I feel like a dragon breathing fire one minute and the next I’m hiding, scared at the back of beyond.

Why do I love so fiercely when I know the chances are, I will get hurt, dumped, kicked to the ground? But…. still I need you…..please don’t leave me; please do not reject me like everybody else has done. I love you; I hate you; I love you; I hate you….

Why do I so rapidly get emotionally attached to anyone who comes along and shows me an inkling of love or a glance of approval only to be devastated when the feeling is not reciprocated?

I self-sabotage in my desperation and my hatred of myself. I deprive myself of sleep deliberately, often staying up  till 2am, 3am; then it creeps up to 5am, time to get up and at which point I can justify not going to bed. I am most often writing because that is what’s keeping me on the planet right now.

I deprive myself of anything I really like (because I don’t deserve it) and then I give myself that very thing until I am literally sick (because I don’t deserve it).

See how fucked up my mind is inside? I am in turmoil, agony. My mind is a seething mass of chaos. See how angry I am? I am about to self-destruct, most likely by imploding on myself and then being the only one around who feels guilty enough to clear up the resulting mess! Often, the thought crosses my mind that I want to jump off the multi-storey car park (but then the guilt of someone else having to clear up the bloody debris of my body, kicks in), so I don’t.

imploded head

Help!!!! I want to get up from here; smell the roses again and the fresh bread baking in the oven; feel joy and contentment; find out what happiness is; love and be loved etc etc….and  yet I don’t know where to start! SHIT!!!


Letting go of someone you love isn’t easy….It’s heart-wrenching, it’s agony, true heartache. Taking the decision to let go and taking the action is even harder. What do you do when you’ve tried everything in your power to hold on to the hope that that love will somehow be reciprocated but it never is? Letting go is the hardest thing….Let Go Let God.


I’ve thought long and hard about this. I’ve cried bucketsful of tears. I’ve hoped, I’ve wished, I’ve prayed. Oh, how I’ve prayed; all through the day to the point where I just cannot think anymore; all through the night until the sun rises and another day dawns. [“Heavenly Father, I hand this situation over to You, for You are stronger than I. My God, You know what has happened. You know what has gone before. Be merciful, I pray, oh Lord. I ask Your forgiveness for both myself and my children. In Jesus’ name, Amen”].

You may think me heartless; callous even, but there is only so much pain and rejection and hurt I can take. I am immersed in a sea of emotions which surround me; the murky waters reaching up to my chin, waves threatening to engulf me. My children cause me so much pain and suffering. If I don’t let go, I will surely drown. If I drown, I am of little use to any other person on this planet. My son and my daughter refuse to have anything to do with me. I’ve recently been ill and in hospital and now I’ve been home for a week, and neither of them have phoned, text’d, emailed, sent a card. Not a word. I love them. I will always love them, from the very bottom of my heart. I will miss them. A part of me has died for each grandchild I have lost in this manner. I’ve no idea how my little ones are – I’ve no way of finding out and it’s killing me and dragging me back down the hole I have fought for so many years to get out of. Both my psychiatrist and my GP say I need to let go to maintain my mental health. Easy to say the words, I thought; difficult, oh, so hard to take the action needed. My door will remain open forever, my loves, should you choose to come back; my love will be there always….it will never fade or lessen.

So, I have to say, my darlings, my precious ones, I will set you free. This is what you have requested (no contact). I don’t pretend to know why, nor to understand. I’ve prayed for your peace of mind, for your salvation. But all to no avail. I cannot hold you back any longer. I set you free although it shatters my heart into a million pieces to do so…..

Banksy balloon

 Sorry seems to be the hardest word…….


Having BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder), mine being in the ‘Emotionally Unstable’ category, is like living life on a rollercoaster! Up and down…high and low…black and white…happy and s.. (no, I won’t use the word ‘sad’ as what I actually means is, desperately unhappy) and all of it, like a rollercoaster, is so damn scary! I’ve had enough! I wanna get off now! I’m exhausted! My thoughts are all over the place…mostly making no sense at all; pointless, why bother, what for? All, rather like I feel about the rollercoaster.

My mood changes umpteen times a day and is totally unpredictable. I never what’s going to hit next! One minute, I’m fine, everything’s ‘cool’. I know I can cope with college; I know I can manage to keep up with writing my book; I know changing my church is the right thing to do; I positively know my children will come back to me one day.

Now, everything’s turned upside-down, on its head! College is too much…I won’t get good grades; I’ll never get my book finished and it’s rubbish anyway; how can I change my church after being there eight years….how disloyal is that? I’ll never see my children or grandchildren again, (and just in the unlikely event that you ever get to read this, this is for you, Tom* and Claire* with special love for my three and one-on-the-way little ones). Knowing it’s all hopeless.

I am never not thinking of you

Positive. Negative. Black. White. Up. Down. In. Out. Happy. Desperate. Hopeful. Hopeless. Optimistic. Pessimistic. Love. Hate. Just like a rollercoaster.


It’s too much. It’s all too much sometimes and I start thinking damaging, self-sabotaging thoughts about myself. I don’t want to be here…on this planet…in this solar system.

Five minutes later, I am as high as a kite! Of course I’ll get good grades at college; I will easily finish writing my book before the deadline; I’ll be so happy at my new church – it’s what I’ve been looking for for years, can’t wait for Sunday; I’ll definitely see my kids and grandkids again and it will all be happy ever after. I live in hope.

This is hell, this is! I’m living in fucking hell!


Isn’t life wonderful? I’m doing so well. I love everybody. Hugs all round. S-m-i-l-e.




Wednesday evening, 11 June 2014

9.10pm, on my way up to bed; the phone rings. “Who’s phoning at this time in the evening?”, I think. A hesitant voice then says, “Hello Mum”. It’s my son, much to my amazement! My first thought was that something awful had happened, maybe he was very ill; worse still, maybe if my little granddaughter had been badly hurt or had died. My mind raced at a million miles an hour along with my heartbeat. I was so surprised to hear his voice as I can’t even remember the last time he phoned me. It must have been when S. was born; she’s now one and a half and I have only seen her once which hurts so much, especially as I don’t see my daughter’s two little ones hardly at all either. I am a ‘Nanny’ and I’ve no idea how that feels….I’m not ‘in those shoes’, so to speak.

My son says, “I thought i’d tell you before it goes on Facebook that K. is pregnant, twelve weeks now!” I was really shocked…This is K. who can’t look after her first child, S, without her mother doing practically everything for her so how on Earth is she going to look after two little ones, I think? My son, T. says, Oh, K’s mum is going to give up work so that she can be with K. all the time! (And yes, maybe there is a bit of the green-eyed monster in the back of my head but nevertheless, my concern is genuine). I hear myself saying “Congratulations to you both”, In a shocked and half-hearted way.

What are the chances of seeing this new baby, this new life, my grandchild when I never see S.? Virtually nil, I imagine sadly. I am hurting. I hardly know what it means to be a ‘Nanny’ and the little ones barely know me. I am just a stranger to them.

I said something to T. about how much I’d welcome a visit from them and of course, to see S. Muttering about work commitments and such came back and I got nowhere. 

When I got off the phone, I didn’t feel the joy or excitement usually following such news. I felt flat, I felt nothing, empty, hurt. I certainly didn’t feel ‘over the moon’, as most people would do under normal circumstances.


(photo credit: acclaim clip art)



I love passionately  

I hurt easily            

I hate rarely           

I hug genuinely       

I care deeply          

I speak truthfully     

I listen earnestly     

I share willingly       

          I live honestly                   

I trust cautiously     

I tread carefully      

I tire quickly           

         I take frugally                   

I speak politely       

I think kindly           

I share readily        

         I touch gently                  

I lose gracefully    

I receive gratefully  

I give generously    

I ♥ lovingly   





half face crying

Why don’t my tears fall when anyone can see?

As if I must hide my pain from the world with shame

When I cry alone, and only then

Do those painful tears cascade

Like waterfalls down both cheeks

I am not in the least, ashamed of knowing that in my splintered heart

You may think me strong

But inside, I am weak at the broken places

Yet I will talk until the cows come home of my weakness and pain with you

Only my nose ‘cries’ tears into tissues, but do my eyes betray me?

Can you see me in here, hiding?

With my backpack full of heavy rocks

Which dent and twist my spine

The agony is severe and persistent

 I wish I could put it down for a while

So I may rest a little and escape my inner tortuous world

Yes, mostly I am ‘on show’, my public face smiling

When inside I hurt so deeply

Yet I love so passionately

Can you see me, hiding?