Saturday, 26 October 2013
I Wish You....
You know what I hate most in the world?
People believing something about me that is false, and not being able to anything about it. I mean, I'm not saying I hate that MORE than suffering, planet destruction, lack of world peace - I mean in a smaller sense, obviously!
Although doesn't 'world peace' start with us, in a sense?
Does it mean I'm a control freak, and have to have every like me? Or does it mean I'm too nice, and feel guilty when I upset a person, even though they are actually wrong about what I have done? Whichever it is, I drive myself mad worrying about it. Did I do the right thing? What are they saying about me? Why am I so worried about something so insignificant, in the great scheme of things? What if the person I upset is devastated and lapses into illness and depression?!
Ok, I know that last one is over dramatic but really, my mind goes there...
In the end, I have left a website I was an active member of for several reasons - this was simply the last push. I have tried several times to fix the issue, I have tried to resolve it, I have done everything I can, but in the end, I have to go, because these things were not accepted.
I wish everyone on that site well. I hope they continue to write wonderful poems. I pray that God will bless them in every way imaginable.
Goodbye.
Thursday, 24 October 2013
Baking Therapy...
Fllummmphh! Oh, excuse me - that was the sound of me collapsing! Baking is an exhausting process these days, as I only have one and a half hands to do it! I say half, because I do now have movement in my right hand, but not all of the feeling. In other words, I can pick up and move objects, but can't always tell when I have dropped them. Well, not until I look at the ground and wonder where the mess came from....
I decided on baking today because I thought it would help the current climb out of this attack of depression. I am, at the moment, hanging off the edge at the top of the pit, peering over and calling out 'hello?' in a voice not quite loud enough. This is an improvement on the last few days, which were spent grovelling at the bottom, not realising it was a pit with a hole at the top at all!
I know some would rather beat themselves with a wet kipper than spend an afternoon baking, but I find it therapeutic. It is a combination of creativity, of doing something I am reasonably good at, and of caring for those around me. It fights against those feelings of being useless, of having no purpose, that depression creates. It means producing something which my family or friends can eat, although I cannot earn any money. It also gives hope - something that depression sucks right out of you - for the future. Maybe I can cook for someone? Make a cake to cheer someone else up? Maybe even get a job, when I am fit enough?
So next time I am depressed, don't avoid me because you don't know what to say. Come round and look in the cupboards! Today we have bread, poppy seed and sea salt rolls, and some lemon and poppy seed cake.
I'll even make you a cup of tea.....!
Monday, 21 October 2013
What do I write, when I can't write?
....is there anything more frustrating than feeling the need to write, but not knowing what to write about? Yes, OK, there probably is, but bear with me!
For the last few days, my depression has struck - the clinical, 'comes down like a curtain and throws you into a black hole covered with glass that you bang on and scream at but nobody hears or sees you' type of depression. When I am in this state, I try to explain it to those around me - oh, hang on, THATS the thing thats more frustrating!
If I lived alone, I guess I would hide until I feel better. Because I live with my family, I try to give them an idea so that they know its not them. This, however, is easier said than done. I go downstairs, with the intention of getting out the words, and someone says 'what are you looking so happy about?' I burst into tears and run upstairs. Generally it doesn't go well. The trouble is, when you have a mental health problem, people who don't understand or have much experience of these things think you're...well...mental! People think that depression is a 'bad mood', that you have it because 'you're that sort of person', that you can 'pull yourself together' and the more you try and explain it, the more you sound like a mad woman anyway! It doesn't help that you are looking for confirmation yourself that you are not crazy.
Probably the most hurtful response is the one that can sometimes come from Christians. They are my people, my brothers and sisters, and it is painful to know that there are those who think it is because I do not have enough faith, or because I am not listening to God. Thankfully, there are also those who do understand. I have the same faith as all of them - sometimes strong, sometimes weaker, sometimes having to confess my failures to God - not perfect, but trusting Him. Actually, depression REALLY gives you a lesson in how to hang on to God when you see absolutely nothing but darkness - and it really shows you that when you can't hold on any longer, He holds on to you.
So be patient with me while I come out of the fog. It may not look like I am doing anything at this time, but the smallest thing - getting up, getting dressed, coming out to church or just walking up the shops - is a victory. Please understand that it is part of the illness that I cannot see any hope, any light beyond this space - but that it can help to remind me of that, because a small part of me stands outside and watches and says 'its OK, it will pass, thats just a symptom'.
The following is a poem I wrote after a friend killed himself. I completely understood why, but my overwhelming feeling on the day was that if he could have just waited one more day, maybe ....
So I will wait, and I will cast my anxiety on God, because He cares for me. (1 Peter 5 v 7)
Ruth x
To Live
New days will begin
I will wait for tomorrow
Just another minute more
I could give up now
But maybe this is the day
When I start to smile again
What if I missed it?
I would never know the joy
Of being free from despair
I wish you had known
That there was a tomorrow
If only you had waited
I promised myself
To remember this for you
To wait for the smile, and live.
For the last few days, my depression has struck - the clinical, 'comes down like a curtain and throws you into a black hole covered with glass that you bang on and scream at but nobody hears or sees you' type of depression. When I am in this state, I try to explain it to those around me - oh, hang on, THATS the thing thats more frustrating!
If I lived alone, I guess I would hide until I feel better. Because I live with my family, I try to give them an idea so that they know its not them. This, however, is easier said than done. I go downstairs, with the intention of getting out the words, and someone says 'what are you looking so happy about?' I burst into tears and run upstairs. Generally it doesn't go well. The trouble is, when you have a mental health problem, people who don't understand or have much experience of these things think you're...well...mental! People think that depression is a 'bad mood', that you have it because 'you're that sort of person', that you can 'pull yourself together' and the more you try and explain it, the more you sound like a mad woman anyway! It doesn't help that you are looking for confirmation yourself that you are not crazy.
Probably the most hurtful response is the one that can sometimes come from Christians. They are my people, my brothers and sisters, and it is painful to know that there are those who think it is because I do not have enough faith, or because I am not listening to God. Thankfully, there are also those who do understand. I have the same faith as all of them - sometimes strong, sometimes weaker, sometimes having to confess my failures to God - not perfect, but trusting Him. Actually, depression REALLY gives you a lesson in how to hang on to God when you see absolutely nothing but darkness - and it really shows you that when you can't hold on any longer, He holds on to you.
So be patient with me while I come out of the fog. It may not look like I am doing anything at this time, but the smallest thing - getting up, getting dressed, coming out to church or just walking up the shops - is a victory. Please understand that it is part of the illness that I cannot see any hope, any light beyond this space - but that it can help to remind me of that, because a small part of me stands outside and watches and says 'its OK, it will pass, thats just a symptom'.
The following is a poem I wrote after a friend killed himself. I completely understood why, but my overwhelming feeling on the day was that if he could have just waited one more day, maybe ....
So I will wait, and I will cast my anxiety on God, because He cares for me. (1 Peter 5 v 7)
Ruth x
To Live
New days will begin
I will wait for tomorrow
Just another minute more
I could give up now
But maybe this is the day
When I start to smile again
What if I missed it?
I would never know the joy
Of being free from despair
I wish you had known
That there was a tomorrow
If only you had waited
I promised myself
To remember this for you
To wait for the smile, and live.
Thursday, 17 October 2013
2 Years On...
Yes, yes I know - no one is reading this because I haven't written anything for so long. I am, in fact, talking to myself. I'm not sure why, except that my Dad said I should continue my blog because its 'good for me'. So, though I have a sneaking suspicion that it may be 'good for me' in the way that All Bran and exercise are, here I am.
Its now October 2013. In other words, its two years since I left America. Two years since I left my husband. Six months, almost, since I had any communication with him. People say to me 'it seems like you never went to America' - a statement I find really strange, because I feel like I've been gone forever, and my life has changed beyond recognition.
The trouble is, it doesn't appear to have. I live in the same place I lived before I moved. My family deals with things by not dealing with them. The difference is, I have found out some things I always suspected, but put down to my paranoia, are true. I have found out that though I had a difficult relationship with my mother, she was the one the held the family together and without her, we have little to hold us together. I have learned that certain people don't know me, and probably never will, as they won't talk about anything that doesn't fit in their little boxes.
In all of this I found out something else
ITS NOT MY FAULT.
It is not my fault that I found what I did on the computer.
It is not my fault it took me some time to react - I was accusing my husband! Don't you think I wanted to be sure? Don't you think I wanted it not to be true, that the person I loved would do this?
It is not my fault that certain people cannot deal with it, and show a lack of compassion towards me.
It is not my fault that I now have a disability which means I cannot, at the moment, work, because after two hours I have to lie down.
It doesn't seem like a long time that I have been here - it all feels like it happened yesterday, and while a good part of that is down to the nature of why I left, which will stay with me forever, an even bigger part is down to those surrounding me.- their lack of support, their lack of compassion, their lack of what they claim to believe.
I do believe in God. I believe in Jesus Christ, that He died for me, and that He is living today. I could very easily look at my experience and say I am done with all that - in fact I do, but I say it to God, and saying 'I don't believe in this!' to the Person you're not believing in? Well...doesn't really work , does it?! My struggle, I guess, is what that means in practical terms. I am still working that out.
Until then, I will put one foot in front of the other ....
Ruth x
Its now October 2013. In other words, its two years since I left America. Two years since I left my husband. Six months, almost, since I had any communication with him. People say to me 'it seems like you never went to America' - a statement I find really strange, because I feel like I've been gone forever, and my life has changed beyond recognition.
The trouble is, it doesn't appear to have. I live in the same place I lived before I moved. My family deals with things by not dealing with them. The difference is, I have found out some things I always suspected, but put down to my paranoia, are true. I have found out that though I had a difficult relationship with my mother, she was the one the held the family together and without her, we have little to hold us together. I have learned that certain people don't know me, and probably never will, as they won't talk about anything that doesn't fit in their little boxes.
In all of this I found out something else
ITS NOT MY FAULT.
It is not my fault that I found what I did on the computer.
It is not my fault it took me some time to react - I was accusing my husband! Don't you think I wanted to be sure? Don't you think I wanted it not to be true, that the person I loved would do this?
It is not my fault that certain people cannot deal with it, and show a lack of compassion towards me.
It is not my fault that I now have a disability which means I cannot, at the moment, work, because after two hours I have to lie down.
It doesn't seem like a long time that I have been here - it all feels like it happened yesterday, and while a good part of that is down to the nature of why I left, which will stay with me forever, an even bigger part is down to those surrounding me.- their lack of support, their lack of compassion, their lack of what they claim to believe.
I do believe in God. I believe in Jesus Christ, that He died for me, and that He is living today. I could very easily look at my experience and say I am done with all that - in fact I do, but I say it to God, and saying 'I don't believe in this!' to the Person you're not believing in? Well...doesn't really work , does it?! My struggle, I guess, is what that means in practical terms. I am still working that out.
Until then, I will put one foot in front of the other ....
Ruth x
Saturday, 9 June 2012
An Onion Bagel with Chive Cream Cheese.....
This morning, I had my first bagel for eight months. My taste apparently has not changed - onion with chive. Of course, if I could get hold of an Asiago bagel and some Willow Tree Chicken Salad.....
...excuse me, I need to take a moment.....
Since I have returned to England, there have been things I could not buy or eat, because they just triggered too many memories of being in New England. I would see these things in the shops, pause for a moment and walk on by. Peanut Butter, Reeses Cups, bagels, chowder. I wonder if it is a sign of healing that I have started to include these things again? The other day, I bought some Reeses Cups. I am back on the crunchy peanut butter. A bagel for breakfast today.
Of course there are things I cannot get here, just as there were English things I missed in America. Nobody can live in New England for more than five minutes without developing a Dunkin' Donuts coffee addiction, but I have returned to Starbucks, my first love, and have a loyalty card for Caffe Nero. My Coolatta cravings are somewhat assuaged by Shakeaways. I have continued to cook Mexican food, and find myself looking for Portuguese bread in the supermarket! I have found a UK website for Dreamfields Pasta.
One day, when I know I will be able to see the places I lived without being in too much pain to enjoy them, I will visit New England. I will eat clam chowder, buy a Dunkin' iced hazelnut, walk along Boston Harbor and take the trip over on the boat to Salem. I will go whale watching from P-Town, and see the fall colours in Vermont and New Hampshire, in all their glory.
I will hug my friends.
And one day, over here, I will be able to walk through Asda without stopping at the Ben & Jerry's ice cream and crying.
Ruth x
...excuse me, I need to take a moment.....
Since I have returned to England, there have been things I could not buy or eat, because they just triggered too many memories of being in New England. I would see these things in the shops, pause for a moment and walk on by. Peanut Butter, Reeses Cups, bagels, chowder. I wonder if it is a sign of healing that I have started to include these things again? The other day, I bought some Reeses Cups. I am back on the crunchy peanut butter. A bagel for breakfast today.
Of course there are things I cannot get here, just as there were English things I missed in America. Nobody can live in New England for more than five minutes without developing a Dunkin' Donuts coffee addiction, but I have returned to Starbucks, my first love, and have a loyalty card for Caffe Nero. My Coolatta cravings are somewhat assuaged by Shakeaways. I have continued to cook Mexican food, and find myself looking for Portuguese bread in the supermarket! I have found a UK website for Dreamfields Pasta.
One day, when I know I will be able to see the places I lived without being in too much pain to enjoy them, I will visit New England. I will eat clam chowder, buy a Dunkin' iced hazelnut, walk along Boston Harbor and take the trip over on the boat to Salem. I will go whale watching from P-Town, and see the fall colours in Vermont and New Hampshire, in all their glory.
I will hug my friends.
And one day, over here, I will be able to walk through Asda without stopping at the Ben & Jerry's ice cream and crying.
Ruth x
Friday, 8 June 2012
Finding the Shiny...
When I came back to England, I expected it to be hard. I was leaving my marriage, and the reasons why I was leaving were not easy ones to share with the people who mattered. A friend who has been through a similar experience said to me recently, 'in these situations, Christians are the worst.' I had to agree. I didn't WANT to agree, but this too is my experience. Both she and I are Christians, but it is the sad truth that sometimes, in the church, we shoot our wounded.
As a result, one function of this blog is for me to have a voice in a situation where I feel I have been judged and misunderstood, or where assumptions have been made by those who didn't bother to speak to me first. (And God bless you, the dear, well meaning lady who called to let me know that I 'don't believe in repentance and forgiveness' while I was trying to work out how to survive another day!) Even as I write, I am aware that there are others who will not like me blogging about it. But I am a writer, that is how I express myself, and while, to a point, this probably is a load of self indulgent twaddle, it is also my hope that someone else may read it and not feel alone. Because I want them to know that being quick to condemn and to gossip and to hurt those who have already had their lives turned upside down - that is not God. It is not even most of the Church. But it is so hard, when you have been treated like that, to get past the fear of trusting again.
But we have to. I am an emotional, creative person - I feel things very deeply, I react dramatically, I love passionately and I forgive wholeheartedly, with a big dose of God's grace to help me. I am sometimes a mess, but I would rather be the way God made me than become someone who is so wrapped up in what was done to them that they never trust, never forgive, never cry or feel compassion, never let anyone in again. I never want to be so self absorbed by my own pain that I cannot comfort others.
So I will trust again, and love again, and be open to others, and hear the words of those who may not understand through the filter of my merciful God, because I know that He truly knows my heart. And in doing so I know I will find those who shine with the love of Jesus without even knowing it!.
As a result, one function of this blog is for me to have a voice in a situation where I feel I have been judged and misunderstood, or where assumptions have been made by those who didn't bother to speak to me first. (And God bless you, the dear, well meaning lady who called to let me know that I 'don't believe in repentance and forgiveness' while I was trying to work out how to survive another day!) Even as I write, I am aware that there are others who will not like me blogging about it. But I am a writer, that is how I express myself, and while, to a point, this probably is a load of self indulgent twaddle, it is also my hope that someone else may read it and not feel alone. Because I want them to know that being quick to condemn and to gossip and to hurt those who have already had their lives turned upside down - that is not God. It is not even most of the Church. But it is so hard, when you have been treated like that, to get past the fear of trusting again.
But we have to. I am an emotional, creative person - I feel things very deeply, I react dramatically, I love passionately and I forgive wholeheartedly, with a big dose of God's grace to help me. I am sometimes a mess, but I would rather be the way God made me than become someone who is so wrapped up in what was done to them that they never trust, never forgive, never cry or feel compassion, never let anyone in again. I never want to be so self absorbed by my own pain that I cannot comfort others.
So I will trust again, and love again, and be open to others, and hear the words of those who may not understand through the filter of my merciful God, because I know that He truly knows my heart. And in doing so I know I will find those who shine with the love of Jesus without even knowing it!.
Thursday, 7 June 2012
Good Quacking to you all....
Welcome to Nofinch Quackbury. Those of you who know me will already be aware of the Ducks, Finches, Fruitbats, Unicorns and even the occasional Snurglehounds that live in my world. For those who don't know, Nofinch Quackbury is a village in the land of Quackonia. Many Duckage live happily there, on the whole, as long as they don't have any trouble (alas, it does happen!) from the Finches of Chirpit Tweeton.
I spend much of my time in this alternative (or real?) universe, writing of and drawing those characters who live in this world, and one purpose of this blog is to introduce you to my friends there.
The other purpose? To introduce you to me, and the rest of my poetry. I write from experience, through the filter of my Christian faith, my background, my sense of humour .....I hope that the funny poems will brighten your day, that the poems of faith will strengthen or challenge yours, and that (perhaps closest to my heart) the poems that were born of pain and struggle will enable those going thtough similar things to find a voice, and to know they are not alone.
The site is, as you can see, a work in progress. On the right of this page you will find links to categories of my poetry. Please feel free to post comments at the end of the pages, either general thoughts or something about a specific poem.
The Duckage thank you for visiting......
Ruth
Welcome to Nofinch Quackbury. Those of you who know me will already be aware of the Ducks, Finches, Fruitbats, Unicorns and even the occasional Snurglehounds that live in my world. For those who don't know, Nofinch Quackbury is a village in the land of Quackonia. Many Duckage live happily there, on the whole, as long as they don't have any trouble (alas, it does happen!) from the Finches of Chirpit Tweeton.
I spend much of my time in this alternative (or real?) universe, writing of and drawing those characters who live in this world, and one purpose of this blog is to introduce you to my friends there.
The other purpose? To introduce you to me, and the rest of my poetry. I write from experience, through the filter of my Christian faith, my background, my sense of humour .....I hope that the funny poems will brighten your day, that the poems of faith will strengthen or challenge yours, and that (perhaps closest to my heart) the poems that were born of pain and struggle will enable those going thtough similar things to find a voice, and to know they are not alone.
The site is, as you can see, a work in progress. On the right of this page you will find links to categories of my poetry. Please feel free to post comments at the end of the pages, either general thoughts or something about a specific poem.
The Duckage thank you for visiting......
Ruth
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