My Blog Bubble

Love doesn't end in a firework. There are no flares to light the way to the next chapter of your life. Love fizzles out. Like a bottle of champagne sitting in a fridge without a spoon. It just loses its bubbles until one day it is flat. Sometimes something shifts. One person changes. One person gives up.  The fights culminate. Sometimes it is a whisper. A Subtle change. Whatever it is the end is signalled. Does it really come as a shock. Is it inevitable. Are you the first, or the last, to see it coming? Where do those emotions go?  What happens to all that love?  That friendship?  Why doesn't it bend like normal friendships? Why does it splinter into a million painful pieces? Oftentimes it can be put down to others. Their opinions. Their interference. Their reliance. Sometimes it is the influence of outside forces. Sometimes it is just time, circumstance, situational.  What are we?

A hard-hitter from three years ago that remained unpublished until now: I always knew what I wanted to be when I grew up - happy and successful - I was never really sure what I wanted to be though. That changed often but seem to always go back to the same thing - maybe a blog for another time. Lets talk about the happy and successful: neither of which I seem to have attained as yet.  Now I am not silly I know fairy tales are just that, I don't believe in living happily ever after, I don't even believe love can last. So that part never figured hugely in my future: I was going to be the next Dr Robertson (via phd not medicine); I was going to have a successful career whereby I could fend or myself; I was going to meet the man I was to marry at 26; we were going to have two children; we were going to be happy. Simple(s). So lets look at that plan: I only managed a Masters (but I did achieve that whilst working full time); currently I am unemployed - I have ha...

In Paul's first letter to the Corinthians he spoke of love and nowadays we hear those words read at weddings. My experience of love has shown me a different way.  It isn't that I "have not love" it is just that I have no experience of the love that he speaks about. Love isn't patient it rings and rings, if there is no answer it rings again.  Love is 16 missed calls Love isn't   kind it is cruel and full of harsh words.  Spite and venom. Lo ve  does envy.  It is a green eyed monster.  It is jealous of all that it once held dear.  And yet some times it does not envy and it seems to not even care. It does boast; love is full of selfish pride. Love is arrogant, pretentious, conceited, pompous, insolent. Love is rude. Ill-tempered.  Short-fused. Love has only one way and it isn't mine Love is irritable. And worst of all, love is resentful, and full of regrets. Love does rejoice at wrongdoing, it cares little...

Everyone has bad days. Most of us have sad days. We all suffer those can't be bothered days. Maybe it's the weather or, for us women, hormones. Those on the road less travelled have these feelings daily. We wake up with a heavy depression lying across our brow. It pulls at the bags under our eyes that were brought by a sleepless night. We wake up and haul our sorry arses out of bed. Shower if we can get it together and put on some clothes; not really caring what we are wearing or if we wore the outfit yesterday. Then off we plod to work or on the school run. Coats on, mask on, ready to face the day with a smile.  It's a battle and one we often fail to win until we get home and count the hours until bed time. A bed time that brings with it a fretful sleep.  Yes we all have bad days. Depression isn't just a bad day. It is a way of life. 

Today somebody cracked an Ostrich egg full of sad over my head. It hurt like hell. Right on my crown. The sad then slowly seeped down my face, over my eyes and past my mouth. Gluing me together.  It dribbled on to my shoulders and throughout the day made it's messy way down my clothed body.  I feel rotten and my head aches.  

Pain tugs at my body Reminding me of what I lost It punches me in the gut And makes me double over I wince in agony But in the back of my mind I know it is my body Telling me I am healing  It tells me, every time, That things are changing That they haven't taken it all And my body heals My mind, on the other hand, Is still quiet It's is holding back So far from ready So far from being able to fight It's a long road And one of incomplete recovery A move to a new way A different path

Not all abuse in a relationship is physical. Just like all illnesses are not obvious. Although they are "mental" it doesn't make them any less significant.   An Open Letter: Your words are often harsh and I let them float over my head. I know it's not you thinking. It's alcohol, it's tiredness, it's money, it's family, it's drugs, its work, it's whatever excuse I decide to label it with to move on. Sometimes they cut so deep. Putting small cracks in my heart that need love to  fill the gaps. When this happens forgiveness takes a little longer.  When it is constant the opposite happens and I pull down the shutters. I stop feeling. I stop caring. I am numb. This is when I want to never wake up.  And then there are the unforgivable things. The venomous words spat from your mouth. Not in anger. Not in rage. Just in hate and apathy.  What do I do with those?  Where do I go from there?

My medication has turned my black dog to a small bundle of fluff. He is controlled, held back as it were, and lives in my stomach. I know he is there and at times I can feel him straining at the leash to get out. It scares me. I guess I could liken him to a Gremlin. Looks cute and harmless but add water and he becomes a menace and ruins everything. The medication, on the whole, keeps the water at bay.  Sometimes though I can feel that little tike getting ready for a swim and I don't know how to stop him. He gets into my thoughts and my actions. He controls my subconscious. I want to be happy but he wants to play.  I'd say I want him to drown but that would only make matters worse!  I just hope that one day he finds a new home. Maybe not with someone else but somewhere away from me

The oddest thing just happened to me. In the middle of a pole class I just put on my trackies, my hoodie and left. I am not a quitter. I never leave a film halfway through, I see things through, I read a book to the end, it doesn't mean I am enjoying it but if I sign up to it I stay with it. I wouldn't want to waste my time or money after all.  Today however I just had to leave. I had an overwhelming sense of being an outsider, or being useless, just feeling wrong. Pole isn't like that, it's all inclusive, but today it was like I was at a new studio: a complete beginner.  I put my hood up and stepped out I to the rain and cried. I just felt wrong....