Month: October 2023

PARKING FINE REACHES HORRIBLE CLIMAX

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Well, in the end we contacted the police again. They were contacted a while ago and they said it was not a police matter. However, things have transpired today when my husband attempted to cancel the monthly Road tax payment. It was not possible because the new owner of my car had not registered it with the DVLA and so we had to keep paying the tax. So that man was getting away with us paying his road tax. However, because of this and other things we contacted the police again and they told us that it seems likely that the man bought the car to commit crimes in. It often happens that criminals do this and because the car is still registered in your name, you get done for the crime. The DVLA were so slow in taking me off the register as owner of the car that this was a likely outcome. In the end the police took the number of the car and said they would watch out for the car as a possible criminal. It has indeed been a hellish day.

I need to get some kind of peace back again. I wish my husband had never sold my car like that. But there we are.

SACRED ROWAN

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The rowan tree stands to guard all souls
The most sacred tree in the Churchyard
It stands there listening as the bell tolls
Its heart knowing every tear that rolls
Down cheeks that this tree’s great love enfolds
In grief’s dark night true faith feels so hard
The rowan tree stands to guard all souls
The most sacred tree in the Churchyard

An old poem but relevant today

A HELLISH DAY

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This morning I tried to getinto a better place away from horrible things and memories. I went back in my mind to when I was thirteen years old. I gained wsome peace from that. However, things have happened since then and they have been horrific. So strange that it is Halloween. I have ended up losing any peace that I had. I just want this day to be over now. I will try to find some nice poems to post.

LOVE

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I looked at the cross on the pale blue wall behind the altar. A young man stood in the sanctuary. He was talking about love. I only heard the word “love.” Nothing else. It was as if love was filling the room. I felt it coming to me and lodging itself inside me. He said that there was love waiting for us inside that sanctuary. We only had to go forwards and receive it. I did not need to go forward. It had already come to me. It was in me. Like never before. I had never known love. But I knew it now. I had craved for love all of my life. And now here it was. I did not have to search for it. It had come and found me. I went home that night full of love. Everything was changed. I was a different person. I was thirteen years old.

I DON’T LIKE HALLOWEEN

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I don’t like Halloween this year. It is too much like reality for me. This morning I have woken up sick to my stomach. All that I feel is horror and fear. Fear because I am alone. Horror at my memories. How could I deny things to myself for so long? Perhaps the reality was too painful. Perhaps I had to survive. Will I survive now? I do not know. I remember when she said “Ugh.” My mother that was. She said “ugh” as I held my arms out to her. She pursed her lips. She looked at my bleeding oozing body and despised it. But then she always did. Even before the cancer. She despised me always.

“I’ll get you CLEAN,” she said as she pushed my head under the water in the washing machine. I used to want to drink bleach. To get the insides of me clean. I could never be clean for her. How could a mother describe the blood running down the stairs in her description of trying to abort me? How and why? Could she not have kept silent? No, she wanted to hurt me. Sadistic. That is what she was. She loved to see me squirm. Why did I not see it? Why did I protect her? With three loud cries she died. And even as she died I loved her.

I SIT HERE

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I sit here in my bed shaking. The world has gone. Where am I now? Where has everyone gone? I am left with images of the past. Images that I do not want to see. I am consumed by my memories. He called you The Dragon. My father. You breathed fire. Your eyes sent out fire and the fire lapped around my body. I hear a voice. The voice of a demon. How fitting that you should be gone on Halloween

LINK TO A POST

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I have made a sadder post on my old blog and I will put the link at the bottom of this post. No one has to read it, but should you want to, you will have the link. I am really just trying it out. I have been very black since losing my sister, however bad she was, and the anniversary of my mother’s death is affecting me very badly. It has not done this in previous years but then I was not as ill as I am now, in previous years. I feel bereft and so so so alone. My husband is ill too and we have to care for each other. Long story which some of you know. It is taking its toll. But anyway, if you do want to read the post, you can. But of course it may be that no one does want to read it. Lt’s see how it goes. And I may even reverse my decision to protect myself by using my old blog for some posts.

SINCE I LOST ALL MY FAMILY

THE LINK WILL APPEAR SOON BUT I AM NOT DESERTING IN HERE

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Further to my last post, I will get my husband to post the link to my old blog. Then if I want to post anything darker or something that might make me feel vulnerable, yu can still go and read it if you want to. Otherwise I will still post in here as normal. I will post ordinary things that are happier and some word challenges and my fle linmericks. But if you do wish to read my sadder posts then please feel free to do so when the link appears. Thankyou for your continued support. Oh and I may post some contentious subjects in here as well. I feel ripe for that lol

POSTS ABOUT MY FEELINGS AND FAMILY ETC

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I am still feeling that posting about my feelings and my family is making me far too vulnerable. Everyone has been so good, but just the odd comments can slay me inside so much because I am doing my very best and my way may not be everybody else’s way. I do not want to attract criticism as at this moment I cannot take it. I am human and not superhuman and so often because this is the internet I am not personally known to you all and no one can say that I have not been strong. I am beginning to feel a whimp after one or two things today but I know that I am not. So, I do not yet know where I will post what I desperately need to post. Spamming such things does not really work. I think I need to retreat.

#FOWC – Beaming

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FOWC with Fandango — Beaming

His face was no longer BEAMING when he came back with the coffee. In fact he looked deadly serious. I could tell that he was about to tell me something that was going to be most unpleasant both for him to say and for me to hear. He looked down and stirred his coffee thoughtfully, as if wondering where to begin. Eventually he said,

“Your mother had everything that she could have wanted. Life on the farm was so much better than the life that the kids in the village had as so many of them lived in poverty. Her stepfather was rich, and there was never any lack of food. In fact your grandmother used to have many of the village kids up there to give them a good meal. She would take baking and all sorts of things to various people in the village who needed it. But for some reason your mother hated her stepfather. It was not that he was not a kindly man. He was rather taciturn, but certainly kindly. He wanted to give your mother his name so that she would not be different to her half brothers and sister. Your grandmother would not allow it though, as she wanted to keep her first husband’s name and memory alive. He was her real love, and she would, by all accounts, spend much time crying for him. She did not love your stepfather, but he gave her security and a home for your mother too. It was however a business arrangement and she had to provide him with a son and heir. And now for the rather unpleasant bit. Your mother came across the practice of sticking pins in dolls so that people would die. I think she read it in a book somewhere something called “the Golden Bough” I think. She adopted the practice and used it for her stepfather so that he would die. I have no idea why she hated him so much, but she did.”

We both fell silent. I was almost in shock. How could a small child do such a thing? And for what reason? I sat shocked, but pondering.

“I know that my mother grew up a very restless soul. She once told me that she ran away and went into the WRAF, but she was not yet of age to enter the WRAF. She told me that she wanted to do something for the war. I am not so sure that that was what it was all about. I think she was bored with the farm and in fact hated it and wanted only to get away and find some excitement.”

“Yes, that sounds like her,” he said. “She was indeed very restless. Never satisfied with anything either.”

“She was found out in the end and sent home again. She had done well however and had become a balloon girl up in Scotland. I think she hoped to find a nice handsome husband there, but she didn’t.”

“And in the end she married your father,” he said ruefully. “And he led her a dance. At that time in her life she was so vulnerable, though she still had fight in her. She was just so beautiful.”

“ I saw a photograph of her once, holding me in her arms,” I said she was the most beautiful person I ever saw.”

He looked down again and then spoke quietly,

“I fell in love with her.”

I stared at him, and once again a tear came into his eye.

“She came to me and told me all her problems. I knew that there was this restless side to her, but there was something about her. She could be so serene and dignified. Occasionally, though, a spark of anger came into her eyes. I felt so much for her. Your father had let her down badly, and left her alone with you. And you were such a beautiful baby too. But there was a problem. You looked like your father, and she could not bear that. She wanted you to have fair curly hair like she had. But you were nothing like her at all. She simply could not abide it. Your father got into the Ralph Reader shows, and after that being on the stage was all that he was interested in. He did come back to your mother, and they attempted to start again, but it never really worked.”

He suddenly looked into the distance, out of his study window. After another silence, he said,

“I would have given anything to have been able to marry her. I love her with all of my heart. I kept in contact for a while, but they were forever moving around the country. Your father continued to get into trouble and he always had another woman somewhere. He was just a complete rogue. In the end I met Jemima and married her.”

“Is that Jemima, out there in the garden?” I asked.

“Yes it is,” he said, with a sigh. “She’s a good wife and a good woman, but so boring. Just like the job I am in.” He tugged at his dog collar again in an irritated manner.

“I trained to do this counselling as something on the side that would be more interesting than being a vicar.”

“And now you have me,” I said. “And I am bringing it all back to you.”

“Yes,” he said. “I never expected this. But maybe we could meet again and continue talking. It could be a very interesting journey.”

Link to previous part:

#FOWC – Hike

SO MANY SO KIND

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Thankyou to everybody for being so kind and supportive to me over recent days. So many of you have taken the time and trouble to post to me in response to my present grief.

I am reading everything and yesterday it was all of you who got me through. I still feel so vulnerable when I open myself up so much and always there is the possibility of misunderstanding and of course it is hard when you do not know the person personally. I did wonder how to continue with my blog as you will have seen in previous posts as I did feel so vulnerable and troubled greatly about posting the darker things which had made up part of my life. It is not easy to post such things but I do hope that they testify to something greater than just me that got me through. I have had my terrible moments and still do.

It is so easy to present or to see a lopsided view when a person is in such great distress as I am right now. But this is just part of the whole of my life. Yes, I have indeed struggled but mostly triumphed over it all. That was due to believing in something greater than myself and that was, namely, love. One day I wil tell the story of that and of how I found it. It was the complete antidote to my mother.

It is latterly that the problems have become so much greater, with the advent of blindness and immobility and the need for me to be in bed most of the time, with a husband who is also struggling with the possible onset of dementia plus diabetes and post polio syndrome. These things necessitate ther being another person there in your life and normally it would be your family, and there’s the rub. My family has walked away. It just brought back to me the fact that my mother taught them to act as they do and they just followed her. I never did because I found that greater love that I will talk about one day.

I admit to feeling very very afraid. I have no one at all and the one person who did give me a chance to talk and to just let things out has gone and left me. I do not know why as promises were made but it did not happen as he said it would. So now there is no one.

Most of my life I have done many things and it has been a full life.latterly of course it has been so very different.

I pray that this supporter who has disappeared comes back because he was vital to my life and he disappeared just at this critical point in my life.

I still do not know what to do about continuing to post this stuff. It makes me look very weak and that is something that I am not. And of course it is open to misinterpreatation.

I do not yet know what I will do but still feel bad about posting all this rubbish. But thankyou so much for staying with me.

I will endeavour to reply to you all as soon as I feel well enough to and as soon as hubby can help me but is is hard for him too. I am reading everything though. I promise to respond just as soon as I can.xxxx

A STORY OF MY MOTHER’S PURSUAL OF ME WHEN I CUT OFF FROM HER

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I was nineteen years of age. I had been at Teacher Training College in Bradford, but was having a break from it and re thinking my future life and career choices. I had had various opportunities when I left school including training to be a solicitor within a firm in my town, via the being articled route, working in a library to become eventually a librarian, and going into teaching. I chose teaching and that meant leaving home and my mother. However, I came to a sticky poiint where I had to re hink. The College wanted me to stay as I would have made a good teacher and in fact I did teach in the end. But before that, whilst I was at home again with my mother, she used to lock me into the house whilst she went to work as a dinner lady at a school looking after the children. One lunch time I decided to run for it. I picked up only my purse and ran like the wind in only what I stood up in. I was on this occasion able to get out of the house, but I knew how angry my mother would be when she found me gone. As I ran, I was in utter terror in case she found me gone and ran after me. I kept glancing over my shoulder to see if she was coming after me. I got to the train station and took a train to Bradford. I went to two girl friends whom I had in the city and they welcomed me with open arms. They knew about my mother and they reckoned on something happening. They were right but they had decided exactly what to do. There came a knock at the door and it was my mother and she had had my father drive her to the flat. She had got the address from my letters. My frinds looked at each other and nodded, then one of them went down the stone stairs that led from the flat into the street. She went to the phone box and rang the police. The police arrived and asked me how old I was and if I was there of my own volition. I said that I was. They then told my mother that I was of age and that she had to leave the premises.

I cut off from my mother virtually completely at that stage. She came back into my life again when I got married.

My life has been punctuated by various episodes of my cutting myself off and then her pursuing me. It has been a very hard road. I have lived all over the place. I hated moving so much but there it was.

HOW CAN ONE SUSTAIN THE LOSS OF ONE’S COMPLETE FAMILY?

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How can one sustain the loss of on’s complete family? I honestly do not know and all that I do know is that it feels impossible. I think back to when I had cousins, aunts and uncles, grandparents and all of those people were in my life irrespective of my mother.

Gradually everyone has disappeared and because of my mother’s antics in interfering and putting herself between myself and others, I now have no cousins although they are still alive, and my one remaining aunt has rejected me and does not want contact with me. That was completely due to my mother and there would be no point in my trying to contact her. I have tried contacting some of my cousins but they hardly know me because of my mother.

I have, as you know if you read my blog regularly, no brother and sister now, once again due to my mother who brought them up to do her dirty work for her now that she is dead.

I have my husband but he cannot talk hardly due to post polio syndrome, and he also seems to have the beginnings of dementia or something similar. Often, conversation with him is impossible as he does not understand what I am saying to him.

I did have a friend who is a vicar in the Church of England and he seemed to be helpful but that has not worked out for various reasons. He let me down very badly and that has happened over the last two weeks so I am in deep grief over that too.

I basically have no one in the world. And the loss of my complete family is not something that I can bear.the anguish that I feel this morning is indescribable. All the pain of my mother’s actions in isolating me is there big time and I simpply cannot sustain this. I try to take my mind off it by doing things, but in my position, in bed most of the time and blind, there are very few things that I can do. Yesterday I tried to keep posting in here but today I am having problems. I want to do some challengesbut am having problems in concentrating. I cannot stop thinking of my deep losses and my total aloneness and the grief is unbearable.

Yes, I am now making myself vulnerable again, but this just goes to show how utterly evil and wicked some mothers can be.

I am trying to keep a hold on myself but it is difficult

WINDING ROAD

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Winding roads in the dreary grey of dusk
Neither day nor night, a time of limbo
My life discarded like an empty husk
Time now doesn’t even have a window
Tortuous the journey, never ending
In the greyness of my life, no clear line
But soon, growing dark will be descending
This night for a clearer light I will pine
How will I ever reach my journey’s end
Fumbling in the fog that plagues my eyes?
Is there a message clear that I can send?
Truthful words, honest and without disguise
I fear the dark, please help me on my way
Till journey’s end, and then a better day

WORRIES ABOUT MY BLOG AND WHAT I REVEAL

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I have revealed today what is happening to me right now. After I reveal something simply because I need to write about it, I always feel very vulnerable especially if criticism comes my way. It does, sometimes. My way of getting through is always writing, however painful that writing is. In fact I have written whole chapter of the book that I am writing about my mother, today. It talks about some of the most painful things to do with her. The reason that I have finally been able to write that is that what happened with my sister made me realise a lot and it set me free to write as I needed to. Before, I always felt that I had to protect my mother. But now I do not. I will not become angry or bitter and I will not stop being me as I have fought so hard to be me. But I know that the truth needs to be told. I write in here because it helps. But then I always feel so vulnerable afterwards/. That is why I considered either writing it in my old blog or going private. I think that that would be difficult for there are no people that come to my blog whom I would want to keep away from my blog. So that might not be a good idea. I am just hinking what I can do to make myself feel less vulnerable but I guess that one is always going to feel vulnerable after one has revealed such things. So I am thinking hard.

I MAY DO THIS

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As I have mentioned previously a while ago, I think I may very well use my old blog to write some things in. Once again, I will say that you can then choose whether you read it or not. I can write whatever I like in my own blog and no one has to read it. Another thing that I have been thinking is making this blog private. Sometimes this is necessary. What is happening to me now, I am dealing with in my own way and I cannot be criticised for that. It is a tried and tested method that always works for me. I am thinking now what to do with my blog. No one has to read posts that they do not want to read.

GETTING BY HOUR BY HOUR

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After what happened last night, as described in an earlier post, I am getting by only hour by hour. As many of you know, my mother tried to kill me and she also got rid of my babies which were not conceived out of marriage so that was not the reason. She is gone now. She died in 2019, and the anniversary of her death is coming up soon. My family rejected me finally and totally when I became wheelchair bound and blind. Although my sister started ringing recently. We have now blocked her. She only wants to cause trouble and was well trained by my mother. She now does my mother’s work. After yesterday, i imagine going out to the places that I loved. I love nature but can no longer get into it. It is so hard for me to get to the car and on may days I am simply not well enough but I think of those places often. Today I have been thinking and realising that there are so many directions from our town in which I cannot go for bad memories. I do not want to ge anywhere near where my brother lives or onto the country roads outside our town that would lead me there. There are other directions that I cannot go in either. I am feeling the pain of everything so acutely right now. I am trying to live in nicer places. I am trying to post in here and have done a couple of challenges, and will try to do some more. I am so thankful for this place because it gets me through coming in here and writing. Writing is my life and I had started to write a book about my monster mother but I do not think I can do it today. The memories now are just too painful. My sister is someone you would not like to meet and my mother was exactly the same when she was alive. When I had cancer and was almost dying I held my arms out to my mother, needing her so badly, but she turned towards my brohter and pursed her lips and said “Ugh.” I could hardly believe it. She wanted to take me to Switzerland for euthansia. Of course that did not happen though she told me it was my duty to my family to go there. I shiver when I think of it because she followed that up with saying that if I did not go she would bring some tablets and shove them down my throat. That was my mother. Awful. I will get through but only with a lot of effort. It is hard right now.

Link to earlier post

I FEEL AS IF I HAVE BEEN HIT BY A BRICK

#SOCS – Boot

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The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS Oct. 28, 2023

I had never been a fan of boot, but when I went to the Lake District all that changed. It was full of people all tramping round in their heavy walking boots. I was intrigued. Lots of them looked as if they were about to tackle Everest but I suspect that many of them were only about to tackle Orrest Head. No, I jest. Many of them were about to tackle the real heights, like Scafell Pike. And wouldn’t you know it. It was not long before we joined the merry throng making our way up Scafell Pike in our very first pair of walking boots. Who would have thought that those things could be comfortable, but they were. Mind you, they did cause a few blisters but we had been walking for eight hours so what could we expect?

Scafell Pike was not our first trip in our new walking boots and in time our new walking boots became very old walking boots and it was time to buy some more. We climbed many mountains and walked in many hills, but now my walking boots are all stored away at the bottom of a wardrobe never to see the light of day again. I am blind now and if I had still been able to walk I would have gone up Scafell Pike again, blind. But I can no longer walk and am wheelchair bound. I now cannot wear shoes at all, never mind boots. I think of my walking boots lovingly. They were my pride and joy, representing as they did my beautiful times in the Lake District.

I now have to boot away from my mind any thoughts of ever walking again. I nursed the hope for a long time that I would walk again and indeed tried to do so. I did not want to be a blind person who was also in a wheelchair. I wanted to be a blind person tapping her way along the street with her blind cane. I might even have put on a pair of boots. But that was not to be. I have now booted away all thoughts of ever being “normal” again. So I will be a “normal” person without any boots on. In fact a “normal” person without any shoes on but only socks. I love bright socks though and my favourite colour is shocking pink. I think during my lifetime I have shcoked many people. I did once go into Boots and shout Shoes. I blame my old boyfriend for that. It was his idea. He is out of my life now. I booted him out. Well, we ended up with nothing in common and the relationship was failing anyway. I wonder if going into Boots and shouting Soes was anything to do with it? When we parted, he told me that one day I would see his name in lights, but I never have. I keep looking but I can see nothing.

I have never been to Bootle but I think it might be an interesting place to go. If anyone here is from Bootle perhaps you could tell me about it. I love to hear about different places and Bootle might be quite a good place to learn about.

Perhaps today I ought to put some videos on on You Tube of people going on long walks, with their walking boots on. It might be good to dream again.

#SAMMI COX’S WEEKEND WRITING PROMPT – Dissociate

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https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/blog/

As she drove along the motorway she began to dissociate. Finally she had had to leave for ever the place which she called heaven. Now she was going back to the nightmare again. The place where it had all happened. She had said goodbye to happiness and peace for ever. A new journey was about to begin. She knew it was not going to be a good one. Her heart was like lead.

I FEEL AS IF I HAVE BEEN HIT BY A BRICK

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Today I feel as if I have been hit by a brick after something that happened last night. It is going to be hard to explain it but I want to post it here anyway, even if no one understands it.

Many of my readers will know about my family situation and my present circumstances. I make no secret of it. But last night something happened that shook my whole world. To some this may seem like nothing, but it wasn’t. We received a phone call from my sister. I know that many people believe that I should have cut her out of my life, along with my brother, after my mother’s death. However, we have never been able to totally cut off. There are various reasons for this, but now, after last night, the cut off will be total and I am in a very bad place. We have absolutely no one in the world, not even friends, due to having only just moving back here and then getting cancer. All old friends had either moved on or died. Many had actually died. We are totally alone in the wolrd now, with many problems and a very very hard life. We struggle on day by day.

Last night when my sister range we listened to what she had to say, ahd for once she seemed “normal.” We had a few jokes and we talked a little about Mum as the anniversary of her death is approaching. As my sister can go on for hours on the phone, my husband said that he now had to cut off as he had to charge the phone up. We said Goodbye to my sister and as we cut off, we heard her say something. She did not realise that she had not cut off and we heard her say,

“F off. Nasty bastard.”

I yelled out to her,

“What are you talking about? Who do you mean?” She did not answer. Her voice had sounded demonic. It was so horrible and she has a horrible voice.

I know now that I will be totally alone for ever. The feeling is so frigthening. I cannot explain how I feel. All the years of deep abuse by my mother have come back to me. And my totally cruel family. I am not feeling good and I now have only my blogging family here. I am very very delicate and raw today. I cannot take any more now.

AS I WAIT

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As I wait the light dies
I say goodbye to precious things
There is no time for “Whys”

Now it’s winter, my dream lies
On the cold hard pavement, sings
As I wait the light dies

I cannot see now with my eyes
But my dream has spread its wings
There is no time for “Whys”

The dream on the pavement flies,
Rises up to heaven, shines,
As I wait the light dies

Someone Somewhere heard my cries
Knew there could be better things
There is no time for “Whys”

This dream is of enormous size
Fit for queens and kings
As I wait the light dies
There is no time for “Whys”

I HEARD TONIGHT

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I heard tonight the calling of my name
Upon the wind when tears did sting my eyes
In soft and gentle tones caressing all my pain

I listened hard,and there it was again
Blowing through the trees a whispered sigh
I heard tonight the calling of my name

Here in this place You made Your purpose plain
I answered You not even asking why
In soft and gentle tones caressing all my pain

I’d waited long to hear Love’s sweet refrain
My grief so strong I thought that I would die
I heard tonight the calling of my name

Sweet peace embraced my soul and I did gain
Love’s rich reward eternity came nigh
I heard tonight the calling of my name
In soft and gentle tones caressing all my pain

MEMORIES COMING OF MOTHER’S DEATH

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It has been a difficult day today and also it was a dfficult night. I am therefore late in posting anything today. I have just not felt up to it.

I could not sleep at all last night and finally fell asleep at six o’clock in the morning for a couple of hours.

For some reason I keep getting bad flashbacks to my mother’s death although the anniversary is not until mid November. I remember with great pain all that led up to. It however, and the terrible row that broke out at her death bed between my brother and sister. It is hard.

Today my husband came across texts that were exchanged between my brother and us in the ew days leading up to her death, and also the ones on the Saturday night just before she died. It was so hard to read the words,

“Mum just died.” I was not there, having had to leave because of the row.

I keep seeing it all again. It has been a really hard road since her death, made all the harder by her reffusal to have a funeral. She simply wanted to be taken to the crematorium and cremated without anyone there and her ashes scattered in the grounds with no one there not even family. That was hard but my sister bagged her ashes in the end and she still has them.

I never got to say goodbye to my mother and she was an extremely abusive mother so I did want to say goodbye to her but with love in my heart, for I still loved her despite all. I could forgive her for everything.

I am really going through such a hard time right now. I will try to post still though in here.

THERE IS A LOVE THAT CAN NEVER DIE

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There is a love that can never die
Though Satan’s blows may try to crush it
A love that simply cannot be destroyed
That rises up like the phoenix
Strong and bold as ever
A love in whose arms we can always rest
And from where we get our strength
Whatever the world can do to us
Neither we nor it will ever die
See watch the ground
Whatever dies in winter will come back again
The tender shoot that is so strong
Though winter is here
And the blows rain down on me
And the cold freezes me
There is always
The love that never dies
And I too will live

COLOURS

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If I were you and you were me,
What different colours would we see?
For I am blind and you can’t hear,
What different things would we hold dear?
The grass is green, what does that mean?
It could be blue, things only seem
To paint a picture bold and true
That means the same to me and you.

If you were me and I were you,
How would we hear the colour blue?
It’s not just words that shed the light
On all life’s questions big and small,
There’s none that mean the same to all,
I wonder if you’ll now agree
That different shades we all will see,
That white is black, and black is white,
But all has meaning in Love’s sight.

#FOWC – Hike

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FOWC with Fandango — Hike

“Your mother had a lot of trouble with your father,” he said almost with anger in his eyes. “He led her a real dance.”

“I always felt that there was some mystery about my father. Something that I didn’t know,” I said.

“She was a real beauty, your mother,” he said.”almost had film star looks. Everyone was envious of her looks. She could have had anyone she wanted. But she got him.”

“She was not so beautiful in later life,” I said. “She was very cruel, and so cold and lacking in any affection for anyone. I often thought she really hated me. She seemd so bitter. She hated God and said that she worshipped the devil.”

She was not like that when I knew her,” he said.” “I think your father knocked all affection out of her. I watched it all happen. I know that she went to the local doctor with her mother, to ask how she might get a divorce. But he told her that that would not be very possible. And she had you, to boot. It was not the same in those days as it is today. Divorces were hard for women to get.”

“I often felt that she resented me,” I said. “In fact I think she hated me. I was always being told that I looked like him. My father I mean. I never knew why she said that.”

“Well let me tell you a bit more now. Your father stole a lot of money from his employer. Your mother knew nothing about it until two detectives knocked at her door and asked her if she knew anything about the stealing of the money. She did not. She knew nothing. But what she did know was that he had another woman in the nearby town where he worked. He would stay all evening with her and then miss the last bus home. So then he had to take a HIKE back home again. Also, at the end of the honeymoon he ccould not pay the bill and your mother’s stepfather had to pay it for him. Imagine that, on your honeymoon. She wondered what sort of a man she had married. I think a lot died in her then. Then you were the honeymoon baby.”

“What happened to my father then? After the detectives called, I mean.”

“Well he went to court and his name was splashed all over the newspaper. That was when he ran away into the army. Your mother was left alone with you, and she had to fend for herself.”

“I remember my mother saying, about him, that there were two things that he could not handle. Money and women,” I said.

“Who could blame her for becoming embittered,” he said. “I certainly understood it.”

“I remember being taken to my grandparents’ farm a lot,” I said. “I loved it there. But my grandmother was always telling me that I was like my father. I hated it. Sometimes I even felt that she and my mother wanted to kill me just for looking like him.

“I think there was more than that behind it,” he said. “Let’s have a cup of coffee and then I will tell you more.”

Link to Previous Part

#FOWC – Gut

NOT EVEN THE WIND

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Not even the wind
Can carry my call to you
Not the moon nor the sun nor the stars
For you are a universe away
Cocooned in your own world
And you are full whilst I am empty
I cry to the heavens
The stones join in
But no one hears
I hear a resounding thud
It is my voice coming back to me
I am alone

FEELING VERY DEPRESSED AND DISTRESSED

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My last post explains what is happening to us, but there is just so much that it is overwhelming. I am struggling more and more to survive and to keep on pulling myself up by my boot straps.

Things keep going wrong, like the living room light bulb going the other day, and the bathroom light going, and no one to help us with those. Each time we need a simply job doing there are no handymen or electricians of whatever who will help as they are all too busy. We have attempted to get the council to do something for us but they say that they can’t. It feels almost as if we do not exist. I cannot ring out because of being blind and when my husband had problems with his blood sugars the other night. He rang 101 and we were told that if he went into a hypo I must dial 999. I cannot do that as I cannot see or even feel the keys on the phone. I am totally reliant upon my husband for everything.

Life is such a struggle and I try to keep my pecker up but lately have been getting so depressed and tired. And also my blog is suffering because of this as I become sluggish inside myself.

I feel so afraid of this situation. I feel angry at my brother as making a call to us each day would cost him nothing. He is in rude health but is only concerned about himself.

I never ever thought we would end up like this. I always had loads of friends and it is only since we have come back to my honmetown to live that this has happened. I wish we had never left Derbyshire but we had to due ot my husband having to give up work.

I can hardly believe that this has happened.

WE’RE HERE BUT WE’RE NOT

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I woke this morning in my usual state of fear. The truth is that no one knows we are here.

We are so cut off from society that anything could happen to us and no one would know. The feeling of fear gets wrose in me every day. No one checks on us and however hard we try to amend this situation no one will respond. The only day that anyone calls is Fridays ehen our cleaner comes for one and a half hours. And she hardly speaks English anyway.

I have a brohter but he does not care to be in contact with me and he will not answer his phone to us. For some reason he chose to rejeject me when I became blind.

We are in a very frightening position.

#FOWC – Gut

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FOWC with Fandango — Gut

I knew deep in my GUT that this man knew a lot and that I was about to find out things that would shake my world.

“Yes, I did know your family,” he said quietly, looking down as he spoke. “Your poor mother went through so much.”

“I always thought that she had suffered badly in some way,” I said. “When I looked into her eyes I could see some terrible pain behind them. I think I was the only one who ever saw it. Everyone else thought that she was horrible. She was so full of anger. A kind of suppressed anger. She always said she wished she could cry. But she never could. Except on her death bed. As she died, a tear appeared on her cheek. What she could not do in life she could do in death.”

He took a deep breath and then spoke. “Did you know that your grandfather at the farm was your step grandfather?”

“Yes, I did,” I said. “I’m not surprised by anything.”

“Your grandmother lost her first husband to a brain tumour when your mother was only one year old.”

“How on earth did she manage then, with a little girl to bring up and provide for?”

“Well there’s the rub,”he said. “She went to housekeep for a rich farmer and then he asked her to marry him and provide him with a son and heir to the farm. She agreed to marry him. It was a business arrangement, not a love match. Somehow or other she became pregnant to him before she was married. She was six months pregnant when she married him. He got the son and heir that he wanted and then your grandmother had three more children.”

“Yes, that I did know, but I did not know about the business arrangement or that she was six months pregnant when she married my step grandfather.”

“I think your mother was badly affected by all this. She did not like talking about it but I think she decided never to cry about any of it. Instead, she took another route. It was not a good one, but inside, she was just a terrified little girl.”

“And where did my father fit into all of this?” I asked, once again looking intently at him.

“Well that is a whole other story,” he replied. “I will try to explain it to you.”

Link to previous part:

#FOWC – Seminar

THE PATH

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The path was level waiting for me
Leading to a place of peace
Inside the ancient walls

I pushed on the gate to eternity
Having looked death in the eye
The path was level waiting for me

Many rough mountains I’d climbed in my time
But now I’d found this new laid path
Leading to a place of peace

Many souls had walked this path
I heard them tell their tales
Inside the ancient walls

REMEMBERING

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Remembering you
On that cold wet windy night
You took your last breath

With three cries you left
A tear appeared on your face
Your wish was granted

Perhaps you let go
All your barriers came down
And now you could cry

They took you away
Covered by a thin black sheet
It should have been white

That night I died too
My spirit was crushed broken
I cry now for you

HARVEST

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Today I have been holding onto a rather large stick. Well, to be honest, it was almost a branch. You may wonder why I was doing that, but it was wonderful to feel its rough texture, and run my fingers up and down it. It was a dead branch, but that dead branch made me feel alive. Here was something that I could touch, and be touched by. I sat in the little Church where I often go, for solitude and time to contemplate, and it was full of harvest produce. I could smell it and strangely, almost hear it. It seemed to be singing. In my emptiness I encountered fullness. The fullness of the harvest. In a strange way, even the dead branch seemed to be singing a song to me – a song about its life. I wondered what the song about MY life would be, and despite all, it would be a most joyful song. Some days I feel grief, and tears come, but underlying that grief is a deep joy. It is indeed possible for grief and joy to exist side by side. It is possible to be both empty and full at the same time. And above all, there is always a song to be sung.

Note : This was written a couple of years ago.

Thankyou for the responses to my parking fine problem but freaking out and here’s why

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Thankyou to those of you who responded so fully and helpfully to my post yesterday about my parking fine after I sold my car. I am freaking out though. I am too ill to deal with it and my husband cannot either.

You have to fill in an Appeal form online. There is no phone number that you can ring. Neither of us can write and post a letter. My husband cannot manage to send the online form back to them. He can find no way of doing it.

It will therefore after twenty eight days be referred to the Poplar something or other. They then deal with the Appeal and either decide for or against you.

We have no address for the man who bought the car. In fact it was my husband who sold it to a man who knocked at our door and I was in bed as I always am. Immobile sick and blind.

If we cannot prove anything to them then it will go to court. I cannot possibly go to court.

We want to be able to tell them about my health and want to prove it from my doctor and also the vicar who so kindly posted the V5 doc to the DVLA. They would have received this possibly after the offence was committed as no one could get to the post box before then.

I am very very sick now and freaking out. I cannot afford a solicitor.

I am so poorly now that I am dissociating all of the time. I come to a bit and try to act normal and post in here but i am now very sick. I wish my husband had got the man’s address. But he did not think to.

I am getting really really ill now. That, plus the memories that are coming back to me of my mother and her death and my sister. I have no family and no friends. I am done.

I SHARE THIS WITH YOU

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It has been my sister’s birthday recently. It made me think of her birth when I was ten years old. The following is what I wrote about the day I first met my new little sister.

“Look at her the black haired little bugger.”

The woman who spoke held a little baby in her arms. The woman was my mother and the baby was my new little sister. I stood, aghast. The baby was beautiful. How could she say this about her new little baby? I was filled with horror.

I stood still for a while, and then I moved towards the baby to touch her. I had so looked forwards to having this new little baby. As I moved towards her, I thought how utterly beautiful she was. What on earth was wrong with black hair anyway? Well, I knew the answer to that one as my father had very dark hair and my mother had often said to me,

“You dark haired litle bugger.” I was admonished for having the same coloured hair as my father whom she hated. I felt so bad. It was not my fault that I had dark hair like my father. Or that I had his eyes that she also admonished me for.

As I moved towards the baby, my mother stood up and carried her over to her carry cot and placed her in it. I went towards the carry cot to stroke my new little sister’s face, but my mother pulled me away telling me not to touch her. This was how it always was to be.

My sister was what is known as a “crying baby.” She seemed always to be protesting at her entry into the world. Who could be surprised at that given the way that my mother was? I, too, so often want to protest at my entry into the world, but I know that I am here for a reason and that I have a purpose in life.

My mother is dead now. It will soon be the anniversary of her death in 2019. Her legacy is a shattered family. Broken at its heart. I mourn the loss of my family.

YOU ARE NOT CRAZY IT’S YOUR MOTHER

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I am reading a book entitled “You’re Not Crazy It’s Your Mother.” It was written by a woman in Ireland who grew up with a narcissistic mother. I am finding it enlightening. People always expect mothers to be good and motherhood is viewed with a great deal of reverence. There are cases, however, where the mother is so bad as to cause great harm to the child. In my own case, as many of my readers know, my mother was extremely harmful to me. I was lucky enogh to find a different path and it literally saved my life. Her effects even now, however, have been far reaching. She broke up our family such that my siblings no longer have contact with me. There are so many ways in which she left her mark upon me, though she is dead now. As the book points out, you can know something rationally but deep in your core the damage is done. You feel it for the rest of your life. My mother was narcissistic in my view though she was never diagnosed with this condition but most of them aren’t anyway. She had something more than that though, because she was violent as well. I am feeling very sad at the moment as the anniversary of her death approaches and I remember the last few weeks of her life. I long for a family and for my brother and sister to have a normal relationship with me. This will never be, however. The pain caused by the rejection of one’s family is beyong any other pain that I know, and it never leaves you. You try to forget, but it pops up in different ways all of the time.

The book is so apt and true. It is good to see something so close to my own relationship with my mother written down like that. I am glad that I found the book.

CAN ANYONE FROM THE UK GIVE ME ANY IDEAS WHAT TO DO RE PARKING FINE LANDED ON ME

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A couple of weeks or so ago I sold my car. It was to a man who knocked on our door wanting to buy it as he had seen it parked out in the street. He paid the money for it straight into our bank account so we know he paid it ok. He drove the car away that day. Some time later I received a letter from Parkingeye who hang out in Coventry. The man had taken the car to a posh hotel in Harrogate and left it in the hotel car park overnight and he had gained a one hundered pounds fine which the parking Company sent to me. It was not yet registered with the DVLA because it takes them four weeks to upgrade their stuff. The change of owner form was not posted for a few days as we had to find someone to post it for us and he insisted on sending it second class post.

I cannot seem to prove that it was not me who parked there overnight though we have told the DVLA that I am housebound.

We cannot contact the man who bought my car as he did not give us his address though we know his name. The Parking firm is trying to make me pay the fine. Does anyone have any ideas as to what I can do?

AN EMERGENCY YESTERDAY

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Yesterday morning hubby went into the living room and turned the light on. As he did so there was a loud bang and the light bulb had gone. Because we have circuit breakers all the lights in the house went off. It was panic stations because hubby could not reach the box under the stairs to switch on the lights again. He cannot reach the box because it is on the far wall of the toilet and he has to stand up to reach it. He is very unstable when standing and needs both hands to balance and hold on safely. We were really panicking because as usual we had no one to call on. We did try to ring my brother though he has completely rejected us and cut himself off from us. We tried all day to ring him. We were totally isolated as usual. I was panicking and became very distressed and depressed at our situation. In the end hubby attempted to reach to switch the lights back on and I was petrified in case he fell. It was a dangerous task for him. He did it in the end, but it brought home to us yet again how isolated and alone we are.

BILLY THE BUDGIE’S DIARY

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It has been a funny day. I was busy eating my breakfast this morning when Dad came into the room and I thought the end of the world had come. Dad switched the light on and suddenly there was an almighty noise. Then everything went out. I started looking around to see what it was but I couldn’t see anything. So then I started biffing my plastic friend because I thought it must have been something that he did. Then I hear Dad groan. Then he shouted up at Mum.

“The bulb in the living room has gone.” So it wasn’t the end of the world after all but Mum and Dad acted as if it was. They can’t put a new bulb in you see. And I can’t help because I am only a budgie.

It has been a bit queer lately anyway. It gets real dark outside real early. I don’t like it very much. I love it when the sun shines through the window and makes me all warm. It is cold now though and I don’t like that very much. Mum and Dad will soon have to pput the heating on. I like it when the heating is on. I can think that I am in Australia.

I haven’t seen Hope for a while but I have heard here. She barks a lot. I wish she would come and see me. I like her. I love to peck her nose. Sometimes I peck Dad’s hand when he is putting my Trill in, but it is only a love peck and I am saying thankyou for giving me my food. I don’t know why my plastic friend doesn’t eat breakfast but he doesn’t. In fact he doesn’t eat at all. Sometimes I try to feed him. I get some Trill and try to put it in his mouth but it just drops down on the floor of my bungalow. I like me new bungalow. I don’t fall off my perch any more now. I will never be a high flying budgie again. But that is ok. I like it where I am. Maybe Hope will come and see me soon.

#SAMMI COX’S WEEKEND WRITING PROMPT – Absqatulate

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Weekend Writing Prompt #334 – Absquatulate

He planned to absquatulate with her bank book and deviously he manipulated her into giving it to him. It was not the first time that he had done it and he was skilful. Once under his spell she put up no fight and simply gave it to him without question. He put it into a drawer in the safe and as he did so he pulled an old vest out of the drawer, that he had hidden there.

“Dreams are made of this,” he said.

Fed up

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I am fed up with being blind. Each day I receive emails with notifications of your posts in them, and there is no way in which I can get to them and ALWAYS I long to read them. The email gives a little bit of the post but not all of it. You then have to go to the person’s blog to read it all. I cannot do that. I just get so depressed at not being able to do anything at all. Also I get totally fed up with not being able to respond to your lovely comments until hubby is ready to help me with it.

But the one thing that really really gets me fed up is knowing all the different challenges that are going on and I cannot join in and can only do it when hubby is around. He does not have the time for it.

I often feel as if I am going mad just sitting on this bed all day. I would love to be able to blog properly and join in properly. It is a really bad day today. I am suffering so badly from depression. All of it is caused by having to sit here hour after hour in the darkness unable to do anything.

Later I am going to try to do one or two challenges but only when hubby is around to help me put the pingbacks in.

I feel so helpless and the depression is getting worse and worse.

This blog was meant to be for poetry in the first place but now I find that I cannot write it as I used to because of not getting any stimulus. All I can see is blackness and there is only a certain amount that you can write about that.

Moan over. I will try and do some challenges soon.

I KNOW I WILL LIVE

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The days are growing shorter, darkness falls,
Wrapping its tendrils around my body,
As they tighten their grip a lone bird calls,
Piercing my heart with its stark melody,
Dead leaves crackle their life now is over,
The bird sings again its funereal song,
Like that of a dying, anguished lover,
Knowing the joy that was is now gone,
As the bird reaches its beak to the sky,
Stars start to twinkle and dance in the night,
A nightingale sings, its song rises high,
Out of the darkness has come a great light,
The spell is broken, i know I will live,
I learned in the dark a new song to give

#FOWC – Seminar

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FOWC with Fandango — Seminar

“Do you know why I am really here?” I asked him.

“No, but I had a feeling that there was a little bit more behind it than you were telling me. You seem to have an intensity about you that I did not expect. I think you really are on a journey but a different one to what I thought it was. You just seem to have an aura about you. And as soon as you walked in you reminded me of someone. That was why I asked you your maiden name and where you were born.”

“You are right,” I said. “There is a lot of mystery about my background and my mother told me a few things before she died but there is a lot that I do not know. And recently I went to a SEMINAR on Family History. I thought it might help me in finding more out about my background.”

“Before you came here, did you know that I was the vicar who baprised you?” He looked intently at me again. He seemd to be trying to take in everything that he could about me. My facial features. Everything.

“Yes, I did know,” I said. I knew that you might hold the key to unlocking a lot about my past. You must have been in the village where I was born for a few years. You would have known my family. I never knew what my father got up to that made him have to run away into the army. And I never knew what happened to me and my mother after he went.”

He began to tremble a little bit as I spoke. He suddenly looked very emotional. It seemd queer to see all this emotion tumbling out from inside this big, powerful man. I too began to feel a bit shaky. I was about to find out something that would shock me to my core.

Link to previous part:

#FOWC – Disgrace

HOPE’S DIARY

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I am thinking of ringing Dogline again. It is blowing a gale and rain is coming down in sheets. It is not fit for a dog out there, but Dad tried to push me out there this morning. I didn’t want to go and I was real mad with Dad. He made me go in the end and I do not think he is a nice Daddy any more. I have been very furious with him laterly. He took my rubbish bag away from me and it had all my plastic bottles in. Also the gardener came the other day and he took away all my bits of cardboard that I had carefully torn up and hidden behind the hydrangeas. A funny thing happened yesterday. Someone in a uniform came and she had come for Mum. Mum had not managed to get up to see her and she had a needle in her hands. She insisted on going upstairs to Mum and I think she stuck that needle into her. I don’t know why. I wondered if Mum was ill but I hear her making a noise last night so I think she might be ok. I get a needle stuck in me sometimes and I am not sure what it is for. That nice vet who diagnosed me as beautiful stuck the needle into me. One time I had a needle stuck into me and I went to sleep for a long time and when I woke up I had no fur on my back end. It did grow again but it took a long time. I felt a bit cold. It is getting colder here now but I have a nice thick coat on so I will be ok.

I got a roast potatoe the other day. Dad had bought some chilled ones from Tescos but they had loads of herbs on them and Dad said they tasted horrible. So he gave some to me and I liked them. I was helping him out by eating them. I can always help him out by eating things. Except yoghurt. I HATE yoghurt. Terrible stuffl.

Martina has been this moring to clean and I sat behind Dads wheelchair in the doorway to the dining room and I kept my eye on Martina to make sure she did it right. I have to be kept away from her because I am a nuisance if they let me go free. Well I am only helping but they say I am not helping.

Anyway, I think I really will have to ring Dogline again because I think this weather has set in for a while and Dad will keep making me go out. It is not fair because Dad and Mum don’t have to go out there. They can stay in the warm and keep dry. My coat gets really wet out there. Oh and I forgot to say that the gate into the back garden had been fixed now and I can’t get into there any more. I had a really good time in there. And that alone is worth a call to Dogline. I think Dad and Mum are being really unfair to me just lately.

ANCIENT SOULS

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One day I found a door
Bright red in ancient stone
Three crosses in the stone
Put there by ancient hands
I place my finger in the crosses
That ancient hands have touched
And thereby hope
That I will touch them too
And come to know their stories
A thousand years have gone
Since these dear souls lived
Breathed and worked
Worshipped in this place
I push on the door
I tread softly on the stone floor
The atmosphere is heavy
With the presence of many souls
I hear them murmuring
As if coming to life
Slowly
I catch no words
For there are none
I feel an ache
A sadness
A loss
And know that soon
I must uncover
The history of this place

DIARY ENTRY

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So much has been happening for me lately on so many different fronts. It has all really come home to me this past two days because of a phone call from my doctor.

Prior to my getting cancer, I was my husband’s Carer. I was walking around in what seemed to be good health and he was in a wheelchair becuse of post polio syndrome. I was registered as his Carer officially.

After I got cancer he became my Carer and Social Services deemed him as such. They could not see that he could not in reality be my carer but he was being made to do it.

A couple of days agon I received a phone call from my doctor’s sugrgery or office, asking if I was still my husband’s Carer. Was I registered as such. Of course I still am and he is registered as my Carer. Neither of us is able to do it. We just about manage but with such difficulty that I have become seriously depressed of late and under great stress.

This morning one of the nurses from the practice came to give me my Covid jab. I was so ashamed to let her into the bedroom and I could not get up and downstairs in time for her visit at ten o’clock this morning.

In the end I did let her into the bedroom as I needed the jab.

This just outlines our terrible situation. We do not tick the boxes with Social Services and so we do not get help.

Our phone call back to my doctors surgery this morning consisted of telling them our very desperate situation. I hope with all my heart that something comes of it. We need help, and I particularly need help because I get very depressed but it is not clinical depression but just a deep distress with our circumstances. I pray that something comes of this now.

MY BAD MEMORIES

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Memories from a long time ago have been triggered over the past two weeks. It doesn’t matter what triggered it but it just happened. When I was about twenty six years old I got taken to a mental hospital. Wait to hear the outcome of it. I want to recount what happened.

I had not long been out of hospital having been in there for three months with tuberculosis. I was still on the drugs to cure it.

I used to go to a church at that time. It is a bad story. Something called the Charismatic Movement hit the church. It went mad. It was awful. I will not go into too much detail. But so many things were happening. One thing that happened was that we had a sort of fellowship meetings but they were charismatic. I did not like the Movement at all. I went to one of the fellowship meetings not knowing what would happen. We all had to sit around in a circle on the floor holding hands. I did not like that. I was not one for touch. Anyway I had to hold hands and be all lovey dove y with the person next to me and she had bullied me at school when we were younger. I showed my displeasure at holding hands saying that I did not like touch.

Now, the really bad bit. They deemd me to have demons because I did not like touch and would not be all lovey dovey. They said I was rejecting love and that there was somethins wrong with me.

Shortly after that something worse happened and I do not remember completely how it happened. But I was in a car with two of the church people and my husband, going to a mental hospital thirty miles away. I did not want to go. I was terrified. When we got there, I was going along the corridor inside the hospital and I just sat down on the floor and would not move. This was because I was being forced into this terrible place. I immediately got sectioned for three days. I had no choice but to stay then. They detained me. I was not acting strange or anything like that but just sitting on the floor saying I did not want to go in.

I had to stay for three days and then I asked to go home. They put me on a chair in a room, and gradually the room started to fill up. There were a few psychiatrists and lots of nurses and ward orderlies etc and I wondered what the hell was happening. They all had their eyes on me. Some questions were fired at me by one of the psychiatrists and I answered him calmly. At the end of it all he said that I was free to go as I was not mentally ill. They had no reason to detain me.

This memory has been sparked off again recently. It is such a horrible memory that I am having trouble getting over it.

That church was a dreadful place. Of course I left it. I would never go near it again. But the Charismatic Movement is still going strong around here. And I would never ever go near it again. This is my bad memory.

DARK MORNINGS

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I hate these dark mornings. I know that it is always dark to me, but somehow or other my body knows when it is dark outside. Just lately the dark has been getting to me. I have been sluggish and also experiencing more pain. I have not been posting quite as much. This past couple of weeks some bad memories have been coming back to me, that I have had to process. It has been hard. I felt exactly the same feelings as I felt at the time, plus a few more. Everything has felt so hard and my energy levels have been so low. I wake up each morning in fear, knowing that somehow or other I have to get through the day. And I do. Today I have to go somewhere if I can get there. It fills me with much more fear than it used to attempting to walk down the ramp from our front door to the car. I have to simply walk out there with my frame into the complete darkness and the ramp is quite narrow with sloping sides. It would be so easy to fall off as I cannot see a thing. I cannot even see the ccar when I am on top of it. I feel such anxiety as I step out of the door, but I stand still for a moment and calm my nerves, and then take a deep breath and set off. It should not be like this, but it is. I feel so tired with the struggle, and especially with these bad memories coming back. Some time I may write about it. There are things in this life that are almost non understandable but it is as it is. I just hate these dark mornings though.

#FOWC – Disgrace

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FOWC with Fandango — Disgrace

“What was your maiden name?” He was looking intently into my eyes.

“Collins,” I said, looking just as intently back at him. He began crumpling up his thick brows.

“So you are Sheila Collins?” He got a strange faraway look in his eyes. It was as if he had been transported somewhere else. For a few moments he was not with me. Then, with a jolt, he came back to where he was. Again, he looked intently at me.

“Where were you born? He looked as if he already knew, and was waiting in anticipation of the answer.

“Bluton,” I replied. “I lived there for the first few months of my life. I can’t remember much about it but my mother told me that my father was in disgrace there. He had his name splashed all over the local newspaper. He ran off into the army to get away from it all and the shame of it.”

He looked down at his computer desk, and I could have sworn that I detected a tear in his eyes.” He quickly recovered. “I am sorry to ask all these questions,” he said. “I always ask my clients a lot of questions at our first meeting. It helps me to get to know them better.”

“Do you know why I am here?” I asked”

“I’m not sure,” he said, fumbling with his dog collar. “I understood that you wanted a bit of counselling in order to come to terms with something that had happened to you.”

“That is exactly it,” I said.” “But there is more. Much more.”

Link to previous episode

#FOWC – Gallery