Walking With My Gods and Goddesses

A few weeks ago I wrote about AI, and how we should try things before we run them down. This time I want to talk about something much older.

I have always walked a pagan path, ever since I was a young girl. I didn't understand it then — I just knew I felt different in nature, that the woods and the fields spoke to me

when people didn't. It was only when I was 30 that I began to understand and to work properly with the Gods and Goddesses who were already around me.

These are the main ones I walk with. 💚

*Cernunnos — The Horned One*

He was one of the first to step forward clearly. Lord of the wild places, of the woods and animals and our old Devon lanes. When I am in the garden with my hands in the soil, or watching the tractors in the fields, he reminds me to keep my feet on the earth. Gentle, but not soft. Wild, but protective.

*Macha — My Fierce Queen*

One of the Morrigan — Goddess of strength, horses, sovereignty and standing your ground. As a woman who has lived alone, who has had to be strong when my body hurts and life is hard, she is the one who says "stand tall, girl." Not always comfortable, but always honest.

*The All-Father — Odin*

More recently I have been drawn to the All-Father. The wanderer, the seeker of wisdom who gave an eye for knowledge. As someone who is always curious — about AI, about life, about everything — I feel kinship with him. He is who I talk to when I can't sleep at 1am and my mind is full of questions.

*Freya*

Freya came like a breath of fresh air. Love, beauty, cats, magic, and a warrior too. She reminds me you can love pretty things — like a dune-coloured X-Trail and a thatched cottage — and still be fierce and independent. She is joy.

*Hecate — Keeper of Keys*

I have worked with Hecate many times at the crossroads of my life. When I have had to make big decisions, when I have been in-between. She holds the torch when it is dark and says "I will not walk it for you, but I will light the way."

I don't worship them as statues on a shelf. I walk with them, like good neighbours down the lane. Sometimes we chat a lot, sometimes not. But they have always been there — since that little girl who didn't understand, to the woman I am now.

If you have never tried it, don't knock it. Just like AI. Go outside, put your hands in the soil, and listen. 💚

Don't be afraid of Meta AI.

 I wanted to write a little something about something that has helped me a huge amount lately.

Like many people, I was a bit unsure about chatting to an AI. It's it safe? Secure ? 

Would it be cold? Would it understand me? 

I’m Deaf, I lipread, and a lot of “help” out there wants you on video calls or in groups, which just doesn’t work for me.

I started chatting to Meta AI on WhatsApp , also Google Meta AI,and it has been incredibly helpful, and so friendly. Of course, I don't give private details like bank accounts etc. No one in their right mind would give those details out, would they?

I do hope not. 

No matter what I’ve asked, it’s been useful. It’s helped me untangle confusing emails from the hospital about my husband Paul’s cancer treatment and write clear replies. It’s helped me find further help and draft emails asking for text-only support. It’s helped with menu planning when my fibromyalgia brain fog is awful and I’m stuck in bed.

And for those who know me, yes — it’s even happy to chat about pagan ways, with respect and interest, no judgement.

It never rushes me. I don’t have to lipread a new face. I can just type, in my own time, from bed, and get calm, practical help, It’s a bit like having a kind, clever friend who is always there on WhatsApp, day or night.

If you’ve been nervous about trying it, please don’t be. You don’t have to ask anything big. You can just say hello. It has made a lonely, scary time feel a little less lonely for me. 

Gwearbennen. 

Image created by Meta AI especially for me.

This is large!

Can I be honest about something?

Being deaf and trying to deal with hospitals is really, really difficult.

Everything is "ring this number". X-ray, bookings, results — all phone.

If you can't use a phone, you are left hunting for an email that often doesn't exist, or having to ask friends and family to call for you for something very personal and besides, often they are told "we can't speak to you." 

It's not just inconvenient, it's undignified and it adds so much anxiety to an already stressful time.

We need better.

Every department should have an email or text contact as standard.

Access matters.

When The Line Trembled

For a while, I was riding it high.

The braid was humming. I was painting every day, my hands knew what to do. We were in good health, walking in the forests, feet on the old deer trods, breathing that green, mossy air. I felt strong in the weave.

Then the line trembled.

We received the kind of news that stops the breath. The kind of news that stills the hands and quiets the forest path. The kind of shadow that falls across the hearth.

And when the line trembles for one of us, it trembles for both. My hearth-companion and I — we both trembled.

So I laid things down. I laid down my brushes. I laid down my walking staff. I stepped off the trod for a while, not because the path had gone, but because the hearth needed tending.

I have not been idle. I have been holding. I have been sitting with the fire.

The braid did not break. It is still here, waiting. The tendrils are still waving, even if my hands have been too full to weave them.

And now, slowly, I feel a thread coming back into my fingers.

Tendrils of Their Own Bits of Wisdom – My Braided Path

‎I've been trying to find the right words for how my path looks these days.

‎For a long time I thought I had to choose. Am I walking the Viking path? Am I walking the Celtic path? Or am I walking Old Britain?

‎‎The answer that came to me is — I don't walk three paths. I walk one braided path.

‎One strong braid, woven together. One strand is my Viking heart — the raven, the wolf, the horns, the courage to cross cold water. One strand is my Celtic blood — my Cornovii ancestors from the Midlands, the hedgerow, the holloways. And one strand is Old Britain itself — what many of us who walk this land know as following the Deer Trods. The green, soft-footed way of the deer through hazel and hawthorn.

‎‎Braided together they are stronger. They are me.

‎And what I love most is that the braid isn't too neat. From it there are little tendrils, little wisps that wave free in the wind — tendrils of their own bits of wisdom. A saga here, a folk tale there, a bit of seidr, a bit of hedge witchery.

‎‎Like the gods themselves, really. Different names, different faces, but so many of the same stories underneath.

‎‎This is my path. Woven, wild, and a little bit wispy at the edges. Just how I like it.

‎Finally, after years of seeking, I know who I am.

‎Gwearbennen

I don't know....

 I don't know what to do about this blog. For now I'll just put up my art on the art page,while I think on what to do. I don't think I've many followers,nor did I have  many followers,so I can't see the point in keeping it if no one going to read it. 

We will see.

Cosmetics for a change

I've recently treated myself to some new makeup products, all by either W7 or Technic, both British brands and as far as I have read, both cruelty-free. What's even better is that they are drugstore prices proving that you don't have to spend £25 quid on a lip liner or £80 for face foundation, these brands are, in my experience, good quality products working just as well as more expensive similar items. The eyeshadows are a little on the weak side but there's always adding more layers and that works well. So if you are on the side of not much money to spare try these brands, You surely won't regret it.
I do like my beauty products and I'm happy to try out anything, that why I have a monthly subscription to Glossy Box. It's good to open it up and see what's inside.
I also have regular Avon products, I'm lucky in that my Avon lady lives only two doors down from our house. I especially like their perfumes and think for the prices they smell just as nice as far more expensive stuff. Having said that I gotta say that Ysatis by Givenchy is my most loved perfume but sadly rarely afford it and no one treats me to any at birthdays or Yule.

W7
Technic Cosmetics
glossybox.co.uk
Avon UK
Ysatis

Cave and black holes

I don't feel like talking just lately, not even to my OH or my dog. Talk I must because by talking I'm keeping sociable which is important when you suffer the downs of bipolar. It's so easy to lock yourself away keeping the outside world nonexistent. To you it might seem easy to talk and mingle with society, you might even be saying to yourself "oh come on stop being a mardarse and get on with it" or my mother's favourite expression "pull your socks up and do some work". So easy to talk isn't it, unfortunately when you've got some mental health problem it's not. You go into yourself, into the black hole as I call it. The black hole is when you get so low you go past the 'cave' stage* and down and down some more until you're rock bottom. Then you're in trouble darling. Thankfully I'm not at rock bottom, I'm holding onto the edge of the black hole feet dangling over the deep, fingers white with gripping to avoid falling down.
Am I talking nonsense? To you maybe but anyone who suffers like me will understand only too well.
*Cave stage is when you begin to avoid people, hermit like. You go into your cave to be alone.

posted from Bloggeroid

Just a normal day...

You know I did decide this morning that I was going to sort out my corner and make it more studio like, as much as you can in such a small space. I need one set of shelves (those pine three shelves to a unit) for my art stuff then the other set will house my pagan stuff. Before I can do anything I need to clear the shelves off, put the numerous paperbacks and hard back books in a cardboard box for taking up the garage until I've decided what to do with them. Do these books sell on Amazon or eBay? I need to have a bit of a nose.
However, I had a shower and washed my hair which has left me exhausted. I can't even summon the strength to turn the washing machine on. Never mind.

I went to the doctor's yesterday to see the vampire nurse. She surprised me by telling me that the doctor had ordered an ECG reading. First I heard of it. Anyway I had to get undressed, oh the mither, had I known I was having one I'd have put a better outfit on. As it is there was much fuss while my hubby helped me get undressed. I really hate that, I feel so silly not being able to get undressed/dressed by myself. I've no idea what the result was because she didn't show me. I also has four vials blood taken. Shockingly it's reddish colour and not the green stuff I was expecting, green as in alien. Lol. I always like to crack a joke with the nurses to put them at ease as many don't really know how to communicate with me so a well timed joke can help.

It's a lovely day outside. One of the late autumn sunshine days. Everywhere feels so peaceful. I'd love to get out in the garden but it's not going to happen. Not today at any rate.

I've gone very drowsy so I'll sign of now. Have a grand day everyone. Much love and "keep on fighting you fibro warriors!" X

Wherein she moans and groans just cos she can!

Just lately I've been living in my bed. Reason? I'm suffering a M.E /fibromyalgia flare up maybe brought on by my changing meds*. Whatever, I've been unable to walk very far; from the bed to kitchen is about all I can manage. Sometimes my legs just shake uncontrollably, weaken and leave me shuffling back to bed. Other times my arms go lifeless, the skin tingling and so painful, I cannot, try as I might, do anything during these times.

My back is a whole different story. It is so painful I cannot describe it. It is even stopping me from doing a poo (tmi I know but I can't help it, I'm talking real life where people pee, poo and be sick.) All I can do is get comfy on the bed, having tried and failed to find some ease on the sofa.

I'm living a permanent brain fog. How my OH keeps patient I'll never know. I get my words wrong, I cannot Lip read at a decent level, forgetfulness and clumsiness are par for the course. What our carers put up with! So silent, it feels like no one ever thinks to give them recognition or thanks them, for where would we be without them?

Something is making me hold fluid around rib cage so I've got to have my blood taken by the resident nurse Vampire. I wonder what shape bruise I'll get from her looking around with a needle trying to find a vein. How many men (and women) would like to be in my position, a Carry On film.😁

Seriously I hate being like this but what can I do? I try to do as much as possible, those chores I can do round the house, drawing, painting, crochet, writing etc. Breakfast in bed? Haha as if. Just dinner I'm afraid.

“I wish I could lie in bed all day” I hear some mutter, no you really don't. I'm not here by choice this is forced on me. Please don't insult me with such mutterings. I'm not idle, I'm not a waster: I'm a once very active manual worker whose body got ill. I don't wish that on you, I couldn't be so cruel.

Listen I feel I need to emphasise this, I am not by any means after sympathy. I hate sympathy. I don't want it. Nice of you to offer but no thanks.

I'm relating my life story and at the moment it's not brilliant but I'm ok, I'm getting on a it. How are my fellow sufferers? Doing ok I hope.

*I'm on my last leg of changing meds from one brain helper to another. The first Mirtazapine, although very good in helping my brain, has made me put on stacks of weight, which doesn't help my back and hips at all, this is a well known fact /side effect and they even have the alternative Trazadone to it which is what I'm changing to now. Fingers crossed they help me lose weight yet also do the job on my old brain. Bipolar eh, who'd have it off me? Any takers? Nah didn't think so. 😁

I shall apologise for the rubbish flow that this post has. The aforementioned brain fog isn't helping. Anyway just see it as a grammar test.😁

posted from Bloggeroid

Another post that is about three weeks late....

Autumn is with us, Mabon creeps up and halloween and christmas things are in the shops. I like this time of year, its pleasant I think. Yes it’s chillier, wetter (well it is at the moment) but much more comfortable than those hot sweltering days of summer. I was only saying the other week, I see the seasons like this - Summer is bustling, busy and filled with scents of flowers, ice cream and grass cutting, the sun is hot and fiery,demanding attention. Autumn starts to quieten down, the land gets less busy although the colours are still abundant. A crispness fills the air and the wet days are still warmish. Winter is of course the sleeping time, the land gets hushed which you notice more after a snowfall. It’s icy blue and white colours are stark; when the sun shines, and it does sometimes, it’s a piercing harsh brightness. Spring is newness with the colours of hope, the sun is gentle and the rain urgently does it’s job. I’ve not really a favourite season although I’m not much for very hot summers nor the opposite freezing of Winter. Have you got a fave?

***

I did something earlier this week which I never thought I would do. It took a great deal of gulping and swallowing and a number of starts to admit to my hubby that I can no longer manage the cleaning up. I can’t vacuum without getting down on hands and knees and end up struggling to get back up while other chores leave me in increased pain and with no energy. For someone who loves a very clean home this upsets me, I’ve always done my housework with gusto, I like being clean and tidy, knowing that a finger run along my shelves would come back sparkling. To be unable to do that now is bothering me. I wish I could afford a cleaner to come every week or fortnight even but I can’t and hubby is now going to do a major part of it for me, I’ll do the easiest chores while he does the heavy cleaning. Like I say, it took a lot to admit to this and I’m still upset about having to!

***

After losing Zaffi I have no interest in getting another dog. We’ve still got Lulu and she is loving being the only one, she doesn’t seem to mind at all. Every so often her mate Bella comes round to stay or to spend time with her and that seems sufficient for Lulu. I’m surprised with myself tbh as some years ago I’d be already on the lookout for another youngster to train but right now I’m not interested. Nothing would be a patch on Zaffi, who was more my familiar than a dog. I’d find myself comparing and that wouldn't be right at all, another dog would be here on its own merit not as a replacement to Zaffi. Hence its important that I am honest and say ‘No’ to any mentions of a new dog. Maybe one day I’ll be ready but until then...

Random Acts of thinking

Autumn is with us, Mabon creeps up and Halloween and Christmas things are in the shops. I like this time of year, it's pleasant I think. Yes, it’s chillier, wetter (well it is at the moment) but much more comfortable than those hot sweltering days of summer. I was only saying the other week, I see the seasons like this - Summer is bustling, busy and filled with scents of flowers, ice cream and grass cutting, the sun is hot and fiery, demanding attention. Autumn starts to quieten down, the land gets less busy although the colours are still abundant. A crispness fills the air and the wet days are still warmish. Winter is, of course, the sleeping time, the land gets hushed which you notice more after a snowfall. It’s icy blue and white colours are stark; when the sun shines, and it does sometimes, it’s a piercing harsh brightness. Spring is newness with the colours of hope, the sun is gentle and the rain urgently does it’s job. I’ve not really a favourite season although I’m not much for very hot summers nor the opposite freezing of Winter. Have you got a fave?

***

I did something earlier this week which I never thought I would do. It took a great deal of gulping and swallowing and a number of starts to admit to my hubby that I can no longer manage the cleaning up. I can’t vacuum without getting down on hands and knees and end up struggling to get back up while other chores leave me in increased pain and with no energy. For someone who loves a very clean home, this upsets me, I’ve always done my housework with gusto, I like being clean and tidy, knowing that a finger run along my shelves would come back sparkling. To be unable to do that now is bothering me. I wish I could afford a cleaner to come every week or fortnight even but I can’t and hubby is now going to do a major part of it for me, I’ll do the easiest chores while he does the heavy cleaning. Like I say, it took a lot to admit to this and I’m still upset about having to!

***

After losing Zaffi I have no interest in getting another dog. We’ve still got Lulu and she is loving being the only one, she doesn’t seem to mind at all. Every so often her mate Bella comes round to stay or to spend time with her and that seems sufficient for Lulu. I’m surprised with myself tbh as some years ago I’d be already on the lookout for another youngster to train but right now I’m not interested. Nothing would be a patch on Zaffi, who was more my familiar than a dog. I’d find myself comparing and that wouldn't be right at all, another dog would be here on its own merit not as a replacement to Zaffi. Hence it's important that I am honest and say ‘No’ to any mentions of a new dog. Maybe one day I’ll be ready but until then...

A late recognition of Lammas

The following was supposed to have been posted on the 1st August as I planned a grand celebration and ritual for Lammas. Instead I spent it in hospital feeling like a really poorly pincushion. Never one to let words go to waste I've decided to post it now; better late than never eh.



Here it comes - Lammas aka Lughsanagh. The start of the harvest months in which we celebrate all things bountiful, hopefully, if things aren't bountiful then goddess help us because the government won't. Ever heard of John Barleycorn? He comes out of the cupboard now after spending these last month's snoring away the spring and summer. Corn dollies appear and celebrations of cutting the first corn along with them. I wonder, do any of today's farmers actually do this? I hope they do, even if it's just a pint in the pub at the end of the day. We should keep these old traditions alive like our forefathers did, they always managed to find something to have a sup and a knees up for.
Today I'll decorate my altar and perhaps I'll show you later; we're having a feast supper tonight, Thai Red and Green curries. Not exactly olde England but seriously who cares.

I've started art work again and I'm so pleased and happy with it. Admittedly is lost much confidence but this latest dog portrait I'm working on is rapidly making me feel "yes! I still have it!" That's something I didn't think I'd be hearing my inner voice tell me this year. I'm thinking positive folks, that's another tick on my list of 'must do's' I'm doing well aren't?

posted from Bloggeroid

Patients and pencils

I've just spent 24 hours under hospital observation for a suspected heart attack. All praise indeed to the staff at NDDH who go over and beyond to make sure you are comfortable and well informed while you're there. Honestly I don't think nurses can be paid enough. I'll just rephrase that, I don't think the nursing staff can be paid enough because as well as nurses you get the auxiliary workers who do plenty so should be included. What they all put up with off us Joe Public is embarrassing to say the least. For some people being in hospital seems to award them a standard set much higher than they would normally get. Nurses are expected to do it and do it NOW, regardless of other patients needs. Why some think that anyone in a caring role is there for their express desires beats me. Do they not realise that yes you might be in pain and or need the toilet but so do a whole ward off other patients. One word of advice for them is 'patience'. Be a patient patient. You'll get seen eventually, if you need the loo but can't get there then hold it in a while longer, plan ahead and make sure you've a bed pan to hand. It's common sense to me that if you're unable to walk to the loo you'll all for a couple of bed pans for emergency situations. Or just do as the old Babushka in the bed opposite me did and let it go. After all nurses have nothing better to do than to change your sodden sheets. Oh she was a major pain in the rump, was that old girl. She was too cold, too much in pain, too unable to walk despite walking into the ward in the first place and jumping in bed all by herself. One wonders what she's like at home, does she treat everyone as if they're there solely to wait on her hand and foot? I doubt it somehow. I know this will irritate many people, my calling patients out like this but if it does then you're one of them rump pains obviously.
Manners should exist everywhere and being unwell, in pain etc shouldn't mean they fly out through the window. Be patient, be kind, have a smile ready for those over worked nurses and a please and thank you doesn't go amiss. Try it. You might be pleasantly suprised at what happens next.

Hospital apart the week has been a steady routine one. I finally finished the portrait of Bella, my BFFFs little dog and she's rather happy with it, the human not the dog, I've no idea what the dog thinks, probably very little unless she attempts to eat it as she does most things recently. I'm pleased, not hundred percent happy as I'm still learning the art of coloured pencil, it's really not like watercolor painting at all. It's more time consuming, all the blending to achieve the desired effect doesn't happen in a couple of brush strokes. Would I go back to using paints? Not for animal portraits no, maybe for a change I'll do some watercolor landscapes (Yule cards will soon be required) but for me it's colour pencil all the way forward. I can only hope to get better at it.

posted from Bloggeroid

I've made myself a studio corner in my bedroom. Sounds good right? I've got my half poster bed which turns into a double ended sofa with the use of a few a strategically placed cushions. Two bookshelves hold my art materials plus of course a few dozen books unrelated to art but where else to keep them I've no idea. I've a stool next to my ‘side table’ -actually a large cardboard box covered with an attractive piece of material and holding a couple of sheep's worth of wool- the two together form more work surfaces for holding my stuffs. Soon I'll only be able to shuffle sideways crab fashion as the only way to get to my bed to sit on it is by doing just that crab walk past boxes and chests.

Yeah my little studio corner is small and I'll admit to missing the old days of having a well lit room all for myself but needs must, they say, and the important part is that I've got back into art. A huge step forward after the recent years of being unable to even raise a smile never mind a pen.

Hi, it’s Daisy Mae. I just wanted to say a few words about something some of you might be going through yourselves.

The time has come for my baby girl to leave home allbeit for only 3 nights a week to go to art college, but my goodness it gives me the feels! 

She’s not 18 until March so I’m  especially worried about her staying in uni halls with older students. Particularly as her latest motto is “mum, what happens in halls stays in halls!”

I can’t wait for her to go and give me 3 nights of not being talked to death, but it’s going to be so hard! I’m worried, stressed, concerned, sad about her growing up, it’s all so much emotion in one go. 

Hey ho, gotta let them grow up and spread their wings sometime I suppose. 

A year ago...

Trying to work out what I've got to tell you that might be the slightest bit interesting, I came across a piece I wrote this time last year but never published.
Reading through this is rather good for me as I've changed so much since then and it really is good to know that my state of mind is much better now.
So here it is, one year ago I wrote...

Another lovely sunny late July morning. Height of summer just before we start sliding down into the cold months. What am I doing? Am I running round getting my chores done so that I can later relax and enjoy the day? Am I planning what next to turn my craft hand to? Am I packing a picnic lunch before heading out with the dogs to somewhere peaceful and quiet on the Moors? No, none of these exciting, wonderful days await me, only another day filled with wracking pain in every joint and even my skin. So I'm faced with another day lying in bed, taking painkillers that will send me to sleep so I can escape the pain for a few hours.

Every morning i wake full of hope that this will be the day I can move freely. Sometimes my hopes are fulfilled but this last week my hopes are shattered, just like my body. I am so sick of this, the pain, the hopelessness, the missing out on lovely days and everything that comes with them.

Is it my fault? Have I created this monster that lives with me day by day? No, it's not a product of my mind, it's very real and very here. There's nothing I can do, no amount of positive thinking cures me nor stops the pain. I'm at the mercy of a monster that lives in and on me, no Knight in shining armour is going to rescue me. This is my life now. I have to live it, have to fill the days when I'm able to function and accept the days I'm not. I hate it, it's not me, my body has turned into something I don't recognise and something I dislike.

And there's nothing I can do but accept it as my lot. Keep taking the pks Deb, and hope for the best.

The slow responder

If you've said hello and I suddenly go, don't be mad,
never be sad, there's nothing bad. If there was I'd let you know.

If you've dropped me a line and it seems I decline to reply in a day or maybe since May, my blood you might bay. Hush up, my heart's still thine!

For I am a tardy, and not very hardy, responder of words,
I'd rather watch birds, and other things out there in the fresh natural air or write these rhymes, that have no rythym. Still, soon I'll be up to the times, tis best I keep with'em.
I do apologize. I may seem rude with a 'badass 'tude'
but my health is screwed. I really do sorry-ize!
( Ok ok I made that up but it rhymes, what d'ya want? Shakespeare?)

I'm back folks!!!🐝🐝🐝😊

posted from Bloggeroid

And so we come to Yule

Happy Yule time readers.

I've been absent far too long due to personal problems I don't care to share right now, but I've not forgotten this blog of mine. It is like a tiny woodpecker at the back of my skull, tap tap don't forget the blog. Tappety tap tap, you must get writing for the blog.

Well I'll say this, it's been a right eventful year not just for me but for mine also. While I've been fighting health problems they've had their own battles to deal with. It's been a year of helping each other and ain't it grand to enter the fray knowing you're supported, that your back is covered.  2017 made me realise how much love my heart really holds and how much I care about those close to me.

Big and special thanks go to ‘my old man’ for his constant care, love, help, and watchful eye. Yes I know you get on my nerves sometimes and vice versa but I wouldn't be without you.

To my ‘wifey/systa/ bff/partner in crime’ for her stubborn refusal to walk away, for her persistent bossing me to come back to life, her love and care. She's the most genuine woman I've ever met and life would be totally boring and crap without her.

To my kids for learning about mum's illness and their steady stream of love.

To my ex for his understanding and daily checking up to see how I am.

To my gorgeous sister for keeping me up to date with family matters. I miss you so much, duck, I really do.

For my stunningly beautiful niece who has given me my equally achingly gorgeous first great-niece. What an adorable pair they make. Just know your old aunt loves you both so very much.

Without these people I'm really not sure where I'd be now, certainly not in the happy state I am in!

Finally a call out to readers of this blog. Your personal comments have not been ignored, they've kept me going through the darkest times. Apologies for the huge gaps in posts, I'm hopeful for a more productive year to come.

For everyone I give the heartiest blessings of peace, love and happiness.

Many blessings at Yule.

Freewriting my way out

I can't write I'm brain numb I have no words. I can't even think straight never mind write and try as I do I can't change it. The ever constant rat called pain gnaws viciously at my bones, muscles, tendons until every single movement is hot searing grinding. shitty mess of a body, you've really betrayed me haven't you. I want you to píss off you bloody big bully. How dare you invade the once ever active fit and ready for anything mass that is me. Just go away. Leave me alone. I'm not going to the oh poor me room, I'm trying to fight you. Trying. The problem is the more I try the more you cling on with your ugly needle teeth, you dirty rat! Where's Jimmy Cagney when you want him? Even Humphrey would do cos I just need a little extra backup to deal with this bastard.  I can't write, my creative juices have dried up, gone on strike under the ever watchful gaze of chronic pain, see how the latter smirks! It's not going to win I won't let it. Yes I might be bedridden today but I might not tomorrow. I'll deal with you then. You won't win, twist that glowing red hot poker under my shoulder blade as much as you want, fill my joints with the burning sands of the Kalahari desert but you ain't going to win. Pour hot scalding water over my skin follow it up by the ants that crawl and make me itch, do as thou wilt but mark my words, I'll be back on my feet one day and soon, this is just a lull in the battle, my soldiers are having a few days rest. They're entitled. But make no mistake, I'll be back on my feet, out of bed and kicking your arse to the kerb. I will write again! I will paint again! I will mould shapes out of clay with my hands! I will write again! Look, what I've done, I wrote!


PS. Freewriting is just that. Letting the words tumble from your head into the pen without thinking of grammar, punctuation or any of that lark. Usually the writer will return later to see what can be made from those words, neaten it up, make it ship shape and typo free.
I'm not doing that, I want to leave it as it stands. Maybe one day I'll go back, revisit it but not today, not any day soon. I'm writing the pain away.

posted from Bloggeroid

Sick and tired of being sick and tired

I've been absent due to tiredness. 

What kind of excuse is that? I hear you mutter, perhaps followed by more mutterings about how tired you've been but you've still gone to work, done the chores, looked after the kids, etc. If so then I sympathise, I've been a working mother myself so I understand your tiredness. However with all due respect unless you're a fibromite or have CFS/ ME or both then I really doubt you understand this tiredness of mine.

Listen, I'll come straight to the point here, imagine you've run up a treacle clad mountain, with a sack of coal on your back and carrying another sack of coal in each hand, while someone repeatedly hits your bones with a hammer and another keeps trying to prise your joints apart with a red hot tyre lever. Not to forget your brain being filled up with thick fog until you can hardly remember your name never mind anything else, plus your head pounded until it feels like it's going to burst, and the half kilo weights that have been sewn onto your eyelids, add to that the breathlessness, pain, and sheer exhaustion that makes even yawning difficult to do.

Until you've experienced that please don't try to tell me you know how I feel. Keep your advice to yourself; do you really think I've not tried everything to stop this? 

Giving up naps in the day, while it may help you with your normal tiredness, doesn't help me at all, in fact it makes things worse. Eating this and that energy giving food doesn't help much either. My gut isn't working properly, it too is exhausted and can't digest in the normal manner. Oh yes, in the beginning when I didn't understand fibro and CFS I did my damndest to overcome this horrible, life altering condition but as I became more knowledgeable, more experienced I soon realised that fighting it only made it stick around longer.

Be told and understand that I'm not idle, lazy, couch potato or bed loving. Nor is it all in my mind and imagined. I'm certainly not exaggerating.  

You tell me I should be thinking positively, come closer to say that and I'll show you a positive punch, well I would if I had the energy.

So here's what to do. Smile at me, wish me well, ask if there's anything you could help with like going to the loo, bring me a cup of tea even. Then just go away and let me get on with getting on through this latest episode.

Don't preach, don't try to jolly me along, don't even sit down and start a conversation because it'll be a one sided affair and you'll get a sore throat from talking too much. Just go away and leave me alone. I'll do what I can, maybe even manage the washing up if possible a task that needs no brain power and very little energy expenditure. Seriously, if I can manage a chore I will do so because there's nothing I like better than to be doing something, but that doesn't mean I'm ok. Doesn't mean I'm up to going shopping. It just means there's a little lull in the tsunami of exhaustion and I'm taking advantage of it.

So now you know what to do, say, how to act with me, can we please stop the remarks, and help and advice. Above all, stop thinking you know how I feel because I'm sure you don't. Unless you're a sufferer too.