Mad lads make sad stabs in dark clubs.
Lucy licks her wounds.
Mad lads make sad stabs in dark clubs.
Lucy licks her wounds.
As you turn unhanded into something flat, you decrease, and cease to become the influence you once were on my sense of sexuality and expression.
Just a man, inadequate. Just a memory of love unreturned. My body doesn’t flux at your image. My hands are mine again.
This is the first thing that comes to mind:
that time when an “important” someone said I wasn’t pretty in not so many words.
This is the second thing that comes to mind:
the things I write are, so often, a sapping showcase of my vulnerability.
This the the third thing that comes to mind:
my poor little dead bird in the soil.
This is the forth:
I cried so much over that dead bird, harder than I’ve cried in years, so hard that I hurt my throat, that my mother said she hasn’t heard me cry that hard since the first time my heart was broken when I was 18 and still a girl.
Formless and afraid, but not really bothered
I flop onto pages and just write in the colours that come to mind.
so long ago
in arms long withered
ran blood so thick
so deeply red and brown
and in the shoestring veins
the liquid blossomed onto cheek
and flushed onto chest vivid
And in this present moment, on the other side of town.
Another mind aches as yours does.
A kindred Sorrow over brick walls and rooftops.
A Sorrow builds and grows in fluxing rivets, unpleasant surging swell,
renewal taking strength from hordes of sources,
running together, coming together,
into a living organ that reaches into living things.
It doesn’t remain shadowy.
It was never abstract.
And the lucky are touched by it’s delicate hand,
And the rest are stomped into the tread of it’s boot.
At the moment, I’m unemployed and I have no partner. That’s not likely to change anytime particularly soon and in our cultural climate of competition and comparison and with the “what do you do?” atmosphere, it can be hard to deal with the expectations and judgements of other people.
I’m not as bothered as I once was that I’m not “succeeding” in the conventional way in my life as I once was. I graduated around two years ago now and I’ve been off sick ever since. This post isn’t about my PTSD though, so I’ll move on.
I guess, what I’m reflecting on here is how it’s made me rethink how I value myself and how I find meaning and engagement in general without occupation in a “work” sense.
I think I’m quite self-aware and that’s something I let myself take credit for. I know that I’ve had to actively try to build a sense of self-worth over the last few years partially due to my negative experiences. I do value myself pretty highly now and I look out of myself as much as I can.
I also think that I’ve gained a sense of perspective, and although I can have low mood swings and feel utterly shitty sometimes and pretty sensitive, I know that I can get through things, I often find myself saying to myself “I’ve been through worse, I can do this.”
Making a conscious effort to find good qualities in myself has helped me, I recognise my compassion and my ability to nurture and trust in strong friendships. I also think I’m quite thoughtful and imaginative 🙂 – it sounds odd to say such things about oneself sometimes, because I don’t think many people are raised to actively accept and acknowledge pleasing traits in themselves, but I think it’s a helpful thing to try and learn to do.
Physically, I’ve also had to make this effort. I remember being dissatisfied with my appearance at various points in my life, like a lot of people are, and how, now, I love myself whether I think I look good or not. I’ve come to realise I’m under no obligation to any one else to look good and I found that to be freeing.
I’ve said to myself in my own head, when I saw something I didn’t like or if I took an awful picture: “I still love you”, y’know. And I might’ve mentioned this before, but when I had CBT a while ago, one of the main things I took from it was the notion that I should treat myself as I would treat a close friend, because I deserve that and I’m glad I do that now. (In the past, when I’ve had something pretty difficult to do, like a really stressful phone call or something, I’ve written little lists to break it down and signed it with something like “love ya babe ❤ ” – and it actually helped, I got a little flicker in my heart once, almost as if someone else had said it, haha.)
Regarding the whole “other people” issue, because I support myself now (and let my close friends help) and I know that I’ve improved, I no longer give as much of a shit if other people are unimpressed or bewildered by my current no-job status.
I’m sure I’ll find a bit more of something soon, and even thinking about this – and listening to some Mariah Carey (Touch my Body if you’re interested 😉 ) has helped me feel a little more hopeful about the next few days and weeks, as things have felt a little heavy lately.
P.S. Love ya babe ❤
See, it’s nice isn’t it. 😛
I’ve been particularly unwell recently, I had a really bad cold/ fluey symptoms on top of my usual issues you know and it sort of stripped me of the little things I can usually have the option of doing because I was just laid in bed sweating yknow.
I felt isolated and bored as well as sick, and it just rubbed the bad feelings around and they sunk in further for a few days, to the point where I could feel that I was physically improving in terms of my illness but still couldn’t get up properly because of the characteristic heaviness of my mental health issues.
I felt like all the calories of energy I had were being used on the heart-beating basics as dramatic as it sounds, and in feeling bitterly unhappy and lost.
I guess I’m trying to figure out how I came out of it, the visible wilting of my mum (brought on largely because of my wilting) led to me gathering the energy from somewhere to put some clothes on and let her drive me to the supermarket to get some earphones. While there, I bought myself a My Little Pony colouring book as well and some new gel pens, ha.
I don’t watch My Little Pony, but I find them quite adorable and full of friendship and sweetness and I like colouring them in because it makes the hours go past gently, especially when I can do little else.
Also, a friend of mine – I lived with him at uni, we had a sort of inside joke about them that developed into them just reminding me of laughing and someone giving a shit I suppose, and that’s a nice restful way to feel. 🙂
Hiya, It’s another video – I just did it a couple of hours ago and it’s almost midnight here so I’m in my dressing gown so don’t mind that.
I haven’t actually put these poems up yet on the blog, so there’s no link, they’re still just on paper.
Here it is 🙂 :
I am aware I’m getting more and more goofy the more I’m on camera doing this, I think I’m just getting more comfy/ less caring about the general impression I give off.
It kind of fits with my way of writing sometimes I suppose, I’m quite casual and silly sometimes, so I’m fine with it, hope you’re also fine with it if you’re watching this haha. 🙂
Night night 🙂 x
Last night I yearned,
This night I loved – that love was directed at myself and sprung from feeling a little vulnerable and finally being able to have a hot bath after weeks of cold water.
I wrote 18 poems on the first night,
I wrote about 4 just now.
Because I feel the love for myself tonight, I’m letting myself sleep 14 poems early.