My God, I needed to write today. Yesterday. All of last week. If ever there was a ramble (or 10) waiting to come out, it's now.
I've spent hours in front of the laptop attempting to unravel my muddled mind, but absolutely bugger all has made it as far as the keyboard.
How does that work exactly... with a head so full of blogger-fodder. A head so full of feels.
In a nutshell; because nutshells are easy... I feel like I've been picked up and thrown back to May 2015. I'm depressed-scared-overwhelmed. Exhausted. Withdrawn. Hurting.
I thought I had it under control;
The-Grief. Turns out I don't.
I cannot. I CANNOT accept!
I've pondered taking a complete blog/social media break, but I don't really want to do that. Cutting myself off completely isn't the answer; as I've discovered this week. Too little can be as harmful as too much.
I think what I need to do for a while is write freely. Write without worrying about edits, readability... blog-worthiness
So. Over the next few weeks I'm gonna continue with my Wordless Wednesday and Just-a-Quote posts; because they're (almost) effortless to put together.
Today I'm going to (in a minute) throw one of those My-10-most-popular thingies at you... assuming they're as easy as I imagine they are to throw together; I've not done one before.
Next week (all being well) I'll be sharing some of my favorite other-bloggers with you, and I'm hoping to write something for the
1000-Speak movement on the 20th.
In the meantime I'm going to be throwing thoughts to paper; any which way they come... writing-doodling-painting. Make a start on my Dear-Dad journal. Read; other-bloggers, and my long list of kindle saves. Have a go at putting some of those blogger how-to's that I've been pinning for months into practice. And rest!
I'll still be around to read/respond to your comments here on the blog (though perhaps not same-day, so bear with me).
I'll catch up with you, dear Twitter-Facebook-friends, on the not-so-down days, and join you, dear fellow-bloggers, for the blog-share parties as and when I can.
As for you, dear readers-just-readers... Thank you (assuming you're still here) for reading.
And Thank you, dear All-Of-The-Above, for supporting-encouraging-comforting me this past (awful) year. x
Okay. *Takes a breath*. Lets have a go at this 10-most-popular-thing. Actually, lets not. Let's do 8; multiples of 4. Because... the 4-thing.
Once upon a time, (1970 to be exact), in a children's home in England, run by an order of nuns called The Poor Sisters of Nazareth... there lived a very 'special' little girl. She was a tiny little dot who had short cropped hair, and the bluest-of-blue eyes. Her beauty, often overlooked, was breathtaking.
At five years old, such as she was; she was unable to feed herself, she couldn't walk, she couldn't talk, her understanding of the world around her was extremely limited, and her behaviour would have tried the patience of a saint (or nun, as the case may be).
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#2
Somebody's Son
Snow falls, blanketing the town
Somebody's Son is cold
His hands are froze to biting
his body (though not) feels old
Sat upon a cardboard sheet
Somebody's son alone
Huddled against a letter box
gloves wet from shifting snow...
#3
Lets Hear it for The Hashtags
I really enjoy these blog share memes. I've met some great people, read too many good-reads to mention, and received lots of encouragement with regard to my own writing. What's not to like :o)
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#4
Still Afraid... and the Line's Still Fine.
I originally wrote the following piece in 2013... I'm sharing it again today, edited only marginally, because almost 3 years on there is STILL no change for the better... Government are STILL ignoring campaigners... Disabled people (those who have survived the sustained attacks) are STILL afraid! Read More
#5
It's your Birthday and I'll cry if I want to.
Dad,
What do I do today? How do I do today? Should I be doing something? - What do I say? I don't know what to say, Dad... should I be saying something?
What do people say to dead Dads on their Birthday?
Happy Birthday Dad. Are you happy? Are you here? Can you hear me? Can I see you? can you do that?... I want you to do that.
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#6
If I Could
If I could live anywhere... Oh I'm so glad day dreams are allowed... If I could live anywhere, (anywhere, any time, any dream) I would choose 'Walnut Grove'... Except I'd have Pa build me a proper oven, cause I'm buggered if I could bake like Ma bakes in a tiny little hole to the side of the fire place. Oh, and I'd be needing an inside loo... how Ma manages to poo in that tiny little outhouse; in THAT skirt, is beyond me.
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#7 Is This Tired... Fibromyalgia?
A few months ago, I had a severe pain/mobility episode, during which my back/hips went out of alignment and I was left virtually unable to walk for a period of around three weeks, it's not the first time this has happened, and as (over the past 18 months or so) I have experienced ongoing (though less severe) pain in other areas, and a variety of other (random) symptoms, my GP made a referral for me to see a rheumatologist.
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#8
I Am.
When other mental health sufferers say they are ashamed (many of them are, for one reason or another) I'm usually the first to respond with - "You have nothing to be ashamed of, you can't help being ill" - and I mean it!
However, I'm afraid it's a case of 'Take my advice, I'm not using it', because there really is no other word than 'ashamed' that describes how I feel, overwhelmingly so, and have felt for a very long time.
My 'shame' might not be rational, but it is 'my' truth, and that's what this space is for.
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NB: #8 was actually written toward the end of 2014. I've included it in 2015's most popular list because it is (according to stats) the most viewed post of 2015.
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Thank you, as always, for allowing me to share.
God bless you, and all those you love
Kimmie x
