This weekend I’m busy keeping my daughter alive.

“ I will kill myself , I’m obviously not going to tell you how “

I feel a level of tiredness that I don’t think I have experienced before , the fatigue is burrowing deep inside my eyeballs and my soul feels ever so weary that moving feels such an effort. I want to slip away into a deep level of unconsciousness and escape life.

Mid – week my 15 year old daughter took a large overdose . Last night we got discharged from hospital & told that the team will come and start work on Monday – ‘ but you have to keep her safe till then’ . My daughter doesn’t want to be safe , she wants to die. She wanted to be admitted , but they don’t ‘ do ‘ that for distressed , suicidal, risky children or in fact for worn out families who feel that their resources have been well and truly depleted .

So here we are early Saturday morning. We have lasted the night on shift work. My husband has gone to bed and I’m up , but I feel like a zombie. The last few days having taken its toll. It makes me wonder how people in a consistent stressful environments survive ?

My daughter is asleep. Snoring softly . I know this because we have taken her door away. That door has blocked my way to my daughter for many years . Many nights I’ve looked at That door in despair , wondering how she is behind it . Feeling utterly helpless to stem the flood of sadness and self loathing. To have it removed is like removing an old , nasty tooth . The relief that I get access to my girl whenever I want is huge. The decision to do it done with utter confidence considering her resolute pledge to die.

Taking each hour as it comes .

Continue reading “This weekend I’m busy keeping my daughter alive.”

Softening the edges..

Photo by Jara on

There are so many things that I want to do , so many habits that I want to cultivate. Journalling here , how long is it since I have done this? Months. Yoga regularly , daily meditation, putting a load of washing in each day and putting it away, taking my supplements, going to bed early , not drinking wine. . The list is often the same yet nothing much changes. Sometimes this gets me down , all the things that I want to do but don’t. What is this consistent cognitive dissonance in my life?

Today , I let my bike go. It literally fell apart a couple of weeks ago, the gear box and chain just fell off as I struggled up a steep hill. I took it to get fixed , but it just wasn’t worth it. I have had my bike for over 10 years. I felt oddly emotional about leaving her in the shop to be recycled (for Africa!) That bike has taken me on a long symbolic journey , in the last 10 years so much has changed in my life and I have really reached a point where I don’t really recognise my life or myself back then , so much has changed ; for the better . And my dear old bike has been there all through out that time. Carrying me hundreds of miles to my destination today.

Today , I did some things on my list. I did a yoga class in my room which was just divine , no itchy irritable desire to stop , just divine deliciousness. I am writing here & I will take my supplements. You just got to keep trying haven’t you? And not beat yourself up .

Next month , I start a new job as a manager in my current team . I am going full time, something I blogged about never doing again. But I have also leaned into the fact that I can change my mind. I am softening out the edges of myself bit by bit.

Ashes to Ashes.

Coincidence ? Synchronicity? Power? Intuition?

The strangest , mind -blowing event in my life happened this week. I am nearly through Deepak Chopra’s 21 Days of Abundance course . Tuesday’s task was to write a letter of recognition and gratitude to someone who I felt had hurt me .

The only person who came to mind was an ex of mine from some 25 years ago. I have blogged about him in my ‘Descansos’ post so I won’t repeat myself , but basically I wrote a letter of peace and ending. Thanking him for all the lessons I learnt under his rather discarding treatment. I was Young & vulnerable and well he wasn’t .

I have seen him a couple of times in the last couple of decades and it was friendly , we had friends in common. As I sat up my allotment on a hot June night , I put to bed some stuff I didn’t even realise was there. I wished him peace and happiness in the letter . I then burnt the letter with a deep sense of closure and acceptance . Watching it curl up at the ends and turn to ashes.

The next day , our mutual friend rang me . Which he never does . He told me that last night , my ex , died in a house fire . To give this some context , I don’t think about this man from one year to the next but I chose him for this task as he shattered my confidence in my youth. A couple of hours after I wrote and burned this letter ; he burnt to death.

I was and still am freaked out by this. In the abundance course it asks you to start looking for coincidences- well wham bam in my face … but what does it mean?

I’m inclined to believe that it was a way of showing me that the path of love and peace that I’m on is the right one. That it is a way of showing me that grudges , resentments & pain are to be set free . That I have power that is unleashing . And in romantic moments , I like to believe that my part in the universe sent him on his way with goodness & love. But yeah . I’m still freaked out.

Shedding the skin of unimportance

Yesterday , I read through an old diary from 5 years ago . I was taken aback by how needy I was for importance and recognition and how much I have grown in my management of my insecurities.

It was littered with a need for inclusion , a huge desire to fit in with the crowd and be recognised for someone who is liked and wanted. My decisions and goals were often based on what other people were doing or what was expected of the culture that I was immersed in at the time . I had a strong sense of freedom that those days are gone and I have a real sense of self orientated functioning. Growth is often imperceptible and I am grateful for my journaling to expose the truths of my journey.

It’s taken me a long time to just be me. And the wonderful result of that metamorphosis is that my relationships have improved and become deeper and more rich in love and joy. I still sometimes struggle with getting my needs met , particularly at work but I have felt a descending peace upon my psyche lately . One which demands that people have to accept me as I am or move on. And when I am rejected , in whatever form , I know that it is due to the other person not being able to accept who I am and that isn’t my problem.

I attribute these changes to age & wisdom , which come as an intrinsic pair , leaving a conform- driven religion and group therapy. I have also got to know the little girl I once was and honour her needs for nature , dancing , Solitude & creating .

Eve was BRAVE!

I am mid way through the new best seller by Glennon Doyle

” Untamed : Stop pleasing , Start Living “.

I was really struck by the ending of one of the chapters

Own your own wanting 

Eat the apple

Let it burn.  

Years ago when I was a new Christian ,  I was in a women’s bible study group .   We were studying the ‘ Fall ‘   .    We were talking about Eve and her crucial mistake of eating the apple and its subsequent domino effect on the earth.   I remember being really struck by this;   all around me were murmurings of her calamity & in my natural openness and perhaps naivety to the Christian faith ,  I said   ‘  I think  Eve was brave ‘ .   The flurry of voices filled the room admonishing me for my comment ,  albeit in a loving ‘ she’s new to us ‘  type way    : ‘  she was stupid more like ‘.       I then spend another 8 years as a christian but I realised that perhaps my initial reaction never left me ,  my intuitiveness that Eve was brave was damn right ,   but under the scrutiny of my new friends I submitted to the new way of life that I had forged to myself.  I ,   as many women are , was pressured to feel,  fit in ,   agree,   submit and to follow  that which went against  a deep feeling  in my heart.

I realise that I have always been brave.   I was seeing what was in my own heart inside Eve’s   and I was denying it.    As I leave the Christian life behind ,  there are still remnants which need to be swept up and put away ,  taken to the dump in fact.   Eve ,  you were fantastic.   You were brave and true to your instinctive nature to need to know what is true and what isn’t .   To seek that which is unknown.  To step out of the boundaries which have been placed around you by man,  society , culture :  the list is endless.  The things you were told as a little girl ,   the lies you were fed by your mother,  your friends,  the bullies,   the bosses ,   the teachers .    That which doesn’t serve you ,   trash it .  With a big whack in the bin like a basket ball hitting that ring.

Pick that apple  ,  it’s ripe , it’s juicy and despite that you might be told it is the way to sin &  estrangement with God ,   it’s actually a secret pathway to freedom ,  nature,   death , new life , more death ,  divinity itself.   Mother Earth ,  God,   oceans , trees,  everlasting oneness and love.     It’s a gateway to Love.   Its a pathway to trueness to oneself .   And that ,  my friends is the one thing left for you to have which is your own.    To mould , shape, change , convert,   put away , pick back up , chase , follow ,   create !

Eve was a bad ass mother fucker.


Radical Acceptance ?

So , the Prime Minister is up tonight at 7pm,    as the nation waits with baited breathe to see what he will unveil!   The nation is clearly divided between those which want the lockdown to continue and those who really yearn for some freedom and normality.   The disputes , fights and discord online between these 2 groups are at the forefront of every swipe you issue.    Perhaps it’s the difference between those who like to control and subsequently also like to be controlled?   Or those who want to vent and spew , those who just can’t stand authority, those who can’t see past their own situations.     I think I am a mix of all of them.

I feel tired .    I wonder if it’s just the energy and anxiety at a macro level which is depleting me of energy.     I miss having my friends over without worrying about the corona police.    I miss my old job and the freedom.  There has been so much change.  I think change is exhausting in itself.

I drink  ,  smoke ,  eat ,  work ,  decorate and repeat.    I find myself in this little whirlwind  of life.   I am learning to take what I need and leave everyone else’s shit behind.    There’s so much time yet the days just fly by.

My mother drives me insane.   She’s at that age where she constantly repeats herself,   always shoving her phone in my face asking me what to do about so and so’s spam messages warning her that her account could be hacked.   Arguing with my husband about how much she feeds the dog ,   drinking all my wine.    I moved out when I was 19 to get away from her and here I am at 44 now living back in the same house with her.   It’s like having a 3rd teenager in the house ,   4th if you count my husband’s tendency to lean toward teenage behaviour ,   arguing with the kids about who ate all the icecream.   I used to have days to myself in the house.     I can’t remember the last time I was alone.

I seek solitude up the local common or my allotment.      I don’t know what I would do otherwise.    Sometimes I just want to run away to a little cottage in the country all alone. But then I would probably yearn for busyness!     I guess I have to just learn that new buzz phrase ‘   radical acceptance ‘  .    Bloody hell.


The Red Skittle

Today was a great day. My 14 year old daughter has suffered with depression & anxiety for a long time , on and off now for 2 years. I have learnt to deal with my own sadness with her struggle – if I let it get me down then we both lose . I just have to be there for her when she wants me which isn’t often . Yesterday she tidied her room, today she tidied it again and said that she felt her depression had lifted. .

She sat outside and we looked through jewellery and chatted about stuff in the sunshine. This may seem average , but my girl hasn’t been out her room or the house for months . I asked her what had happened , if there was a trigger , a moment where she felt different and she proceeded to tell me this wonderful tale of a teenage moment of clarity. That early morning , she had woken at 4am. She was laying there and she couldn’t move very well on the floor – ( she sleeps against the door to isolate herself ) –

She then says …. “ I had my suitcase from the holiday a month ago still on the floor , then I looked around and saw all the bowls and cups under my bed , then I found a red skittle in my hair and as I was trying to get it out I realised how greasy my hair was and I just thought to myself , what am I doing? I might be depressed but I ain’t gonna feel any better laying here in a pile of shit “. Oh my , how I laughed . She is a natural comedian and we couldn’t stop laughing at this Red Skittle , which changed the world. She then spent 3 hours cleaning up all her room , she deleted apps on her phone , she said she was horrified to discover how much time she was spending on it . She changed all her depressing music on Spotify to uplifting stuff !

Then tonight , we went out on a bike ride. She said YES , to an outing. Well blow me down with a feather . “ I feel Free “ she screeched as we pedalled along.

So this simple day as been so special . It might be a one off , it might be a turning point , who knows . But it’s a taste of change and hope. I have always thought that my intuition is right with my daughter , that I shouldn’t be pushing her to do what she can’t. Professionals will say otherwise . But today , I saw what she can become , a woman with drive and passion for life , which can take time to harvest . Her time. No one else’s . As long as I can be there in those moments then that’s all that matters .

Continue reading “The Red Skittle”

It’s all about the circumstance.

Circumstance :   It’s all about the circumstance,   how one individual or family is affected by the Corona Virus and subsequent lockdown is often  down to  small ,  insignificant life details.    So  ,   my son for example,   he is loving lockdown,  he had a job in a pub , where he just pipped the post to qualify for furlough.   He has a home,  parents ,  a garden ,  a bike & lots of love.    My husband is loving it even more,    his tough physical job has been put on hold,  with 2 hour drive there and back each day ,   he’s been given furlough now with full pay ,   he’s literally a new man ,  he’s tanned,  he’s grown a beard, he’s renovating our home with delight!    The effect that his job had on him was insidious.   Yet there are those in the world who are having real struggles as a direct result.     Those who can’t get home ,  stuck thousands of miles away on another continent,   those who’s violent partners are now at home with them 24 hours a day,   those who’s jobs have been lost with no income .

Yesterday ,  as we sat in our garden ,   enjoying the beautiful gift of the magic of British weather;  which is bestowing unusual heat and sunshine since Lockdown began –   the first BBQ of the year,  supping icy tinto veranos ,  I seriously thanked life for my blessings.   I got in my gorgeous comfortable bed last night and wondered about all those who have it really hard and I can only be grateful for what I have.    That’s all I can do ,    there’s no point feeling guilty,    I just have to love life and respect it’s cards.

Stolen grief.

Tonight , following the day spent with my dear friend who lost her father this day ,   I am listening to Dire Straits.    It was my father’s favourite.    I am bowled over by a desire to write about him,  to bring him alive again.    He died in 2009 ,   he had dementia ,   as with most of these kind of cases he didn’t specifically die of that,  but essentially it caused his death.      Tonight I looked at the stars littering the night sky in my moonless back garden,  I saw his smiling face in my mind and I rejoice now at the freedom I have retrieved  back  from contrived religion ,  to reclaim my father back from the dead.    When he died , I was a new Christian,    I came to the church in a bad way , as many do,   with a broken marriage and an unhappy heart.     My father died amongst the wreckage of my life at this time.    For the following years ,   I was taught,   inadvertently ,   that he was not just gone,   but gone to hell.     No one actually had the tenacity to  say it so blatantly ,  but it was there,   unsaid.      At his bedside I remember trying to read the bible to him ,  with my new found faith and fervency ,   he practically pushed the bible away from me in anger,  he was never a religious man.     But even in his demented state   he knew what he believed and now   I am able to admire that.   Nevertheless,    I still have anger toward the ‘  church ‘   for taking away my years of mourning.     I pushed him out of mind,    he was gone,  he was lost ,   he would’t be there on the other side.

Tonight , as I listen to the music he loved,   which I love because of him,  I am able  sense his presence in the Universe,    sense his spirit ,   his character  ,   see his big round face,   reddened from alcohol ,   with   his big hands and quiet , deep demeanour   and once again enjoy his memory with freedom and grace ,   set free from the constrains of the patriarchy .      I always feel grief that my dad never saw me attain anything ,    I went back to University after his death ,  I got my degree ,  my career and my self together long after he left this earth.      I wish he had seen me succeed .    He did however  meet his two Grandchildren.  His first Grandchild was  born before he succumbed to the ravages of dementia.     He adored the bones of  my child and I am so damn grateful that I was able to give him something good,   something worthy ,   something for him to take away on his journey ,   a gorgeous curly haired rambunctious toddler all of his own ,    a precious gift .     Maybe that was more exquisite  to him than anything academic that I could achieve .

If My dad was here ,  he would be raging against the machine.     Quietly but stoically.   When he was literally dying of a stroke ,    he steadfastly refused to go with the paramedic.    He wanted to sit in his favourite chair and smoke his roll up and drink his beer.    When he was in hospital (finally once we got him there) ,  he left in the middle of the night in his pyjamas because he wanted to go home  and he wouldn’t be told what to do .    Obviously ,    at the time ,   these situations were very distressing.    But now,     I remember them with admiration and love.     My dad ,    he was from a poor back ground,    a farmers child,   he was evacuated  in the war to live in the country for 4 years!    I wish I knew what that time was like for him,     I  yearn to hear ,   I regret so many conversations that never happened ,  so many things I don’t know ,   that I never will.       Death ,    is all around us at the moment.     Death is life.    It’s the anchor which grounds us to the earth.   It’s always there,    yet we ignore it until it is thrust upon us and we often aren’t ready or prepared to process it.



My thighs rub together.

I feel a bit defeated.   I struggle with food , I  always have .  We have a love  – hate relationship and  rarely manage to create a harmonious balance.   5 years ago this week,   I embarked on yet another  ‘  diet ‘  –   ‘  new start ‘ –   ‘  regime ‘ ,   whatever you like to call it .    It felt different to other times , it had an energy and vigour behind it which I rarely managed to summon.     It took me on a roller coaster journey for the last 5 years.  I lost all my weight in the first year;   6 stone.  I kept if off for 2 years but in the last 2 years I have slowly but steadily put around 3 stone of it back on.   Still 3 stone down from my initial beginning ,   but it is the depressing merry go round of my life,   I thought at 40 –  I had actually managed to nail the whole yo-yo’ing , overeating , restricting thing to a structured and healthy place.      I journeyed through devout religious devotion incorporating the Overeaters Anonymous ‘  higher power ‘    and have been back in and out of that & sugar abstinence.  I gave up my religion and experienced a catastrophic faith shift ,  of which I am still picking up the pieces .        But now,    sitting in this global pandemic ,   of which fear and anxiety are rife ,   I am a food catastrophe.    I feel calm ,   contained and riding the storm of these times yet I am out of control in the one thing in my life that need reins.

I literally can feel the weight creeping round my bones,    softening my ribs and shoulders ,    cushioning my stomach ,  my thighs rub together,  yet still ,   I eat.

I know that the whole Overeaters anonymous thing works for me,    I know that yes I am rather insane around food ,    that I  seem powerless to halt the crashing tide,    But something prevents me from being able to commit with my whole heart to the program.     I think it reminds me too much of religion,     the same core rule books,  learning the same things over again and repeating them to others and in your mind ,     I listen to others and hear the buzz words of ‘  truth ‘   , ‘ in the food’    &. ‘ acceptance ‘  and I just feel irritated,     I think perhaps I am irritated with myself that I can’t just be allowed to do this on my own.     And yet ,    I still have the optimism to believe that I can .

I know one thing,    I don’t want to eat sugar.  It’ s really bad for you and it causes cancer. But If I eat sugar ,   then I just want to eat more,  so the only way is abstinence from sugar.       I did that for many months alone but something always breaks me , normally a holiday ,   a break from the norm ,   an ice cream on a hot day ,    a desire to bake.  The whole tantalising sensory experience of baking is something I have never been able to   step away from .

I feel defeated .  I struggle with food.   We all have our battles I guess.