Feels

Tags

affection, author, autobiographical, creative, emotion, expression, expressive, feeling, happiness, journey, love, poem, poet, poetry

Shivers slink across my spine

as you skim my skin,

eyes smiling, red lips softly

kiss my soul,

touch my shrouded feeling.

.

Mindless, carefree i bathe

in the sunshine, blazing brightly

a beacon of brilliance, invigorating

rays envelope my musings,

awaken me, renew me to

the feels you give me.

Noise

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author, autobiographical, creative, creativewriting, feelings, journey, poem, poet, poetry, reflecting, reflection, thoughts

Rapid ripples like a shivering stream

of conscience the words spill so swiftly

from such accusing lips, no meaning

they bear no truth.

 

Scarcely penetrating stubborn canals

so untuned and disconnected,

the bridge between the naked world

and dejected lonely mind,

closed to malicious mutterings.

Silence

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author, creative, creativewriting, emotional, feelings, poem, poet, poetry, reflection, silence

Words flying so fast,

across my black mind,

yet i open my mouth

and no words can i find

to express the pain that paralyses

my tense muscles, breathe in, out,

if only i could tell you my thoughts,

all i want is to shout

to tell you to stop.

Swim

Tags

consciousness, feelings, life, poem, poetry, positive

It’s ok to feel so lost

at sea with your mind and body,

waves of emotion crashing

against the shoreline

of consciousness.

You may never find yourself

as you are, changing and fluid

your existence never static, always growing.

So, imbued in the uncertainty of change,

swim towards the horizon,

for being lost you always will be

bound by lost souls,

we swim forward together,

battling the currents of life collectively.

A rant about ‘sexting’ etc…

Engaging in sexual activities within relationships is totally normal and commonplace, especially within the 21^st century when arguably children and teenagers are developing and maturing at a faster rate. It is understandable that the media has a larger influence on relationships, due to the accessibility and ease of communicating via text or facebook for example, especially those engaging in long distance relationships. I think that the increase in technological usage within my generation have somewhat normalised sexual behaviours online, as people have easy access to pornography and explicit images, even on sites such as tumblr and instagram. Celebrities have also taken on more sexual images too, I mean, when I think about Hannah Montana, one of my favourite programmes growing up and compare the naïve and innocent portrayal of Miley Cyrus then and now, the contrast is great. Children who idolised her and other celebrities that have followed a similar trajectory may therefore feel that copying and mirroring their behaviour is normal. It has been shown that exposure to sexual behaviour via media (television, the internet…) has lead to an increase in risky sexual behaviour. One argument for this is that the media often fails to represent the risks and repercussions of engaging in sexual behaviour, especially from a young age, including unexpected pregnancies, STI’s and sexual violence. Although there has been a recent push to publicise these risks, sexual behaviour is still very normalised through this medium.

Prior to coming to university I was aware that some couples sent each other ‘nudes’ or images of genitals to each other but the concept seemed strange to me, somewhat risky too.    I therefore did not ever participate in activities like that and I have never been pressured into sending anything of the sort to ex boyfriends. This does not appear the norm however, as I have discussed this topic with many friends of mine at university and at home who assure me that participating in cyber sexual activities, including ‘skype sex’, ‘facetime sex’ and sending naked images is normal and actually fun. Over 1/3 of teenagers have sent or posted sexually suggestive messages currently, (Child Trends, 2015).  I also feel morally against these activities, for me relationships are far more than sexual interaction and therefore don’t find it necessary or normal to do this. I worry about entering into another relationship in the future and being demanded to participate in these activities because it is so commonplace. Most of the guys I talked to all discuss openly how ‘boring’ it is when girls don’t reciprocate their desires to engage in online sexual activity. Apparently, being able to do these things when in long distance relationships maintains the connection and spices up the relationship, keeping the partner interested. I have a few concerns about this though because isn’t it risky sending images or videos to your partner? What are the repercussions if you break up? What happens if someone goes on their phone or laptop and finds it? I find these activities slightly degrading too, why should I have to ‘keep them interested’ in that manner, and why am I scared about committing to someone because I am against this?

I know that many people disagree with this viewpoint and believe that having sexual freedom in any form is liberating and a right. To some extent I can understand this opinion because the same debate can be had over prostitution but the sheer scale of this behaviour is what frightens me the most. I guess that due to the sheer scale of people engaging in these activities that my view is considered a little conservative or out-dated, I also acknowledge that people should do whatever makes them happy and if it works for them in a relationship then that is great, I just do not want to be pressured into doing these things myself. I am not ‘frigid’ or ‘boring’ because I don’t send naked images of myself, and I will automatically stop talking to anyone that requests anything of the sort because I find it inappropriate and a strange concept overall. I also have nothing against my friends participating in these activities but have no sympathy when it goes wrong, you should have a deep level of trust and respect for the person you send them too otherwise you could end up being famous for all the wrong reasons or even unemployable if indecent images are online and accessible to employers.

break up’s

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author, autobiographical, breakups, consciousness, creative, creativewriting, emotion, feeling, feelings, happiness, honesty, hope, journey, loss, love, mindfulness, reflect, reflection, serenity, subjective

I think that the hardest part about losing someone you love is the knowledge that you will never regain the feeling of utter devotion and love when you gaze into their eyes. Last goodbyes are always hard and somewhat ambiguous, you never really know whether that is it. You hope that maybe it isn’t, please wake up one day and realise you made a mistake I constantly chant within my head. How do you even say goodbye? What are you saying goodbye to, love, happiness, that person themselves? How do you move forward? It’s easy for your friends and family to cushion you with words of sympathy and faith but taking those words and applying them to your every day life is a completely different matter. Deep deep down, within the depths of Talia’s mind she knows that was has happened is inevitable, but her prevailing optimism and positivity prevents her from fully accepting that he is gone. Not just for an hour, a week, a month or a year but in fact forever. She cries, sobs, bangs her head against her wardrobe in the claustrophobic university room where it all happened. Smoking, cigarette after cigarette after cigarette until her lungs burn from the tar she ponders over her actions and whether she could have done anything different. Am I a bad person? Do I deserve this? The answer is no to both. Somewhere, hidden under the vortexical nihilism of my current mindset I have been able to understand and rationalise the events that unfolded. I can only hope that the misty depressive clouds that prevent me from seeing the sun and the beauty that it unveils will soon be lifted. The beauty of life, that is simultaneously the tragic sadness of it too is that nothing is forever. We are physical beings, driven by the chemicals that ebb and flow through our body, emotions and feelings are to some extent created and killed by our minds themselves. I used to find it very challenging to control my emotions, any emotion. As I’ve grown older and read and read and informed myself about the mind, body and soul I have accepted that one is completely in control of a situation if you allow yourself to be. Yes, right now I feel like my small and sheltered existence has been put on hold but I wont feel like that forever. Staying true to my emotions during a period like this is empirical for me to fully accept the situation and to move on a stronger person. Whilst reading ‘The Woman Destroyed’ on Thursday evening I was suddenly hit by a painfully true revelation about the relationship I was currently in. He did not love me as he used to. At first I found this a challenge to comprehend, why had reading a fictional book enabled me to for the first time understand this? It is interesting that humans are experiential learners, reading and seeing the pain of the woman within the last book unleashed my own pain and emotional turmoil that I had so brilliantly turned off for a substantial amount of time. I have learnt two key things from reflecting on this book and my own life:
1) Emotions are not set and do not last forever, you are therefore unable to change how other people feel or think, no matter what you say do or think.
2) If you do not love and respect yourself, others are less able to love you fully too. How can you expect someone to explore and understand the depths of the mind when you yourself refuse to explore and think and dwell and question yourself? Humans all have faults, no one is perfect or close to being perfect but one of the greatest things about being with someone who loves you as you love them, is that they accept and love you for the good things about you as well as the flaws.

I have been lucky to learn about the importance of reflection, critical reflection and reflexion through my degree. Many people are unaware of their deep thoughts and feelings and how those preconceived thoughts affect every day life. Being able to successfully reflect demands a certain amount of time and practice, whereby you simply think and dwell and ask yourself questions you don’t particularly want to ask. Through doing this I have developed an intuitive understanding of myself, my limits and my deepest fears and desires too. This is what finally prompted me to end the relationship; I was in love with someone who didn’t know who they were or what they wanted. This was puzzling and sad because for a large part of our relationship I felt shut out and overwhelmed by the insecurity this posed. I asked that he consider his thoughts and feelings in depth and that he take time to think truly about what he wanted and he could not do this. As a result, he was unsure whether he loved me, was capable of loving me, didn’t know if he loved and valued himself and this put immense pressure on all aspects of the relationship. Our relationship was characterised by the phrase ‘I don’t know’ as his way of refusing to look deeper into his own being and to ask himself what he wanted. For this reason our relationship swung from intense and passionate love, to coldness and indifference.

So where do I go from here? Recovering from relationships takes time and it’s hard to dedicate ample time to yourself to accept and move on. Hurting and regretting continues for months after as you question whether you did the right thing or could have made it work. Mindfulness is something that I have learnt to practice in many different forms; I spend a lot of time outside and surrounded by nature because I find the peaceful serenity calming and that it grounds me when I feel lost and insignificant. The seasonal changes that occur regardless of whatever is occurring within human life is promising and an indication that life gets better and changes dynamically. I enjoy literature; I read avidly and will ensure that I keep doing this because sometimes taking yourself into a fictional realm can make the reality of present life easier to bear. I will continue to write fictional short stories and poems too and occasionally monologue passages such as this to remind myself of how I once felt and that feelings and emotions are ever changeable. Most importantly, life has so many unexpected and spontaneous twists and changes, no one is able to predict or control the future and staying in touch with the present will ground me in reality. I know that my feelings wont change, I still feel pain and love simultaneously but I will be able to better manage and accept these emotions as time goes on.

Boating in Laos

I’m sitting on the floor of an old wooden boat. The floor boards creak as your feet gently press against them. The painted walls, once bright yellow are now dilapidated and cracked, I imagine that the damp created crevices that, when combined with wind and wear, caused this decay. Similarly, the brilliant sunflower yellow curtains too are washed out and remind me of the gaunt and weary face of an old lady; fatigued by her experiences and filled with cynicism. Their once royal golden fringing is only a smattering of its former glory. The edges are frayed and the pleating creased too. The lines representing wisdom and understanding of the hardships of its life. The silver steering wheel has rusted somewhat, tagged pieces of string hang from it limp and lifeless like the branches of a willow tree, hanging so forlornly like h depressive crevices of my mind. They move painfully slowly, rigidly.

The boat driver steers with one hand, the other pressed loosely to his ear where he vivaciously chatters away on his mobile. His language, although foreign to me is lyrical and beautiful. His sing song tone brightens up the atmosphere. On either side of the river banks are large mountains, almost completely uninhabited they stand tall; omnipotently. Their plush green leaves shimmer in the faint sunlight that peaks through the heavy and dark ashen clouds. Strangely comforting, they appear to evade reality, keep it at bay. Every so often, if you’re lucky, you see a low house or shack on the mountain side. So alone, I can’t help but wonder about it’s inhabitants. Is there an old man living a life of solitude and simplicity or is there a large family that brings emotion and happiness to the lonely and inanimate hillside.

At the other end of the boat my friends play cards. I hear their excited exclamations as the game intensifies. It is refreshing to see the volume of conversation being had on this trip. Not one person is plugged into an electronic device that ensures that they evade reality. People laugh, smile, share stories and memories just as our ancestors once did. I sit back and watch; breathe in, breathe out. This is happiness.

Results Day Nerves

Perched in my bed, fatigued and stressed,
Lost all motivation to even get dressed,
So far away from all I know so well,
Alone in china with plenty of time to dwell.

The mountains; so foreboding and enveloped in mist,
Perfect pathetic fallacy, the air is so crisp,
Rain gently beats down on worn cobbled stones,
My mind races, quivering limbs rattle my jelly- like bones.

Pressure weighs me down like soot black lead,
I long to fall into eternal sleep, curled up in bed,
All of this self inflicted, I have no sympathy now,
Just anger and regret that boils and bubbles, I frown.

No slumber relieves the tension that captivates me,
All dreams so hellish, demonic, unhappy,
Tick tock, tick tock, always conscious of time,
As each minute is stolen by the past, the results will soon be mine.

Anagnorisis

Tags

anorexia, author, chocolate, creative, england, freedom, happiness, honesty, london, mental health, peace, rant, realisation, teenage, truth

I have admittedly spent the last thirty minutes trawling through my creative writing from the past year.  Conclusion: what a miserable sod I can be.  Why is it that all i seem to write about is love, or a lack of it?  It then dawned upon me, why hadn’t i written in so long? The main reason, is that i have found no need to.  I have felt rather settled lately, I’d go as far to say jovial even.  I also came to another deduction, when you stop drastically over-thinking every single minute detail of every petty situation, everything becomes somewhat clearer.  I’m not going to pretend that I am normal, but do i want to be? I still have major issues, mainly regarding food.  Not an hour passes when i don’t think about shoving my head down a latrine and vomiting up the contents of my stomach, or skipping a meal because i convince myself that it will somewhat benefit my life in the long run.  Realistically, i don’t think those urges will ever leave me, it’s part of who i am.  The difference is that i have learnt not to act on such irrational impulses.

 

As i’ve grown up and learnt more about happiness i have gained insight into the insignificance of food obsession.  I have learnt to accept and embrace the person that i am, body included.  So what, I don’t have a thigh gap? So what, i have rolls when i sit down? So what, i’m no longer a size 4? I don’t have to be closely monitored by a bunch of unsympathetic health professionals either.  I am still loved by those that matter.  I still am able to laugh and smile, even more so.  I’ve regained my zest for life too.  Retrospectively, it’s incredibly selfish to have idolised my physical image so greatly.  Since shifting the negative outlook i have gained a myriad of wonderful friends, developed a better and more transparent relationship with my family, am able to function better on a daily basis and have rediscovered my inquisition and adventurous spirit.

 

I see friends struggling around me with similar issues, i can see into their tormented minds.  Spending perhaps hours debating whether to eat a square of chocolate and then despising themselves for a week when they do.  I feel sad, forlorn due to this.  I wish i was able to enlighten them too about how miserable that life is.  I also regret their dependance on medication to feel mildly content.  The best decision i made was to live without antidepressants, anti anxiety and any other medication.  This is mainly because laughter i share, smiles i flash at a random stranger on a street, that warm contented feeling i get when i get into bed, are from me, they are mine, as opposed to the fluoxetine, duloextine, citalopram, valium concoction that the doctors fed me.  And, while i can comprehend the dependance on the drugs, i beg people to give life medication- give it a go before committing to a life of doctors appointments and phone alarms to remind yourself to take the meds.

 

I realise how pretentious i sound, there is a clear reason why so many people are prescribed these medications- simply because they work.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m not condemning the seriousness of mental illness, quite the opposite.  I just think that the NHS acts as though medication is the be all and end all, that a pill will mysteriously wipe the slate of life clean.  What about dealing with the route of the cause- why do so many people feel suicidal? Struggle to get up every singly day? Starve themselves until they are skeletal? My mum frequently reminds me that when she was growing up, mental illness was far less prevalent.  Strange, that in a single generation we’ve seen such a large increase? Is it because thirty years ago people with problems were ignored? Or was it because people were happier?  I can’t speak from experience as i wasn’t alive thirty years ago but life did seem somewhat elementary.  I think the main reason for that was the lack of technology, no one was constantly bombarded with photoshoped, airbrushed images of malnourished celebrities in ‘Heat’ and ‘Ok’ or able to feed their unhappiness by communicating with a group of likeminded individuals on Tumblr.  You still had social ideologies about the ‘perfect’ woman but it appeared far more realistic and much less important.

 

I therefore urge the younger generation to switch off, even occasionally.  Stop living a cyber life and start living a real one.  Go on cycle rides without having to pause to pick your instagram filter, eat a meal and don’t even look at the calorie count, spend as much time with people that make you happy, read novels about love, fall in love, go to the seaside; build sandcastles- don’t tweet about it.  Don’t judge yourself by how many boys find you attractive but by how many people like you, how much you like yourself and by the amount of good that you can do.  Exercise, keep fit but do not make that your obsession.  Eat chocolate, it’s scientifically proven to increase your mood.  Have sex, if you want to.  If you don’t want to, don’t.  It’s that simple, you are in control of the decisions you make.  Don’t feel pressured to conform to societies expectations.  So what if you’ve never kissed someone?  That’s great, when you do, you’ll be glad you waited.  Don’t fill your body with alcohol that you despise the taste of.  If you feel the need to get absolutely intoxicated to enjoy going out- don’t go? Stay at home and watch a film, with a cup of tea.  Never lie, steal, cheat or take short cuts- it’ll catch up with you one day, and when that day comes you’ll wish you were able to dissolve into the ground and undo all the bad.

 

Life is simply too short to live for other people.  All of the above is extremely cliche but i feel that simple pleasures are a taboo topic, we forget about the things that really bring about gaiety when we over dramatise things.  So, i urge you, right now, or whenever you’re ready, take a step back and just have a look at yourself.  Don’t think about twenty years time, don’t even think about tomorrow.  Are you happy? If not, why? I guarantee, it’ll be a simple answer, as simple as, i spend too much time on Facebook, you’re stuck in an emotionless relationship, or that you wish you spent more time with your family.  There is no time like the present to make alterations.  After all, we are all works in progress.  Start small.  Eventually you’ll reap the rewards.  I wish you all the best of luck at life, you do have the power to do anything and be anyone you want to be, just don’t lose yourself along the way.

(Very Rough) Salvage Chapter I.

Tags

author, autobiographical, book, girl, mental illness, progress, psychiatry, rough, teenage, writer

If you screamed loud enough, no matter how loud it was and you were under water, who would be there to hear your pain?

 

Psychiatry sessions were dull as usual, the regular hypochondriacs, OCD and schizophrenics who I have now been seeing for over two years. Problems that arise are temporarily resolved but what I have noticed as a common theme within my job is that people seem to move in a vicious cycle. They take a step forward and then two backwards, and often this is due to a lack of confidence, provided by the self as well as those around them, and the fear to break the mould. It would be unfair to say that I had no success stories however those successes I am constantly checking up on, to keep them on track. Most psychological issues stimulate from the childhood memories of the patient or an incident which has caused them to withdraw into the realms of personality disorders that society commonly rebukes. But it’s not my place to judge them, I’m simply paid to temporarily relieve them of their heavy burdens and free them of demons within, said to contort and manipulate their souls.

 

My favourite patient, if that’s even allowed but I’m sure you won’t tell; was a young girl called Rebecca. Painfully beautiful with red lips so plump and full of life, sad green eyes like those of a Dow, drooping but surreptitiously drawing everyone in, her dull thatch coloured hair lay limp on her bony shoulders, seldom brushed and therefore looked like a hawthorn hedge. Her parents were so ordinary I was almost startled when she first started seeing me, only aged seven it appeared her personality was already tainted, a blackening of the soul; which drew me instantly to her childhood. As rigid as anything she refused to speak until the fifth session where she uttered under her voice a short sentence, ‘it wasn’t his fault’ to which I think I must have laughed, or maybe smiled because swiftly after she came to my side to gaze into my eyes. I reached out for her bony little hand, she felt icy cold, so delicate and vulnerable she was, I felt like I should swoop her up into my arms and just put her in front of the fire in my living room. Before I could offer her the mandatory words of comfort that I give to all of my patients she sprang into life. Speaking fast and quietly she talked me through what she thought was the cause of her issues. When I had read her file before agreeing to take her on the word manslaughter had occurred more than I felt comfortable with, but I seemed to overlook it as soon as I saw her photo. Similarly as she lead me through the dark and damp alleys of her past I was not able to be angry with her, or even fear her at all. She had been sectioned to the Mildred Creek Unit at Great Ormond Street Childrens’ hospital, London which was one of the very few phychistric units accepting children as young as seven.. The session lasted over three hours, I was silent through out nodding and squeezing her hand when appropriate.

 

That night at home I puzzled over her case, her words constantly floating through my brain, unable to diffuse through and leave my mind at rest. I didn’t think to tell my partner, I thought it would be too early to break the ice over the case, especially as she was still in such a fragile state. Strangely my cat Olive seemed to sense that there was something wrong, she rubbed her smooth little head against my legs purring loudly. She even decided to spend the night curled up at the bottom of my bed amongst the woollen rugs. Her presence set me at ease as though she was willing me to succeed with the girl, the feeling was mutual.

 

That evening I dreamt lucidly of a girl alone in a forest, she was running from something and fear had taken over. Her pallid snowy flesh and lifeless piercing eyes seemed to mirror that of my own but the paranoia and insecurity were far from my persona. It was as though I was watching the deepest darkest chambers of my soul being played out. Those chambers I had closed many years ago when I was little and having them open again made me queasy. I woke up panting; my brow was covered in sweat droplets that had accumulated over the course of the nightmare. James my partner shook my gently, squeezing my shoulders and holding up some water and a sleeping tablet he smiled kindly. Our relationship had been ongoing since we were teenagers and therefore I felt as though we were more of a companionship than a couple. Harmoniously our lives seemed to fit together like the pieces of a very jagged jigsaw puzzle, corny I know. When we first met he was nerdy looking, with thick-rimmed glasses and a book always close at hand. He excelled within school and went on to do a degree in physics. Although our paths were headed in different directions for a time, we rekindled our love and friendship after university swiftly moving in together. He knew all of my secrets, I knew all of his except he was so ordinary, content and easily pleased that his secrets weren’t secretive at all.

 

 His first real tragedy was the loss of his mother just after he had qualified. Her long battle with cancer had left an empty gap in his life, psychiatry was closer to home than I had ever anticipated with his mother and I felt as though my knowledge and understanding helped him to get through the tough times. She was bi polar and this personality disorder and the spontaneity of the malady made it difficult for James and I to vacate for long period of time without him prematurely flying home. The aggressive nature of the cancer had given him little chance to properly say goodbye and towards the end the dichotomy within her personality was as prevalent as ever, making her irrational, irritable and disagreeable. For months after she died he wouldn’t open up to me, he’d digress into a realm of his own and constantly be in his study pondering over the endless piles of paper, mainly science journal articles. The day he decided to share his pain I had walked into the house after work to find him just sobbing on the sofa. We sat for hours, up all night I listening him speaking. Commencing that we made passionate love, he gripped me so tightly as though I was giving him strength. I felt his warm salty tears falling from his elegant doe eyes onto my warm skin and quickly trickling to the ground like a waterfall. We had fallen asleep our bodies entwined and covered in a thin satin throw.. The next morning I had heavily overslept and my phone confirmed this, angry voicemails from desperate patients left me feeling more guilty than not. But after that James and I were able to proceed with the tranquil lifestyle together.