Cakes,who’d have thought it.

Yesterday counselling session was hard core.In many ways it comes down to a cake box. A cake box seems such a simple thing, a piece of cardboard made into a shape, into which you place cake,tie it up and carry. What it actually means is when you go the shop,you buy cake you walk a short distance,feeling what? Just feeling,what does a child feel who knows they are going to walk into a house,have tea and cake with a china cup,help wash up and then be abused.

Guess I struggle like crazy sometimes to find the words to describe how it felt,to try and describe how the memory is,cant describe the feelings.

It so hard to see cake box  and see it just like that,all i feel is the shivers and my mind drags me back through a time tunnel. Getting fearful it’s never going to end. Will I get through this,sometimes it feels harder and hopeless. Guess that where Samaritans come in!!!!!

Doubts fears and falling

how does a date in a calendar suddenly make the tightrope start to shake and pull. When your on an escalator and your holding on and suddenly it pulls, takes you off your balance. Only your just handing on by the skin on your teeth. The date on the calendar pulls me back to something two years ago, my world fell apart. I was attacked  whilst volunteering ,but its different, I was attacked because I stepped in to stop the person attacking someone else. Why cant I convince myself that was a huge step change. I was acting on the world ,not letting the world push me out of the way. Hours before  I felt so good. I felt like i was part of the world, not sitting outside of it. Wish I could stand on the balcony and scream my head off. Maybe I need to stop trying to understand what others are thinking and concentrate on my own thinking. I am fantastically wonderful at reading between the lines. Trouble is there generally the wrong lines. Trying to escape the rain that’s pouring through my mind.

eyeballing life in the face

Why am I so afraid of love, life liberty and pursuit of happiness? Pity I can’t go and buy a pound of life in the shop. Get a pint of milk, loaf of bread and a pound of life, trouble is I’d probably only ask for a quarter of life, too afraid to buy a whole pound,

Have I always been so afraid of life?

It’s that slow burning internal fear that’s always there, that occasionally flairs up to a full roaring volcano.

I’m so still pulled back to the past, it’s like one of those harnesses you see on toddlers, but mine is made of backwards elastic.

 I can go forward a little bit; if I strain forwards too much then I get yanked backwards so fast.

It’s all about guilt, how can I be so guilty of things done to me?

It’s like I’m afraid other people will find out about me, yet what’s so awful about that. How can the actions of one old man, so, so long ago,create such internal fear for  my whole life?

Watched the BBC 2 programme sins of our fathers last night about the boarding schools run by the Benedictine order. It’s always the same, the top dogs are sorry, but they can’t explain how it wasn’t stopped or passed to the authorities.

 

  Continue reading

getting through

Ten months ago I was standing on the edge of a cliff looking out on to the water.        There was a exquisite glow on the water as if there were lights under the water. The sea in the distance was that wonderful greeny blue. All I could see was total hopelessness; I had memories of horrible images of periods of my past. NOTHING TO DO WITH MY MUM AND DAD, It that ubiquitous term family friend,. I couldn’t see anything else; the water was calling me, verbally pulling me in. I wanted to lookout to take a picture I could close my eyes and see as I stepped over the edge .

This weekend has  been so blinking tough. Maybe the title should  how to get through counselling, How ame I gettind through. Looking out the window at the clouds,playing the game I used to with my dad. Looking at the clouds and seeing what they looked like. At the moment I can see a dragon carring a poodle. Look out and let your imagination carry you away.

difficult day

Hello,why this blog?

Last year I tried to kill myself .I was stopped and this is a blog on my journey back to survival and I hope back to learning how to live.

Why anonymous, because in contradiction I want to be open about now and my past. Most people I know don’t know about my life to me trying to end my life and I don’t want them to.

I will probably post a couple of times a week.

The plan is to record how I feel everything, how my day  has gone,how my head and  heart feel, the music and reading that help me and my relationship with Samaritans.

Please leave me your comments. Please be kind ,don’t leave comments that are  cruel or unkind to me or others. I can’t guarantee to respond to comments immediately.

IF YOUR FEELING LOUSY AND WANT TO TALK WITH SOMEONE PHONE “ SAMARITANS”.

Phone 08457 909090 ,there a good bunch of people,nothing seems to phase them.

x loopy