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Showing posts with label disability. Show all posts
Showing posts with label disability. Show all posts

Wednesday, 8 June 2016

Symptoms of Fibromyalgia... (My experience)

It's been a while since I posted anything more than the odd quote/poem. It's been a tough few months here, on top of (as many of you already know) an incredibly tough Two-ish years. 

For weeks now I've been in one of my (just-coming-out-of-still-subject-to-change) withdrawal phases. 
I've struggled to connect, online or off, and on top of that, (frustratingly), for a variety of reasons, (not least symptoms of FIBRO-BLOOMING-MYALGIA), I've struggled to write, (other than in my journals). 

On that note, Dear reader, you may notice that the following post contains large chunks of  'oi-Kimmie-you-said-that-already', with some fresh-ramble thrown in... because you're worth it ;o)

Symptoms of Fibromyalgia. My experience.

THE FATIGUE
Actually, fatigue doesn't cover *This Tired*, I'm not sure there is any stand alone word that does! o_O 

Having suffered mental illness for years (including, depression, OCD, anxiety, and an Eating disorder) I'm no stranger to fatigue, but *This Tired*, Oh my! never-have-I-ever experienced *This Tired* before! 

No amount of sleep eases 'This Tired', it is extreme, overwhelming, relentless....it knocks me off of my feet, muddles my brain, limits my ability to 'do', and forces me to rest after even the shortest periods of 'doing'. 

'This Tired' has been getting progressively worse over the past few years, and has been a constant for the past year (or so) - and when I say constant, I mean constant, every second, of every minute, of every day... Every. Single. Day!

There was a time, not so long ago really, that I could have painted a room, tidied/cleaned house, garden, kids (and self) in a day... these days I'm lucky if I get through a shower without collapsing. 

I drag myself up in the mornings feeling like I've been hit by a dumper truck (even if I've slept all night) and spend the rest of the day (when I'm not napping) doing very little - and 'very little' is mind-blowingly exhausting! 

I'm so tired even my tired has tired. #Fibromyalgia. @stuckinscared
I've always had a high pain threshold (with the exception of headaches, which I HATE!), and though I detest the walking stick that I now need to get around outdoors, and often grumble-grouch-ouch, (swear-a-bit),  pain alone wouldn't usually stop me from getting things done. 

Fatigue is BY FAR my major complaint, because it (often) makes it IMPOSSIBLE to carry on, If I had to chose, and could only cure one or the other, pain or fatigue... I'd drop the fatigue in a heartbeat. 
There have been a few severe (excruciating) pain episodes that have prevented walking for a while, but I could still read, write, enjoy social media, take in a T.V program; if only I wasn't... So. Damn. Tired! 

Pain gets me down, there's no denying that, but it doesn't knock me out, it doesn't suck the life out of me, it doesn't prevent me from living. Fatigue does that. 

I could go on with the fatigue issue (I have more words!) but I'd rather you didn't hit the 'bugger-this-I'm-off-button' (assuming you haven't already) so I'll move on.

***

THE PAIN(s)... There's a list o_O

Pickaxe to the head: I'm not kidding, well actually, I am.... but MY GOD, if anyone should ever take a pickaxe to my head, I reckon I'd know what'd hit me!  
This can happen at anytime, sometimes more than once a day. It stops me in my tracks, and is (thank God it doesn't last long each time - seconds usually) excruciating!

Knife through the shoulder blade: Clearly, I'm dramatizing again, I've never (literally) been stabbed in the back, but there really is no other way to describe it. Knife pain lasts a lot longer than pickaxe pain, and transmits a heavy-achy feeling down my arm and into my hand, causing partial numbness in the process. 

Alternative shoulder pain: This one is bothersome (because it disturbs sleep) it's painful, intensely so at times (though more heavy/achy/bruised than stabbing) and occurs under pressure....by pressure I mean laying on it/leaning on it.

Chest Pain: I sometimes get a sharp, severe, stabbing pain in my chest just above my left breast, or, in the center of my chest. The pain often radiates through to my neck and/or shoulder, it hurts more when I breath in, and when point of pain is touched (on instinct) it's exacerbated. This one frightens the life out of me (exacerbated by OCD thoughts) - *is it my lungs? is it lung cancer? Am I having a heart attack?* ... You get the picture. 

Bone Pain (deep): (periodic) Specifically knees/hips - when I say deep I'm attempting to describe (in short) an excruciating pain that would be better described as 'cork screwing' or 'boring' the bone - It hurts... a lot! o_O 

Itchy-Twitchy-PAINFUL Nerves: Oh. My. God! How do I even begin to describe this one. 
Have you ever had a trapped nerve, dear reader? Well, The pain's a lot like that, except it affects multiple nerves, wide spread, at the same time.  It brings a whole new meaning to the phrase "It's getting on my last nerve"!
As for the itch... It's sort of on the outside, but really on the inside. It moves around, runs away when you try and scratch it. Have you ever scratched an itch in your armpit to discover (but not before scratching at least 10 other body parts first) that the itch is actually in your foot... Well, it's a lot like that o_O
Fibromyalgia...  It brings a whole new meaning to the phrase "It's getting on my last nerve"!

THE RANDOMS.

Facial/head numbness: This one's weird, and can hit at anytime (though not every day) - not only do I experience numbness in my face and/or head, but it's accompanied (or followed by) a strange internal trickling sensation, almost like cold running water, underneath the skin. It's extremely disconcerting.

Pick & choose hands; I told you my symptoms were random! What I mean by this is - my hands (more often than not the right hand) can be working perfectly well one minute, and be practically useless (powerless) the next. 
Generally there is very little pain involved, but it is incredibly frustrating when I attempt to pick something up and... 'hand says no'. 

Muddling words (forgetting words) OFTEN!: I've always been an outstanding read-out-louder (blows own trumpet) but really, I have; in fact at school (more often than not) I would be the 'chosen one' if any reading out loud was going on. 
Now however, I'm noticing more and more; whilst reading to my daughter, that I'm either muddling the beginning/end of words, stuttering, reading words the wrong way round, or (most worryingly) reading words that are not even on the page. 
It's almost as if my brain and mouth are in no way connected. To give a for instance - When (at time of writing) I read this paragraph aloud, I read the word 'words' as 'swords' o_O

Similarly, I'm Having trouble writing/typing words correctly - specifically, I'm writing letters in the wrong order, or missing words out of sentences altogether.  
Even tweets require an edit before posting these days - and Iv'e lost count of the mistakes I've had to correct while writing this post (FYI - I originally wrote dyas in the line above, as apposed to days, and then corrected) o_O

These issues, coupled with my referring to the kettle (to give just one for instance) as "Oh, (tut) you know, the black thingy that boils water" is enough to drive me (and the rest of the family) insane! 
Makes no sense - Literally! 

These days (some days) it's a miracle if I can remember my own name, let alone where I am in a task/activity/conversation. It's like, I know all of the pieces of the puzzle are there, but I'll be damned if I can find the next piece.
Fibro- Fog  It's like, I know all of the pieces of the puzzle are there, but I'll be damned if I can find the next piece... Quote... Fibromyalgia.
Dizzyness/feeling faint: Especially when fatigue is at it's worst. 
Recently this symptom has become quite debilitating, and has prompted me to visit the GP to confirm (by way of other investigations) that these frequent (almost daily) attacks are indeed nothing more than ANOTHER fibro issue.  

Lead Legs: Heavy, achy (sometimes numb-ish) legs; that have to be willed on when walking, and often make me feel nauseous when resting - it's not a nice feeling, nor is it one I can easily describe... except perhaps to say that; when it occurs, I can feel my legs, (including pain) but they're not quite with it, or with me... Does that make sense? - Well anyway, if there is such a thing as 'lead legs', I have them. 

Itchy/painful ears: Oh how I hate this one. During the day my ears are more itchy than ouchy, but at night the pain is frequently unbearable. 
For months now my ears have objected to being caught between my head and the pillow, and will often wake me up (screamingly) to let me know how pissed off they are. 
Once they've woken me, they refuse to allow me to lift my head without first sliding my hand between them and the pillow, and keeping said hand firmly over the offending a***hole ear hole until I've (carefully, because it really bloody hurts) lifted myself up into a sitting position. 

Drunk walking (minus the drinking): Probably explains itself this one.. but in short - I (often, not always) find I can't walk in a straight line. I've lost count of the amount of times I'm walking down the street beside hubs one minute and under his feet the next. The annoying thing is, I can feel myself suddenly veer off to the left, but there's bugger all I can do about it.  

Finally, and briefly, cause it's taken me days to knock this lot out, (despite the Oi-Kimmie-you-said-that-already chunks) and 'This Tired' is killing me! 
Palpitations - Twitches - numbness: Hands/feet/toes/hips/bum; anywhere's possible. Balance issuesDreams (more than usual). Sleep issues: can't sleep, or, can do nothing but sleep - no sleep is enough sleep - there is no relief from 'This Tired'!

#Sponie quote... I'm practically spoonless in every way. Fibromyalgia. ME. Chronic Illness.

Linking up for the Chronic-Friday-Linkup with Being Fibro Mum

***

Thank you for allowing me to share 

God bless you, and all those you love 

Kimmie x 

Please Note: The above symptoms list is based solely on my own experiences. This post should not be deemed as advice or counsel... or referred to for self-diagnose. Please seek proper medical advice if you (or someone close to you) are experiencing similar symptoms.

Tuesday, 26 January 2016

Just-a-Quote #3 (#mentalillness)

Symptoms of Mental Illness are (usually) very well hidden... (Innermost hidden from view) | Quote | Mental illness | Mental Health | via @stuckinscared

"Symptoms of Mental Illness are (usually) very well hidden. Behind award winning smiles... 'I'm fine.' - 'I'm okay.' " ~ Kimmie 

***

Thank you for allowing me to share 

God bless you and all those you love 

Kimmie x


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Friday, 22 January 2016

Streets Ahead (a #1000speak post)

1000 Voices Speak for Compassion. #1000speak
It would be impossible to write this post without sounding like I'm blowing my own trumpet, because the events of the two (short, I promise) compassion stories I'm about to share with you, were born of my own compassion. But, it's not MY horn I want to blow today... Ignore my horn! :o)

***
A while back, November-ish I think, Hubs and I were on our way to post some letters when we passed a homeless guy. He was sat on the pavement; head down, eyes closed, huddled. 
Within moments of passing the man I was kicking myself for not stopping, and knowing that we would be crossing his path again on our way back to the Co-op I asked Hubs if he had any spare change in his pocket. He dug out what he had. It wasn't much. 

The mans reaction when we stopped and handed over 'not-much' was smashing. His face lit up instantly. His expression a mix of surprise and... actually I'm not quite sure about the and; relief with a hint of joy I think. 
At this point he had already made my day!

We said goodbye to the man and crossed the road to the Co-op, stopping first at the cash point just outside the store. While I was waiting for Hubs to withdraw the money we would need for our shopping I noticed another (elderly, frail) homeless man sat just to the right of us, outside the bakers. 

I turned to hubs, and was just about to ask him if we could spare anything else, when I heard... "Come on mate, up ya get, I'll buy ya some breakfast." followed by a mumbled, (inaudible to me) reply. 

I turned toward the voices (as nosey people do ;) and then watched in awe, as he (the man we'd just left on the other side of the street with not-much to his name) gently helped the somewhat bemused elderly man to his somewhat shaky feet. 
Turns out not-much, as far as Mr Compassionate was concerned, was enough. More than enough for two!

I turned back to hubs, and under my breath, asked, 'Can we spare a bit more?'.

After adding a-little-bit-more to their not-much , we said goodbye to Mr Shaky and Mr Compassionate. They, one held up by the other and both smiling, shuffled off in the direction of the nearest cafe. We, also smiling, disappeared into the co-op to get the food we needed to cover our own meals that week. 

Someone once said (Mary Poppins, I think), "Enough is as good as a feast."... Well then, I hope my Mr Compassionate, was served 'enough' fit for a king!

***

1000 VOICES SPEAK FOR COMPASSION... It would be impossible to write this post without sounding like I'm blowing my own trumpet, because the events of the two (short, I promise) compassion stories I'm about to share with you, were born of my own compassion. But, it's not MY horn I want to blow today... Ignore my horn! :o)

Some weeks later; the week between Christmas and New Year. We (me, Hubs and Littlie) were on our way to The Book Shop in Town (to spend Littlie's book-vouchers), when we saw another homeless man, sat on a concrete step between two shops. Eyes to pavement. In a world of his own.

He looked up, startled, when hubs approached him, and was just about to accept the coins offered when he suddenly pushed Hubby's hand away, exclaiming, "No, I can't!" 

At first I thought we'd offended him, hurt his pride, but then he gestured toward Littlie (in her wheelchair) and said, "Disabled, I can't take from disabled, it's not right." 

His reaction took my breath away. He was so sincere. Clearly, more concerned for us than for himself. Choked up even. 

We're not well off by any means, Dear reader, but we had, just days earlier, enjoyed Christmas dinner (and pudding), by fairy-light-glow.  Opened gifts. Eaten sweets. Watched Christmas TV... Together.
We have a roof over our heads; food in the cupboards. Hot water, home comforts, warm beds... Each other. 
We're a long way from concrete!

Anyway, I, made brave by HIS compassion; took the coins from hubs, approached the man myself, and said,  "please take it. It's not much, and I promise you... we have enough." 

The man (I wish I'd asked his name) took the coins from my hand and said 'Thank you'. 

As we turned to walk away he called out, 'Wait'. Then he stood up and shuffled towards us, saying, (addressing Littlie, but looking between us and her for approval), "Let me give you something; can I give you a kiss, Child." then gently, (as gentlemen do) he leaned forward and  kissed Littlie on the cheek. 

The Mum-in-me (without meaning to) had mentally clocked his grubby beard, queried germs, made a mental note to dig out the wet wipes when we were out of sight. 
The ever-present-fear-in-me was on edge, not quite sure, fingers-crossed. Because, well, that's me. 
But I didn't stop him. Nor (amazingly, for a germ obsessive such as me) did I wipe away his gift; his compassion (his 'enough'), when we were out of sight. 

They didn't amount to much; the coins we gave him... they never do. 
But there was love (and compassion) in the giving, and an unspoken; 'I-hope-it's-enough'. 

Much like his gift to us! 

***

Thank you for allowing me to share

I wish you enough. 

Kimmie x 

1000 Speak for Compassion.

***

There are so many #1000speak contributions, from bloggers all over the World.... I encourage you to check them out if you get a chance, I'm sure you'll find some that resonate with you. 

You can do that by following @1000speak on Twitter or by checking out the '1000 Voices for Compassion' Face book page Here

#1000SPEAK FOR COMPASSION 
Speaking for GOOD on the 20th of every month

***

Related Post: Somebody's Son 

 

Tuesday, 10 November 2015

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!

***

Writing about my life with mental illness really helps me, it’s cathartic to write my thoughts down.

I made the decision to share my muddled mind through this blog because I felt that sharing my experiences might help other sufferers (and me) feel less isolated.
I hope that by my telling it how it is someone somewhere will find some relief in reading. 

Having said that I do worry (a lot!) that being too honest about some of my mental health symptoms may do more harm than good and it’s for that reason I’m going to suggest that if you're feeling particularly vulnerable at the moment you don’t read any further into this post... 

A FINE LINE

still afraid... and the line is still fine. mental health. mental illness.

In recent years I’ve had various conversations with friends (some via social media, some face to face) who report an increase in self-harm, and/or suicidal-thoughts... and I've lost count of how many articles of same/similar I've read on line. 
One lady (heartbreakingly) confided that she is mentally making plans to re-home her pets because she feels suicidal and is concerned that she might act on these feelings, leaving her pets uncared for.  

Many of the people I've spoken to have complex mental health issues (some have physical disabilities too),  and they have told me that their increase (or onset) of self-harming behaviours/thoughts, and/or suicidal thoughts are directly related to fear of Government, DWP, and current or anticipated WCA (Work capability assessment).

Of course, I know from personal experience that paranoid fear, irrational thoughts and an inability to cope with change often go hand in hand with mental illness, however, given the relentless cuts to disability welfare and services, the Government/media propaganda, and the treatment that so many have endured at DWP assessments interrogations, it’s hardly surprising that so many sick/disabled people feel incredibly anxious at the moment.

People are desperately afraid, overwhelmed with fear. Many are deeply affected by right wing ‘scrounger’ propaganda and incredibly worried about their future. 
They’re terrified by even the idea of having to expose themselves (face to face) at a ten minute (tick box) assessment (to a complete stranger) who is unlikely to be qualified to assess mental illness and even less likely to empathise. They are also despairingly aware that even if they are lucky enough to qualify for benefit it won't be long before the process begins again!  

Many are self-harming, some feel suicide may be a better option than continuing to battle both debilitating illness and the ‘powers that be’.
Some are far sicker now under a system that (in many cases) claims they are fit for work than they were under the previous system which recognised that they were NOT and supported them accordingly.

Am I afraid? (May 2013) Yes I’m afraid, very afraid! 
(Nov 2015)... Still afraid...and the line's still fine.

Has my own tendency to self-harm increased as a direct result of the coalition’s attitude towards disabled people?
Yes!  Though I’m ashamed to admit it, it has.

Do I want to continue living with this daily, nightly, debilitating fear?
NO! Oh God no!  
I can’t see an end to it, the future is scary, and my own symptoms of mental (and physical) illness have been greatly exacerbated.


Do I ever wonder if my husband, family, (The State) would do better without the-burden-of-me? 

Sometimes.

Do I feel suicidal? - Do I wish I were dead?
Those of you who know me either through contact or through my writing will already know the answer to this question! You’ll know that I am and always have been terrified of death. You will have read here >> Scared to shut my eyes! about my overwhelming fear of death as a child, you’ll know how terrifying my intrusive thoughts are and how often they relate to death.

NO - I don’t feel suicidal, I have NEVER felt suicidal no matter how much life, other people (or my own mind) has thrown at me.  No, I don't wish I were dead.

I  don’t wish I were dead now, and I didn’t in 1986 when life, other people (and my own chaotic mind) caused me to suffer a complete mental breakdown and I attempted to take my own life...

I don’t remember how I got to my bedroom that evening with a full bottle of ‘paracetamol’ and a pint glass of water. I don’t remember planning or contemplating suicide or for one single moment wishing I was dead.
I don’t remember thinking about my 8 month old baby or wondering how he would cope without me.
I don’t remember feeling suicidal, I don’t remember wanting to die.

I DO vaguely remember taking the pills.
There was no lining up of tablets like you see on TV, no thoughts, no fear, no emotion, no tears... there was *nothingness*.
I tipped the pills from bottle to mouth (how I swallowed so many at once is beyond me) and washed each mouthful down with water until there were no more pills to take.

There are some blurry (vague) memories after that, my first husband slapping me very hard (this confused me) – baby crying - arriving at hospital in an ambulance – a black tarry substance  - gagging on a tube - a drip – a white ceiling through a strange tunnel vision, then blank again.  Days of nothing, no thoughts, no emotion... *nothingness*!

I have never ‘contemplated’ suicide, BUT in ‘1986’ (20  years old, without so much as a passing thought for the first of my five children) I very nearly succeeded in taking my own life!

***

I had a point when I started writing today and I’m not sure if I’ve succeeded in making it, so briefly... 
For many mentally ill (and indeed, physically ill) people there is a very fine line between incredible strength, and *can’t take anymore*.  
I am deeply concerned that the UK Governments relentless cuts and cruel propaganda are pushing so many vulnerable people worryingly close to... *can’t take anymore*. 

***
POSITIVE THOUGHT
I'm now almost 30 years on, I'm still here, I cannot stress enough how thankful I am for that!
How thankful I'll feel this evening when my fifth child (my baby) rolls in from school and throws her smiley-gorgeous-self into my arms.
How thankful I am to be here when my older-no-longer-at-home-kids turn up needing Mum.
How Thankful-thrilled-bubbly-excited I will be in 7ish months time when I hold my first Grandbaby.

Life is tough at the moment, it has been to varying degrees for as long as I can remember but I feel incredibly blessed to be here.
"With every heartbeat there is Hope." via @stuckinscared | Mental health | Mental illness | Disability
If you're feeling vulnerable/at risk at the moment, dear reader, please, talk to someone...confide in someone you trust... a family member, friend (IRL or on line), a medical professional, support worker or carer.
***

Thank you, as always, for allowing me to share

God bless you and all those you love

Kimmie x

Before you go, can I ask that you consider signing the *NEW* #WOWpetition... in support of the UK's chronically sick & disabled people.

You'll find more details about the WOW-campaign HERE

The petition (should you wish to sign it) is HERE

You can follow/support the WOW-campaign on twitter HERE





***
#MidLifeLuv Linky

Thursday, 8 October 2015

A few of my poems (for National Poetry Day)

ON MENTAL ILLNESS...


Feigning Control. mental health. mental illness. poetry. Micro poetry.

Cloaked in Sunny. poetry. Mental health. Mental Illness.


ON SPECIAL NEEDS... 
This Child. Special Needs. Poem

MATTERS OF THE HEART...
Forget me not. Poem. Poetry. Micro Poetry. National Poetry Day.

Whispers of Longing. Poetry. Micro Poetry.

Say it slow. Poetry. Micro Poetry.

Poem. Micro Poetry. 'Stitches'

GRIEF... 
How can you be Gone, Dad

The future is Dadless, I'm not ready for that. ... Grief.

CHILDHOOD MEMORIES... 
From the inside. A few of my poems (for National Poetry Day.)

Echoes in the dark. A few of my poems for National poetry Day.

Thank you for allowing me to share 

God bless you, and all those you love 

Kimmie x
Creative Writing. Poetry. A few of my poems (for National Poetry Day)



Friday, 25 September 2015

If I Could...

Iv'e been tagged by the lovely Laura, who blogs at My Life as a Mummy to take part in the 'If I Could' tag. Thanks Laura.

The idea is to answer the preset questions, daydreams allowed, and then tag other bloggers to take part (If they want to).

So here goes...
Imagine a Town where no one goes hungry...
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.

A little house on the Prairie...where all the skies are blue (In my dreams they're always blue). Where all the people (with the exception of Mrs & Nelly Olsen) are kind and compassionate, peace loving, neighbourly.

Imagine washing in the creak, watching Pa (preferably topless, Pa should always be topless!) working the fields. walking through fields to get the kids to school. Kids that skip, and tag, and ring-a-rose.
Imagine a town where no one goes hungry, because as poor as they are they can always, always, stretch the stew to one more!

I do :)

If I could have any home ...This is a tough one because I love the house I'm in now, it's been home for a long time, I've always felt safe here, it's familiar, it's beautiful... it's home!
The trouble is, it's not my house, and as our Landlord has spent the past year attempting to sell it from under us (though currently it's off the market temporarily until neighbouring building work is completed) it's no longer safe! .

On that note, if I could have any home other than my current one (or 'The Little House on the Prairie')... it would be secure, safe, preferably owned.
It would have disability adaptions, (including wheelchair access) for Littlie... and a private, south facing garden, with a pretty little shabby-chic Lady-shed, to write in.
Actually, while I'm still day dreaming... I wouldn't mind one of those DIY-SOS jobbies...not least because then I'd get to meet Little-Leci-Billy- ;o)

If I could have any garden... That's easy...the garden I have now. I'd love to pick it all up, worms and all, and take it with me. As it is, since every plant in the garden attached to the-house-that's-not-mine was payed for and planted by me, I will be digging up anything remotely dig-up-able, and taking it with me.

If I could have any garden... That's easy...the garden I have now.

If I could be on holiday right now... The reality is, fear prevents me from flying, it also prevents me from travelling (other than locally) in a car, and even if I could travel my budget wouldn't stretch to a holiday.

The dream is, Spain... I went to Spain (Marbella), for a week when I was eighteen, and would love to revisit.
Actually, I say a week... I fell in love with a gorgeous Spaniard and stayed put. Three months later I (and my broken heart) came home... Turned out Gorgeous-Spaniard wasn't mine to love, he had a wife and child in Lanzarote!

Despite the heartache (not to mention the shame), I still have such beautiful, and incredibly vivid memories of the places I visited, and the things I experienced whilst there.
Oh, how I'd love to walk those streets again - paddle those seas again - visit those cafes again - dunk those doughnuts again... "Un chocolate con churros por favor" :)

If I could have any job... Illness prevents me from working these days, but if I could work I'd go back to what I used to do before (and after, once they were old enough) I had children... caring for the elderly.
When I was a teenager my best friends Mum owned, lived in, and ran a home for the elderly, my friend and I worked Weekends as teenagers and went on to work there full time after leaving school, and then periodically after we both married and had children.
I loved every single minute of it... I'll never forget my ladies!

If I could have any talent... I don't need to think about this one, I'm reminded of my lack of talent in this area every day. I would LOVE to be able to sing.
I often sing along to music (I use the term loosely!) if I'm at home, but always mime anywhere else, even in Church; because there are no words to describe the unholy noise that comes out of my mouth when I sing out loud!

I've always been aware of my (tone-death-doesn't-cover-it) singing voice... I remember being as young as seven-ish and miming during assembly so that the other kids couldn't hear me, silently mouthing each word dramatically so as to appear believable if a teacher looked my way.
Turned out one teacher was looking my way; he picked me for the school choir... because, he said... I opened my mouth so beautifully when I sang. o_O
For the rest of that school year (wishing I was invisible, and still miming) I was sat at the front of the hall during assembly...with the rest of the choir!

If I could live one day again... - it would be the last day I saw my Dad.
My Dad lived a long way from me, and, as mentioned above, mental illness/fear prevents me from travelling. In February of this year (3 months before he died) my Dad, my always-there-and-if-he-wasn't-there-he-was-getting-there, Dad, came to me. Riddled with Cancer, barely able to stand, and in unimaginable pain, he came to me... he came to say goodbye.

We hugged lots, loved lots, talked as much as he could manage... goodbyes were left unspoken, neither of us able to say the words.

When he left, knowing how hard the moment was for him, I hugged him brave...like a grown up. The child inside was bawling, I didn't let her out.
He released my hold on him, kissed my head, and said "keep smiling babe", then he turned and walked down the garden path.

When he reached the gate he turned and looked straight at me, he held my gaze for only a moment before turning away again... in that moment I read my life time in his eyes... and I read his breaking heart, his I love you... his goodbye".

I didn't want to be brave anymore. I wanted to run down the path with the child's tears pouring down my face, throw myself into his arms, beg him to stay.

I stayed dry-eye-brave in the doorway until he'd disappeared through the gate. Then went into the toilet, stamped my feet like a child, and cried.

If I could live that day again... I'd run down the path!


If I could have any super power... Ooh, now then... can I have two?
Time travel would get me to 'the Walnut Grove' of the Ingalls's, but I've always quite fancied being Mary Poppins. If I were Mary Poppins... I could click my fingers and put the whole world to rights.

David Cameron...click...gone. George Osborne...click...gone. Iain Dunken Smith...
click, click, Dunky!
World peace...click...done. New home...click. Housework...click... *clicks fingers hopefully*.

I'm think I'm gonna go with Mary-Poppins-Power...
If I can jump into pictures, travel by brolly, and have tea on a ceiling, I reckon time travel will be a breeze...
Walnut Grove here I come... Just as soon as I've outed the Tories ;o)
If I Could...
Thank you for allowing me to share

God bless you and all those you love

Kimmie x

I tag the following people

Dear tagged... Please feel free to ignore the prompt if you are busy, or if  blog tags are not something you usually take part in.

Dear reader... Please do visit the bloggers in the above list if you have time. They are all fabulous bloggers...well worth reading :o) 

 

Sunday, 23 August 2015

Poem... That Cam-I-Am

I do not like him here nor there... I do not like him anywhere... Poem Austerity. via @stuckinscared

That ‘Cam-I-am’ 
That ‘Cam-I-am’ 
I do not like that ‘Cam-I-am’

I do not like him here or there  
I do not like him anywhere
I do not like him on my telly
smoke-screen grin... state funded belly
I do not like him in my head
invading dreams when I'm in bed
I do not like his policies
his attitude to those in need
I do not like his spare room charge
homes (he says), are far too large
while he and his, and them and theirs
homes (state funded), rooms to spare
looking down on me and mine
and you and yours, and yours and theirs!

You homeless poor man....? 
'Cam' don’t care!

That ‘Cam-I-am' 
That ‘Cam-I-am’ 
I do not like that ‘Cam-I-am

Not in my head, not here or there
I do not like him anywhere
I do not like his common(s) trough
piggy chums, (state funded) scoff
I do not like his welfare war
feed the rich, starve the poor
His food-bank-Britain... Eton mess
Cameron - Osborne - IDS
“Scrounger, skiver,  feckless slob”
“sick, disabled? - GET A JOB!” 
PIP PIP (pardon the pun), state funded wine
looking down on me and mine
and you and yours, and yours and theirs

You hungry poor man...?
'Cam' don’t care!

That ‘Cam-I-am’ 
That ‘Cam-I-am’ 
I do not like that 'Cam-I-am'. 

Copyright©2015kimmie All Rights Reserved

Poem. That Cam-I-Am. Austerity. Oppression. Poverty. Disability.

Thank you for allowing me to share 

God bless you, and all those you love 

Kimmie x 

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