Archive for the ‘writing’ Category

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blog? maybe.

March 2, 2010

Blog or not blog?

While the question hasn’t exactly been keeping me up at nights I’m contempleting.  What’s to be done with bpositive? .

As I see it.

I could leave things as they are.  True.  But with a blog comes a certain responsibility.  It needs looked after if it isn’t to become old and weary and out of date (I’m making some connections here) just sitting waiting and wondering as the days go by if someone will drop in and pay a visit.  Maybe even post something.  How exciting would that be!

I could delete it.  Eh?  Delete it as if it never existed?  Whoa!  Isn’t that a bit … ‘final’?  On reflection this might appear a step too far and overly dramatic.  Reason?  As I’ve read through some of the old stuff I find a warmth here, stirring memories of people and places, happiness and sadness, moments of learning and understanding and empathy.  A genuineness I’d forgotten.

Or I could go for resurrection and a complete revamp (again, seeing some connections) keeping some of the old stuff but looking at the possibilities.  A bit like recovery.  I know, short-term goals are always good and I’ve become quite fond of them.  Blog once a week perhaps?  That MUST be achievable.  Even if it’s to say hello or duplicate my update status as seen on Facebook and Twitter!

Sounds good to me.

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Darkness Visible

July 3, 2008

A few weeks ago I was in the library searching for something or other and in my travels came across this wee gem of a book which I’d recommend to anyone interested in mental illness, especially depression.

In the eighty four pages of Darkness Visible: A Memoir of Madness, William Styron describes his descent into depression through reflection on melancholia, despair, physical ailments, social phobia, alcohol, therapy, hospitalisation and eventual recovery. He gives an extremely moving account of his preparation for suicide, feeling like an observer to an oncoming disaster in an almost theatrical fashion. His attempts to write a farewell note seemed too ridiculous for they sounded either pompous or comical so he tore up all his efforts and resolved to “go out in silence”.

“Late one bitterly cold night, when I knew that I could not possibly get myself through the following day, I sat in the living room of the house bundled up against the chill; something happened to the furnace. My wife had gone to bed and I have forced myself to watch the tape of a movie in which a young actress, who had been in a play of mine, was cast in a small part. At one point in the film … the characters moved down the hallway of a music conservatory, beyond the walls of which, from unseen musicians, came a contralto voice, a sudden soaring passage from the Brahms Alto Rapsody.

This sound which, like all music – indeed, like all pleasure – I had been numbly unresponsive to for months, pierced my heart like a dagger, and in a flood of swift recollection I thought of all the joys the house had known: the children who had rushed through its rooms, the festivals, the love and work, the honestly earned slumber, the voices and the nimble commotion, the perennial tribe of cats and dogs and birds … all this I realised was more than I could ever abandon, even as what had set out so deliberately to do was more than I could inflict on those memories and upon those, so close to me, with whom the memories were bound. And just as powerfully I realised I could not commit this desecration on myself. I drew upon some last gleam of sanity … “

Eloquent and straightforward. Enjoy.

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talking to myself

May 22, 2008

For a split second everything seemed just right.  I feel quite spiritual in fact.  The sun’s shining, I’m eating chocolate, I don’t feel guilty as I walk passed the gym on the way home … then I start to think back to the events of the day. I should know by now that’s never a good thing.

You know that way you begin to replay things over in your mind?

Today we had to give a presentation. It shouldn’t have worried me but it did. My group arrived to be told that we were in the ‘communication suite’ and we all knew what that meant. Recording!!! We’d been duped! I would’ve worn something different! Well I am female and I wasn’t the only one wishing she was having a better hair day! I suddenly felt under pressure. The last time I felt this nervous was when I was Best Woman at my best friend’s civil partnership, and this time I didn’t even need to be funny for goodness sake!  (As we all know trying to be funny when one is not a naturally funny person isn’t good.)

I’m thinking I’m a bit stressed this week. Too many things needing my time and effort and I’m unable to focus.

I’ll just have another piece of chocolate and not think about it anymore. I’ve got an idea!  I’ll think about something else instead … 

I must remember to transfer the law and healthcare notes I took during this morning’s lecture. Now what was the name of that legal case and what was its significance again? Nope, can’t remember!

I’ll just wait till I get home and once I’ve read through the stuff, I’m sure it’ll all come back to me.

This afternoon’s lecture on dual diagnosis was really good – mental health & learning disabilities. Mmm tricky. I’m reminded of my second semester placement and hiding in the charge nurse’s office during the first week hoping nobody would notice. In the end it turned out to be a great learning experience … well I had to come out eventually!

The chocolate’s nearly finished! How did that happen and I’m only at the end of the road!?

I walk the same route each day … it reminds me of walking home from school (ah the olden days). I’m thinking that each time I pass these same houses I’m eating chocolate and it occurs to me that for three days this week I’ve been eating chocolate each time I pass these same houses. Is this developing into some sort of habit? . Admittedly I’ve had three varieties of chocolate: Monday was chocolate raisins, Wednesday was flake and today was a bar of whole nut (I was off Tuesday).

Last bite and it’s all gone.

I’m home.

 

 

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the stranger in God’s house

March 31, 2008

She is a stranger in this place and immediately struck by its beauty and splendour.   The spring sunshine streams through the stained glass but she shivers. There is little heat.

The stranger sips hot chocolate as a crowd gathers. Here for the event, they recognise one another and talk amongst themselves. Some are guided to her table and she remains seated, wondering who will speak. No-one does.

She is not offended as some strangers might be but smiles as she remembers her experience in another place. She withdraws from the table. No-one notices.

Invisible in God’s house.

Her mobile rings and soon she’s engaged in conversation with a good friend.  Perfect timing.   

The event begins but she does not participate. Instead the stranger sits quietly at the back listening to the chatter and laughter, welcoming the quietness when it comes. They are at work.

She waits … then senses God’s presence beside her. Peace.

Some say they welcomed her, some say they spoke to her, some say they never saw her.

How many times do we fail to notice?

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Seamus Heaney

March 17, 2008

How can I let the week go by without mentioning Seamus Heaney.  This wonderful poet was a guest on Andrew Marr’s show on Sunday morning and read from the chorus at the end of The Cure at Troy, his version of The Philoctetes, by Sophocles.  Unfortunately I can’t find a video recording of this so the words minus Seamus will have to do. 

Human beings suffer,
They torture one another,
They get hurt and get hard.
No poem or play or song
Can fully right a wrong
Inflicted and endured.

The innocent in gaols
Beat on their bars together.
A hunger-striker’s father
Stands in the graveyard dumb.
The police widow in veils
Faints at the funeral home.

History says, don’t hope
On this side of the grave.
But then, once in a lifetime
The longed-for tidal wave
Of justice can rise up,
And hope and history rhyme.

So hope for a great sea-change
On the far side of revenge.
Believe that further shore
Is reachable from here.
Believe in miracle
And cures and healing wells.

Call miracle self-healing:
The utter, self-revealing
Double-take of feeling.
If there’s fire on the mountain
Or lightning and storm
And a god speaks from the sky

That means someone is hearing
The outcry and the birth-cry
Of new life at its term.