Thinking Out Loud: I used to try really hard

It seems a very long time ago that I downloaded a blog planner and I was reading pages and pages on how to create content that would engage readers and grow an audience.

I would be carefully timetabling days so I could create content, especially my Monday Night Reflection, which was so very dear to me, that would be valuable and well thought out. Monday Night Reflections were particularly special because I was letting the blogosphere into my thoughts and sharing genuinely hoping that I was helping create something that would be of value to someone.

I knew that staying anonymous would limit way in which I could grow, but I tried my best to use strategies that would create an audience and some organic traction because I wanted engagement, my heartfelt wish was that someone wouldn’t hurt like I did, or would see that, hurting was okay, and that there was through it to get to.

Thing’s changed, and I thought perhaps I could document overcoming the attacks of what are most likely hemiplegic migraine, perhaps documenting survival in a different way, the challenge of having my creative ability taken, robbed even and learning, relearning, sometime learning daily to do something that had been a joy and such a big part of my day would be something I could share.

I found sharing impossible, there was nothing to share, it was blank, you just write rubbish and bin it, till its not rubbish and you feel comfortable sharing what you have. My failed attempts are not something I keep, like falling of a cycle, not something you really need to post for the world to see, failed is failed.

Thing is, you have stats, good old Word Press, and there they are not changing, there I was dedicated as an author to my craft planning and working to create, and there I was dead in the water, lost at sea, struggling to express myself at all.

I care, of course I do, every one who creates cares, I want people to engage, everyone with a blog is really saying look at me, I am no exception, what I mean to say is, I am here creating, I hope you like it, I am sorry if its haphazard, random, without focus or purpose, that’s my life right now, that’s is me, that is my blog and my creativity, I gave the structure thing a go, I couldn’t hack it, it didn’t fit, I am too old, and just a little bit too grumpy to wear things I don’t like.

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Poetry Corner: Migraine

Tears escape, torn up inside

Nothing right, scared to die

 

Too much everything becomes the pain I feel

The light, the sound they hurt so very much

Like a sledge hammer even the lightest touch

 

No such thing as silence, there is no rest

I hear in colour, the sheets like sandpaper at best

I want to sleep, the shadows terrify heart

My days and nights, my conscious drifting apart

 

The sea and darkness surround my art and thought

I would drift or drown, I have forgotten how to even fail

I have no idea about what it is that will prevail

It is dark, I’m lost, drifting to who knows where

Don’t destroy those who dare to be close and care

Dear Diary: Look Down on Me?

Most days a look of contempt or disdain is nothing to me, the opinion of some random non-entity who knows nothing of who I am

Today it bothered me: today I wanted to shake her and ask who are you to think for one minute you are better than me?

No one is better than anyone; we will all die, we will all hurt, we will all feel pain, hurt, we will grieve and feel the burning sear of loss, we will all be scared, we will be both courageous and cowards, we will regret and we will cry.

 

Swallow Falls

Swallow Falls in Wales
Swallow Falls in North Wales

Mr Mouse’s North Wales retreat to Hills and Valleys to find peace and solitude also took in some more well-known locations such as Swallow Falls.

Dear Diary: 19th July 17, At The Head of the Valley

Back from a weekend in Wales.

For many, this is a simple thing, for my Mouse this was a weekend of overcoming fears. Fear of the unknown, a trip to a new and unfamiliar place via new roads, to the countryside. No urban landscape, no hospital, no backup plan, no safety net, the very darkest of unknowns.

However, it was great. I walked up hills, found peace and solitude, walked in the woods and listened to the river whisper.

I cooked in a little cabin kitchen and connected back to myself.

The urban expanse brings neither comfort nor security, it feeds my fears and imprisons my minds, plays tricks on me and convinces me that outside is the enemy. It is people I fear, people are the cruel, random, violent, betrayers of trust.

Nature has no favourites, it is not cruel, nor kind, it is, it does not change, it seasons have always been and will always be, it is not capricious of malevolent, it does not plot or betray, it has no skeletons, no secret past, nature has not lied, nature does not rewrite the past.

Mr Mouse keeps on Moving, keeps in doing, good one Mr Mouse!

Dear Diary: The Night Is Dark And Full of Terrors

My attacks happen in my sleep.

I wake up, sometimes I am ok.

Sometimes I am not.

Sometimes I am paralysed

Sometimes a little.

Sometimes a lot.

Sometimes I can speak.

Sometimes I slur.

Sometimes I make no sense.

One time it didn’t hurt.

But I woke up.

And sound strummed agony for chords

I tried to smile but that didn’t work

Monday Night Reflection: Back to Normal

That is a lie, of course, there is no back to normal. Not in a bad way, but I am not going back. I had decided to move on before any of this dropped on me, I had changed direction, and normal was a fluid state of moving forward towards something new and different.

Normal was not a set routine or structure, I was developing a new business venture, I was practicing my skills, I was growing myself and exploring directions and possibilities to see what and what not plausible or possible, what could be developed for money and what was best left as artistic endeavour for artistic endeavour’s sake. My business was being grown, not pushed, I was learning from past mistakes, and the pace was consciously, in fact very deliberately slow. Each step was small, and consolidated, assessed and embedded, decisions taken carefully, investments very circumspectly undertaken indeed. I was very keen to be in absolutely no rush to spend money, time, or unnecessary effort in a fruitless endeavour. I was keenly aware that every resource I had was very limited and that my project was one I wanted to grow properly, healthily and strong in that organic way of a business finding its rightful place.

None of that has really changed. I have, I have made no secret that my skills and abilities have been affected, and I am relearning things. The timetable has been set back, and along with that, my blog has had to change from what I really wanted to be doing at this point in time and is not really what I wanted to be sharing either. However, my business, my blog, and my personal life are still there, still being developed and I am still working on each of my goals.

I have had a setback, and in the real sense of that, I am working from behind where I was, however, I am still working slowly, and that, ultimately is all that matters.

So while, there may never be, a back to normal, there is a normal service, and that is coming back.

Dear Diary – After the Hiatus

From Monday 3pm to Friday 3pm stuck in Hospital doing my best not to die of boredom, with so much empty space.

The reality was I shut down. Just to be able to cope I had to not think, no internalise, not be in the moment, not fully present or engaged, and not full focused at all on the future, the past or the present to detach myself from reality and the enforced artificial rules of the situation and my disempowerment.

I survived, the week was an unpleasant dark shadow over my life, holding the time before it in a strange semi-suspense because I knew at some point, coming at short notice, everything had to park for a week. Sensibly, nothing unparkable could be started. Not quite on hold, but really going forward fully either.

Now I am out, I am of course liberated, I am free to do whatever it was that I was unable to do before. Which was?

That is the question, in March so much of what I was doing got ripped away, I hate the melodramatic sound of that. But a few months down the line, it feels more that way now because back then there was the promise that certain things were temporary, that the losses inflicted would be short lived.

Reality has dawned; and I am living with and adjusting to, the new landscape, the shifting sand of what abilities retained, and the extent of skills lost. Those projects are on hold while I have to go and re-learn skills that I need in life. From fine motor skills and co-ordination to emotional intelligence and resilience or understanding, it feels like everything has taken some sort of damage. It may not be impossible, but it is going to take some time.

Of course, I have sabotaged self. My remarkable apparent comeback at the end of May and my stubborn refusal to quit doing whatever I can has led people to think I am ok, after all, here I am living life. That is what you see.

How could they know, the physical pain, the emotional difficulty, the depression, the despair, the frustration of knowing you once could and now can’t; of course they have no idea. And, really, now words can tell the story of being trapped knowing its gone and you might not get that back, or the frustration of being expected to operate on a level you can no longer reach. There is no way to say, this life, the one I was breezing through with ease, no it exhausts me before midday, those things that I could cope with and a hundred more on top, I am crushed by half of them or less, and that finger tapping sounds like you are taking a sledgehammer to my head, but its ok.

The break is over, it is time to move on, step by small step, practice, fail, get up, fall over, get up, make a mess, clean up, carry on, and so on, and so on, every day, every day trying, just trying and hoping to work a little way back, a little way on the dream, and little bit better than yesterday.