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Communication is to blame for so many things. Oftentimes it's the lack of communication that leads to misunderstandings and mistakes. However in this day of technology I think that there is an overload of communications or at least ways to communicate. This isn't a blog about modern technology and how it is blighting our lives. Or about the information overload we have. Or misinformation from newspapers and politicians. Nor is it about the fact that I cannot survive without having to ask Google to answer things I do not know or need confirmation on. This is about how relationships have changed due to the numerous ways we have to communicate and I am not sure it is for the better.  When I was a kid phones were attached to the wall and the handset attached to the phone. There was no wondering around or hiding in your bedroom. Your parents always knew what was going on (unless you were posh enough to have a phone in your bedroom).  If you wanted to see a friend you ha...

Today I found myself laughing and joking at my current situation; a relationship breakdown with a custody issue thrown in. Who in their right mind would be smiling about that?  Why am I not crying and feeling sad?  Am I putting a brave face on it or is this me coping? I just don't know. Is this the result of being on medication? Will it hit me one day like a sledgehammer and I won't want to creep out of my pit? Or am I just getting on with it. Putting my daughter first and making light of a situation that has been unsuspectingly thrust upon me? Who am I? Am I this strong woman?  Am I this bubbly person that everyone sees? Or am I papering over cracks and painting on a smile? It scares me that I really don't know.

I think a lot about my illness is subconscious and how things play on my mind without me realising. It isn't until I stop to wonder why I am feeling especially low or sad inside that I look for a reason. Oftentimes there is a lot of searching to be done and sometimes no answers are found. Without my realising this time of year has been creeping up on me. August and September are probably my worst two months of the year which is ironic as it is also birthday season and the beginning of autumn (my favourite time of year).  August is the reminder of that decision I made three years ago that will forever be tinged with regret. September now holds a new meaning. A time to realise that I am not in control and that sometimes life takes unexpected turns. It was a Thursday last year, but as with all dates, this year it falls on a Friday. A day to remember I am fallible and can be broken. A time to remember I could not be here. So should be thankful. A time to grieve for my loss, my ...

Those internal incessant voices Are your repeated words They are the horrible things said That I should never have heard They repeat themselves overtly And burn within my heart Until I can only hear them And they slowly tear me apart I can be on my own completely Or smiling within a crowd The sun could be shining brightly Or I could be under a storm cloud They start to strangle me And cloud my busy mind Until I can't but help to wish My mind be free my body left behind

When it's a jar.  We all know that old riddle. And we all know that the door remains a door. So why is it that some think that rape is not rape if it's by someone you know or if it was non-violent?  And by some I include me, I didn't report my rape because I knew the man that did it. I worked with him and I was young and naive. I trusted when my colleagues told me that it was better all round to let it go (before the days of Frozen) and to just not go to meetings he would attend. So that is what I did. Looking back now, and with how times have changed, I see now my mistake. I said no, I pleaded, he didn't listen he just buried my head in the pillow and did what he felt he had a right to do. I was 21. He was a married man with children. I was trapped by him for years but finally I allowed myself to be free.  There are people out there that believe that abuse is not abuse without bruises.   Maybe once I too was the same. I was controlled in my marriage. Made ...

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?

This too is a previously unpublished post: Do you know that when they question you about physical violence from a partner (domestic abuse) they ask one question that surprised me: Does the person show violence towards your pets? That really got me thinking about what someone thinks of you if they are happy to abuse you.  Abuse takes many forms, it can be physical (obvious signs like bruises or hidden bruises), it can be mental (constant threats, put downs, arguments). In fact there are so many forms it is hard to work out when you are in an abusive relationship.  Everyone argues and has heated debates. Not everyone lives with someone that makes them feel like they have nowhere to go or that they deserve what is thrust upon them.  Oftentimes the person being abused doesn't even realise. It is a long process and you believe that what you have is love. You believe you can fix them. You can heal whatever broke them just by loving them.  Chances are ...