The General Whirl

Thoughts from the Quietude

2012-01-10T14:10:00.001Z

We build such strong fortifications within us
little knowing that efforts thus expended
must be paid for in perpetuity
or that the walls
however thick and well made will crumble
built as they are on the sands of time

What price would you be willing to pay
in order never to have to experience pain
can your imagination even begin to fathom
a lifeless life such as this
is it not pain that teaches me joy
or loss that reminds me to love

I travelled to an island paradise
far from the humdrum worries of my life
I awoke with the dawn and cried to see the sun
such exquisite beauty there is in the world
I watched as the sky flamed at sunset
and wept to see the moon rise in its serenity

Each day I inched nearer to an unspoken wisdom
the nature of which I could not even guess
but I awoke, I awoke
and in doing so I became even more acutely aware
of the yearning within me to understand
that which is hidden in plain view

Always I strive to see what cannot be seen
are we alone amongst the universe and beyond
in seeking meaning and purpose
surely no such efforts are expended by inanimates
nor in the beings that share this mortal plane
I seem uniquely ill equipped for such wonderment

It got me thinking of the fortifications within
and the Law of Unintended Consequences
what if these are the source of the problem
the cause of an emotionally induced blindness
despite my best intentions to do otherwise
I have not yet dismantled my earlier handiwork

I travelled home from my trip to the island
trying in vain to carry this knowledge
but as with the quietude it swiftly deserted me
and with it flew my uncertain certainty
sense seemed senseless in my everydayness
a solitary splash of colour amongst the greyness

But in my mind ...
I sometimes walk the beaches of that island
and know peace

How I Am Rescuing Myself

2012-01-05T15:48:00.000Z

I've decided to continue along this path.

This year my resolutions are to;

Dwell in the present moment

Act with kindness

Practise acceptance

Exercise compassion

Persevere

Be honest and gentle with myself

Embrace uncertainty

Befriend my sacred self

These are my resolutions for 2012 and quite possibly beyond.

Happy New Year Everyone.

Storms blow

2011-11-27T17:02:00.000Z

If I respond to the intensity and immediacy of my emotional state

am I doomed to repeat every mistake I have ever regretted making

might I find that regret itself becomes a perpetual state of being

so much so that I become unable to distinguish worth from worthless

for such is the worthlessness of regret that it comes full circle

masquerading as stepping stones along the path towards wisdom

Instead I might rage against the idiocy that resides inside my own mind

unleashing upon it the scorn of a knowledge hard won but fragile still

in that the things we know are not synonymous with the things we feel

and into that apparent paradox comes the thorny question of will

will I do what I want in the moment or what I want in the longer term

can I build up my resistance to the former in favour of the latter

In the process of doing so do I not run the risk of losing all spontaneity

as if this were a characteristic I have ever been capable of hitherto

risk taking is not of my nature but neither is courage and yet I want

oh yes I want, but I do not want that which what I want means

in a world without consequences freedom itself becomes meaningless

but then so too does responding to the immediacy of what I feel

Instead shall I wait it out, letting these things pass in the way

that all such things however intense and demanding eventually do

shall I instead seek some solace in the diversions of doing

there are other things besides doing but I know not how they work

and in trying to work out how they work all I succeed in doing

is reminding myself of the futility of a rage otherwise unexpressed

All storms blow themselves out if you give them enough time

the trick is to understand that we are always and without fail

far more resilient than we ever give ourselves credit for

at times it can feel like failure just to feel the way that we feel

to weep at nothing more consequential than an inability

to work out that there are some things I just can't work out.

... in what?

2011-11-21T15:50:00.001Z

I am a "look before you leap" sort of girl. When people tell me to "have faith" or worse still tell me that "it'll all work out to God's plan" I have to grit my teeth so that I don't come out with an expletive to fully express my doubts and to some extent my derision of such an approach. For a notionally open minded person I am becoming increasingly aware of my close-mindedness. No bad thing. In my life personal growth has not been linear but these days it is a constant nonetheless. I don't so much take strides as inch my way forward in increments so small as to be almost infinitesimal.

I do not have faith.

I have hope. I have wishes and dreams, wants and desires. I have goals and plans. I have love and friendship. I have all these, but I do not have faith.

I used to try to believe in a Creator God in the Judeo-Christian mould but many years ago my questioning of the framework within which this 'almost-faith' resided brought the whole shebang tumbling down. My faith was of the kind that the apostle Thomas would have understood well. It was riddled with doubts and questions. Inevitably and inexorably I lost what I never really had because my faith, such as it was, was not sustainable. It could not withstand even my own scrutiny.

Living a faithless life is not without wonder or awe as some might imagine, but I do miss the comfort of having faith.

Wind forward to today. I am endeavouring to find a framework within which I can honestly and with integrity hold fast to a Higher Power ... a "God of my understanding" no less. This is no academic exercise. And it's hard to explain the necessity of this except to say that it is a necessary part of the 12 Step approach to "recovery."

The "God of my understanding" needs to be substantial enough to withstand scrutiny but it need only make sense to me. It needn't be perfect but it needs to be real enough to enable me to say "thy will not mine" and mean it.

One of the things I am learning about at the moment is honesty. For me this means saying "I don't know" a hell of a lot more of the time than I used to because I'm trying not to just say what I think the other person wants to hear.

A lot of the time I don't really know what I think or how I feel. When I say that personal growth has been a constant feature of my life lately it would seem self evident that there is still some way to go. It's a strange place I find myself in just now ... it's like I don't really know who I am. And yet at the same time it's kind of nice too because I might even get to find out.

Things are not what they seem

2011-11-13T12:18:00.000Z

If I could change anything
right now
I would swap what is
for what could be
if only ...

We talk about acceptance
don't we?
But what do we mean?
Do we mean accepting what is
what we think is
what we hope is
which version of being
shall I be today?

I shall be the me
of the moment
and try to hold on to the fact
that even if tomorrow
this feels unreal
today it didn't.

Tenses are what we make them.

Life's moments are so fleeting
so why do I find it so difficult
to appreciate what I have?

Is it because I spend too much time
staring at this false reflection
and wishing my pointless wishes
for a completeness that exists
only in the unreality of my imaginings
a place where I thought to transform
myself in a way that can never be

Or is it because I need only turn my face
and look out the window
to see an altogether different reality
beckoning me onwards.

Sign-posts

2011-10-24T13:04:00.002+01:00

You never really know do you. Nothing in life is certain except that all things change. People do too, although the process might be too slow for it to be immediately apparent from the outside. People promise to change all the time, and their motivations for doing so are as myriad as the problems they're seeking to address through the process of change.

Change is hard. So is honesty.

To an honest person, honesty might be as natural as breathing itself, but for someone with a history of compulsive self-destructive behaviours honesty is a frightening process of coming face to face with a succession of uncomfortable truths that must each be addressed in order for change to be even contemplated ... never mind implemented.

It's slow going and it's painful. But it's good ... and it's worth doing.

It's a process of re-connecting the internal parts of ourselves that have come adrift so that we in turn can connect more fully with the world around us. Isolation and/or hiding away has merits in terms of feelings of safety, security and comfort, but it does not engage us in real life. Life is out there to be lived and that can only happen through accepting that all things change and we must adapt right along with it.

To cling to the known is understandable. It is a child-like response to the uncertainty we experience in all aspects of our lives. In an adult this fear can cause a paralysis of indecision ... and in some cases a clinging to of behaviours that might soothe us, but do not otherwise constructively move us forward in our lives.

Drinking creates above all things a feeling of "stuck-ness" ... a sense that life is going on "out there" and is only for others either more courageous or far more deserving than us to partake in. So instead we sit in our gloriously painful self-induced isolation on the sidelines of it all bemoaning our fate ... little comprehending the role we've played in our own predicament.

How does one break the cycle of these deep seated fears holding us back and thus leaving us with such feelings of lack of worth? One doesn't. Not directly anyway. No-one can rescue us just as we cannot rescue anyone else ... neither can anyone install ready-made self esteem or courage in another. However much we might long to do so, it is entirely dis-empowering to treat an adult as anything other than someone intelligent enough to come to their own conclusions given time.

Instead we do what we can by providing the clearest sign-posts possible ... arrows pointing in directions either we ourselves have taken and found beneficial ... or those born of the wisdom of others already walking paths we ourselves aspire to. And then we just have to wait. People can want to change for an awfully long time before finding the wherewithal within themselves to start the process. If it's frustrating for us from within, how much more so to those already well, who want nothing more than to see us well too?

I've come to know some truly amazing people through blogging. And whether you know it or not I have listened to the words you've spoken. I have read as many of the sign-posts as I've been able to discern and tried to walk in the direction indicated ... embracing change and trying to engage more fully with life despite my fears.

And I am one year sober this coming weekend. The funny thing is that you probably don't even realise how instrumental you've been in my journey to this point. Nor how your help and guidance shows me the way forward even now. How just by reading and commenting as you've done you've helped me to find my voice ... and with it some measure of courage. If I were to write a list of all the people who've helped to point the way forwards I would be here for a very long time.

But your name would be there.

Thank you.

And if I in turn can point the way forwards for any of you I couldn't do better than repeat the words sent to me by one of my wisest friends. She said "first accept what is ... fully and without reservation. It is what it is .... now, what are you going to do about it?" The things we do as a result of self-hatred can only ever be overturned when we learn to love ourselves. Truly, we are not fully able to love one another unless we first learn to love ourselves ... even the wonky bits.

Life is good

2011-09-30T10:41:00.000+01:00

I am walking more quietly these days. Life has taken on a different hue and I have been adjusting to the new pace of things. Trev is recovering from a serious bout of pneumonia but has residual complications that have resulted in much to-ing and fro-ing to the hospital for tests, overnight stays and whatnot. Worrying as my usually hale and hearty gentle man has turned in the last 6 weeks into a shadow of his normal self. Weakened physically, which is all too apparent, but also his mental acuity has deteriorated which is more worrying in a way. He draws strength from my presence and I from his. We have one another and somehow the difficult times emphasise this to us both.

When things are bad with one or other of us we have taken to a simple way of offering support. We have bought a few joke books. I sit beside him whilst he is resting and read the very worst jokes I can find. He is not allowed to smile or groan. Those are the rules. I made them up and they are good rules. We talk about our fears as well, but intersperse them with jokes so that neither of us descends into that awful anxious silence that does neither of us any good. I have never been more thankful for Trev's ability to read and re-read guitar magazines than of late. I have stocked up on all the current issues and am drip feeding them to him on a weekly basis. All in all we are getting by.

John is making his way back to us in fits and starts. More and more I see his humour even as he struggles to accept the new status quo. What strength we show when we can smile in our hardships. He too is adjusting to the new texture and pace of life. After work today I am taking him for a drive. Hopefully he will be well enough for us to stop off at our house for coffee and a quick look at our bees. An apiarist of many decades experience, he has an insight that is totally invaluable to me in my novice bee-keeping endeavours. Some days he is well enough in himself to take about 50 steps without resting which is a massive improvement on a month ago. I have made a chart so he can see improvement in a more concrete way. The day to day variations can blind us to what is happening overall.

Sometimes I lose sight of myself. It's easier somehow to care for others and demonstrate that care in simple ways. My instinct seems to naturally run that way. But self care is not something I find easy and lately I have become aware of the consequences of that. The warning signs are there and I will heed them. I have so much to be grateful for. It's funny that what has been happening in my life has made me more sharply aware of that fact than ever. Normally I'd be whinging and bitching about how hard I'm finding it all. And it is quite hard, but not so very hard. Life is good.

Mending

2011-09-14T15:05:00.000+01:00

Once a week I sit in a room for a couple of hours with some of the bravest people I know. They wouldn't characterise themselves thus but I don't know how else to describe them. It took me a long time to work up the courage to start going to these group meetings. Each week as Tuesday evening rolls around I go through a mental tussle with my cowardly side which would prefer that I stay at home rather than venture forth to sit face to face with other people who know exactly how it feels to both want and not want to be there.

Kindness abounds, but not necessarily softness because one thing these guys do in full measure is honesty. Sometimes I get frightened by the things that are said. People revealing some of their deepest vulnerabilities to one another is quite awe inspiring to witness. Listening is a healing experience in itself and yet not one person speaks in order to burden another with the task of fixing them. Their only request is to be heard.

Every once in a while I speak too. I don't say much because I find it hard to hold myself together in places where it isn't necessary to pretend that all is well with me. Even so I say what I can when I can. I like the fact that these people are in no rush. They don't want to mend me although they're happy to keep me company whilst I try to put the pieces back together myself ... just as I keep them company whilst they do their own mending. I like that they are working through their own issues and feel vulnerable in much the same way that I do.

In life we can sometimes feel very alone in our individual battles and yet all around us are these quietly desperate wars raging on behind the seemingly serene visages we like to present to one another. When I walk into the rooms I know that there will be people there who are willing and able to talk about the difficult stuff that hardly anyone wants to discuss. Such brave folk.

Heaven can wait.

2011-09-12T08:05:00.000+01:00

Yesterday John laughed.

It's not much to report is it?

Well you mightn't think so but for me laughter is a good sign on so many fronts. A sign that he is listening ... and to listen one must be present which is in itself a good sign don't you think? But more than that laughter is a sign that John is slowly making his way back to us ... trying ... doing his level best and that's all one can ever ask.

Love is powerful medicine that's for sure ... as is laughter.

Absense

2011-08-17T12:19:00.001+01:00

When my step-father married my mother he did not become my step-father, rather he became my mother's husband. I had already left home by the time they married although I was there through some of the two years of courtship leading up to their marriage. I liked John well enough but we weren't close. I wasn't one to trust easily and he wasn't one to impose himself on anyone. We rubbed along and I was glad to see my mother happy.

I got to know John better when my workplace was forced by the economic downturn of the early 80's to start working a 4 day week. I was an apprentice at the time and had little enough money to support myself so this was an unwelcome development. John offered to take me on to do "bits and bobs" on a Friday ... no pay but travel and lunch included. I figured it was better than sitting about in my bedsit so we agreed terms.

John is one of those people with a natural gift for teaching. His knack is to make any task seem quite straightforward, thus instilling you with such confidence that even when he wanders off to do something else you feel able to carry on with the task at hand. This wandering off was itself a teaching technique much employed to further engender confidence. You learn more by doing than you can ever hope to learn by watching or listening to someone else.

Under his tutelage I learnt how to lay down carpets, upholster a chair, paint a sign, hang a picture, put up a shelf, patch an oil painting, repair a chip in a gilt frame, build a partition wall ... all these things and more. But what I learnt most of all is that I am capable. What a gift he gave me in that knowledge. It was during this period that John and I developed our enduring friendship .... a friendship that has lasted for 30 years so far, and I hope for it to last much longer yet.

A month ago John had a serious stroke. He lost his sight, much of his power of speech, and he completely lost strength down one side. A stroke seems such a gentle word to use when describing such devastation. And he is devastated. We are all working hard at staying positive, at being supportive and lending a hand. It is hard for John to accept our help. He has always been the helper rather than the helped and it's a terrible blow to his pride.

Last year John started talking to me about his fear of death. He hates the idea of leaving us all, hates the idea of getting weak and feeble ... and ill. Helplessness appalls him and I can tell that he is utterly appalled at finding himself so in need of our help. Beneath this is his palpable fear that this is the beginning of the end ... death awaits and indeed is rushing towards him ... coming faster than he is ready for or feels able to accept.

In the wake of recent events I have been spending more time with John and far less time online than I envisaged previously. I love blogging and I miss it ... miss visiting you and reading your news. I will get back to it when I can.

Truth

2011-07-05T15:28:00.000+01:00

Some truths are hard ... hard to say and sometimes even harder to accept.

I have started to recover. I am still sober and I'm pleased about that (at least on some days) but that is only the starting point. Just over 8 months ago I made what might well turn out to be the best decision I've made in my life so far. I decided to re-commit myself to trying to recover my life from the general whirl and re-establish some form of order in what was becoming an increasingly chaotic existence.

Anyone who has not needed to do this cannot hope to understand. I say this not to exclude anyone but to excuse myself from having to explain the inexplicable. How otherwise bright articulate caring people slip into addiction only goes to illustrate how insidious it is once a toehold has been established.

One of the hardest things about addiction is the lies we tell ... to ourselves ... to others. Not least of these lies is that we are in control of our drinking. The alternative seems unthinkable, shameful.

Sometimes the truth is so hard to accept that the alternative ... despite being untrue ... is so much more palatable that we find it easier all round to ignore that part of us that knows the truth and focus instead on distorting our reality in order to accommodate the untruth.

We internalise these lies and attempt to give them the status of truth.

To do this we must become adept at ignoring the very obvious evidence that mounts up despite our best efforts to carry on a relatively "normal" existence. Risk taking, deceptive behaviour, spiralling consumption, health consequences, financial consequences, relationship breakdowns, work performance deterioration .... on and on the list goes. It takes quite some doing to become so adept at either ignoring these factors or attributing them to other causes.

All of this in turn leads to dissonance .. a discomfort of the conscience so profound that it's effects can be felt throughout all aspects of our lives. Slowly and almost imperceptively we start to lose a sense of ourselves. This is what happens when we lie to ourselves ... when we attempt to force an untruth upon our consciences.

Drinking and other addictive behaviours are a salve. They ease internal conflict by dulling our senses down entirely. In the long term this becomes a semi-permanent state. Akin to depression this dulled down state becomes entrenched to the point where we see little point in living our lives. Almost every recovering addict can point to a time during the active phase of their addiction when they considered ending their lives.

It's funny because I never thought that alcohol affected me when I wasn't actively drinking. It seemed so self evident as to be laughable and yet I'd failed to take into account the difference between intoxication and the all-pervading toxic affect that addiction has on our lives.

And I failed to take into account that recovery is about more than stopping drinking. It's about recovering me and a sense of myself. My place in the world. This here and now world ... not some convoluted fantasy made up in my mind. It's about accepting that I am who I am, and I've done what I've done. I don't really know this woman that I am any more. It scares me to feel so intently this dis-location as I move from unreality towards a more permanent reality. I know it's good ... and I know it's progress. Some truths are just hard.

I will be mostly offline now until mid-August. I hope to get around to more regular blogging after that. xx Jos

Half a century

2011-06-19T07:39:00.004+01:00

I remember a time
before I was scared of you
a time when I was
just your little girl
and you were my daddy
and that's what I choose
to remember today
I get to choose you see
now I'm almost a grown up

(Father's Day today)
__________________________________

Onto happier things ...

My gentle man is 50 years old today. Half a century. All is prepared for a special day. I have made blueberries in maple syrup. Ha! I say made, all I've done is cooked the berries in the syrup until lovely and gloopy. Job done. I have made pancake batter, I have bought maple cure streaky bacon ....

For later on sis & I will prepare 3 curries, dahl, rice and naan. We will all sit down together tonight for a family celebration, a joint birthday meal for Trev and Father's Day meal for my brother-in-law.

Over our years together my favourite breakfast of all time (maple sweetened blueberries, thick american style pancakes and crispy streaky bacon) has become his too. How lucky does that make me? Sometimes I forget to appreciate my good fortune. I am lucky that Trev's birthday coincides with Fathers Day this year because it gives me a good reason to focus on the good things in my life without dwelling on the past like I usually do.

Because it's the big five-oh I have been scrimping wherever possible and putting aside some money each week for the last few years. Saving up for an extra special gift. A Nikon D7000 digital SLR. It was either that or a telecaster guitar but really ... we have more than enough guitars.

I am practising patience today. Normally on Trev's birthday I wake him up at the crack of dawn because I love the gift opening bit ... then the playing with what he's (we've) got bit.

I am still somewhat over-awed by the fact that we are "allowed" to do whatever we choose to.

I have decided to wait for him to wake up naturally ... even to the point of not making unnecessary noise (despite the fact Trev could sleep through a riot happening right next to his ear). Don't you think that's pretty mature of me?

Being an almost-grown-up totally rocks some days.

Thankful

2011-06-10T19:52:00.001+01:00

Surgeons are amazing aren't they? Like super-duper people mechanics they opened my father-in-law up, swapped some bits and bobs around to make space for his ICD (pacemaker defib thingameewhatsit) which they've placed with surgical precision before sewing him back up good as new ... well almost ... after all, he wasn't exactly new to start with! It all went well though. The next few days will be spent in the hospital and then home and on to the process of recuperation.

Lots to be thankful for today.

The not-so-secret formula

2011-06-07T18:11:00.000+01:00

Every once in a while I hit the jackpot. Know what I mean?

I was thinking about Oliver the other day. No actually I was fretting about what to get him for his birthday. I have something of a reputation to live up to in the gift giving department. It's my secret formula that gives me the edge. I can't take credit for the formula itself ... only in my enthusiastic application of it.

I was absolutely thrilled a while ago when my eldest niece (now 23 y.o) told her littlest brother that he shouldn't worry about giving me his present wish-list because Auntie Jos always buys the coolest pressies anyhow. Now that is an accolade and a half.

Auntie-hood is an area of my life that provides many blessings. I need no other reason for my general non-grown-up-ness than it makes me an all right kind of auntie. I like worms ... and mud ... and tree climbing, kite flying, snot flicking, ice-cream licking, kicking balls around, jumping in puddles, lying on the ground, and running around for no good reason other than it feels good.

I am shockingly bad at playing Barbie though. Not too good at tea parties or playing fairy princesses either. And I hate playing house although it's OK if I can be the cat. The last Barbie-doll I played with was immediately seconded into a commando parachute regiment and promptly dropped from a 3rd storey window weighted down with plasticine boots for ballast. I'm not sure my youngest niece has fully forgiven me for the green marker pen camouflage which I honestly thought would wash off her Barbie's face .... no honestly I did!

Back to present buying ... and the not-so-secret formula.

Go to any good toy shop on a day when you have plenty of time to spare. Ideally on a day when it will be filled with kids (you can take some of your own if need be but swear them to utmost-secrecy-on-pain-of-gruesome-horribleness first)
Look around for ages and ages making notes of all the things that you think are cool along with location and price. Have a good look at stuff that is attracting a lot of interest amongst kids of a similar age to your young friend.
Now for the fun bit.
Beyond budgetary considerations which are allowed don't think about practicalities! Don't don't don't!!!
Instead imagine you are the age of your young friend ... it helps if you pretend to have similar interests too. Hmmm .... actually this is pretty crucial to the formula's success.
Buy the thing that you want to play with most of all.

OK, well I admit it. There have been times when I've been a more popular auntie than sister. I blame step 4 for this. I find it better to blame step 4 than myself. It works out better that way because who am I to argue with the secret formula?

So Oliver is eight years old tomorrow. He will be getting a Make You Own Dinosaur Movie kit from me. It's well cool. I say he is getting this present but the reality is that we are both getting it because that's the other thing about the secret formula ... I get to play with it too! Yay!!!! I can't wait.

We are away from home at the moment because my Father-in-law is not at all well and is in the ITU in hospital. As a way of passing the inevitable hours spent in the waiting room I have been learning how to write text docs onto a Kindle. Wonderful gadget it is, very kindly loaned to me by my sister-in-law who doesn't like the clunkiness of the page turns ... very odd woman. What's not to like? Kindles are well cool.

Not good internet access here as it's dial-up. So I'll press send and then leave the PC on whilst we go visiting. Might work ....

Sorry what was the question?

2011-06-03T15:06:00.000+01:00

that i will end up alone
even more alone than now
and that i'll deserve to be
because after all this
it turns out that it's true
what i thought all along

and that is that i am
just
not
worth
loving

that's the answer
there
that wasn't so hard was it?

if i have to start with the answer
and work backwards from there
towards accepting it
do i get to re-define
the question
so i like the answer better
next time around

I mean ....
what sort of half-assed
question was that anyway?

2011-06-02T11:32:00.001+01:00

in the unsaid lies the malady

valiantly defied by words

spoken into the void

in an attempt to avoid

the unsaid

shall we start again

and actually say this time

i am utterly fed up

with unsaying

with being always too afraid

between the pauses

of these empty words

lies heartache and tears

made all the worse

for lapping against this dam

i'd smash it down entirely

were it not for this fear

that what would emerge

might flow in directions

i cannot afford to go

instead i keep taking it down

one small brick at a time

as my courage allows

expending my remaining efforts

in dealing with the seepage

i would coral it still

building further fortifications

as does a child on the beach

digging fast and furiously in a bid

to contain the sea itself

for i want what i don't want

and in that contradiction lies a key

to the door of something

i can only guess at as i sit

looking at these empty words

ABC

2011-05-27T13:59:00.001+01:00

Shamelessly copied this idea from KJ's blog

A is for Age: 48 years old. Sometimes I look in the mirror and am so shocked by what I see. This woman looks much older than I feel on an emotional level, but is I'm afraid pretty accurate in physical terms. The me inside myself is about 30 I think.

B is for Beer of choice: I don’t drink. Not any more anyway. When I did I drank far too much and when I tried to stop I couldn't ... which meant I really had to stop and stay stopped. Pretty much any beer was fine with me but most of all I liked Hoegaarden and Geuze.

C is for Career: I'm an industrial systems engineer. Currently I work as a quality/production engineer in a hydraulics company but my background is more electro-mechanical. In my next life I'm going to be a watch mender or a car mechanic ... or maybe a carpenter.

D is for favourite drink: Tea. Without my bucket-sized mug of tea in the morning I grump grump grump all day long. I'm lucky that I like all kinds of tea. My favourite is Lady Grey which is extra citrussy compared to Earl Grey but similar. At work the guys like builders tea which is strong stuff ... I like that a lot too.

E is for Essential item(s) you use everyday: Umm the shower? Toothbrush? No, OK a personal item then. Some time ago a lovely friend of mine gave me a stone. It's a special stone with a 'significant-to-me' history attached to it. It sits on my bedside table and some days I carry it in my purse. I touch it every morning when I wake up. It's there to remind me to be present in the day. It works pretty well most of the time.

F is for Favorite song at the moment: Sweet Sir Galahad - Joan Baez. If I can't be a car mechanic in my next life I want to sing like her ... shit I want to sing like her anyway!

H is for How About Whatever Favorite I Choose: Okee dokee. Lemon meringue pie. I'm not much of a dessert eater but I could eat a good lemon meringue pie all day long. (Can I have a Thai green chicken curry first though?)

G is for favorite Game: I don't like games of chance and am woeful at games involving any element of bluff. My poker face is atrocious ... even playing Snap with little boys taxes my abilities in this regard. I like chess, but generally I'm not much of a game player.

I is for Instruments played: I fumble along more than play. I can't make my mind up which to focus on and so I play a few instruments very badly indeed. Listening to my fiddle playing has been likened to torture ... and with good reason!! I like bashing the drums for stress busting, I also like playing the guitar for it's lyrical qualities. I have been learning the bass guitar as it is way cool ... I like the mandolin because if you play the fiddle they're the same fingering except with frets and you finger pick instead of sawing away with a bow ... I like the piano and am learning Gymnopédieso 3 by Satie ... I like the harmonica because it fits in my pocket but I get confused about the breathing sometimes ... and I like the clarinet which I am learning with my nephew to keep him company. He's already better than me though.

J is for favorite Juice: Breakfast blend (orange and grapefruit) .

K is for Kids: Nope, but I am an auntie, and a godmother, and a sort-of friend.

L is for Last kiss: William (my youngest nephew) this morning on my way out the door. Normally it would be my husband but I was over at my sisters place last night.

M is for Marriage: 16 years co-habitting and not far off 3 years married. I'm not one to rush into things!

N is for full Name: Jocelyn.

O is for Overnight hospital stays: When I was 19 I had a virus which kept me in hospital for a few nights. When they tell you it's a virus what they mean is "we don't know what's wrong with you". I got better regardless.

P is for Phobias: Dogs ... and loads of other 4 legged creatures. I so want to not be a scare-dee-cat namby-pamby but it's hard-wired. When I hear a dog barking nearby or suddenly come upon one unexpectantly when I'm out and about I get really frightened and often have to stand still for ages to recover. It's not a logical thing but is based on a childhood experience which left an indelible mark.

Q is for favourite Quote: Too twoo (true) oh wise one. It's something my mum says ... and it's the highest form of praise when said in response to ripostes on issues under debate between us.

R is for biggest Regret: The death of Charlotte.

S is for Sports: I love swimming, hill walking, body boarding, snorkeling, badminton. Despite this I am an Olympic sofa surfer because I love reading more than anything else.

T is for Time you wake up: Around 5am usually

U is for color Underwear: Yeah right ... like I'm going to notice what colour I'm putting on at that time of the morning! We bought a load of silk underwear when we were in Hong Kong many years ago. My fave combo is bright red with orange zigzagged through it ... I wear them on days when I think I'm going to need super-powers to face whatever is daunting me.

V is for Vegetable you love: I love asparagus, sweet potato, red onions, purple sprouting broccoli and corn-on-the-cob best. I can't say which I like best best because it depends.

W is for Worst Habit: Procrastination ... that and indecisiveness.

X is for X-rays you’ve had: there are other words that begin with X surely! Xenophobia for example. I am quite scared of people generally. Not specifically foreigners or strangers ... just people. So people and 4 legged creatures ... other than that I'm fine!

Y is for Yummy food you make: I make pretty good curries, I'm OK at cooking except desserts and baking. My best dish is Thai Green Chicken Curry which is my all time fave main course.

Z is for Zodiac sign: Pisces. I don't read my horoscope but I did once read what the typical characteristics of a Piscean were. I was quite amazed at how these traits aligned with my character. I was born about 6 weeks premature so would have been an Aries or perhaps a Taurus I can't remember which. Would my character have changed the further on I developed in the womb? I don't think so.

A coldish day at the office

2011-05-23T14:28:00.000+01:00

This prolonged adolescence is coming to an end

thankfully I need not adjust my many abnormalities

as I am segueing quite nicely and without interruption

into what we euphemistically like to call 'the change'

which might be considered a bit of a blessing really

coming hard on the heels of baby steps into adulthood
so perhaps once I'm through this I might eventually
settle into something resembling normal grown up-ness

In the meantime I now have carte blanche to misbehave!

Isn't getting older fun? No, not today it sodding well isn't
can we open the darn window please it's too hot in here
all the men around me jump to it, overly eager to oblige
which tells you not so much that they are well trained
although I permit myself some small satisfaction on that score
clearly though I have been a less than a cheery manager of late
to such an extent that even the more moronic outer fringes
have become aware of this now not so secret alteration

This strange inner altercation with outward ramifications
soothed only by an endless stream of earl grey tea
and kind words regarding the minor gale blowing
through the office orifices or is it orifi I wonder

I can't seem to keep a straight thought in my head today

and don't get me started about the trips to the loo

I am thinking of setting up a second office in there

which would be wholeheartedly seconded by my team

Oh well I suppose we all have to grow up sometime

it's such a shame we have to grow old on the outside though

wouldn't it be more sensible if we just turned inside out instead

which would save all that ferreting about in the darker corners

of our psyche in search of our much vaunted inner child

but then I've come to believe that this prolonged adolescence

may well be due to an overly active inner child in the first place

how else to explain the various idiosyncrasies of this mid-life woman?

Over you

2011-05-22T20:27:00.000+01:00

You think you're over it

but on picking up the phone

hearing that voice

and opening your mouth

to say something, anything

your mouth dries

So what did I say?

banalities that's what

I listened in horror

to the shake in my voice

meaningless words tumbling out

and I knew

Time is elastic that way

snapping me back

to re-living events I'd thought

gone if not forgotten

but of course my heart

is nowhere near over you.

200 Days

2011-05-16T11:25:00.002+01:00

What's different this time? I have been asked this question a few times now. I mull over the possible answers.

Nothing.
Everything.
Me I guess. I am different ... or becoming different anyway.
Growth.

Years of dallying with drugs, then more years of heavy drinking followed by 3 or 4 years of efforts to cut down interspersed with spells of sobriety. What has changed? What is working now that didn't before?

... and will it keep working if I stop trying so hard?

The sunny days are sunnier that's for sure. A clear mind is better able to distinguish between the wood and the trees. Life feels simpler and less out of control. But the hard days seem just as hard as ever they were ...

... except they're not. Even the hard days don't seem to be filled with the darkness of despair that I experienced in my drinking days. I don't miss that. The rehashing of difficult memories and emotions, constantly trying to find a way to make the past better than it was. The inability to see beyond pain to the futility of these efforts. The inability to see the cost. To others. To myself.

I do miss the release.

I miss the anticipation of release too. The planning, the deviousness, rebelliousness even ... the feeling that I was doing something a bit deviant ... something just for myself and nobody else ... for no better reason than to make me feel good. I miss the ease of transition from one mental state to another that one finds with drugs and drink. Basically I miss getting wasted. How pathetic is that?

I guess part of the difference is that I do now see that as being pretty pathetic. Not so much the urge itself ... after all ... having experienced chemically enhanced euphoria you can't "unknow" how that feels ... how it suspends reality ... how it reconnects the disconnected feelings inside a person. It's just that it isn't real. Or sustainable. And eventually it blinds you to virtually everything else. To the point where nothing seems to matter much any more.

Addiction bequeaths nothing more than an impoverished life at best. But to see that one must first look from a perspective freer of the effects of the addiction itself. And how does that happen? How long does it take? How does one know to what degree addiction is still working on our own thought processes?

I guess by looking for inconsistencies. And that strange semi-logic that so typifies addictive thinking. Wishing is far far easier than doing. Such logic would appear on the face of it to be perfectly straightforward. Intuitive even. Somewhere in the addictive psyche that message seems to get muddled though.

It feels like wishing should be enough. It feels unfair that it isn't sufficient. We might spend years wishing our lives were different without ever lifting a finger to make it so because the addictive mind is in some ways addicted to what feels like stasis but is in fact decline. We don't see this decline ... or if we do we deny it ... or when it becomes undeniable we add it to the list of things we wish were different.

The problem with growth is you can't pinpoint single factors in subsequent changes that take place. A series of decisions made a long time ago started the process but at the time it didn't feel like the start of recovery at all.

It's tempting to focus on the slowness of the growth rather than the fact of it happening at all. Some habits are hard to break and if at the root is a fundamental lack of self belief then much inner work has to be done before outward changes are even the tiniest bit noticeable.

Despite the low feelings of late I am grateful to see 200 days sober. It is not a long time. I know that. Even so I am thankful to see outward manifestations of inner changes. To be on this journey of discovery and on a path that leads away from the dark days of my past.

Nature laughs

2011-05-12T12:29:00.000+01:00

Nature will have it's way

whether through our neglect

or in it's thwarting of our futile

attempts to tame it

glorying as it does

in it's own abundance

unmindful of consequence

it has the complete abandon

of that which has no conscience

oh such freedom it has

Is good synonymous with natural

that which comes from nature

or is good an outmoded notion

clung to by the overly meek

or those of us whose narrow focus

blinds us to all but the blindingly obvious

even with my dim vision I can see

that the trees adorn themselves

with no thought towards vanity

and are all the more beautiful for it

It can be tempting to think

that underlying nature is no structure

but that is not the case at all

although to describe the systems at play

takes us on a journey of discovery

whose boundaries lie on the outskirts

of knowledge, or in my case far beyond

a lack of understanding however

is not the same as insufficient evidence

it evinces solely my own limitations

What then does nature have to say

on the thorny subject of morality

except that it seems an irrelevance

in the wide sweep of the universe

so can we now ignore it altogether

learn lessons from the vast bulk of creation

or is this to deny something singular to us

for whom morality is more than minutiae

are we thus in danger of thwarting
our own intrinsic nature

It seems that there are times

when hope triumphs over experience

or faith leaps over empirical evidence

but what if this is in fact just nature

interweaving itself with what's already there

to gradually pull us towards

what would be there if only

we were to let go of our preconceptions

about pretty much everything really

nature enjoys a good joke it seems

6 Month Blues

2011-05-02T17:50:00.000+01:00

6 months on Saturday just gone. Personal best territory ... at least for the last 15 years or so, which has got to be good news hasn't it? So why don't I feel better? Why do I want to drink so much right now? To celebrate? To commiserate? Since when does a drinker need a reason to drink?

There is nothing more insidious than addiction I guess. It's like an internal bit of me that shouldn't be there but refuses to leave. However many times I turn my back on her still I hear her carping away at the back of my mind. If you invite a monster into your home how can you do anything other than blame yourself for the mess and other less than savoury consequences that result from such rank stupidity?

It's not like I didn't know. Oh I knew all right. Liquid drugs, how brilliant is that? And it's legal. Expected even. Just get around the taste problem by trying this and that. Forget about those earlier experiences because I'm older now right? Wiser ... right? So just work on developing a palate. Ha! Yeah cuz it's all about the taste right?

There's a huge risk with milestones. I've seen it so many times in the last few years. Every reason under the sun is given as to why it's OK now ... every justification explored, turned inside out an upside down ... intellectualised even, and for what? So that we can feel OK about going to get smashed. We don't call it that though do we? We call it choice. But we know how it's going to end up.

Denial is always easier than facing the truth head on. As an addict I can never drink again. And I am one. I know it. I hate this particular truth more than I can say but that doesn't mean it isn't true. Ah poor Jos deprived of her fun.

Fun? Well yes there was some fun ... about maybe 20% of the time if that. And the rest? Shall I remind myself again about the other 80%? At the heart of it what is it that drives this desire for oblivion? I wish I bloody knew the answer to that one. I could make a mint.

Earlier I was thinking about those pills I stashed away. Wondering how many it would take to float off for a while. Seems my desire for oblivion is far from dead. Shit. I thought I was getting better at this sobriety lark. Must go and flush those tablets away. It's not safe for me to have them here. I'd forgotten how sneaky that part of my mind is. Stashed them away against recurrence of back pain but I can always go to the doctor to get more if the need arises. This isn't need, this is want. Big difference.

Self pity is sooo unattractive don't you find? (shrug) Yeah well, me too. Funny day in my head. Got the 6 month blues I guess. Most days I can work up some gratitude ... some days it even happens spontaneously. Springs from a good place within. It feels real and right in a way that drugs never did. I love those days. That's the way it goes. Up and down. Hey ho ... one day at a time as they say.

This faded facsimile

2011-04-20T09:24:00.003+01:00

When I was in my early twenties I had to re-invent my whole life. At the time I was living in a religious community. My life revolved around the people and activities within this community apart from my work as an engineer which brought in a useful income. Tithing was practised by all working members of the community to help support those whose service was full time but otherwise unpaid.

Volunteering was expected and I gladly played my part in helping at the local school for kids with both cerebral palsy and behavioural problems, taught at the Sunday school, was a youth leader/counsellor, using my holidays to take underprivileged kids away to the seaside, and various other things. Life was full and busy. I was mostly happy in this time.

Living in a community involves an unusually high level of external awareness. You have to anticipate likely problems and deal with them before they become big, otherwise disharmony takes root and small issues become huge bones of contention. Sometimes this causes you to loose focus on yourself. This was always encouraged as self absorption was seen as an entirely negative thing. Questioning the basis of the ideology/theology practised was also largely discouraged. It was this aspect of group living that I struggled with the most.

Oh I wanted to believe what I was being told. Really I did. But the lack of evidence and logic gradually whittled away my confidence/faith until I was no longer sure that there was a good foundation for anything I was being told. Even so since I was mostly happy there I quelled my pedantic and inquisitive nature as best I could for the sake of harmony. I liked living there and feeling so accepted in this group. I've never felt that in my life since that time.

I was engaged to a lovely man who had felt the call to work alongside those distributing bibles in eastern block communist led countries. He was to be away for 2 - 3 years and we had planned to marry on his return. Whilst away he met his true soul mate and wrote to tell me of this change in his circumstances. I was not heartbroken. We had already been apart for nearly a year by this time and I'd grown used to his absense. It's funny really that I knew then what I struggle to know now ... that two people must be fully committed for a relationship to flourish.

When my now ex-fiance next wrote it was to ask me to provide accommodation for his girlfriend. She was on the run from an abusive husband who had been physically violent towards her. She needed a safe place to stay whilst she filed for divorce ... away from friends and family. He trusted me and I honoured that trust.

Being part of a community means you have to conform to the conventions of behaviour within the group. On becoming aware that I was housing a fugitive, and more ... a married woman on the run from her husband, I was told in no uncertain terms that I must desist immediately and force this woman to return to her husband. On the face of it this might sound heartless but the aim was that they might be able to work out their problems with the help of a christian minister/counsellor. I refused to send her back to that man. Instead I gave her the option of staying as long as she needed to. Things escalated from there until one afternoon when I was called before the elders. I was given the stark choice of complying or leaving. I was condoning sin and that was not to be tolerated.

So I left. I arranged for my new friend to stay with my ex-fiances family. They welcomed her and kept her safe. All told she's only stayed with me for about 4 months or so.

And from there my life changed forever.

Only two people from the community would be brave enough to defy convention and stay in touch with me. Ultimately both left some time later of their own accord. In a matter of hours I lost my home, my friends, my already teetering faith. At the time it felt like the end of the world. In reality it forced me to live in the world in a way I'd never have had the chance to if I'd carried on living in the community. Until you spread your wings you've no idea whether you have the strength to fly or not.

When I think about radically changing my life now I look at the woman I was back then with a kind of awe. She was so determined to do what she thought was right regardless of the consequences or personal cost. Where has that woman gone? I can't seem to find any trace of her in this faded facsimile.

Regret

2011-04-07T09:51:00.003+01:00

When I gave my heart to you
I never thought I'd take it back
I always assumed in my usual way
that this was the very nature
of the promise we made together

and it was, and I don't regret it

My heart has been in safe hands
but never in perfect hands
where in the world do we find
what we never knew we needed
because we thought we needed safety

and we did, and I don't regret it

Time, why do we always end up different
with the passage of time
and yet assume that nothing changes
having built a place of such safety
we've been able to flourish and grow

so we have, and I don't regret it

Except I do, I do regret a lot of things
the distance that's grown between us
the distance my heart has wandered
making me wonder it's got to that time
when I should hand your heart back to you

and if I do, will I regret it

I feel that your heart is no longer safe
as it always used to be in my keeping
and whilst I still honour the gift of it
I have not done all I could have
to honour the spirit in which it was given

I could have, and I do regret this

From here the way forward is unclear
the temptation to tarry is so strong
this fear of putting another foot wrong
and most of all that one more step
might take me beyond the point of no return

from there there'll be no point in regrets

The courage it takes to look into your heart
is of little use if you lack the wherewithal
to accept what it is telling you
in turn what point is there in knowledge
if not that it calls out to be acted upon

and if not, what sorry tales of regret await the teller

The short necked giraffe

2011-04-05T13:39:00.004+01:00

If a leopard does not notice her own spots
then is it not possible that she might
take herself for another creature entirely
she might for example think herself to be
an exceptionally short necked giraffe
with perhaps unusually short legs as well
whose tastebuds have gone a little wonky
so that she doesn't really like eating leaves
the youngest tenderest twigs hold little appeal
but still she doesn't think it in the least bit odd
as she looks with a more than passing interest
at some passing herd of antelope or zebra

Our leopard can see some differences though
she is not altogether as dull witted as it seems
she notices that the other giraffes like to hang out
whereas she is more of the solitary kind
the stay up all night on the prowl kind
not inclined to gather round tall trees for a chat
nor walk in stately fashion under the midday sun
instead our short-necked short-legged giraffe
likes to loll about in the half light of shade
surveying the savanna in what one might say
was not in the least in a giraffe-like way

How does one arrive at self awareness
what sort of event must befall our non-giraffe
before she awakens to the facts of her hitherto
unsuspected but undeniably true inherent nature
and supposing our non-giraffe doesn't want
to be a spotted non-herbivore one, what then?
to have to re-invent yourself is not any easier
just because you are what you have been all along
especially if you didn't know you are what you are
and always thought you were what you weren't
leopards might shrug it off but can a would-have-been giraffe?

Your words

2011-03-24T08:13:00.007Z

Your words are like the air
seemingly insubstantial
there in the moment
and then gone
dissipated
without words though
how would we give flight
to our thoughts

Here your words are written down
and not just here
for I re-write them
in my heart
I horde them
garner them
use them to fill my small dinghy
so I can set sail once more

Your words help to keep me afloat
in the choppy seas
that surround the coastline
of my life
they give me courage
to set a course
beyond the safe harbour
outside of the inland waters

Your words are like an extra hand
helping me to steady the tiller
lending strength and more
they help me to fashion a purpose
your re-assuring presence
is a source of warmth
when colder winds blow
a voice in the silent void

Your words are like laughter
in the fine times
filling the sails
spinning us around
so that we can set off
in joyful pursuit
of the moon
shining low on the horizon

Your words are soaked in compassion
they undo an essential tightness in me
causing this sense of unravelling
and release
however often it feels
that I am alone in my thoughts
you come alongside me
with your words

Rules

2011-03-23T14:41:00.004Z

Mutual exclusivity is at the heart of some of the most difficult choices we face in life. Or so it seems to me. And why? Because of rules. Apparently we can't have our cake and eat it too. That's the rule.

Up until a couple of years ago I never questioned the direction in which my moral compass pointed. I trusted that I would know right from wrong and mostly do right as a result of this knowledge.

Mostly. No one is perfect.

Have you ever been in a situation where you knew you were doing wrong even when it felt completely right? It's like being turned inside out. Stuff you barely knew you were suppressing inside yourself becomes visible. By demanding consideration this has the potential to be life changing. If you let it.

But it doesn't have to be. It can be that I know these things and yet still choose not to act upon them. I could follow the rules. Like I usually do (mostly).

Rules are important. Without them we have chaos. Chaos is bad. Right? Maybe it's only some kinds of chaos that are bad. Maybe I think it's bad because of my past. I haven't re-evaluated my assumptions about chaos since they were first formed. Maybe bad is meaningless. A simple construct formed for simple minds like mine. Or maybe chaos is good.

Chaotic behaviour scares me. Especially my own.

Rules have helped keep me safe. If I can just work out what they are then I can follow them. If I follow them well enough then I steer clear of the worst kinds of trouble. Right? I can see how infantile that thought process is. I recognise the girl who thought that ... who thinks that still.

Rules are my magnetic north pole. Everything makes at least some kind of sense to me if I know enough about the rules. Without them I am not sure ... of anything.

The funny thing about breaking things down so you can think about them in isolation is that in so doing you take at least some of the rules out of the equation altogether. It's not like I don't understand that. But putting the pieces back together involves seeing them in context ... as a whole. How do you do that without rules? Is there meaning without rules?

If I break the rules ...

It's like this brick wall in my mind slams against that thought. Almost everything in me wants to stick to the rules.

Except my heart.

Unless we re-evaluate things then we will carry on thinking of them in the same way we always did.

Enough thinking for today I think.

Except to say this. I am richly blessed in my blogging friends. It is clear to me that individually you have wisdom beyond my imagining. Taken collectively it is quite extraordinary. I so appreciate those of you who take the time to read and comment. The help this has given me defies description.

Thank you. xx Jos

More ponderings

2011-03-21T09:56:00.002Z

What is real and what unreal. How do you tell the difference. How do you trust what your heart is telling you if your head is yelling a different message entirely. And what if a large part of your heart wants to believe what your head is telling you anyway? Because it's easier. Simpler.

But is it truthful?

Can a heart be in two minds?

To put these questions seems like an academic exercise and yet the answers have much bearing on my current state of mind. I am feeling increasingly unsettled in my life just now. Unhappy and I'm trying to work out why ... but in typical fashion I am doing so whilst trying to maintain the status quo at home which feels deceitful in the most fundamental way.

And yet if I don't know what I truly want then how can I do otherwise.

It's like I keep creeping towards the edge of this enormous chasm knowing that I may have to find my way across but without the faintest idea what lies either within it or beyond it. Which seems totally ridiculous really. Even to me.

Why don't I just shut these thoughts down and concentrate on what's at hand. Living my life in much the same was as ever before. With Trev none the wiser and mostly unscathed by the vagaries of my heart.

I could do that.

Even sitting down and discussing our present "difficulties" over the weekend resulted in the most horrendous scenes. Screaming at me "What do you want? What do I want? Christ alive can't we just get on with it without all this carry on about feelings and all that shit?" Slam dunk. Back to the books. Silence. Simmering silence followed by an absense of some two weeks now. Time to re-group.

I can hardly imagine what would occur if I were to ponder aloud as I am able to do here though. I think it would be fair to say that it's not something to be entered into lightly. So I don't.

I feel the need to explore these feelings but I'm not sure how to do so without causing harm or deceit. Squaring the circle ... is life ever easy? It's as easy as you want to make it. I know the sense in that point of view.

My heart is telling me that the reason I can't suppress these other feelings is because they are real. Valid. That even though they started from events that happened in a state of unreality they have solidified over time rather than vapourised as they should have done with a more distant perspective. That if they weren't real I wouldn't keep returning to them, turning them over in my mind as if hoping to find a new way to diminish them. Put the lid back on this Pandora's box.

My head is telling me that experiences gone through whilst in the fug of drinking are unreal and therefore attaching the weight of reality to them is an exercise in self-delusion. That my own inexperience is at the root of why I am still ... over two years on ... giving this a weight it really should never have had. I think this may well be true but how can I be sure? Inexperience is self-limiting in it's effect.

One way to test this hypothesis is to repeat the experience but with a clear head. Which I can't do so even thinking about it is pointless.

Why can't I?

There are so many reasons. Even putting aside the question of right and wrong ... of re-crossing the boundary of loving faithfulness within marriage (which I'm not for one second going to attempt to justify) am I the kind of person that can use another without having regard for them?

No, I don't believe I am.

But doesn't that pre-suppose that the other has much the same set of core values as I do? How likely is that? How relevant is that? To go against my own core values pre-supposes that I think it's worth it to find out something I probably already know. And that is that life is not simple. That decisions are an active choice of cutting off one possibility in favour of another.

Funny thing is I thought I'd already settled this decision some while ago. Shut off from one possibility in favour of the other. My heart refuses to let my mind have it's way on this. It demands it's right of appeal.

I want

2011-03-20T16:10:00.004Z

I want a drink
not a skinful
but a wine rack full
and I've walked up to it
looked at my old foes
rows of shiny bottles
of liquid magic carpet
that could fly me away
from everything here

I want an escape
from this moment
to a whole new lifetime
so I can relearn
what it means to be me
and how to accept it
perhaps I can walk there
or wade in and swim
down this river of tears

I want to know
where there is
what there looks like
whether I will be happier
in the land of there
altered reality
seems far preferable
to having to bear
not believing in there

I want something more
without a clue
what it looks like
and so how
can I describe it to you
and how can I hope
for your understanding
when I don't understand
any of this either

Shall we instead
sit on the magic carpet
and hold one another
in a last bid
to reach inside the other
to find what was once
more than enough
or shall I hold your hand
and then let it go

I want to tear myself in two
that's what I want
so I can have it all
except then
I would only be part
of the whole
there seems little point
in crying
over half measures

Risks ... why is it always about risks?

2011-03-18T10:11:00.004Z

This weekend my gentle man and I are going to have a talk. The kind where we are both adult and have some decisions to make about ... crikey well about everything really. Things have never been quite this bad I guess . Or more accurately, we've never been in a place where we both acknowledge this fact.

Two weeks ago Trevor told me that he thought "everything" was falling apart. My initial response was not helpful. I said "Jeezusssss, you only just noticed?" ... or words to that effect. I'm not proud of my reaction. It's characteristic of what happens when I feel suddenly and unexpectedly under threat when already feeling up to my eyeballs stress-wise. I snap out an attacking phrase instead of pausing for thought.

After months and months of hardly talking about anything at all, here at last was an opening. I wasted that chance. But having said what he did, he couldn't unsay it. Sometimes that works to our advantage don't you find?

He didn't want to talk about it at that point and to be honest neither did I. I was shaken by him finally coming out with something I guess we've both been feeling for quite some time now. Not only that but he'd been drinking quite a bit so things said from that point on would not necessarily reflect the truth of his feelings.

Drinking magnifies the bad stuff and can often end up escalating small grievances into major meltdowns. Something about drinking frees the inner drama queen in us all I guess.

Why don't we talk more? Sometimes I think it's that we feel secure enough that we don't need to so much. A complacency sets in. I could prevaricate as an olympic sport, really I could.

We get scared. Both of us. Mostly the reason we don't talk is because of this. I used to think that it was solely my fear and that I was projecting it onto Trev. Years on I can see that really we are both quite child-like in the emotional sphere. It comforts me in some ways that I am not alone in this.

It's seems strange because in so many ways I trust Trev, and yet in some fundamental way I don't feel safe with him. This is not because of any failing on his part and I know this.

Neither wants to be the one to hurt the other and yet we are neither of us happy.

What to do.

Talk, that's what we have to do.

We put it off for a couple of weeks as he was on the cusp of a trip away. He's home later on today and then will be away again for the next couple of weeks. We have two days together this weekend before his next trip. Once this trip is out of the way he will be home again for the foreseeable future.

Sometimes we have to do the things we are most scared of. For me it is breaking out from this self-imposed protective shell of mine to tell the truth. In order to do that I have to find out what the truth is. This itself scares me.

I am scared of saying the wrong thing. Of causing needless damage and hurt by being careless ... saying things when I'm not entirely sure of my own feelings. Saying things is hard because it's irretrievable. It's a risk.

And there's this. Sometimes I only say things in response to what's said to me. In this way I abdicate my responsibility to be an equal partner in our relationship. I find it hard to put myself and my needs equal to his.

I find it hard to recognise what my own needs are for that matter.

I know at the root of this is a feeling of un-deservedness. And I know that recognising this is only the start point for addressing it. Another process to be gotten under way at some point.

I'm scared of discovering the source of my unhappiness. The nature of it. What if I can do something about it? You see, I can live with this unhappiness ... I'm used to it. I've had a lot of practice. It's safe in a funny sort of way. The status quo. But change, even change for the better is more than a little unsettling.

What if I have to go through a phase of enormous upheaval .... possibly causing deep hurt to someone I love more than I can describe. And what if it doesn't work? Is it worth the risk I wonder.

How many times have we started to break these barriers down only to revert to silence again when it gets too hard? How many false dawns do we endure before concluding that the effort is more than we can bear.

Maybe he's right. That it is all falling apart. That we have spent all these years simply building a house of cards. All facade and no substance. No weight. No depth or ballast to keep us stable. Happy.

Can we build something more sustainable? Does he want to? Do I? If not, what then?

Sometimes we build things up too much. We carry a weight of expectation that far exceeds anything that can be achieved by simply talking.

But we have to anyway.

Remembering Renée

2011-03-08T20:24:00.003Z

I recollect your last words to me
I wonder if in timelessness
you have time to remember too
to miss those still missing you
to ponder on such earthly concerns
do peaceful hearts gone to rest
feel the faintest echo of an ache

Some days eternity seems so near
separated by only the sheerest
and flimsiest of partitions
a light curtain lifting in the breeze
as if heaven lies not beyond
but just here
the merest step away

I wonder what it's like
how it feels
whether you can see us
each one remembering you
storing your story in our hearts
an ever widening ripple
of being together strong

I re-visit your words sometimes
a trail of treasures leading me on
to an ever deeper understanding
and with it a greater thirst
to know more, break free
take to the air and fly
leave this heavy heart to lie

I am keeping to our promise
holding fast where faith falters
trusting when belief stumbles
that when time ceases for all time
my hopeful heart will have courage
enough to take flight
with my own set of wings

Just today

2011-02-11T14:36:00.003Z

I wonder if it is true that when we think back on things we've done ... things we find hard to comprehend in terms of our own behaviour, we fall prey to the temptation to re-invent history.

We re-cast ourselves as victims in scenarios where perhaps we were far more complicit than we'd like to admit ... and re-cast ourselves as heroes in scenarios where our behaviour fell very short of that mark ... and then if all that feels more comfortable we decide that that is what actually happened after all.

Am I the only one that does this? I hope so ... or maybe I hope not because then I'll know that it's not so unusual. Just another human failing. Ho hum.

If we can't undo what's done we can at least learn to be more honest with ourselves over what's gone on. Not with the intention of re-hashing old ground, nor with the intention of giving ourselves unnecessary grief over mistakes made, but to see if there are lessons to be learnt.

I guess it's part of taking ownership ... a phrase I've come to hate because of it's over-use in my workplace. Task ownership is the latest greatest buzz word bandied about at work ... our new corporate cult demanding of us all that we sing from it's hymn sheet. I sing off key at the best of times and never more so than when subjected to coercion.

Sometimes I feel deeply uncomfortable about things I've said and done. I am glad that my moral compass appears to be re-aligning itself towards values I recognise as being sustainable. I wish it were easier to forgive myself for letting it become so badly mis-aligned. I always knew better even when I didn't do better.

Recovery is an exhausting process, particularly in the early stages. It's a roller coaster of emotions, feeling kind of OK one day and then totally not OK the next. Some days I can't believe how hard it is. At times like this I recognise all over again how prone I am to turning and running away rather than face difficult truths. It's easy to forget to rationalise your thought processes when your brain is screaming nonsense at you.

And then I remember. Just today. I only have to do the work of one day today. Thank goodness for that!

OK as a boy.

2011-02-10T13:38:00.002Z

William is 5 years and 65 days old today. He told me so on the phone this morning. He is learning how to use a calender at school. He loves to tell me about the stuff he's been learning. He knows a willing listener when he sees one. Smart boy. I am one of his greatest fans. He wants me to come over after work to play trains.

We are master train track builders we two. William has a huge love of anything related to trains and has amassed quite some collection of tracks and locomotives over his short years.

Every week we spend a happy couple of hours working on our elaborate layouts ... double switch backs, reverse direction signal points, long span bridges ... William loves using these technical words indicating that he ... we ... are in the know. A club of two. Secret railway passwords are tossed between us as a form of code. It's his way of signalling to the others and particularly to his brother that this is William & Jos time ... no trespassers please.

Trains are set in motion in precise timings so as to facilitate a crash or derailment. Then we deploy our emergency vehicles and follow a pre-set protocol of who gets rescued first and with what. It's the familiarity and repetition that William loves. He can recite exactly what is supposed to happen next and wants it to be the same as last time ... down to the very last detail.

I know how comforting the familiar is and mostly I oblige ... except I sometimes introduce some very slight variation. Not always on purpose either. Switching the signals out of sequence or neglecting to swap the points over and suddenly the trains are in different places, arriving unexpectedly at stations before the road guard gates have been lowered. Coal trains are unaccountably shunted on to the passenger line and before you know it we have total chaos.

I love to watch Williams face as these unexpected events unfold. He is the picture of concentration as he strives to bring order back onto his railway network. He issues orders and expects me to carry out my tasks promptly and without complaint. One day he is going to be an awesome manager. He juggles things mentally incredibly well for a boy of his age.

What really astounds me though is his emotional control. William is a boy of extreme emotions and is given to expressing himself fully in this regard. His tantrums are legendary even in our somewhat explosive family. But in his role as captain of the railways William becomes an altogether different boy. Calm, deliberate and incisive.

Still he is a 5 year old boy. When I arrive after work I hear him behind the door as I fumble around for my keys. He chants ... "Jos is here Jos is here Jos is here" over and over. Oliver is becoming more sophisticated in his greetings these days but William is still at the launching himself full pelt at me stage. We are all one another's number one fans.

Sometimes one or other boy asks me which one of them I love the best. "That's simple" I say ... " I love you both beyond measure". "What's measure?" Ha! You can never ask too many questions can you?

William says I'd be OK as a boy. It is the highest compliment I've ever had from him. He looks over to see if I am pleased. I am. Very.

100 days of living

2011-02-08T11:02:00.002Z

Have you ever had to teach someone how to do something that you always thought was quite straight forward ... at least until you had to show someone else how to do said thing?

The approach I take is to break down the task into incremental steps, thus defining sub-tasks. I break these down in turn into sub-sub-tasks and keep doing that until we reach the comfort zone of the person being trained ... and ... eureka!

I just love to see mental cogs turn and then engage as the light dawns in their faces. It's great when they realise that far from being a complex task beyond their capabilities, it is in fact just a long sequence of relatively simple tasks that build one on the next one. If carried out in the correct way and in the right sequence the results are almost assured. That's the beauty of engineering.

Yesterday I was 100 days sober.

100 days is not a long time and in my own experience it is still very early days in what I hope will at long last be a lifetime of abstinence rather than something I play around at ...

... hoping it will right itself by itself ...

... by which I mean allowing myself to drink from time to time thinking that it's simply a matter of allowing an allocated number of days to elapse and I will have magically gained a better handle on all this. Forlorn hope and how stupid must a person be to think that? As stupid as I've been I guess. Such thinking has invariably led to my many lapses and relapses.

It's strange to find myself back in the kindergarten classes of recovery once again. Somehow even through the lapses and relapses of the last few years I thought I was further along on this journey than I turned out to be. That's OK, I am glad to be here ... especially given the alternatives on offer.

Dealing with an addiction is both simple and not. Life seems quite chaotic and unpredictable when we're held tightly in it's grip. Given time we start to see that whilst life itself is unpredictable addiction is so predictable as to be tediously so.

Simple is not the same as easy ... it never was. So why do I equate the two? Some thoughts are hard to dislodge.

Addiction is a bit like having a toddler living in your brain trying to dictate your life on it's terms ... whenever it doesn't get it's own way it throws all it's toys out of the pram and you end up fighting this thing within yourself. Some days all you can hear is the screaming.

It feels like a form of madness at the time and even in those times when you win through ... well even then you can end up feeling depleted and like a fool all at the same time. And yet I've rarely met another addict who really was a fool, except perhaps in regard to managing their own addiction.

I sometimes think about how I could have been so stupid as to have allowed myself to get in so deep. Well ... I think perhaps it's time to let go of that question. I allowed it and I can't undo that. I didn't mean for it to happen and that has to be enough of an answer for now.

Each day is simply a sub-sub-sub task in my process of recovery. I am grateful for today.

I will be heard

2011-01-23T19:57:00.003Z

There are too many things I do not understand
like why you say this when you actually mean that
and why it is that you act one way just for now
but quite another when all that has changed
is the name of the day or the people present

If you and I can not be real when we are alone
then what is the point in carrying on with this
and what is it that we should call this anyway
does marriage encompass or does it just constrain
am I stopping you from doing what it is you want

When will it be that my needs get a fair hearing
or is it that they just don't bear comparing
with the almighty weight of the burdens you carry
whereas I obviously trip through life as if it were
nothing more serious than a gentle stroll in the park

You mistake my attempts to minimise complexity
as the ravings of a completely niaive simpleton
and yet you have to know that I am anything but
or are you in truth actually trying to imply
that your taste in life companion runs that way

Because if that be the case I have bad news for you
for I will no longer be this acquiescent person
that agrees with the disagreeable to keep the peace
and your filthy temper is not going to quell me
I will be heard long after you've stopped listening

My heart

2011-01-20T11:33:00.002Z

There is a tipping point
between continuing to withhold
and letting go
my head and heart war
over this
this
this

I hesitate to speak of it
to make even that small commitment
towards change
having travelled so far
along this road
why am I not
further on

I counsel patience to myself
speak peaceful thoughts to my heart
trying to still the trepidation
that lies therein
I never seem able to make sense
of the vast disparity
between desire and need

Do you ever dream of running
towards or away from some place
but however much effort you expend
you remain rooted to the spot
or feel caught in the spotlight
of your own scrutiny
knowing you'll always come up short

Is it possible to learn grace
or must we wait for it emerge
from the fires of some further tribulation
can I not learn from the things
already consigned to the past
or the present
where should I look first

I look to my heart
but the vestibule is so cluttered
with this confusion of feelings
I dare not trust it
having been led so far astray
by the vagaries of words said
but never truly meant

And so I look to my head
and there I find a sense
so difficult to deny
impossibly so because
my heart
you see it's my heart
I fear it will betray me still

So far from my heart

2011-01-19T15:32:00.002Z

If I look up quickly enough
or turn my head suddenly
without any warning
perhaps I'll catch you unawares
perhaps then I will see you
or at least some essence of you
just one drop

In crowds I catch sight of you
I forget it's not possible
so my heart pounds
as my mouth dries
I want so much to believe
the evidence of my own eyes
even if they lie

I thought of you today
for no particular reason
wanted to pick up the phone
hear one of your stupid jokes
swap stories, shoot the breeze
just to listen to your voice
feel it's warmth

If I stop missing you one day
if this ache eases somewhat
will it mean you are any further
beyond the great divide
how big is eternity anyway
that it should take you so far
from my heart

The fluttering of wings

2011-01-17T10:40:00.003Z

I've been thinking again of angels
infinity whispering thoughts in my ear
it started in the breeze of late summer gone
we'd gathered to celebrate 80 years of life
with our much loved father and step-father
grandfather and great-grandfather
a man of many lines of his own account

He'd written verse to mark the special day
referring in it to the imminence of parting
his fear and sadness in that contemplation
were clear in his face and heard in his tremble
it moved my heart deeply to think on it
resolved me more than ever to listen carefully
to make good the time we have in the present

My mother too has started giving things away
small items but significant in meaning
this is not something generally of her nature
being a woman from whom much has been taken
she tallies her gifts and rights carefully
neglecting to nurture her spirit she locks her heart
still, I hope that my love will find it's way home

So it seems that they are both in their own way
preparing now for final departure
how heavy my heart is at the prospect
so go my thoughts down the shadowy track
how will life trundle on when I am an orphan
I can almost hear the fluttering of wings
as ageless angels start to gather 'round

It never hurts to have a think about stuff

2011-01-03T10:23:00.002Z

The last few days have been sooooo busy. The festive season is nearly done and things will soon be back to "normal".

Yesterday was what we have come to know as Second Christmas. When my sister first came to live with us all those years ago now, she wasn't able to have her daughter on that first Christmas Day. Such a difficult time for her. Thus the plan for a second celebration day was hatched. It is now a tradition that has lasted 15 years in our family. Every year we arrange a day when most of people that we love and care about are free to come over. It's a different day each year but we designate that as second Christmas.

It's a day of laughter, present giving, eating (groan), and general merry making. By tradition the presents are small. This year for example I got a candy cane, the guide from a box of chocolates (no chocolate), a packet of sunflower seeds, a slip of paper with a joke on it, a pretty piece of ribbon, a crossword puzzle cut from a newspaper, a box of long cooks matches, a guitar pick, and a bookmark. Perfect.

And games ... we have games galore! Charades, murder, squeak piggie squeak, pass the bomb (my personal fave), football, trivial pursuit ... Oliver beat me at noughts and crosses (tic-tac-toe) for the first time ever. Another milestone.

So on to the new year and although I am not a great fan of resolutions I thought I might change that habit amongst others. After all, it never hurts to have a think about stuff ... or maybe it does.

Allegra continues to be seriously ill. There has been some improvement but it's impossible to know what the future holds. I continue to pray as I know do others.

For Allegra

2010-12-29T19:48:00.003Z

I'm sure many of you know that Allegra has been ill. It seems she has taken a turn for the worse in the last few days. We are hoping for a miracle. Please keep both Allegra and Barry in your thoughts, hopes, wishes and prayers.

Together strong.

Dear Santa ...

2010-12-24T12:26:00.004Z

Every year Oliver writes a list for Santa. This year he wrote William's too. Being five years of age William is just starting to read and write and jolly good he is at it too, but he is not quite up to list writing just yet. Astonishingly the two lists are virtually identical in every regard. I think perhaps Oliver is hedging his bets knowing that whatever William gets , he will be allowed to play with too ... super smart boy that one. On his own list however, Oliver added this postscript ...

"p.s. please give me an apple instead of an orange in my stocking"

Children have many valuable lessons to teach us. I have long been of this opinion and am unlikely to change it any time soon. When did we lose the knack of asking for the things we want or need? Why is it that children can do this so freely whilst we anxiously tie ourselves in knots instead?

Merry Christmas everyone. xx Jos

30 Days of Truth - 29 & 30

2010-12-23T08:02:00.003Z

Christmas Eve Eve is upon us and so I'm doing a double post in order to clear the decks for the festivities. Want to change the pace tomorrow (if I get time to post at all).

Day 29 - Something you hope to change about yourself. And why.

Just one thing? Are you kidding? I have a long list ...

OK one thing I hope to change about myself is I want to learn the knack of living in a more "present" way. It is abundantly clear to me that I over think. The knock on effect of this one aspect of my character is just huge. It stops me from enjoying, and it stops me being joyful. I can see that. And I hope I can change it.

Day 30 - A letter to yourself, tell yourself EVERYTHING you love about yourself

Ah Jos, you are a funny one. Such a tender soul hidden beneath these layers of awkward outwardness. It's not all bad you know, not by a long chalk. And yes, you have made some mistakes and not all of them are undo-able by any means. I know that troubles you. One of these days you are going to get the hang of exercising grace in regard to yourself. Along that same path comes the art of accepting that which can't be changed however much you might wish it.

In the meantime I will tell you this. You are changing. Bit by bit and perhaps so gradually you mightn't see the signs of it, but look back ... are you the person you were even a year ago? No. That funny feeling you keep getting ... that fluttering in your heart? Well that is hope and it burns bright within you. It is something that is essential to your being and well-being. It is something that I love about you.

The funny thing about all this trying to change yourself is that at it's root you seem to think that you will find it easier to love the person that you are trying to become. But what about the present Jos as she is right now?

You remember that stuff you read about mental filters? How if someone says something that chimes with your internal view of yourself you listen properly, but otherwise you kind of hear it but it is just like noise ... it bounces right off your ears without going in? Well, I want you to listen to the things that people say to you and open your heart to take in their meaning.

You are kind. How many times are you going to hear that before you believe it? It's a good thing to be. You are not perfect and never will be but that doesn't stop you being decent, hardworking, reliable, trustworthy and a good and loyal friend. You are a loving wife, sister, daughter, and aunt. You are OK you know, really you are.
What do you think would happen if you started believing all this stuff? Would the world stop turning? Would your head grow to be the size of a pumpkin?

To value yourself is not a bad thing. It's neither boastful nor selfish. Just be yourself Jos, that's always going to be good enough for me. Be thankful for who you are, and be thankful for the life you have. And relax ... remember to enjoy, will you? I love you. xx

30 Days of Truth - Day 28

2010-12-22T07:54:00.003Z

What if you were pregnant or got someone pregnant, what would you do?

I remember the day I found out that I was pregnant. Oh my word what a period of mixed emotions that was. Unplanned but not unwelcome news at the time. Pretty momentous all the same.

As the pregnancy progressed and my body changed it was kind of a wondrous thing to feel a little one moving around inside. To see her on the screen at the ultrasound scans. Perfect little fingers and toes, and such a funny little nose. Tiniest hands making the smallest of waves.

To lose Charlotte so late on in the pregnancy was very hard. It tore me apart to the point where I thought I might never recover. Grief feels so unbearable at the time doesn't it? You think it will never ease but time does it's work in this respect as in so many others.

And now in retrospect although I do still feel some of that sadness at times, I also feel deeply grateful to have experienced that wonder at all.

30 Days of Truth - Day 27

2010-12-21T09:30:00.002Z

What’s the best thing going for you right now?

The best thing going for me right now is that I am in reasonably good health at the moment.

It's far too easy to take this for granted. I know it. So given that, I really don't understand why I find it so difficult to remain in a state of gratitude. I have a lot to be grateful for. I see so many people around me who either have had or are having unbelievably hard times ... healthwise, relationship-wise, family-wise, financially ... just life-wise really.

My problems, such as they are seem pretty insignificant in comparison. And yet it seems that my default mind-set is more inclined towards the negative than the positive. Why, when I can see how lucky I am, why do I persist in focussing on the few things that are not going so well rather than the multitude of things that are fine and dandy?

I allow this negativity to overshadow me. I allow it. Even when things are mostly fine, still in the back of my mind I am anticipating bad stuff happening. I think it's partly because there is an element of never really feeling safe. I am all too aware of the fragility of even the good things in my life. It's not good to live in dread what might never happen ... or even what might. Worrying changes nothing.

30 Days of Truth - Day 26

2010-12-20T09:01:00.002Z

Have you ever thought about giving up on life? If so, when and why?

I'm not sure I want to write about this at all.

I have thought about giving up and ending my life. I've had the idea knocking around in my head from time to time but only a couple of times have I given it any kind of active consideration to the extent of making a plan and starting to hoard medication.

I can't really pinpoint specific times when I've had these thoughts as they've recurred throughout my adult life although not usually in the context of giving it serious consideration ... more as a way of re-assuring myself that there is always a choice however dreadful things might seem at the time. I guess it sounds strange as a way of providing comfort to myself but sometimes it has helped me to see things more in perspective when things have felt unbearable.

I have been through some times of deep despair. Times when I've felt there was no alternative other than to give up. I have thought about how to do it and worked it out in my mind. In my day to day life I think once I'd made that plan and knew it could work it kind of eased the mental pressure. I stopped thinking about it as often. I know it's always there as an option but I also know that this is an act with far reaching repercussions for the people I love.

I have got people in my life who love me. I love them too. I wonder how I could ever have thought of leaving them ... hurting them. I know there is nothing more selfish than to think of myself in isolation like this. It's not like I could take it back or say "oops, sorry, I made a mistake".

I've known people who've tried to commit suicide, and one who succeeded. I saw at first hand the devastation wrought in the aftermath ... the result of acting upon that self destructive impulse. For years one of my friends has been haunted by the notion that she and their children were not sufficient reason for her partner to want to stay alive.

To despair is natural enough at times. To give up on life even. I can understand how a person gets to that point. I know some people get scared at talk of giving up or even actively seeking a way to end it all. I think a lot of people consider it at some point in their lives without really getting anywhere near acting upon those thoughts.

30 Days of Truth - Day 25

2010-12-19T12:47:00.002Z

The reason you believe you’re still alive today.

I very nearly died before I was even born. My mother started hemorrhaging at around week 30 and was taken into hospital. Because of the seriousness of the situation she stayed there until I was born. Apparently I spent the first couple of months in an incubator because I was born prematurely and had some complications.

When I was three I slipped through the railings of a bridge and nearly fell into a waterfall about 20 feet below. My father caught the collar of my coat and pulled me back. When I was six I fell into the deep end of a swimming pool. I couldn't swim. My brother grabbed me and swam to the shallow end.

In my early teens I was attacked by a man with a knife. I was lucky to get away with quite minor injuries. In my late teens I came off my motorbike and was dragged under it along the road for quite some way. Other than scraping the skin off down to the bone I was largely unhurt. Good leathers. In my twenties I was in a car accident. The car was written off but I walked away with bruises only. A few years ago I had a series of minor strokes. And this time last year the lump I'd found was diagnosed as nothing more serious that a benign tumour.

I remember once being told about my guardian angel. I was sleeping out having got stuck without any money about 50 miles from home at night time. I'd found a haystack and was using it as a bed. When I woke up there was a travelling man resting not far away. He told me that he'd seen a shining man standing over me in the night. How I wish I'd seen this angel ... or any angel for that matter.

I'm not sure that there is a reason that I am alive today. That doesn't mean I don't thank my lucky stars that I am though. I try to remember to be grateful every day.

30 Days of Truth - Day 24

2010-12-18T17:38:00.003Z

Make a playlist to someone, and explain why you chose all the songs. (Just post the titles and artists and letter)

I know you thought that I wasn't really listening whilst you tried to inculcate a love of "proper" music in me. And I know you thought I would stay stupidly stubborn for ever. Ha! Just shows what the passing of years can achieve. Drip drip is not only a form of water torture you know. And now look, only 40 something years later and I do actually love much of it ... my top ten are below. So ... I'm all ready for Desert Island Discs should they ever make that call (ha ha).

Sibelius - The Tempest

Elgar - Cello Concerto in E minor

Camille Saint-Saëns - Carnival of the Animals (The Swan)

J S Bach - Goldberg Variations (Glenn Gould)

Chopin - Nocturne in E flat major Op 9 No. 2

Handel - Messiah (Amen)

Dvorak - Moravian Duets

Bach - Brandenburgh Concerto (No. 5 i:Allegro)

Vivaldi - Harp Concerto in D

Tomás Luis de Victoria - Obra: Motete Magnum Mysterium

I could go on Mum ... and on and on. Such a wealth of music out there for us still to enjoy. Not long now until we're off to see Il Travatore!!! See you friday.

Much love, Jocelyn xx

30 Days of Truth - Day 23

2010-12-17T08:51:00.004Z

Something you wish you had done in your life.

I wish I had done more than simply trust to nature in order to become a mother.

I'm not sure I can describe exactly the pain being childless causes me. This emptiness. It is a hard but dull ache that mostly exists in the back of my mind these days. As time has passed and along with it any hope of motherhood I have largely come to terms with this. Mourned it. It's just every once in a while that a keening rises up to snatch my breath away.

I balance this against the joy I have in being an auntie, godmother, friend and now even a great auntie ... how did I become so old? Lucky me to have lived so long.

Asked a question of this nature it's tempting to focus solely on something I wish I'd done where the chance to do it has now passed. Hence my initial answer above, which I wrote yesterday. Then I had a think about it and realised that I quite often do this avoidance thing where I focus on what I can't change rather than what I can. So with that in mind I'd like to answer again whilst leaving my initial response to stand.

I wish I had put as much effort into living fully as the person I am rather than focusing so much energy on continually trying to be the person I want(ed) to be.

Some things are almost too simple aren't they? How can peace come from acceptance? How can it possibly be as simple as that? And how stupid does it make me to have taken so long to finally come around to it? I am going to get the hang of this acceptance malarkey ... I may have to learn to accept my own stupidity with a bit more grace first though!

30 Days of Truth - Day 22

2010-12-16T07:53:00.003Z

Something you wish you hadn’t done in your life.

I wish I'd never done things that hurt other people.

I wish I'd never done things that hurt me either.

I wish I hadn't spent so many years opting out of life generally.

That about covers it.

The thing is that I have spent quite a long time thinking and writing about the vast array of things I've done that I regret. They are many, and the hurt I've caused is my biggest regret of all. In saying that I realise that the regret I have is not focused so much on the actions themselves but the harmful outcomes of those actions.

I wonder if that is wrong? To repent the outcome of sin rather than the sin itself? Absolutely I acknowledge the wrongdoing in my actions. But a part of me sees these mistakes as part of a whole rather than in isolation. Perhaps this is just a "let out clause" though. A way of not shouldering my responsibilities.

Mostly when I think about this its something along the lines of ... "how could I have been so stupid and how could I not have foreseen the consequences of my stupidity?" This learning to forgive yourself bizzo is bloody hard.

It is what it is ... so given that what to do?

But what of the actions themselves?

I guess at the end of the day it should be like this. There are things that I've done that were patently wrong ... ethically, morally ... whatever you want to call it. To feel regret and/or sorrow is one thing, but I think perhaps to feel contrition is better. Contrition drives the desire to change for the better.

I wonder if contrition is really a healthy background for living a life though. Permanently I mean, rather than a phase to go through on the way towards a life that is fuller ... freer. I don't know but it seems kind of ... joyless. At the crux of this I don't feel deserving of joy. Too sinful perhaps. I see that.

How do you shed guilt whilst retaining personal responsibility for actions done and their consequences?

30 Days of Truth - Day 21

2010-12-15T09:05:00.004Z

Your best friend is in a car accident and you two got into a fight an hour before. What do you do?

I always thought I was the queen of feeling guilty until I read this question. Even to me it seems just ludicrous to link these two events in any way.

It kind of reminds me of the other day when I was talking to a friend of mine. She is pregnant. After a string of miscarriages she is haunted by the prospect of another. On the day she came to visit us she'd discovered a dead pigeon in her back garden. She asked if I thought this was a bad omen. I wanted to laugh out loud at the ridiculousness of this suggestion. I mean how can anyone in their right mind read any significance into such a random event?

It just goes to show how stupidly rigid my thinking can be some days. Thank goodness for facial expressions and other non-verbal clues. One look at her face was sufficient to quell any humour in my mind. Deep rings under her eyes and anxiety etched clear across her face. No, I quickly saw that my humour and cynicism were inappropriate responses to my friend's concern.

Similarly here, I can see the ridiculous nature of the scenario posed ... but I can also see that underlying this question is one of how we perceive cause and effect. Our emotional state affects that perception and hence our responses to events.

If my best friend were in an accident I would do the same things regardless of any preceding row. I might feel very differently in terms of spurious feelings of guilt but I'm pretty sure I wouldn't let it affect my response to any great degree. I am a practical person so I would try to help in that way as well as offering emotional support to my friend and her family. That's it really. I guess there are some advantages to seeing things in such simple terms.

30 Days of Truth - Day 20

2010-12-14T14:22:00.003Z

Your views on drugs and alcohol.

If ever there was a subject I wish I could talk over with my younger self it is this one. I suspect however that my younger self would be almost as hard headed when it comes to listening to advice as my older self appears to be!

Bizarrely perhaps considering my life experience I still have a somewhat liberal view on the use of drugs and alcohol. Some people enjoy using mind altering substances as a form of recreation. I don't see anything morally or ethically wrong in that as long as no-one is being harmed.

There are health risks ... both to physical and mental health. In much the same way as people need to be aware of the risks associated with any activity, so they need to be aware of those associated with the use of mind altering substances. Informed choices can then be made from the outset.

Which is all very well in principle.

A lot of people "dabble" in drugs and/or have a drink socially from time to time. It is part of their lifestyles and they give it only passing thought. It neither dominates them nor causes them any real problem. Some see a vast difference between alcohol and drugs ... as if alcohol were harmless in comparison to other substances. The media portrays them in such different lights, but alcohol is a drug.

Drug. Addict. They're just words. Huh.

The problem arises with an escalation from what starts off as occasional casual recreational use to what over time spirals until the person concerned finds themselves caught up in the trap of full scale addiction.

Addiction is a scary word. It conjures up images of down-and-outs ... rake thin junkies or winos sitting on park benches talking into space and drinking their days away. There are some poor souls who end up in this state. I have a lot in common with these men and women.

How do people with lots to live for allow themselves to be sucked in to this ... what increasingly becomes an almost double life ... the addict ... and the outwardly "normal" person. And once trapped why don't we wake up to our situation ... why don't we struggle harder to escape it? Are we as weak and pathetic as it sometimes appears? Perhaps.

I wish I knew the answer but addiction crept up on me and I hardly even noticed it happening ... at least on one level. Denial becomes a way of life ... we are so adept at turning a blind eye when it suits us. A drink in the evening became every evening which became a bottle and then more ... and all the while there was this disquiet going on at the back of my mind and the only way to stop it was to drown it out. I lost most of my friends, my work suffered, my remaining friendships suffered, my marriage increasingly became an unhealthily co-dependant relationship with addiction at it's center.

And still I carried on. Why? Partly because I denied that I was addicted at all. How could I be? I didn't fit the image I had created in my own mind of what an addict looked like. Paradoxically the reason I carried on was because I had in fact become addicted. Funny that.

I fully accept that this was a trap of my own making. There is little comfort in knowing that I fell into it because of my own folly. Even so that's the truth of it. I didn't exercise control because I wasn't drinking for the taste, or to be sociable. I didn't take drugs for the buzz either. What I wanted ... what I craved was oblivion. I wanted escape from my own head and all the thoughts and memories it contains.

Addiction is a form of madness that feeds upon the madness already within us.

Because it is progressive in nature I became ever more deeply entrenched in behaviours that facilitated my addiction. I increasingly detached from the reality and consequences of my own actions. My natural resilience, character and personality were being gradually stripped away to almost nothing, leaving only this never ending need to escape from life.

The thing that I could never have guessed at the outset is how you end up doing unimaginable things in order to feed your addiction ... things that leave you burdened in the longer term with feelings of deep shame and guilt.

Plenty of people enjoy using drugs and alcohol recreationally and will never develop the kinds of problems I have described or experienced. Plenty do though and only some of these are lucky enough to stumble upon the road to recovery. I know how lucky I am to be here.

I talk about all this as if it were in the distant past. That is not true. The reality is that although my road to recovery started some years ago these last few years in particular have been ones where I have taken one step forward only to take them back ... and then some. I am changing that now. One day at a time.

The principle of freedom of choice is generally one I agree with. There is a price to freedom. People are free to make poor decisions ... ones that can result in them leading impoverished lives ... and not just them, but those that depend on them as well. Such a lot of senseless misery hidden beneath this banner of freedom.

30 Days of Truth - Day 19

2010-12-14T10:49:00.002Z

What do you think of religion? Or what do you think of politics?

I think religions offer ready-made constructs that one can choose to subscribe to or not ... they can also act as a starting point for a spiritual journey of unknown duration and destination.

Faith and religion are not synonymous in my eyes. I think the two can and quite often do co-exist quite apart from one another. To some, all matters of this nature are seen as a complete irrelevance. To others it's central to their lives and everything that matters to them.

I think what is important above all else is to act in good faith ... regardless of the source or label of our particular faith.

I have said before that I long to have an enduring faith. I want to believe in something beyond what we see in the here and now. I tried to believe for quite a long time, but trying is not in itself sufficient to cement faith into place. I fasted and prayed ... I read my bible. I lived as if I already had faith ... walked the walk so to speak. But there is an inherent mis-trust in my heart I guess. Perhaps I've tried to believe in the wrong thing. Hard to tell.

In a lot of ways I want to say that I hate religion, but the reality is that I hate what is sometimes done in it's name rather than religion itself.

...

I think political activities are often seen as exercises in futility. It's pretty popular these days to be cynical, insisting that politicians are out solely to line their own pockets or to toe the party line regardless of personal ethics. It may be true for some but on the whole I choose to believe otherwise. I think most people are well intentioned and when faced with impossible choices they try whenever possible to go down the path of least harm.

But I know too from working in various organisations that the prevailing culture can have a massive impact on our thinking. Over time it can whittle away at our core values as we get increasingly weary of standing firm against what can seem like a tidal flow of popular opinion. I can understand how people who initially set out with all good intentions can find themselves on the wrong side of their own moral code.

Politics does interest me although I know little about it. In my very limited experience I've yet to find a viable alternative to one of the popular democratic systems in terms of maintaining personal freedoms, rights and what is loosely termed "the greater good".

I believe these three are imperatives and therefore must be balanced in order to both please and displease everyone to pretty much the same degree. To me, this almost defines democracy ... that it is so apparently imperfect and yet we seem unable to improve on it.

And what of the merits of a benevolent dictatorship? Surely this can only ever work if I am in charge? Ha! ... thoughts for another day methinks.

Missing you

2010-12-13T07:59:00.001Z

How does a year pass in a day
it seems that there is elasticity
at play
in the way that time passes

I remember you so well
I still think it will be you
when the phone rings
find myself storing jokes
to add to your collection
of tawdry bawdy wit
something more for you
to torture me with

Can you see my smile
I put it on for you
I am missing you
every day.

30 Days of Truth - Day 18

2010-12-11T20:28:00.002Z

Your views on gay marriage.

Pretty simple really. Love is love. I'm all for love. Why should there be any barrier to people honouring one another in marriage?

30 Days of Truth - Day 17

2010-12-07T09:35:00.012Z

A book you’ve read that changed your views on something.

I'd love to say that I am really widely read but I'm not. Mostly I read pretty mainstream fiction, some poetry, some hobby based stuff and a sprinkling of other types of non-fiction. I haven't read many profound books, but I have read some that have affected me profoundly.

"The Problem of Pain" by CS Lewis really is a profound piece of writing. At the time of my first reading of it I was seeking answers to questions that threatened to undermine my already faltering belief in a loving God. I remember being hugely frustrated at being continually told to "just have faith" by men and women much more experienced in matters of faith and wisdom than I.

"In what?" I wanted to yell. "In a god that allows all this?" I remember that confusion and anger. I carry it with me still, although perhaps not with nearly the same intensity.

I have a deep longing for a faith that is sustainable ... that withstands scrutiny. I want to believe in "more". I accept that what I'm talking about may not be faith at all. It seems to me that at it's core faith is a complete surrender of will ... an acceptance of things unknown and unknowable. This kind of faith is beyond me.

What I loved about this book is that it engages in an intellectually rigorous argument. It starts with the premise that there is a creator god, but from that point on there is a scientific-like exploration and analysis of the issues. The author attempts to reconcile the apparent dichotomy of a divine, omnipotent and loving God who yet permits the pain and suffering we see in the world around us.

In his response he argues that even God must act within the confines of natural law. To do otherwise would be contradictory to God's own nature. Thus intervening to eradicate pain and suffering risks changing the fundamental order of things ... an action that might have far reaching consequences ... certainly beyond our limited capacity to predict.

So it seems that God is inherently unable to reverse that which is caused by nature itself.

It appears then that there's no divine omnipotence, or at least not as I'd come to understand it. Not in the space time continuum in which we currently exist anyway. There is a strong inference running through this argument that once we move into the spiritual realm the laws of nature become an irrelevance. Quite a thought in itself.

I suppose I'd always thought that a Creator God worth his/her/it's salt should by their very nature have had the foresight to design in an ability to intervene to reverse pain, suffering, injustice ... to basically right the wrongs that happen and redress the balance.

If anything persuades me of the level of my own ignorance it is this. That I think myself in any way capable of judging such matters when it is so apparent that I am unable to see anything except this miniscule portion of the overall picture. To balance anything one must first see the whole, have the capacity to comprehend it, and have the wisdom, compassion and capability to act on a truly universal plane for the greater good.

Even so, it made me think about the joy and sorrow that I feel must exist at the heart of this decision to allow suffering and pain in order to protect the natural order of things.

I suppose the thing was that I'd never tried to think anything through in quite this way before. It changed my views on the nature of certainty, faith, and of what divinity itself might actually mean. We have such limited ways of thinking don't you find? I still find that. It frustrates me to catch such fleeting glimpses of a wisdom that lies so very far beyond my grasp.

On a lighter note I have also been re-reading "The Cloudspotters Guide" by Gavin Pretor-Pinney. Some books are just a joy to browse through and read. If you get the chance, have a look. There's a lot more to clouds than I ever imagined. I will never look at skyscapes in quite the same way ever again.

If you have read this far then you and I both deserve a break! Will be back with more "30 Days" posts in a few days. xx Jos

30 Days of Truth - Day 16

2010-12-06T09:14:00.004Z

Someone or something you definitely could live without.

Pain.

I understand the value of lessons learnt. That in pain we learn acceptance, and that acceptance is a sacred art.

I understand that in weakness we find a new kind of strength. That we learn grace and patience. That we can look beyond the immediacy of our pain to find that joy is still possible in any given moment. That we learn to be present in our lives.

I understand that grief is followed by healing. And I understand that without darkness light has little meaning.

I could live without knowing all this. I understand that wisdom comes at a cost. I could live as a fool.

30 Days of Truth - Day 15

2010-12-05T12:54:00.003Z

Something or someone you couldn’t live without, because you’ve tried living without it.

I do not like to rely on others. Partly it is a hatred of feeling like a burden, but also there is an element of fear that I will be let down. By keeping my distance from most people I thought I was protecting myself from hurt. I didn't realise the pain it was causing me. I suppressed it along with a lot of other things. I am changing that now. I wouldn't want to live in such a dis-connected way ever again.

That said, I know I can live without even the people I love the most dearly in life. I wouldn't want to, but that is not the same thing as couldn't. The people I love bring joy and meaning into my life. They make my life worth living. In a few days time I will be marking one year since my very dear friend Gabby died. What a hole she has left in my life. I miss her every day and I think I always will. My life is not the same without her in it.

If I were to have to live for the most part without people again, I would always want to have a huge stack of books and my radio if at all possible. I spent many years living alone before I met Trev. I hardly watched TV and didn't trade in my black & white for a colour one until I was in my late twenties. I prefer reading, listening to the radio, and playing or listening to music. I am comfortable with silence. It's not something I have enough of these days and I miss the feeling of calm and "centered-ness" that comes along with it. I will work on ways to balance my need for solitude and silence with the other demands in my life.

Other than the bare necessities for survival I know I could live without pretty much everything I have in my life right now. I wouldn't choose to but I could. In the past I have lived with very little for quite long periods of time. Not in poverty, but with very limited resources. For over a year I lived alone in a small caravan, around 6' x 12' inside. No water, no power, no toilet or shower. This was many years ago now, but I remember what it was like. It's amazing how we adapt.

I lived without being in contact with my sister for over a year. We fell out and neither of us had yet learnt the humility necessary to heal that rift. A valuable lesson. In the end nothing matters to me as much as the people in my life that I love. I could survive without them but I wouldn't describe that as living.

30 Days of Truth - Day 14

2010-12-04T11:17:00.006Z

A hero that has let you down. (letter)

When I was a very small girl my hero was my father. I had no idea how badly that would turn out. I guess a lot of little girls idolise their dads.

The problem with heroes is that they are after all only human ... and perhaps the most amazing thing about heroes is that they are as human as the rest of us. It has taken me quite some time to stop expecting perfection from myself. I am glad at least that I learnt early on not to expect it of others.

These days I define heroism quite differently than I've done in the past. I look at people fighting their personal battles with grace and dignity ... I look at those who do much for others at great personal cost ... and I look at some who make the headlines in their field of endeavour for one reason or another. All flawed humans doing exceptional things. Not always perfectly, and not often recognised. To me this is the essence of heroism.

I have written letters to my dad. I've tried quite a few times over the years to mend our relationship. I won't stop trying. Some things are broken beyond repair but I live in hope that this is not entirely true here. I do accept though that I can't change anyone else, only try to better myself.

30 Days of Truth - Day 13

2010-12-04T08:53:00.004Z

A band or artist that has gotten you through some tough ass days. (write a letter.)

I would have to pick Joan Baez for this one. For me she is not only an outstanding artist musically, but I admire her for her courage and determination to stand by her political views through good times and bad. I was privileged to go to her concert in a nearby town earlier this year and even now she has a voice that anyone would envy. She is aging well ... to the point of laughing on stage at forgetting the words to her own songs. It was without a doubt one of the highlights of my year going to see her and taking my mum along to share the experience.

My all time favourite album is 'Ring Them Bells' ... although it runs only a whisker ahead of 'Between The Lines' by Janis Ian. I could wax lyrical for hours about this album too. Again that mix of fabulous instrumentals intertwined with beautiful melodies and evocative words.

But Joan's album wins because not only does it showcase her own talent but has introduced me to the truly wonderful music of other artists as well. Outstanding amongst these is Dar Williams. Oh my, such a voice.

Just listen to this ...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1uIAVpM-D_A

When I have days where everything just piles in on top of me I retreat to the bathroom if it's at all possible. I run a tub of scalding hot water and put on a loop of 'Ring Them Bells' back to back with 'Between The Lines'. I let the music wash through me. It reminds me of beauty and the power of hope.

Shhh ... don't tell anyone will you? The bathroom is pretty much the only place where I "sing" out loud. Har har har.

So ... onto my letter ...

Dear Joan

You don't need me to tell you that you are awesome. You have a massive fan base, that should tell you more than any words I can ever write. You make my heart sing ... even on the bad days. This is no small thing. I hope your heart sings along with the songs you share with us all.

Warmest hugs from your 10 million-th and one fan. xx Jos

30 Days of Truth - Day 12

2010-12-03T14:07:00.002Z

Something you never get compliments on.

I'm not altogether clear how to interpret this one. Pin-pointing a specific area infers that I think there are things where I feel entitled to compliments. Ha! The vagaries of the over-literal mind.

I do feel under-appreciated at times. Not often though. I don't give it much thought. Mostly it's at work. Sometimes though it's at home too. Since Trev lost his job things have been pretty tight financially. This causes me a lot of stress as it does Trev too. Rows erupt out of nothing because of this stress. We are both trying to recognise this and address it. Part of this is paying more attention to each other and complimenting one another more.

Generally speaking Trev doesn't compliment me at all often. So I have taken to telling him when I have a new haircut or a new blouse on ... whatever it is. He wouldn't notice otherwise, but with a not-so-subtle hint from me he will respond with a compliment. Kind of defeats the purpose but then I suspect that he is never going to become more observant. I have got used to it.

I don't generally get compliments about my looks but that's OK, I don't spend much time or effort on looking any particular way except on very special occasions. I don't feel at all comfortable when I am dressed up, to the point of avoiding doing so if at all possible. Particularly if I think it will be necessary to wear a dress or other quite feminine clothes. It makes me feel awkward ... which seems so silly at my age! I still can't walk in heels of more than about an inch in height. I prefer shabby casual. The jeans I am wearing today are about 8 or 9 years old and wearing out. I am loath to replace them despite obvious threadbare patches and worn seams.

I have had 2 hairdressers in the last 18 years and would be still going to the first one if she were still working. It takes me ages to break in a new one ... to stop them banging on about lifting roots, volumising, waves, perms, highlights, low lights, tips, covering grey, .... "all I want is a haircut please ... no extras thanks." If I can get away without having it being blow-dried I do. I don't like my hair being messed around with. I don't like the feeling of someone hovering around me.

I love my current hairdresser Nathan. He gets it. He washes and cuts. I'll let him blow-dry it because he is really quick about it. He knows I hate the blow dry bit. We chat all the way through my visits. I know all about his family and he knows about mine. I've been going to him for about 5 years now. I've stopped hating getting my hair cut which I attribute largely to him.

Hmmm .... quite a lot about my hair in this post. I like that it is going grey. Some of my women friends think it's odd that I am greying naturally. They compliment me on being so brave ... kind of a non-compliment hidden in there somewhere! They are kind about it though which makes me smile. I have some lovely friends.

30 Days of Truth - Day 11

2010-12-02T08:04:00.003Z

Something people seem to compliment you the most on.

A few people have mentioned that I am kind hearted. Some also say I am soft in the head! I tend to agree with the latter more readily than the former.

I do make an effort to be kind wherever possible. I don't like to see people struggling, I would rather stand alongside and help out where I can. I think this is an instinctive response though, so I don't entirely accept that it is something to be complimented on. I am not very comfortable with compliments on the whole.

To me being kind is not about saying nice things although that is part of it. It's about being more aware of the people around me, noticing them and thinking about how they seem generally. It's all too easy to ask people how they're doing and then not listen and look properly when they're answering. People will often say that they're fine verbally but give non-verbal clues indicating otherwise.

Sometimes I'm tempted to offer help when I think I see a need, but where it hasn't been requested. I guess in this instance being kind also entails letting people figure stuff out for themselves even when I see or think that they're going about it all in a very cock-eyed manner. Respecting others involves letting them make their own mistakes but being there to help pick up the pieces if need be. No-one likes a know-it-all.

Sometimes I find it hard to find ways to soften the truth with kindness ... this is especially the case when friends ask for my opinion. I've always thought that part of being a true friend is to treat them lovingly but also like the adults that they are. So I give my honest opinion even when I know it might not be what they are hoping to hear.

I still debate with myself internally whenever I find myself stuck between trying to be kind and telling the truth. I pretty much always opt for the truth except when it comes to people's physical / personal appearance or outfit, even if I don't like it. I figure that my opinion in this area is of no real consequence anyway, so I go with confidence building responses. If I can think of something that doesn't sound too over the top so much the better. Too much emphasis is put on appearance in my view ... why should it matter so? And so that's how I justify it to myself!

30 Days of Truth - Day 10

2010-12-01T08:30:00.002Z

Someone you need to let go, or wish you didn’t know.

I know that I am a very lucky woman. In my small but select band of friends there isn't one person I feel the need to let go of. Or at least I can't think of any compelling reason to do so.

One of the things I have learnt over the last year or so is to be a little more circumspect when making too many friends with others in my addiction support network. I have on occasion found myself being asked for support at a level I am just not able to sustain over a lengthy period of time. I hate letting people down and will generally stick by people for a lot longer than I perhaps should.

When anyone needs help my instinct is always to do what I can, even when it depletes me of strength to fight my own battles. I am learning to see the signs of this happening and hold back a bit more. It goes against the grain to do this. I hope that when I am stronger in myself I will be in a position to offer better support to these friends. In the end though I need to recognise that I cannot carry other people's burdens even if my instinct is to try.

So I am learning to be honest with these friends about how things are with me just now and trusting in their understanding. It is sometimes tempting to think that when friends withhold support it is because they don't value friendship to the same degree as us. It is only now that I am learning of this need to focus more on sustaining my own recovery first and foremost, however selfish that makes me feel.

So rather than letting people go as such, I am learning to balance my needs as being of at least equal importance as theirs. I have made some really wonderful friends through my support network and with these friends there is a strong and deep bond of mutual help, support, respect and love. I couldn't manage without them that's for sure. We pick one another up when hard times hit and I have been feeling the benefit of that a lot recently. They light my life.

Like many of us I have people in my life who are not friends. Their behaviour affects me ... sometimes deeply, but on the whole I am so practised at keeping my distance emotionally that I generally let go of them relatively easily. Not always in a very tolerant or forgiving way though! So much to learn ...

30 Days of Truth - Day 9

2010-11-29T11:56:00.004Z

Someone you didn’t want to let go, but just drifted.

Alfie.

I first met Alf at a church fellowship group. I was in my teens and he was in his late twenties. Alf was a Peter Pan-like character, full of life and fun. An ex heroin addict he'd recently been released from prison where he had become a regular church-goer.

Not perhaps on first sight a natural prospect for friendship but Alf and I hit it off right from the start. I think sometimes very different people fit together better than those who on the surface at least seem similar. We became friends and remained that way for about 10 years all told. I was bridesmaid at his wedding. There weren't many people I'd wear a frilly dress for but in this case I was happy to oblige. I was thrilled to bear witness to such a positive step in his life.

In my mid twenties I went off to college to further my studies but I still came home quite often on the weekend and spent the shorter holidays staying with Alf and his wife Sarah at their home. Sarah and I are still friends.

We loved to smoke spliff together and would dabble in "party drugs" once in a while. We had a lot of laughs doing this. I never really thought about it being bad or dangerous because I wasn't doing it every day. Alf was though. I liked the effect of switching my brain off and letting go of difficult thoughts and feelings. I was working and studying hard so to my mind this was a way of both joining in and having some fun ... some down time.

Alf was doing other drugs from time to time although I was unaware of this. He was drinking at hazardous levels on a daily basis. I wasn't drinking at all back then but I was aware that the level of his drinking was problematic. Seems funny really that heavy drinking was the norm amongst a lot of my friends even as far back as then. I could see trouble ahead but Alf insisted that this was all just "having a good time" and I needed to "chill".

As my post graduate studies and work took me further from home I saw less and less of Alf and Sarah. We talked on the phone but saw little of one another. Their marriage broke down in this period and they split up. It had lasted less than three years. From there his drinking and drug taking escalated from hazardous to chronic in an incredibly short period of time. He was in self destruct mode. He isolated himself from pretty much everyone and deteriorated rapidly in both mental and physical health.

For some time from then on I mostly heard of Alf rather than from him. He was in trouble with the police, getting into fights, robbing people, other things that I won't go into. Whenever I was back in town I would trawl around the old haunts trying to find him. Sometimes I'd be successful and we'd go for a bite to eat. He was not the man I'd known. We'd drifted apart almost completely by this stage. Our daily lives were just so different. It hurt us both to see one another in a way. I understand that a lot better now then I did back then. I wished I'd known then what I do now.

The last time I heard from him was in a letter he wrote saying that he wished he was dead. This not long before his death. He had moved out of his room in shared accommodation and was mostly living on the streets with some overnight stays in hostels. Sarah talked with his old probation officer who kindly arranged for him to stay at a halfway house but he walked out after only a few days. They did not allow drug taking on the premises. It seemed that he was completey engulfed in his old heroin addiction.

A while later I heard that he was killed in a car accident. Turns out he stumbled onto the dual carriageway and directly into the path of an oncoming car in the early hours of the morning. He was probably just trying to walk back to the homeless shelter. According to reports he'd been seen earlier in the evening and was completely wasted. I hope this means he felt no fear or pain, but more than that I feel so very sorry for the driver of that car. What an awful trauma to have to go through and then learn to live with. Just imagine.

I didn't want to let go of Alfie, I think he just decided to let go of life and all of us along with it. He was only 42 when he died. I still miss him and all the laughs and the jokes we shared. He taught me a lot without even knowing it. On the whole my life seems vastly different now to what it was like back then although obviously some remnants remain. I am glad for that.

30 Days of Truth - Day 8

2010-11-28T19:28:00.004Z

Someone who made your life hell, or treated you like shit.

It's one of those things ... when someone does something that seriously impacts your life it can be hard to look past that on to other things. With this in mind I've decided to use this exercise to talk about someone in my present rather than my past.

One of the unintended consequences of the way I have lived my life is that until relatively recently I haven't let many people close enough to make my life hell on a personal level, even if they wanted to. Most people have no intent of harming anyone. It's easy to forget that sometimes.

As a young engineer I was bullied a lot in the work-place. Working on the factory floor as a 16 year old was an education in surviving in a sometimes quite hostile male dominated environment. I could say a lot about my negative experiences over the years as I have worked in many such environments since those early days. I have been hit, and hit on, spat at, pushed around, yelled at, had men expose themselves to me, been intimidated and humiliated. All sorts really.

Everywhere there are decent men too. Despite peer pressure these guys do not join in with the shenanigans. Perhaps they have daughters of their own ... perhaps they are steered by their own moral compass, but these men stand apart. They are the ones that help regardless of the jeers. I respect that. I know it's hard to stand apart.

I have been in engineering for over 30 years now and things have improved a lot. Even so only just over a year ago I was hit in the face by a colleague. Sometimes I get scared in amongst these men. Even so I can still honestly say that the person who has treated me the worst was and is a woman that I work with still. Like me she has been through some hard knocks over the years.

She's tough. She consistently gives me a harder time than any bloke I've ever had trouble with. She treats me like shit and uses her position of power to try to coerce me into things I am unwilling to involve myself in. I consistently state my opposition to her suggestions both when we are in the presence of others and when we're on our own. Because of the personal relationship she is in with one of the senior management she is effectively unaccountable which makes my position vulnerable. I have no leverage except my powers of persuasion.

Complaints against her tend to result in the person concerned being sacked, demoted or moved. One of my colleagues has just had this happen to him. Due to continuing unresolved issues between us I have put in formal complaints. Usually this results in her putting in a counter complaint. It is then put to me quite plainly that unless I drop my complaint I'll be subjected to the disciplinary procedure myself. The guys in my company play hard ball, no mistake. Usually there is a "cooling off" of her attitude for a while but eventually it all kicks off and escalates again until I put in a new complaint.

Our financial position is precarious as Trev has been mostly unemployed for 2 years now, making me the breadwinner. I can't afford to lose my job in these increasingly uncertain times. I am actively seeking other employment but the industrial sector I am in is slow and shrinking in size. I don't have the financial resources to re-train. Some days I fantasise about winning the lottery ... that or her falling prey to some spectacular demise. Mostly I just do my job, try to avoid her wherever possible ... and where that isn't possible I deal with her myself in order to buffer my team from her toxicity. I would like to find a better solution.

30 Days of truth - Day 7

2010-11-27T12:41:00.004Z

Someone who has made your life worth living for.

My sister.

She is my all time best friend. We are only 15 months apart in age so we've been close pretty much all of our lives. We are total opposites, she is blond, blue eyed, tall, slim, fit, outgoing, party loving, disastrously disorganised, spontaneous, socially graceful, loving, laughing, fun to be with. Her strengths are too many to list and her weaknesses are outshone completely by everything else. I love her to the moon and back and always have.

She shares her life with me in an extraordinarily unselfish way. She lets me in and tells me stuff that's hidden in her heart. We have shared many of life's joys and sorrows together. When we were young we promised to always help each other and that is exactly what we've done. She asks for help when she needs it and trusts in me to be there. I honour that trust and cherish it. It has taken me a long time to get to the point where I do the same with her, but that is not due to any fault on her part.

Only once have we argued to the point of falling out completely. For over a year we hardly spoke. I think it broke both our hearts to a degree. We both learnt a lot from that. Her daughter is a woman now with a home and man of her own. She calls me her second mum and sends me gifts on mother's day. My sister's youngest children are Oliver & William. They light my life in ways I can't describe. Her gentle man is next only to mine in my estimation. He helped to heal a deep hurt in my sister and I never forget that. He welcomes me at every visit with a hug and kiss. Our friendship is deeper than almost any other in my life.

Some years ago my sister was in need of refuge and came to live with us with her daughter. At the time we lived in a two and a half bedroom small terrace. It was quite an upheaval to re-arrange the place and our lives to make space for them. They stayed for nearly two years. Never once in that time did my gentle man ever utter a word of complaint which tells you a lot about this man of mine.

My very own gentle man Trevor.

He is also my best friend but in a different way. He is so english that he could act as the template for english-ness. That makes me smile. He gladdens my heart. Always. His hugs are the best medicine in the whole world ... and they are free! Over the years he has learnt to understand how important hugs are just in and of themselves. He is decent to the core of his being, a totally loyal lover & friend. He is honest and true. He loves so many things in life and often tells me new things of interest. Nature, music and science/technology are his main interests so you can imagine that he is rarely dull to chat with.

He is so smart that it's astonishing to me still, and he has the most amazing powers of concentration. He can absorb stupendous amounts of technical information and is often to be found buried in technical bulletins/books. He has learnt not to overwhelm me with with too much detail in one go! He is a mad professor cunningly disguised as my husband. In his next life he is going to rival Richard Feynman or Isaac Newton ... perhaps even DaVinci, who knows.

He plays lots of rock / folk instruments so our home is often filled with music ... sometimes friends and music together which is just the best thing out. We have hard times just like anyone else. Distance grows between us sometimes but we find our way home in the end. Over time I have learnt that mind reading is an impossible thing to expect of anyone which makes things a lot simpler between us. I love Trev to the moon and back and always will.

Even after so many years together there are still some things I will tell my sister that I won't tell Trev. But the same is true vice versa so that is fair I guess.

There are many other people in my life that I love and cherish. These two though ... well these two make my life worth living and I will not choose between them.

30 Days of Truth - Day 6

2010-11-27T12:19:00.002Z

Something you hope you never have to do.

Oh my ... so many things spring to mind here. On a purely selfish note above all else I hope I never have to cope with a long / painful / debilitating illness. There are so many other lesser things that I hope never to have to do but I really don't care to list them. None compare anyway.

I hesitated to write this here today. Seems kind of funny maybe after writing some of the stuff I have over the last few weeks. It can be quite a challenge to open ones heart that's for sure.

The thing is I have some truly lovely people in my life both here through blogging and elsewhere who are going through illnesses of both a serious and less serious nature. It seems insensitive to say I dread having to cope with the very things they are having to face up to. Only this week a good friend of mine heard that she has ovarian cancer. The start of a new and uncertain journey for her. One where I will try to walk by her side as much as she will let me. How I hate cancer.

This serves to remind me yet again to be thankful, to live in the moment as fully as I can ... and to laugh more at my good fortune. I am so lucky.

Speaking of gratitude ...

This morning I was awake well before 5am listening to the cricket on the radio. I am a massive cricket fan. The Ashes series is on at the moment. For me this is the Wimbledon of the cricket season. Anyway someone on the commentary team said something quick and witty. There I was curled up under my duvet giggling like no-ones business at this guys humour. When was the last time I laughed first thing in the morning? I can't remember. Such a simple pleasure and yet it didn't feel simple at all. It felt profound ... like an internal shift is really under way again and I am so grateful for that.

Hope you all have a wonderful weekend.

30 Days of Truth - Day 5

2010-11-25T19:11:00.004Z

Something you want to do in your life

I've never been one to look forward much. I get scared I think. But that aside there are things I want to do.

I want to learn at least one of the instruments I play properly. To orchestral-ish standard ideally. I can't decide whether to pursue the violin, the piano, or the classical guitar, but it will be one of these three as I already play them at a very basic level. It is an area of my life that gives me a lot of pleasure.

I want to go to London and have tea at the Ritz. I know ... I live only 2 hours drive from London, so I could do this one easily ... and yet I haven't. I will set a date to do this in the Spring so I can do something else fun that day, like go to a gallery or meet a friend for lunch.

I want to expand on my voluntary activities. I used to volunteer a lot but lately I've been letting work dominate. No more. My life is no longer going to be work centered beyond the point necessary to keep a level of income to support us both.

I want to learn to work with wood. I can work in metal but I like the less predictable nature of wood. Last year a walnut tree fell down in our back yard. I have set some pieces aside and will look for some classes when our finances improve.

The thing that I would like to do most though is developing my spiritual life. I am not yet sure how this will happen or where I need to start on that one. I will start and see where it takes me.

I think that'll do for starters!

30 Days of Truth - Day 4

2010-11-25T07:53:00.002Z

Something you have to forgive someone for.

I do not have to forgive the monster man but I can choose to. When someone sets out to cause such a deep hurt without any regard for the person whatsoever, why should it be down to me to forgive him? Because it is better for me? Because the broken-ness he inflicted might in itself be a product of his own broken-ness?

Some questions are totally beyond me. I can't fathom the depths of my own mind let alone his. Anyway it changes nothing. This was not something aimed at me as a person, I was just very unlucky to be one of the wrong children in the wrong place at that time. What's done is done.

What constitutes forgiveness? The man is dead. There is no restitution, there is no way I can know if he had any kind of contrition over his actions. So what purpose is there in my act of forgiving? I have read that there is healing in forgiveness and also that bitterness eats into your soul and destroys it. I'm not sure I believe that. I'm not sure I believe in souls either.

I look at Oliver and William now. I see the fragility behind their apparent robustness. I see how easy it would be to hurt them. It gladdens my heart every day that they have no real inkling of any threat to their well-being from the adults currently present in their young lives. I love that they are carefree in that way. It is a blessing. Children are ill equipped to defend themselves against those intent on harm.

My monster man was a boy once too. As defenceless as any child. I feel sad at the thought that maybe he was very badly hurt too. I can imagine that pain. At the same time it makes it easier for me to think that way ... I can almost understand how it might be then that he grew into someone capable of doing what he did.

In some ways I can see that I am more inclined to forgive purely on the basis of hurt done to him ... in other words conditional on his actions being attributable to some deep inner pain of his own. But what if there was a warp in his personality and absolutely no childhood trauma, what then? Well then forgiveness becomes an act of will, not something born of compassion. I find that harder to think through.

If someone has a personality defect are they any less responsible for their actions? Perhaps. It depends. Again these questions are beyond me. To answer them I must in effect act as judge and jury in an area in which I have no expertise whatsoever. And anyway, this can only ever lead towards conditional forgiveness. That just feels like cheating.

How do you forgive a dead man for something done years ago. I guess you make a choice to do so. Perhaps forgiveness is an act of letting go. Simply that. So yes, I forgive him.

I have sat here for ages looking at that last sentence and trying to find meaning in it. It wasn't easy to write. It hasn't been easy thinking this through. To be honest I don't feel that I know enough about what forgiveness means to be able to act on it yet. I might come back to this exercise later.

30 Days of Truth - Day 3

2010-11-24T08:04:00.002Z

Something you have to forgive yourself for.

Not doing better.

So many facets of essentially this same mis-guided drive for perfection. It pervades so much of what I do and feel. I want to do better. I want to be a better person. Surely there's nothing wrong in that? It seems almost perverse to me that in order to progress I must learn to accept and love my imperfections first, and then go on to forgive myself for them. Where is the logic in that? It seems contradictory to me. It is imperfection that I am trying to overcome.

Yet I do see that this logic of mine has it's own inherent flaws. Since it is impossible to be perfect should I then never love myself? Where does that leave me? In a life-long state of being unfulfilled and unloved ... and all because I find it so difficult to reconcile myself to the fact that it is perfectly OK to be imperfect.

Why then do I entertain this idea that I must strive for perfection in all that I am and do? Is it arrogance? Stupidity? I think perhaps it is another consequence of the same rigidity of thought that I talked about in exercise two. It's hard to break out of certain kinds of thought patterns, particularly when they are the product of life-long beliefs. I can see that.

I do not expect perfection in others. Far from it. I am forgiving of others in a way I find almost impossible to be towards myself and I'm not sure how to unravel the reasons for that. My best guess is that it stems from my childhood belief that if I had been a good girl then the bad stuff wouldn't have happened.

In the chaotic environment of violence and abuse of those early years it was hard to see any sense. Hard to see why ... any kind of cause and effect. I couldn't figure out the rules on how to act so as to stay safe from all that. Children often only view events with themselves in the center ... it is the nature of a child to think this way. So as a girl I thought I must be the cause. My badness made the bad things happen. Perhaps then I need to forgive that little girl who didn't know any better.

It feels so odd doing this exercise. It seems in many ways as if I have to forgive myself just for being me. Perhaps that's the whole point. It just makes me feel sad that's all ... like I'm having to give up on something I've wished so hard for and worked so hard for in my life ... and for what?

At the same time it is a relief. However much time I've wasted trying trying trying, I can learn a different path. I guess what it comes down to is that I need to forgive myself for not seeking answers to these deeper questions sooner. Nobody is perfect.

30 Days of Truth: Day 2

2010-11-23T09:11:00.002Z

Day 02 → Something you love about yourself.

Just as exercise one was easy peasy so today's is trickier. This learning to be gentler with oneself and becoming more self accepting is a difficult art to master.

Conversely after yesterdays exploration one thing I am learning to love about myself is that I am able to confront uncomfortable truths in a way I would never have thought possible even a couple of years ago. Not only to confront them but to work towards overcoming / improving / accepting them as well. I can see that some courage is involved in this process.

By learning to open my heart more freely I am increasingly becoming more self accepting. It is a slow process but one where I am able to see progress even so. I have had to be willing to explore my flaws and get used to the fact that whilst I might aspire to perfection I am never actually going to be perfect this side of eternity ... and possibly not even then!

There is something in the rigidity of my thinking that makes me incredibly resistant to this truth. It is one of those things I am having to force myself to accept, and learn to love myself regardless of these imperfections as I see them. I accept these things on a rational level, of course I do ... but emotionally accepting them is a different matter entirely. It grates.

I suppose I love the fact that at least I keep on trying. I am not passively waiting to be rescued but am paddling my own little boat through the choppy seas of life. Effort is never enough on it's own though ... something again I have had to learn to accept more fully. That along with having the humility to seek help with navigational skills. After all, it's pretty pointless paddling like crazy if we're just going around in circles.

Physically I love the fact that I look a lot like my mother. She looks good. She is a very direct and forthright person and it shows. She looks strict and stern because that is what runs through her core. She has had to be so strong in order to survive the knocks life has thrown her way. I admire that in her, even whilst wishing there was more softness in her character. I look at her and see myself years from now. In looks she has aged gracefully and I hope to emulate that.

30 Days of Truth

2010-11-22T13:30:00.003Z

Shamelessly lifted from Christine's wonderful blog which you can find here

Almost identical exercise to one I've been recommended to undertake as part of my ongoing recovery but this one has slightly more questions so here goes ...

30 Days of Truth

Day 01 → Something you hate about yourself.
Day 02 → Something you love about yourself.
Day 03 → Something you have to forgive yourself for.
Day 04 → Something you have to forgive someone for.
Day 05 → Something you hope to do in your life.
Day 06 → Something you hope you never have to do.
Day 07 → Someone who has made your life worth living for.
Day 08 → Someone who made your life hell, or treated you like shit.
Day 09 → Someone you didn’t want to let go, but just drifted.
Day 10 → Someone you need to let go, or wish you didn’t know.
Day 11 → Something people seem to compliment you the most on.
Day 12 → Something you never get compliments on.
Day 13 → A band or artist that has gotten you through some tough ass days. (write a letter.)
Day 14 → A hero that has let you down. (letter)
Day 15 → Something or someone you couldn’t live without, because you’ve tried living without it.
Day 16 → Someone or something you definitely could live without.
Day 17 → A book you’ve read that changed your views on something.
Day 18 → Your views on gay marriage.
Day 19 → What do you think of religion? Or what do you think of politics?
Day 20 → Your views on drugs and alcohol.
Day 21 → (scenario) Your best friend is in a car accident and you two got into a fight an hour before. What do you do?
Day 22 → Something you wish you hadn’t done in your life.
Day 23 → Something you wish you had done in your life.
Day 24 → Make a playlist to someone, and explain why you chose all the songs. (Just post the titles and artists and letter)
Day 25 → The reason you believe you’re still alive today.
Day 26 → Have you ever thought about giving up on life? If so, when and why?
Day 27 → What’s the best thing going for you right now?
Day 28 → What if you were pregnant or got someone pregnant, what would you do?
Day 29 → Something you hope to change about yourself. And why.
Day 30 → A letter to yourself, tell yourself EVERYTHING you love about yourself

Day one: Something you hate about yourself.

Well, quite honestly I could write a whole book on this, but summarising;
> attention seeking
> lying
> self pitying
> cowardly
> playing the victim
> fantasising ridiculous scenarios in my head
> problem drinking
> laziness
> procrastination

Of these I believe two are fundamental to the rest. It seems like my propensity for attention seeking leads on to me fantasising, playing the victim, self pitying and lying.

This might start off with a real event that I exaggerate out of all proportion ... creating a complete fantasy out of relatively minor events, or out of some throw away comment made either towards me or in my presence. These lies start to take on a life of their own as I pile embellishments onto untruths, often shifting them through time and amalgamating them and interweaving them with other truths. Quite a tangled web.

It would be fair to say that in life generally there are times when I find it quite difficult to unpick things to segregate fact from fiction, and this is partly an extension of that difficulty. Having a vivid imagination and a love of stories feeds into it as well ... a trait I inherited from my father who to this day still tells very tall tales.

Why?

It would be all too easy to point to self esteem issues and other "mitigating" circumstances but in the end I think I am searching for comfort in any way possible. This does not excuse what I do, but goes some way to explain it. On the whole I do not hurt others with this aspect of my character and it is never my intention to do so in any way. I hate hurting people. I think it is generally just a very immature aspect of my personality that I have so far largely failed to even try to address.

The second is problem drinking. This has it's roots to some degree in the same drive for comfort. It is also in part an attempt to break out of my own head ... to rebel against my own best interest and to block out the dissonance I feel at doing things that are at odds with my own moral code. For various reasons my head fills with thoughts and feelings which I find hard to tolerate. To escape these I have used various means the latest being to return to drinking in an addictive way. I can see that escapism is at the root of this which in itself is an extension of fantasising. The two are thus inextricably linked.

Basically I find it hard to deal with the real world. I see this as a fundamental weakness in my character which manifests itself in all the ways I've described above.

Strangely it never occurred to me when doing this exercise to focus on something I hate about my appearance ... ha! Lucky really since there is in fact a super long list of those!

A quiet place

2010-11-11T15:28:00.001Z

Lately I have been seeking silence
a quiet place to think things through
not to dwell
just to rest awhile
re-group after recent upheavals
change
change comes around the corner
and even when it wears a friendly face
still it frightens me
so much to learn
so much
it still surprises me
that I can spend years learning little
and yet moments learning much
it would be so useful
if these moments lasted longer
and happened more often
but I'm not altogether sure
my heart could take it

Poem #3

2010-11-07T06:04:00.004Z

Life is never all one thing or another is it?

Over the last few months Oliver and I have taken to spending a couple of hours a week on our own doing "stuff". My sister and her husband have been taking their youngest son for speech therapy. Sitting in the waiting room is tedious for anyone but excruciating for a 7 year old. So instead we do our own thing.

A lot of the time it's simply a walk to the playground with our football and kite, or doing some Wii game if it's raining outside. We also cook, chat, practise juggling, magic tricks, make up jokes ... the list goes on but basically we hang out.

Maths. Oliver is stunningly good at maths. When we go for walks we start out with a mathematical problem that we can only use our heads to solve. No writing things down. Oliver loves to do mental gymnastics and I love to show him the shortcuts and tricks for helping to remember where we've got to in the process of finding the solution. Cool (his word).

And words. We try to think of the hardest word to rhyme anything with, and then try to find one that does. We do allow compound words and hyphenated ones because otherwise it's not fair (or so I've been informed). There are times when we must look quite mad as we bellow out that the word that rhymes with science is alliance ... we are still looking for a satisfactory rhyme for the word elephant.

On my fridge at home I have one of Oliver's first poems. When I look at it now I see that in his orderly manner he has noted the fact that this was in fact his third poem. Time passes so quickly don't you find? By keeping these reminders where I can see them I try to keep in mind that life is happening NOW. There is much to enjoy.

As some of you might have guessed, I am working through some things in my life at the moment. Even so, I am also finding time to have fun. Whenever I make a mental list of my blessings my family and friends come right up there at the top of my list. It is only recently that I have started to learn to rank myself up there too. Life is a journey.

This Regret of Mine

2010-11-05T10:30:00.012Z

Taking stock of my life to date is an odd experience. How did I ever manage to get this far? I’m on the threshold of half a century of living but with very little idea beyond chronological aging of how I got here.

We have always had major difficulties in our intimate life despite nearly two decades having passed in our lives together. My gentle man is often at a loss as to how to help matters and this serves only to heighten my sense of total inadequacy in this most personal aspect of our relationship.

There are times when my body seems unable to distinguish between what lies in my memory and the reality of what is happening now. Between danger and safety. It is so tangled up and confusing that I don’t know how to describe it really. Other than to say that because of this there are times when I feel unable to endure being touched at all.

Sometimes this happens when my gentle man is “well under way”. This is the most difficult part of all for me. Whilst I enjoy the closeness of the initial stages and build up towards intimacy, I do not enjoy the sensations of the act itself, the movement inside of me. My body sends out distress signals that I sometimes find impossible to ignore. I do try to though. There are occasions when these signals are of sufficient magnitude to bring things to a halt and other times not. I have neither the will nor the courage to be more graphic but I’m sure you get the gist.

We are both aware that most of the problems stem from within me and from the past. And yet I can’t help feeling that on those occasions when he decides not to respond to my distress by stopping he is in some ways reinforcing the violation perpetrated by the monster man from so long ago.

I know that it’s not fair on either of us that this shadow hangs over us still. And I know that it is grossly unfair to characterise my loving gentle man as in any way similar to the one who did the damage all those years ago.

I suggested that we get some help. As it turns out though, I am not the only intensely private person in this relationship. In many ways I was relieved because in this as in so many areas of my life, I lack courage.

So we have soldiered on through the years. We talk about it now and then, but not much. When we broach the subject the conversation is usually short as this is not something either of us finds easy to discuss. Despite this, over time things have improved somewhat to the extent that we both find some enjoyment these days. At least sometimes. We are mostly happy.

I come now to a period in my life that I find difficult to comprehend even in retrospect. I've always assumed that I am by nature a faithful person. Hardly surprising really given what I’ve just relayed. Even so, I believe strongly in commitment and the value of a promise given and kept.

And yet I have been unfaithful. There are all sorts of things I could say about this but none of them are more relevant than my deep contrition and confusion over the way I behaved. I found I was capable of acting in a way I never dreamt possible.

I will not describe how this came about other than to say that I'd never experienced anything like the level of desire I felt in those moments with her. I won't deny it. In some ways I think this was partly due to the unreality of the situation. Drinking has that effect.

It was just so incredibly freeing to be close without being burdened by the anticipation of sensations I‘ve learned to dread. Having said that, this was two short lived episodes.

So … a few hours of delight weighed against nearly two decades of loving faithfulness. Which justifies nothing. I know that. It is impossible in the real world to undo what has been done.

Would I undo it though? Yes I would. In an instant.

It’s simple. I did the wrong thing, there is no doubt in my mind about that. I broke trust with my gentle man. I thought I was incapable of doing that. I acknowledge that I learnt something about myself even so. I'd long ago reconciled myself to the idea that I mightn't have the capacity to feel such intense physical desire at all.

But the cost has been higher than I could have imagined. Nearly two years have passed and still I’m trying to find a way past it. To tell my gentle man is not an option. Not only would it cause untold hurt but I think with our history it might break our relationship beyond repair.

Anyway, why should he suffer for my mistake? So if I can't or won't disclose this then I continue to break trust on one level in order to preserve it on another. This is my deepest regret of all.

Not quite 20/20 vision.

2010-11-05T04:25:00.003Z

It’s quite something when you come across symmetry where you least expect to find it.

Nearly twenty years passed between the comings and goings of the monster man present in my early childhood until the time that my gentle man first appeared. And nearly twenty years have passed from that day to this.

With the departure of the monster man and not coincidentally our father from our lives, childhood turned in turn into adolescence and then on into adulthood. Time moved on outwardly but something inside me remained trapped in the past.

To deal with the pain of that early trauma I tried many avenues. I tried faith and prayer. Faith is capricious though. Not unlike handfuls of sand the harder you grip the more it runs through your fingers. When you open your hands it’s gone, leaving only fine grains clinging on, the grit a reminder of those early aspirations to believe.

I tried smoking it out as if a colony of hornets had taken to nest building under the eves of my mind. The smoke billowed and blotted out the world, but it did not diminish the pain left in it’s wake. I tried pills and potions that had my mind whirling in every direction skewing my perceptions of reality and not. I tried submerging it under a lake of fire water to little effect beyond drowning myself in the process.

Building a virtual box of lead in my mind, I poured my memories into it, hoping that the radioactive waste would be sealed beneath the weight of this heavy mental metal. Then I built walls around it until wall building itself became a habit, a rite, crafting ever thicker layers to separate myself from the whirlwind within.

It was in this state that my gentle man found me. I can’t explain to you why it was that he persevered in the face of my determined resistance, but he did. Initially he lay siege in what might be described as the usual fashion, but to no avail. Quite some time passed but still he persisted.

Eventually he appealed for a truce and I walked out from behind the walls under the protection of a white flag. We talked long into the night and through the dawn of a new day. He whispered of the fears that lay in his heart and in turn I tried to explain some of the reasons for the walls I‘d built. I mentioned something of the dark taint that lay within. I can’t explain to you where I found the courage to do that.

This man of mine has the kindest eyes. They reflect something of the soul that lies within. With a wisdom I still find quite breath-taking he explained that whilst the monster man might have taken my innocence, he hadn’t taken me. The way he described his love for the person he saw in me was my undoing. And so it was that he became my gentle man.

In the real world there is no happily ever after. Even so we have built a life together. By making himself vulnerable to me, my gentle man shows a strength I’m not sure I will ever match. Fundamentally it is this willingness that underpins our relationship. Without it, I would always feel like the weaker one.

There are times when he is washed out into the sea of his own foreboding. Long periods when he is lost to me in all but name. Other times he shuts himself away behind his own walls. When this happens I carry a beacon onto the shore to light a path homewards. So far it has always worked in the end, although there have been times when I've despaired of his despair. In constancy I show my own kind of strength.

In a similar vein there have been periods when I too have retreated behind my old walls, falling prey to the need for self protection in uncertain times. I forget that real trust is built on an ever firmer foundation in times of trouble.

A while long ago I breached that trust in a way I never thought possible. I need not burden you with the whys and wherefores. Suffice to say that despite being crippled with self doubt on so many fronts I’d always believed that once I made a promise I would keep to it no matter what. It has been hard to learn to live with this failing. I would undo it if I could, but I will not disown my actions all the same. Contrition and sorrow have gradually eroded guilt. But still it remains.

Somehow over the years my gentle man and I have found ourselves taking up self destructive habits with an ever increasing frequency. For him this has largely been a matter of recreational relief from the stresses and strains of life. For me though, these habits are of a more compulsive and dangerous bent. They threaten to drive me back behind those walls of total isolation. I have much to lose and little to gain by such practices whatever their allure. In these last years in particular I have fallen under their spell more and more.

And so finally we have come full circle. In order to progress from here I must once again make myself vulnerable to my gentle man by telling him in a more forthright manner the sinister effect these habits have upon me. How they undermine my sense of myself. Ultimately this impacts us both, damages us both. I have already sought outside help, but now I must seek it within our relationship too. In this way trust is built. I know that.

You might think I show strength by such actions, but not really. You see despite the ups and downs of the last twenty years I have been learning to trust a small step at a time. How strange. It seems that I have found faith where I least expected to.

Acceptance

2010-11-04T11:08:00.005Z

I am an engineer. Not a particularly good or smart one, but one of quite long standing now. It doesn't completely define who I am obviously, but nevertheless it suits me. From an early age I loved to build and fix things, but most particularly I loved to take pretty much anything apart to see how it works. In the painful, chaotic and confusing environment of my childhood I found much comfort in the solidity and constancy of gadgets, construction toys and the domestic machines we had dotted around the place.

In my work there are days where I do nothing but carry out a repetitive sequence of relatively complex calculations to ensure that the parts we are planning to make will actually work. I love those days. I shut everything and everyone out for a while and lose myself in the numbers.

Calculating and manipulating the various formulae is kind of like playing with toy soldiers in a way. I arrange and re-arrange the numbers and symbols. I order them about. I line them up this way and that until a pattern emerges that looks stable. I know then that the design part concerned will withstand the working conditions in which it must function. Numbers consistently obey the rules just as machines are designed to. They are friendly in that way.

I know that probably sounds a bit odd. But the thing with numbers is that I know that as long as I'm careful ... if I can just work through each stage methodically in a focused manner and not miss anything off ... well then I can get it right.

I mean right right, not nearly or almost, but bang on perfect.

There are no other areas in my life where this is possible. But there is much in my inherent nature that wants it to be. I want to be able to figure everything out ... to shake all the variables out onto the table and then line them up and if necessary modify them so that they behave consistently ... or at least more consistently.

I find change and uncertainty frightening. Always have. Social stuff scares me stiff most of the time. Have I mentioned that I stammer? Also I blush like a small girl over the stupidest things. I go blotchy red and hot. There's often no cause that I can pinpoint other than the fact that I feel anxious a lot when I'm with people generally. I can't figure out why or how to stop it happening.

I hate being this way and yet at the same time I know it's chicken feed in the overall scheme of things. There are worse things than being a nervous wreck. But it stops me wanting to mix with people who don't already know me ... and sometimes even the ones that do. Close friendships are few, but they light my life all the same. They are deep and solid. I believe in them and I trust as much as I can. I am lucky in many ways, I know that. Through my friends I am learning to lighten up ... kind of.

I see people around me embracing change all the time, welcoming it for the excitement it brings. I wonder at their courage. I wonder at my lack of it. If I knock all the toy soldiers over they won't just get up and re-group by themselves.

I can't conjure. I can't change things to be the way I want them to be. But I can learn to accept things the way they are.

Hope is like that

2010-11-03T13:09:00.007Z

My younger sister has always been frightened of things. Nothing in any way unusual, just the normal childhood fears. Thunder, lightning, fireworks, wasps, spiders, creepy crawlies in general and snakes. As she's grown the list has lengthened to include heights and anything that might endanger her children. She is still the bravest person I've ever known, a fierce lioness in the protection of her cubs, but with the gentlest of natures in loving and nurturing them.

When we were small Kath really hated thunder storms, and the flash of lightning in particular. For some reason nearly all of my childhood memories of these storms are of the ones that happened at night time. Perhaps that's because at the first sign of distant rumbling she would scoot across our bedroom and crawl under the blankets with me. I would then turn on my little torch flashlight for her to see. Already frightened by storm sounds the dark spooked her, so we'd hunker down and watch the bulb fiz and crackle in the night. Small low voltage light bulbs did that sort of thing back then.

Anyway, I would wait until I thought she'd dropped off to sleep before turning off the torch to save the batteries. Sometimes the click would re-awaken her because on some level she was attuned to this noise despite the background of crashes and rumbles. So I'd switch it back on, and wait her out again. However dim the remaining light was as the battery faded that little light never failed to bring some measure of comfort to her. I like to think my presence helped a bit as well though.

It's funny though isn't it? What light does in the darkness I mean. Even the tiniest candle flame can be seen in the night from miles away in clear conditions. Such is the power of light against the immensity of even the deepest darkness. In fact it is this contrast that makes light such a beacon in the gloom. Little wonder then that light is synonymous with hope. Where faith might falter or even fail, some small element of hope remains.

Earlier today I was writing to a dear friend of mine. Someone who keeps reminding me of the steadfastness of hope and friendship in hard times. I was trying to find some way of conveying to her where I am just now, which is in a far better place than even a few days ago. I can now see the light at the end of the tunnel, it's there ... and while it might still be some miles off, it's there. Hope is like that.

Learning to let go

2010-11-02T14:11:00.003Z

History itself is irreversible it's true
no I mean it's really really true
beyond dispute or the power of wishing
even if you yearn with your entire being
the past remains resolutely unalterable

Remember it or not
it matters not a jot

So then it's not a matter of undoing
or re-hashing it over and over again
it is over, to be filed away in the archive
the only thing that can change now
is how we choose to think of it

For some reason I've always thought
that true healing meant undoing
and re-making over again but whole
because I wished it so, so much
I wanted the done to be undone

I didn't want a papering over of the cracks
I wanted the cracks to be mended
the parts fused without scar tissue
I wanted it to look better than this
smoother, cleaner, more complete

Clinging on to impossible wishes
only serves to encourage us to shelter
from the truth on all sorts of fronts
we indulge in our hopeless fantasies
rather than engage in the reality of living

But life refuses to lay down passively
beneath the insubstantial blanket we fashion
to insulate ourselves from the cold winds
of a reality we're unwilling to face
instead it continually rises up to confront us

And in doing so we turn to rail against it
this injustice of not getting our hearts desire
feeds into the general frustration within us
calling from inside us in increasingly strident tones
this is not right, this is not how it should be

But the fact of the matter is, that it just is
and whether that be right or wrong is immaterial
for when what is now is caused by what was then
then transformation to what should have been is impossible
and so learning to let go starts with accepting what is

to be continued ...

The sky is not falling in ...

2010-11-01T12:51:00.004Z

I love the story of Chicken Licken (sometimes called Chicken Little). At the beginning of the story an acorn falls on her head. She looks up and all she can see is the sky. Now being a somewhat scientifically minded, and literal rather than lateral thinking kind of chicken, Licken concludes that the sky is falling in. So she sets off to warn the king.

It's so tempting to hide behind verse. One of the reasons I started writing verse in the first place is because there are so many things I am not brave enough to talk about. So instead I say it in a roundabout fashion. But not today.

I guess Licken decided the sky was falling in because she couldn't think of any other explanation for the knock to her head. She'd looked upwards, but not down or around. She just didn't gather enough evidence to adequately support her hypothesis.

Even so, you have to give Licken some credit here ... despite her mistaken conclusions she did at least act in good faith. I have every sympathy because I too suffer from a similar kind of blinkered vision. Even so, like Licken I act in good faith most of the time despite my many regrets and mistakes.

I am humbled by the loving support and kindness you have shown towards me, particularly over the last few weeks. I am getting help. There are better ways to deal with emotional pain than drowning it out. The nature of addiction is that there are often many false dawns before the reality of a true sunrise ocurrs. However harsh the sun seems, I am determined to walk in the light.

I am not sure how my blog will evolve from this point. It may become part journal part verse, I'm not sure yet. I'm so sorry not to have been popping by to visit you all with anything like the frequency I'd like over the last little while. I will make more of an effort over the next few weeks.

xx Jos

There is always room for truth

2010-10-30T17:11:00.003+01:00

You can’t possibly be more ashamed of me
Than I am shamed by my own behaviour
You might ask why do you do this to yourself
And I answer that there’s no why in addiction

Addiction sneaks in the back door
It accumulates in the dark corners
Soothing the burdened soul
With it’s liquid smoothness
Taking the sharp corners from life
Slowly building it’s foundations
Becoming something from nothing
Feeding upon itself gradually taking hold

Unknowingly I let it
I fed it
Then it devoured me
Until I couldn’t see
Another way to be
But don’t feel sorry
Please
I need no pity
I did this to myself
I will fight my way
Out

Houston we have a problem

2010-10-16T08:14:00.002+01:00

I am sure it is apparent from the last few posts that I have a problem. It would be so tempting to tell you that I am in recovery but the truth is that my recovery journey of late has involved mostly prolonged "detours". These leave me feeling confused, depleted and cast out from the person I aspire to be. So I am going to take an extended blogging break to take some time out in order to get straight again. xx Jos

Adult ... kind of

2010-10-15T21:25:00.002+01:00

I knew I should never become a mother
because I am the daughter of a woman
who should never have become a mother
and I am also the daughter of a man
who should never have become a father

There are too many flaws in my family
and the long and short of it is that
these two should never have had children
because having them they abandoned them
whilst appearing not to do so at all

And so we grew up ... except we didn't
we grew on the outside but not really
we aged which is not the same thing
how do you grow a child to maturity
when she is stuck in the pain of the past

A strange land

2010-10-15T15:19:00.002+01:00

What do you do when the person reflected in the mirror is a stranger
when the internal dialogue within you becomes incomprehensible
so that what you once trusted is whisked out from under your feet
leaving you sinking ever deeper into the quicksand of incomprehension

What do you do when your reality seeps into some form of unreality
diminishing you in such a fundamental way that you are no longer sure
that you have the knowledge or ability to distinguish between the two
is this at long last the line that lies between sanity and something other

How long can you walk along a narrow ledge without falling off
if you only know and accept the things that lie above or on the surface
how can you ever hope to slow your descent into what lies below it
what measures can you take to ensure a soft landing at the bottom.

Writing

2010-10-14T13:44:00.000+01:00

I will write and write
until the pain lessens
like in the olden days
when we were bled
to remove the toxins
I will cut into myself
to remove the flaws
until I am nothing more
than I was before

Exposed

2010-10-14T13:34:00.001+01:00

I stand shivering under your gaze
as exposed as ever I have been
these flaws run so deep
deeper than I knew
or rather
than I allowed myself to see
I wish some days
I could be restored
to my former blindness

Shuttered

2010-10-14T13:05:00.001+01:00

Why do you ask a blind woman to look at it this way
can you not see the unfocused look of her eye
why do you ask the deaf woman to hear you out
when listening is the last things she's capable of doing
to awaken deadened senses is next to impossible

Why do you look for understanding from a statue
is she not as immobile in thought as in deed
where a human heart might beat out it's feelings
hers is but a silent pump, although not inert
hers is a far more sinister form of stillness

Change

2010-10-14T12:07:00.001+01:00

There are reasons why
but unraveling them is not easy
hard to face the harsh realities
to see what it is, to look at it square on
to accept that this is mine
as are the results

If at the root of a lie lies no harm
but unforeseen unintended hurt
is it any more excusable
no
is it any more acceptable
no
is it any more forgivable
perhaps

A child might use fantasy
truth and untruth woven together
as a defense against the indefensible
but would expect to grow out of it
not cling to and repeat this old pattern
once it's reason has long since ceased

Except accepting untruth repeatedly
creates an ability to detach
to put the unacceptable into a box
like turning a mental blind eye
so lies remain hidden but known
and duality thus becomes the norm

With sufficient time detachment
becomes the ability to ignore
those neglected internal voices
that gradually dwindle to a whisper
the smallest twinge of conscience
dissonance just faintly knocking

But we confront this duality at our peril
unless we've also learnt acceptance
not necessarily of specific acts of untruth
right and wrong remain unchanged
but of the person trying to change
hoping still for some redemption

Some hope

Lies

2010-10-12T17:34:00.002+01:00

A lie, just one to start with
but lies escalate and accumulate
ultimately taking their revenge
causing this unintended hurt
I never meant it to be this way
regret isn't a strong enough word
sorry doesn't come close either
if I tell you that I hate me too
will it ease your heart a little?

2010-09-04T16:16:00.002+01:00

No verse today.

Just wanted to tell you about something that happened earlier on. I was driving over to my sisters place to help out with the boys for a few hours. It's been a sunny day so typical of late summer here in England. I was driving through a nearby village caught up in a queue behind a slow moving tractor. In no great rush I was quite happy to crawl along. Up ahead I saw two young girls sitting by the curb waving at the passing cars. Nothing better to do than brighten up other peoples day I guess. Eventually it came to my turn and of course I smiled merrily waving back. Got an extra wide smile and a thumbs up in return from one of the little girls.

Then it dawned on me. The other drivers hadn't bothered to wave ... or smile ... or wave and smile ... or wave and smile and actually mean it. My reward of a thumbs up was both a cause of happiness and small sadness. As grown ups we have a lot to think about. Kids don't get that. They shouldn't have to. It's partly what's supposed to be great about childhood. Anyway, I'm glad I waved and smiled and meant it. And I'm glad that kids still have time to wave at passing cars.

Does this seem frivolous? Maybe it is. Life is pretty tough going at the moment and so smiles are an extra special gift. At least so it seems to me. xx Jos

A piece of my heart

2010-08-30T18:24:00.004+01:00

I never knew that paintings
could speak so to my heart
until the day I saw yours
and instead of looking away
something made me pause
so I stopped to look again
and a little door opened
in the corner of my mind

I walked through and found
myself seeing something new
a vista of such celebration
a party conveyed by a brush
and how I laughed to see it
seeing that some hearts speak
in shape and colour and texture
and some listen with eyes alone

I was drawn in, in a way
that I'd never known before
and so I said so, well no
I didn't actually say so
being the klutz bunny I am
I tried to say so though
and well, wouldn't you know
your open heart heard mine

By some happy circumstance
I was in a position to say
something I never usually do
I said would you, could you
and here's where your heart
listened particularly carefully
because you didn't just say yes
you painted me my 'orange pop'

I have positioned it here
and I've tried it over there
I've even taken it upstairs
but somehow it calls to me
saying I need the dark wood
to lay against to make me glow
I bet that even you didn't know
you'd sent me a piece of my heart.

An Annie Coe original defies words
no really, just take another look
and to see more go here

Dancing with the devil you know

2010-08-27T12:14:00.003+01:00

Unreality beckons, whispering in my ear
not so sweet somethings saying lose yourself
in the familiar folds of blissful oblivion
nothing hurts when we drift in the ether
and then everything does afterwards
so then don't think of afterwards
or of consequences, only of release
a chance to lay again and to lie again
rehash our fantasies, detach from reality

And then?
what then?

When we succumb, we alter without and within
losing hard won ground in this ongoing battle
between ourselves and the people
we aspire to be except on those days
when we want nothing more than to be a breath of wind
utterly inconsequential even within our own lives
thus we excuse ourselves from the hurt we cause
when we pause to listen to the malevolent whispers
of unwelcome unwanted visitors from our past

Oh but how they crow, they point and laugh
you see they know, and knowing has it's price
they say pay the piper or lose your soul
and only then might we let you go
but then the dance begins amidst the confusion
as colours brighten and noise levels heighten
unreality takes a hold as sad laughter bubbles up
as if to escape, and as it does you might notice
that it sounds painfully like the cries of hysteria

and then?
what then?

Well you see then you have the aftermath
the resounding impact of the almighty crash
as reality slams through our semi consciousness
realisation dawning, squinting against the light
of a day when all that matters is getting through
until the hour when the doors of the dance hall
re-open to the possessed and dis-possessed alike
because once dance fever re-takes it's hold
it takes the devils own strength to escape it

but only
if you dance

After all the dance hall never closes it doors
we delude ourselves that waiting is in fact control
when our delay is only in anticipation of the music
whereas choosing is but a turning point away
a re-creation of our lives devoid of this tomfoolery
learning instead the rhythms of new songs
ones that nourish once forsaken hearts and souls
and although I know all this there are still dark days
when I find my foot tapping to the old rhythm.

From this place

2010-08-21T16:03:00.002+01:00

Sometimes tears fall
and the heart eases
but not always

there are landscapes
arid desserts within
that remain barren

and from this place
it seems that even
words run dry

not for always
just for now
or so I hope anyway

A Week Off

2010-08-07T17:58:00.008+01:00

What did I learn?
that putting up a tent
in a howling gale
is more fun
than taking it down

That a leaking tent
can only leak so much
and so clothes
can only get so damp
and still be worn

That when you think
about it clearly
no one is really looking
as you strip off
layers on the beach

That getting into
a soaking wet wetsuit
makes for a lot of fun
for pretty much everyone
as I collapse in giggles

But also that wetsuits
are the perfect gear
for lying on the ground
and letting the rain
pour over your face

That nothing tastes
better than hot chocolate
and barbequed sausages
in onion bread rolls
with no salad, just sauce

That it's exhausting work
trying to turn cartwheels
in the sand
attempting to match
what small boys do

That a week is too short
I am home now
safe and sound
warm and dry at last
and satisfyingly tired.

A Moleskine

2010-07-28T17:41:00.005+01:00

How many people do you know
where just by seeing their name
written at the top of an envelope
makes you break into a wide smile
or who write about getting excited
at the nifty pocket inside a moleskine
sent as a prize for sharing a thought

How many people do you know
that invite you to play with a rabbit
who in bunny ways is very wise
and yet is constantly getting in trouble
to the point of incarceration no less
well now I suspect not that many
people will lay claim to such fame

And yet I know many of you reading
will already be pretty well acquainted
with this uniquely special someone
keeper of Emily the Adventure-ess
who knows the value of many things
not least crying from your belly
and rolling downhill while laughing

I did nothing to deserve a moleskine
this very epitome of writers’ chic
yet here it is arrived safe and sound
opened and already starting to fill
because courage sometimes falters
at the sight of pristine empty pages
enjoyment comes in the use of a gift

Enjoyment comes in acceptance too
as freely bestowed gifts are a rich prize
and I believe that giving honours the giver
as well as the given to
what you sent meant more to me
than I have been able to convey
except to say heartfelt thanks to you KJ

... and hurray! (I know, but I had to!) xx Jos

A childhood friend

2010-07-24T20:58:00.003+01:00

How wonderfully strange to be with you today
although thirty five years have passed us by
since we as two and three girls sat alongside
and walked any kind of sandy beach together
a lifetime by pretty much anyones' measure
and yet here you are, still looking as you do

Somehow familiar in that comfortable way
of children who've grown up through hard times
and so know the value of good times together
and that tears on arrival are a welcome home
I loved that you were moved by our meeting
and pretty much everything about today too

In particular when we wandered to be alone
shell hunting again after all these years
feeling the tug of memories long since lost
except so vivid still in your recollections
lovingly relayed with waving arms and words
ah now that is something I do remember

How you continually express what goes on inside
drawing pictures in my mind with your words
you still do that, I'm amazed we sill connect
it seems you are so, so very smart these days
using words I have only the vaguest notion of
and yet ... well there it is, you are still you

This incredible woman, yet with a clear sense
that somehow you are not nearly enough
that you must even now still measure up
to some ideal, some meaningless standard
I wish I knew you more fully in this time
translating my past admiration to the present

What can I tell you that you don't already know
we were children the last time we sat together
on the kerb kicking against things not wanted
even then I remember the way you looked to the sky
the way you drew vivid pictures with your words
and now you do the same thing with your pen

I wish,
god how I wish,
that I could express
this better
you
you mean something to me
I remember
you
I try not to remember
so many things

but

that does not include you.

Journeying Back to Day One

2010-07-19T11:13:00.003+01:00

The light fell into her eyes
so instead she looked downwards
and when music filled her ears
she blocked them off from hearing
even as tastes filled her mouth
she swallowed as if it were bile

As loving hands reached out
she turned her back and shut the door
then she drew the curtains
and in the shade she poured herself
from there into oblivion and beyond
seeking only to wash it all away

And some time passed this way
as her reality faded into grey
replaced by vivid colours of fantasy
each dancing in their crazed delight
across that dim and foggy screen
of her barely semi consciousness

The sands of time continued to flow
until one day in an uncertain dawn
came a flickering faltering realisation
of too much time having been spent
wandering in that inner wilderness
those wastelands of her imagination

And so finally she drew open the veil
poured the last of her fantasy fuel
down the drain of things past
and walked out into her garden
to find that in reality the sunlight
didn't hurt her eyes after all

A new arrival.

2010-07-18T17:01:00.011+01:00

I had to bust through my self-imposed holiday haitus ...
for this ...

It seems that I am now a great-auntie
OK I am already a great auntie
but that is not the same thing at all

Ah ... c'mon ... look at her face
isn't she just beautiful?
lovely Dylan Rose
welcome to our world
already I love you

xx Jos

Time for a break ...

2010-07-17T09:57:00.001+01:00

This guilt

2010-07-14T17:46:00.004+01:00

I have almost become someone
I don't recognise at all
do you know this feeling?
a kind of internal dis-location
incongruence, or so I'm told
everything, however complicated
seems to have this
a long word to describe it

But I describe it as this
I look the same, or near-abouts
grey and wrinkles notwithstanding
the person I see in the mirror
is at least somewhat familiar
I sound pretty similar to always
but something inside is not the same
a disintegration is continuing

Not solely physical, that is just aging
a process that I have long since
quite happily reconciled myself to
there is beauty in my mothers face
the future is written clearly there
would that I might one day
show such elegance and grace
seeing her in me, repeating our history

No this disintegration is self induced
looking back I can pinpoint it's start
that day when I decided on a fiction
and to tell that fiction to another
and then to tell yet another after that
until the teetering pile was so vast
I very nearly lost sight of the facts
having given myself over to the unreality

Here I am once again brought up short
oh my word, what to do ... and can I undo?
and how much of this can I undo
without undoing you too, or indeed us
this is not the first time I've been here
trying to untangle this mess I’ve made
saying without actually having to say
or ever even admiting to anything at all.

Schnorchel

2010-07-11T17:18:00.003+01:00

And I have favourite words too
bumble-bee and bubble are my top two
and now this new one
I came across the other day
you never know when you will
stumble upon unexpected treasure

I am learning German
just a little bit
hopefully enough to help things along
between my sister and her husband
who has no-one to converse with
in the language of his youth
and so I try

anyway

it is this word
schnorchel
no
not snorkel
but schnorchel
try it out

I will henceforth
go forth
in my fins
and schnorchel

the word
schnorchelling
has me
chortling

are you smiling yet?

some words have power

it is easy to think
only in terms of
words that move you
to tears
to painful recollection
to empathy

but here
well

schnorchel
does not move me
perhaps though
there is a particular power
in smiley words.