SAMARITANS part4 Gender :is there a difference ?

  • A short while  ago a male Samaritan asked why  I didn’t talk to the female Samaritans. I’m not sure how it was ment ,felt like  a heavy  duty criticism. So I did what I generally do. Tears welled to my eyes and the telephone went down.

The same Samaritan had said the same thing before  a longer time ago.That had me thinking and even more thinking today.

Today feeling utterly dire.Last night had a weird weird dream. Wandering round trying to find something,I know not what, sitting  in a large common room,low 1960’s style chairs,in the dark,huge floor to ceiling windows at the side,the lights start to come on slowly and ther is a tall figure at my back and I jump out of my skin,waking up with a start, with the words  literally coming out of my mouth in speech, that I can’t carry on any more. Woke up feel fearful and shaky. Couldn’t shake the fear and feeling its linked to stuff coming up next week.

Couldn’t cope with feelings, phoned Samaritans and had  a most deep meaningful, warm, inspiring  conversation with a female Samaritan.

I guess it got me back to thinking about the earlier words. What is the difference? I think I’ve worked it out.

This is working it out for me, might be different for other people.

When I talk to Samaritans It works for me when I have a two way conversation .Its totally brilliant when the Samaritans says their name, BUT without the expectation that I will say my name. That kind of takes away the pressure to give my name,so its easy to give my name. Yep,I know it sounds strange but it’s how I work.

As a general rule of thumb, with exceptions all over the place,or put it another way,I hope this doesn’t annoy or upset anyone,

This how it feels to me    Men seem to start the call by making a comment or very open  question. Makes it easier for me to start.

Women seem to stay silent  or ask your name without giving their name.  That feels like pressure., mega pressure. Men seem to have a conversation and will probe and push a bit. Women have more silences,I’m not sure I’ve been heard. That leaves me feeling its judgemental.    I know it’s not.

But it’s how it feels. I guess it’s also about voice tone, does the persons voice change between saying Samaritans or Hello Samaritans and whatever ,if anything, is said next. Women’s voices seem to change, that somehow scares me.

I guess it’s also that sometimes it feels like women are more distant when I get nearer to talking about abuse in my childhood. It feels as if its judgemental, maybe it’s to close, I don’t know, maybe about giving me room to talk, I just get scared. So I tend to find it’s easier to talk to a male. But when I do talk to a woman it’s utterly brilliant,VERY  DEEP AFFIRMATIVE AND SUPPORTIVE.

I guess all this feeds in to my fears and assumptions. Guess feels that women are more judgemental, that silences are judgemental, that questions are LOADED with judgementals.

I struggle with the concept that  question is a set of words placed together in the hope it will illicit details that may be useful in sets of words between two people.

But at base level are they not all blinking briiliant!


Where are the grown-ups?

It’s been a difficult week. Made a telephone call yesterday. It probably took less time than it takes a full kettle to boil.

 Told someone I was ending our contact. Told them it wasn’t good for me to be with someone when I couldn’t say how I had initially meet them and didn’t want to see them anymore and I wasn’t coming to visit them in a  couple of weeks He accepted that, them saying does that include texting. What was that about?

At the end of it I felt such a huge mix of totally conflicting emotions, from relief to immense pain to missing that person already. I got guilt by the ton for not listening to myself. When you know someone and you have to keep it a secret how you met them, it’s not right or fair. I mean that person should have never made on going contact with me. I should have refuse on going contact.

It’s NOT about that person not being available for a relationship, we were both available. No one else with us in a relationship. But we met in a situation where he shouldn’t have taken the first step.

I shouldn’t have succumbed to the, or at least felt like  a subtle pressure. Guess I recognise it was about 30 % of what took me to the cliff edge last year.

Sometimes when someone seems to care about you, who wants to spend time with you it is so easy to block out the reasoning, lock out the questions, lock out the screaming internal questions…The screaming question that if you can’t talk about how you met initially, because it’s a secret.


To many secrets in my life, I kept to many secrets as a child. What ever I do I want to shout it from the rooftops. No more dark scruggy.  I guess scruggy means dark materials manacled together stopping my mind and heart connecting and working together.

I did the right thing by ending my connection with that person yesterday. But it hurts like crazy, I feel as if it’s a reason for my world to almost end.


The next hours and days are going to be about survival. My head and neck are so sore and tense. Can’t get myself sitting in a comfy position. My body feels like it’s going to burst and yet no energy.

I am going over and over all my contacts with   this person in the last couple of years or so. Thoughts going round and round and round and on and on. Thinking about the meanings of words and actions, mine his ,his ,mine. Was any of it real? Was it a sort of manipulation?

Did he really not see my tears when we were walking past the “anne summers” shop and he suggested an item to buy me? Or did the slight titter from me following the tears mean I was saying it was ok. Why didn’t I say what was inside me. Words in my head and heart were how could he, how could he see that as a joke, or even for real.

  • Guess it actually comes down to words, real words, not about what did someone actually mean, not what I thought they men. Guess it’s about risk taking; it’s about saying what was in my head.
  • Guess its about knowing when to do that.
  • Guess its about not beating myself up about what I say and don’t say and either checking things out,or staying quite and go with consequences.

So do  I survive this? Or should it be how I survive it.Havent a clue.

Somewhere in all this is that feeling that so many  of my emotions are stuck whey back  when I was eight years old and there weren’t any grownups then.







Tears, Fears and Tinie Tempah

 The last seven days have felt as is I’ve been pressed pressed and pressed. Was on a course for work, two days, and two tutors. Felt as if both of the tutors really took against me. All I did, was ask a few questions. I wasn’t the only one asking questions, I wasn’t the only one he took against.  I guess I challenged his power? One tutor was an Occupational psychologist. Guess it means do I have this attitude that all psychologists should be fluffy marshmallowy beings.

No, but, he was so blinking arrogant. He also pushed for answers in a public situation. The whole two days were about being pushed so far down.

I feel as if everything I have pulled together in the last year just vanished in to a puff of smoke. Train traveling is pure hell. People being pushed up against me, drags me back to places a long time ago, so difficult to stay in the here and now. Travelling down the escalator and suddenly aware there is nowhere to go at the end of the escalator. People were en mass and just no spaces, my breathing was starting to go out of control. Someone  answered my internal silent cries of terror. A space enough for about five people opened up.

By Thursday on the way home I felt as if the past year of progression had been sucked out of me. Standing on the station there was that announcement that most people ignore, about a non-stopping train. The almost gravitational pull towards the track was almost insurmountable. A millisecond later the announcement that the following train would be  the one I wanted. Such welcome words. So many thoughts rushing through my mind. Still feel amazed I’m still actually around.

Walking into the Counselling room yesterday actually so good. I could be myself; I didn’t have to pretend any more. A period to be myself,no reason to put the outside face on.The face was switched on all last week. Don’t have to put it on for real friends.  For the first time I cried, didn’t turn away, didn’t grab the tissues. It all just pushed itself out.  That was a first. We talked about how the some people don’t like being questioned, how some people are bullies, how current day bullies can take me back to the time of abuse.

Nothing I normally do is working today,reading,television,radio,Samaritans,food,tea. The nearest is Tinie Tempah  ft  Eric Turner music “written in the stars”. It’s a really powerful song. Its, I think the song about keeping going, keeping on trying. It helped a lot for a while.

I feel cut off, I feel as if the last year hasn’t happened. It’s a sort of loss, feels like a huge hole has appeared in my heart and mind. Not the hole that gets larger through being worn away. More the explosive kind of hole. How is it that one male tutor, a psychologist at that, can pull me totally apart.

Struggling like crasy .



Otherwise known as survival methods

But its only recently I’ve realised that.

For much of my life reading has been a way to survive and to enjoy. Music has been something to relax into, dance around the room to and cry with.

So many writers have had an influence on my thoughts. My favourite and influential books are so varied. It’s not about highbrow classics. Many of the books that empower me are what some people call chick lit, usually in snooty terms. Guess it’s sad there missing out on a good read. 

Victor Frankel   Mans search for a Meaning. 

                        It’s a powerful book. Its about survival  in a concentration camp during second world war. Its how as humans we react in horrendous situayion.Its  also about a different kind of therapeutic approach called logotherapy. Stimulating book, very thought provoking. But it needs a summer school HEALTH WARNING. Take care .be in the right place to read it.

 Alexander Potter    Me and  Mr Darcy

Fantastic story of an American book store owner coming to the UK for a Jane Austen summer school. There is the most brilliant line in the book “you can’t f*** a paperback.” Sorry if I am missing a word or two from the original sentence.The line is said by a young vibrant character and totally in context. I guess the line really struck me. It was like being struck on the head with a concrete block. I have been living my in my books. They were and are my life. I stay in and read, rather than go out and live.


Saved by cake      Marion Keyes

All of Marion Keyes novels are thought provoking, always tears, ,morality, laughter and a spirit of community. This is  cookbook, scrumptious cakes, some works of art, some for weekend cooking, all for good and bad days. In her introduction Marion talks about  a period of depression and how literally cakes saved her. This may seem out of context ,she talks about walking up in the morning and the thoughts in her mind were “Suicide or Cupcakes” Marion has chosen cupcakes. Guess its not quiet  that simple.  Guess I’m still looking for my cupcakes?


Mitch Albom   Have a little faith

Mitch Alboms books are so inspiring.The book is about the author getting to kmow his local pastor in preparation for a eulogy when the pastor dies.  Its about  life and death,its about how our past shapes us so  much and how we can change,even though it can be painfull. Health warning. Just be aware it’s a powerful book, DON’T see the word pastor and think “its religious”  Absolutly,but the feelings and issues are  for  everyone. I think all Mitch Alboms books should be posted through everyone’s door.The theme of the book stays with you in a good way.







Tears,tears and more tears.

Its been one hell of a week. Guess its about been more in tune with whats going on around me. In reality that means I’m so aware of how other peoples lives  seem so busy and fulfilled.Spent a long time in a car with some colleagues. They were all busy people. Catching up on their texts, sending texts to people, arranging meetings.

Left me feeling very isolated, left me realizing what a different life I’ve had.

Ok,we,never know what someone’s life is like, especially their internal life.

I have kept myself so separate from people; it’s changing but so slowly. Tears have been for a life lost, for the non-existent children, the missing relationships. Tears  for the fear that I will never get back into life, that somehow it’s not for me..

Tears for the counselling session. Talking about my relationship with food. That that is my life relationship. Trying to get my head round it.That food has taken, almost, over from my relationship with everything and everyone else. Way way back, standing in a road, 8 years old, cake box in one hand, money in the other. Being so terrified of going into a house where I would have tea in china cups and  a cake followed by abuse. I guess in my 8 year old mind I got caught up in escape of the pleasure of the cake and somehow got caught up in the middle of the cake.

Feeling caught up in a maelstrom   of emotion,stuggling like crazy to focus and failing bigtime .Feeling like non person. Feeling very alone and very frightened. Trying to tell myself this is part of the journey,this is the bit where I need every millisecond  of energy.My energy is melting away with the tears.