Utterly brilliant thoughtful 10 minute talk



Re reading book by  “tuesdays with Morrie”. Its about death, but it is actually about living  and being in every moment of your life.

Like all of Mitch Albom’s books ,this is such a powerfull read. All  of his books come, from me, with a mega health warning, they can take me to places I don’t always want to be. At the end of the process it turns out to be a cleansing, deep layered process, going through my memories and thoughts of day to day living.  Why the health warning re Mitch Albom’s books,because  I stasrt to think about how I am. What is it I do every day. Do I influence anyone negatively. I am so so aware  I do not live life to the full. Do I have any positive impact on anyone at all?

I barely live at all. 


Trying not to binge,ye gods and little fishes, that feeling I will die if I don’t get that pile of food inside me. I wish I could describe the feeling I get during the process of binging. I cant do that, the feeling goes once I stop the eating.

Trouble is it doesn’t stop the deep pain razoring its way through my mind . Its the way , I THINK, of keeping away the demons that live in the deepest darkest part of myself. If they got released …. what WOULD BE?? that’s where it feels like I would die. I don’t think(  I think) I even mean I would die by my own hand ,I mean I would just die. I would internally implode not just emotionally, but physically to .

Totally not succeeding with not  phoning Samaritans. Feel I am getting caught in the quagmire of  ropes pulling me round and round. I am falling down huge holes, its only those phone calls with Samaritans  that give me the strength and ability  to keep grasping for the ropes that swing by, just not quite long enough to hold on to . I have to stretch out to grasp them. I keep falling into and getting caught in the human traps that seem to pus and pull me .

They feel a bit like the tree in one of the “harry potter ” film, where the characters get caught in the tree that whirls them round and round,witrh bumps and cuts an will not let them go




new year,new start OR?


Should the New Year bring new hope? Or is that just a fallacy to make me feel dire. Or am I turning into a blinking awful cynic. I guess the reality is that I am so utterly blinking scared that what I am hoping for will collapse and burn around me.

Task one: Reduce my telephone calls to Samaritans. Am I contacting Samaritans when I should look inside myself. Its so difficult.

When the pain goes through my mind and my heart

When the thoughts  are racing around

When the thoughts of powerlessness are mighty

When the isolation seeps through my bones and seems to seems to come through the walls and in the air

Are there words to describe how that feels?

Am I setting myself up for failure?

When I talk to the Samaritans I get to sort those thoughts out, sometimes a little, sometimes a lot. Even when a call goes wrong I can learn something. There used to be  a few Samaritans that used to somehow scare me. Not entirely sure why. I think it used to feel as if they were thinking I was just a blinking nuisance. Now,I have even deeper conversations . I think the Samaritans I used to be afraid of were so very brave. When I told them they helped me explore the reasons I felt afraid.




time travel,alcoholic bruitishness and perceptions.


How can a few minutes in time change the whole way I feel. How does one person’s actions, in a minute or less.

Friend came round for a drink, there were 4 of us, me my friend and husband and another friend. Three women  ,one male, the male drank a lot of alcohol quickly, he was making “jokes” about the 60’s music I was playing, lots of “Doors, deep purple,Kinks,He made comments about suicide, drug taking,sarky nasty comments. Went to the kitchen and returned. It’s about 20 steps from kitchen to living room and back.

Actually, I don’t go round counting steps from room to room, but used to when my mum was having physio, we used to count the steps, each extra step was such a victory and reduction in steps was such painful loss.

My male guest was standing up and gestured to dance ,I thought “what the hell “he then grabbed me so tight and face forward with a fierce  fierce kiss, I  saw his face coming towards  me and couldn’t turn my face or push him away. I felt so violated, I think it felt worse because his wife and my other female friend found it hilarious.

It’s set off feeling I can’t find words to, its set of stuff from a long time ago about strength and power. My room feels violated,its no longer the same sanctuary it was.

Part of me felt it’s just what women have to put up with,my feminist heart is screaming out “NO WAY”.

He was drunk, he won’t remember, does that make it ok or least worst????.

Suddenly feels like I such an unsurmountable distance to travel on this journey of living with my past. I feel as if I am carrying thousands of tons of rocks. I  want to turn them to dust, and settle the dust in different places. A few rocks have turned to dust, I’ve left a little dust in a safe place. Sometimes the rocks get very heavy,sometimes they poke at me with jagged edges,sometimes they feel like they corrode me. Today they do all of this





Feels like a weird week. For a few days have been unable to communicate,sounded like a  very cross “gruffalo”. And that’s when I could get some sound out.

My frustrations took me to tears. H ow do people who cant talk  cope with it. Got me thinking more about powerlessness. Whilst we generally see body language as important WORDS are the necessary and accepted communication.

I have been thinking about my mum when she had her stroke and couldn’t  speak. Thinking about how I saw her being treated so badly in hospital. She wasn’t the exeption, it was horrible normal. If your not able to verbally communicate  so much is cut off from you.

I find it incredible difficult to express the fear I had.


 it was only a cold .It’s made me feel maybe we should all spend a day not speaking and see how you get by.

I guess it feeds into the silence as a child of not being able to tell anyone what was happening to me.

Stating to talk more, about that time with my counsellor, but I am backing off to. Christmas coming up. Dreading the isolation .Seeing people, hearing people making plans for nights out, feeling the exclusion from it.Wondering if there ever going to be a point where I feel included. Not feeling optimistic.

Funerals,food and time travel

Last couple of weeks very testing. I  attended a family funeral, met relations I haven’t seen for a while. Realized how I freeze. You know when you suddenly know something in your heart, even though its been in your head for a while. Sort of concrete block knocking your head, that literal sort of understanding. It actually hurts. Standing at a graveside ,sad at the sadness of the loss of someone’s life,sad at the loss for family and friends, but part of me literally frozen. It was physical and emotional, all over my body, especially my back.

I think I was just starting to accept I haven’t ever mourned my dad, maybe it’s starting NOW.

Feeling so blinking wobbly. Food binging going crazy. I TOLD MYSELF I WASN’T GOING TO BINGE,IT WAS GOING TO BE FINE. My thoughts replied in a blink. The answer from my thoughts was “I will die if I don’t binge”. Where does that come from? A bit over the top. Feeling so so wobbly. Starting to feel fearful of the dark, dark at night time, mornings feel safer.

Walking home from work this evening, my breathing getting heavier and heavier, chest so tight. Such relief to get in the door, back into safety, my own space, no one to have to pretend to. A few stolen moment so peace and the breathing slows, the thoughts of my dad,the intense physical pain of his absence. How can it be so powerful after so so long.

Music has kept the brick walls a little softer and made the dark corners of the Caves I get caught in get a glimmer of soft light. Listening to “Passenger”. its very powerful. Reading is a  bit of a struggle ,I need some inspiration.

What comes next,getting the whispers of a tornado in the distance. CAN I GET THROUGH IT? Not sure.


Feeling utterly dire, struggling to keep head above water. During my counselling session  we got round to POWER   Not my choice but we got there. It’s ABOUT MY FEAR OF MY POWER.

It’s about me being subject to misuse of power as a child, and recently whilst I was incarcerated in a psychiatric hospital. My counsellor is saying I am afraid that I am fearful I am/could misuse my power, my power as a friend, as an employee, as a  colleague.

Let’s face it I’m practically afraid of my own shadow sometimes. It’s one of those “duh” moments, I am so blinking afraid of any power I have, afraid in case I hurt someone, afraid in case I damage someone as a representative of my employer.


I feel as something momentous has happened, not sure I can survive it.Struggling to talk about it.Desperate to try and make sense of it,but cant explain it. Tried Sams but all the wrong voices,one right voice ,but I think they they thought I’d lost the plot. OK,maybe correct………?

I guess it is one of those things that make sense,but so very very frightening. If I say things or challenge or exert any pressure on someone I get so scared,. It puts my fear and sometimes terror of work in a place that makes sense,I kind of understand why I get that sinking feeling on Sunday morning, The feeling that turns into,

“I might have to die because I can’t face work tomorrow” It is that strong. OK, it sometimes gets easier as the week goes on. Sounds really over the top doesn’t it, but it’s real.

A bag of rubbish saved me from facing a life or death decision. Came in from first day back at work after holiday break. My mind was still mainly back in the place I was in a year ago. My mind was not on the work a day world. It was one of these days when every internal fear I have was challenged and I was wilting. Quite simple, I couldn’t cope, too much, out over the balcony. Walked in the front door, dropped my bags on a chair, few steps to the balcony door.

Suddenly realised the kitchen held a bag of rubbish I hadn’t put in the chute. Suddenly I had to put the rubbish out, didn’t want anyone seeing the rubbish when they broke in after I had died. How is it that my mind took on such a concern? Was it that simple? If the rubbish wasn’t there would I have finished my life?

I guess I am almost at a point when I don’t know if I can keep going. Since my counselling session I feel physically exhausted and emotional drained no reserves. Wish I just go and hide somewhere for a while.

Dream world would see me in a house, near a beach, with one or two others, talking, drinking wine, swimming, eating well going to noisy pubs and restaurants. No dream world for me.

Next couple of weeks are going to be such a test. I have a family funeral next week. It’s going to be one of the biggest tests of my life.