Extremely, unashamedly, wonderfully GAY!

As I type I can see 'Danny' so clearly (partly because my memory is full of his gorgeous little face right now, and partly because a picture of him as a boy is hanging on the wall in front of me.)
 
He is three years old in the picture I speak of, his head is tilted on one side, he has chubby cheeks - baby bum skin - bright hazel green eyes, and a smile that lights up the room. A happy, cheeky, smiley toddler who knows even at this young age that he is loved, cherished and accepted by all who know him.

Now to another picture, one that exists only in my mind but is as clear to me as the one hanging on the wall in front of me today. 'Danny' is five years old and is hopping around excitedly in the living room dressed in his new school uniform while mum (that's me) does her best to do something with the unruly mop of curls on the top his head.

His cheeks are still chubby - his eyes are still smiley, he is a happy confident little boy eagerly anticipating his first day at school.

Here I will fast forward through infant school, where 'Danny' spent two happy years eager to get to school in the mornings and popular amongst his young peers, and on into the later years of junior school where I begin to notice a change in him.

He is no longer eager to go to school each day - is no longer asked to friends houses for tea (nor does he ask if they can come to ours) - he sobs uncontrollably on the morning of sports day begging me to let him stay home (he stays home!) and his smile no longer reaches his hazel green eyes.

Worried, I approach the school who convinced I am an over protective mother patronize me for half an hour before politely showing me the door.
I am still concerned by the change in him that only I seem to notice, and do my best to encourage him to open up, but to all intense and purpose he is fine. The school report no evidence of bullying, 'Danny' won't (or can't) tell me whats wrong, and his grades remain promising.

Fast forward again.. 'Danny' is now somewhere between the age of twelve and thirteen and in secondary school, the lad he is now bears almost no resemblance to the three year old I described at the beginning of this post.
He is introvert, sulky, in trouble at school (nothing major but enough to prompt the school to tell me on a regular basis what a pain in the arse my child is!)  and his grades are dropping.

Now what I do know at this point in his life is that he is Gay -  he hasn't told me this, and for all I know hasn't yet realised himself - but I know, I am sure of it, don't ask me how I know, I just do.

What I am not aware of, and won't be for another few months is that he is being bullied!
The school tell me there's not a problem, 'Danny' tells me there is not a problem - until one summers day toward the end of August just after his thirteenth birthday.

I am enjoying a well earned cup of tea in the back garden, nursing the mother of all headaches, and the phone rings - It's 'Danny', and he is in a terrible state, I can barely make out what he's saying, he's sobbing and whispering my name over and over, which at this point is all he can manage.

I tell him to come home, right now! - Do not ask permission, do not explain to the teacher why you are leaving the school, do not pass go!  Stay on the phone and come home - which is what he does.

When he arrives home he falls sobbing into my arms but can't tell me whats wrong. We hug for a while until he has calmed down a bit, and then I suggest he go up stairs and lay down for a while. This gives me time to think about what I need to say to him, throw some more pain killers down my throat, and work my way through half a packet of cigarettes.

I'm nervous as I climb the stairs - what if I'm wrong, if I throw this thing out there and I'm barking up the wrong tree will he ever forgive me.

I find him curled up in a vulnerable ball when I enter his room, 'Christina Aguilera' fills the room, and behind the music 'Danny's racking sobs. I cross the room, and then sitting on the edge of the bed put one hand on his shoulder to announce my presence while reaching with the other hand to turn 'Christina' down to a more acceptable level!

"What is it son" I ask, and he, still sobbing, still with his back to me, "I cant tell you mum", I turn him around so that (despite the fact that he can't bring himself to look at me) we are at least face to face.

I say, "Danny, there is nothing in this world that you could ever say to me that would stop me loving you", he doesn't answer but he does look up at me, I cannot begin to describe the pain in his eye's, but his expression is one of pleading.

Okay, here I go, sink or swim! "Danny' are you gay?" - no answer, but no horror or anger in his expression either, he looks down, and then after what seems like forever - quietly, whispering "I'm Gay mum" .... my answer, "I know".

Turns out the school bullies had that day put posters of my gorgeous boy up all around the school corridors with a phone number underneath his profile, and the words.. 'I LIKE BOYS, CALL ME'

My son is twenty seven years old now, he still turns his head to the side when he smiles, his skin is still 'baby bum like' and his smile always reaches his hazel green eyes.
Oh! he is also extremely, unashamedly, wonderfully GAY! - I couldn't love him more if I tried.

PRAYER
LORD, I thank you for my children, the disabled one, the scatty one, the bubbly one, the hyperactive one and the GAY one. They are all exactly as you made them and all perfect in your eye's. AND MINE! Amen

POSITIVE THOUGHT
That's easy MY KIDS!

Thank you for allowing me to share

GOD bless you and all those you love

Kimmie x                                        

Copyright©2012kimmie All Rights Reserved



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GODS AMAZING ME

Do you see in me what GOD sees? Do you hear what he hears?
He sees so much more than mental illness, paranoia, fear.

Can you empathize as GOD does with the shadows from my past

If you looked at me with his eyes would you see behind the mask.

I know it hurts your feelings when I pull from your embrace,

I'm trapped, but always open to the sadness on your face.

GOD alone knows the real me, locked deep inside this skin

can you understand as he does why I cannot let you in?

Imagine the blackest darkness, close your eyes, focus; are you there?

There are demons in the shadows, so tread carefully, beware!

I hide here in the darkness too afraid to venture out,

Tears frozen on my eyelids, oppressed, can’t scream or shout.

But, I’m blessed within my shadows by dreams of all that I could be

In hope I pray, through ‘AMAZING GRACE’, I will one day be free.

Now imagine you're looking through GODS eyes, can you see that little light?

It’s tiny in the darkness, do you see it? It burns so very bright.   

There’s beauty in that little light, such love, kindness, creativity.  

That little glowing pocket in the darkness that you see?

That little glowing pocket, is Gods 'AMAZING ME'.

                                                                         ©2012kimmie All Rights Reserved  

PRAYER
Lord, Thank you for loving me, the way I am. Amen

POSITIVE THOUGHT

Thank you for allowing me to share - It helps.

Kimmie x                                        

Don't stand too close to me!

Picking up from yesterdays blog, here if you missed it > http://mentalillnessgodandme.blogspot.com/2012/10/before-even-opening-my-eyes-part-one.html?spref=tw …

After saying goodbye to my nephew ‘Thebodyguard’ and I continued on towards the high street which is just a five minute walk from our house - he with his head hung low looking as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, and me, agitated, weak and doing my best to keep up with him.

Despite our destination being only a short distance from home I was feeling incredibly weak by the time we reached the town so in order to avoid having to scrap me up from the pavement ‘Thebodyguard’ steered us through the crowds to a little coffee shop set just away from the hustle and bustle of the busy high street.

After consuming a very large milky coffee and smoking half a dozen cigarettes I felt I was (physically if not mentally) ready to have another go at getting the shopping done.

Our first port of call was boots to pick up some 'complan'. It wasn’t too bad in boots, the isles are fairly wide and the store was reasonably empty.

Hanging on to ’Thebodyguard’ for fear of passing out we had just joined the queue at the checkout when a text message came through on my mobile, the message read  ‘I’m on my way to yours, see you in five’.

The message was from my friend ‘Tammy’ and she was on her way to mine - she was on her way to mine because two days earlier I had invited her, invited her and then forgot her.... Charming!

What happened next can only be described as severe anxiety, without warning my heart began pounding in my chest so hard that I was sure it must be visible to the queue of shoppers who by now couldn’t avoid staring at the mad woman rambling obscenities at the far end of the line.

The fact that we had no credit on the phone and would have to wait our turn behind the tutting ‘absolutely perfect people’ who had beat us to the checkout only served to increase my anxiety. By now I was finding it difficult to breath, doing my best not to cry and feeling extremely faint.
The staff at the check out seemed to be moving in slow motion and I couldn’t do a damned thing about it!

I had visions of ’Tammy’ getting closer and closer to my house and though I know all of this sounds completely irrational, every second that prevented me from contacting her to let her know I was sorry was unbearable! I hate letting people down.

Anyway, we made it to the check out - paid for our goods and telephone credit, and then with one of us walking and the other stumbling we made our way outside, I fumbled around for a cigarette and ‘Thebodyguard’ set about topping up the mobile.

I phoned ‘Tammy’ rambled my apologies and she accepted them with the same cheerful, 'oh well, never mind’ positive attitude to life and everyone in it that she always does.

Another coffee follows this little escapade (and a few more cigarettes)  then up and on again, we head towards ‘M & S’ where we will purchase some of ‘Littlies’ special dietary requirements.

I needed the loo, so before facing the whole bloody world (honestly you couldn’t move in there let alone shop!) we headed up to the exclusive ‘M&S toilets, which we like because they are always clean and don’t like because there is always a mile long queue for the ladies (probably because they are always clean)

I wait my turn behind four elderly ladies who, I should add, all looked in decidedly better shape me.  I sit, I wee, I fumble in the stupid inaccessible loo roll holder, there is no loo roll!

Great! Now what do I do? OCD requires me to have exactly four squares of toilet roll and cleanliness is vitally important to me, should I call to the lady in the next cubicle? No I cant do that, its bad enough a stranger heard me relieving myself, I cant do that! Should I take my knickers off, use those and discard them in the sanitary bin and never ever tell another living sole?

Well friends, those and a few more rejected options all passed through my mind as my agitation at (a) not being able to wipe and (b) not being able to carry out my usual toilet roll rituals increased.

I decided I had no choice but to sit there a while and ‘drip dry.
Mortified by the thought of the inevitable queue of people waiting (perhaps urgently) to take their place on my throne, and by the thought that ‘Thebodyguard’ would be by now wondering what the bloody hell I was doing, I cried, silently and despairingly I cried.

Eventually, when both ends had stopped dripping I rejoined my hubby and blamed my late return on the queue.

Shopping in M & S was a nightmare and just about finished both me and ‘Thebodyguard’ off!
People pushing into me, around me, seeming to come at me on purpose, unaware that by walking between me and my husband they leave me stranded, panicked, that despite the fact that he is still only one person away from me in the crowd he may as well be a million miles away, and I am afraid.

I’m afraid of ‘Mr black hat man’, he looks shifty to me, I’m afraid of ‘hoody boy’ who I’m sure is staring right at me, I’m afraid of ‘booted and suited man’ who is drawing something out of his bag suspiciously, he is after his wallet of course, but in the time it takes him to draw his wallet my thoughts have already seen the gun, the blood pouring from my head, ‘Thebodyguard’ standing over me, unable to help me now because it's already too late, the tears on his cheeks, and a little girl who cries for her mummy.

I am afraid of you and you and you and you, so please don’t stand too close to me, don’t push between me and my husband in order to get there first, don’t look at me too long, and don’t judge me!

PRAYER
LORD, Thank you for bringing me to the end of a very difficult day in one piece and helping me to share my experiences. I pray that in doing so someone somewhere feels less isolated, Amen

POSITIVE THOUGHT
As hard as it was today, I got through it.

Thank you for allowing me to share. It helps me more than you could possibly know.

GOD bless you and all those you love

Kimmie x                                                     Copyright©2012kimmie All Rights Reserved

'Before even opening my eyes'

Before even opening my eyes this morning I found myself filled with overwhelming feelings of fear and anxiety, followed almost immediately by intense self directed anger.

My first thought of the day is that I have to go food shopping, this isn’t something I can put off until tomorrow, having already put it off yesterday to spend the entire day in bed trying unsuccessfully to catch up on some sleep.  

As I opened my eyes and shifted my halfhearted self around into a semi upright, almost out of bed position, I was painfully aware of the effects that lack of food and very little sleep have had on my body.

A band of intense pain around my chest and upper back prompted me to flop back onto my pillow, from this position I could clearly see the little chest of draws on the far side of the room, I found my mind drawn to the second draw down; the ’bits and bobs draw’, which contains random things that need a place to live; items I need and use but don’t want on show.

Make up - sanitary towels - brushes…. and right at the back of the draw hidden under a pair of  slipper socks, a pair of sharp medium sized scissors.

Still filled with anger - self hatred, and utter despair I imagined myself crossing the room, opening the draw and taking out the scissors, still imagining, I saw myself kneel on the floor, draw back my sleeve and….

Desperate for the relief that I knew I would find in the drawer across the room, but mindful of the fact that there was a little girl downstairs who needed my attention, I was grateful to be pulled abruptly from my thoughts by the sound of ’Thebodyguard’ calling up the stairs to see why I wasn’t up yet.

 Dragging my muddled mind and the smile I paint on for my children down the stairs I set about getting ‘Littlie’ ready for school.

After she had left for school I figured that I could allow myself half an hour with my Twitter pals and still make it into town before the crowds built up too much, so after grabbing coffee and cigarettes and taking note of the time ‘8.00am’ I plonked myself in front of my laptop.

To cut a lot of scrolling, a few tweets and a bit of blogging short, by the time I actually got up to go into the shower it was almost eleven o’clock!

Aware that my putting off the inevitable now meant that the high street would  be rammed with people by the time ’Thebodyguard’ and I got there only served to increase my anxiety, and had me (five minutes later) sitting on the shower room floor (to avoid  passing out!) with lukewarm water battering my head (the thermostats buggered!) and tears pouring from eye.

It was almost lunch time before we made it out of the door. Heading in the direction of the town, we had not got further than half way up our road when I noticed my nephew coming towards us from the opposite direction.

Despite the fact that I haven’t seen said nephew for over a year we have always been very close - he had a few problems at home as a lad, and to cut a long story short I took him in at age twelve and he remained in my care for around six months.

I remember as a lad how he would introduce me to his friends as ’my beautiful auntie’, how close we were - how much I loved him and how obvious to others was his feeling for me.

Today, my nephew looked me straight in the eye and walked past me - he didn’t recognize me.

Fear of the Government and the media, fear of judgement - by those in society who label benefit claimants as scroungers, have led me to develop an Eating disorder (self starvation) and as a result of this my own nephew didn’t recognize me this morning.

I called his name and as he turned around, it was clear that he was still was not immediately sure who I was, then as he recognized ‘thebodyguard’ by my side his expression changed from one of vagueness to shock.

Never one to beat around the bush his words to me after an initial hug were “Bloody hell”, “what the F*** happened to you!”

I evaded the question, there followed some (uncomfortable on my part) small talk, and then we and he parted company with the promise of a catch up soon.

I was suddenly painfully and shamefully aware of how truly awful I now looked!

Of course I see my reflection in the mirror every morning, and having lost three stone since receiving the dreaded brown envelope just over a year ago - 2oth August 2011 to be exact (there will be a blog about that awful day at some point!) I am not blind to how thin I have become, just selfishly, until today I haven’t allowed myself to think about how terrifying my physical deterioration must be to those who love me.

I think, as I have got this far without yet even reaching the horror of the high street, that perhaps in order to avoid you all dying of boredom before reaching the end of this ramble I should make this a blog of two halves.
 
PRAYER
LORD, I pray that with your help and through my desire to live and raise my children I can over come this latest, damaging and very frightening symptom of mental illness. Amen

POSITIVE THOUGHT
Despite often feeling very lonely, I’m not alone. I have a wonderful supportive family and friends old and new who care about my well being. I will take time every day to consider how others are affected by my illness!

Thank you for allowing me to share.

GOD bless you and all those you love

Kimmie x                                              Copyright©2012kimmie All Rights Reserved