Transition

Tags

compassion, imagery, lies, loss, metaphor, passing, reality, Saturday, telephone, the other side, transition, truth, unassuming

Transition

Soft as soft and unassuming seemed the day you stole away. And I wondered: are transitions merely ghosts, spectres, unreal reality? The hoover softly purring on the carpet like a cat with much to do, pondering sleepily if those things can be left for another day. It was just another Saturday. The day after Friday, and the one before Sunday – or so it seemed at the time. So Saturday morning chores filled the moments and as I vacuumed vacantly, the sun shining through lace-adorned windows, my thoughts popped in and out like uninvited guests mimicking the movement of my arm as if stroking an imaginary pet.

And yet, when the telephone rang, I knew before I answered it what I would hear. I wasn’t surprised, not in the least. I had been preparing for this call for longer than I can remember. I cast my mind back and pictured us on a sandy beach with you just out of reach and felt the pang of loss. That holiday was our first and last: the grandmother, the mother, and the child – three generations together, linked by our own expression of what it meant to be family. The path we had trodden to get to the other side now blocked by the greedy, irascible sea, at first calm, luring us closer, now raging higher, threatened to prevent us from going any further. There was no alternative but to climb the steep incline or be drowned, and so mercifully we were spared. But even as we climbed,
the threat of loss hovered on that occasion, just as it did when the telephone rang.

“I think you should come straight away”, the voice was calm and caring.
“Is she …?” The words fell away. Why was I asking? I already knew the answer.
“No”, the voice said. But I knew this was an acceptable twist of the truth. We both knew – better to travel in hope. Silently, I thanked the voice realising that compassion is not a liar.

So, softly you left on a Saturday.

~ Marie Williams – April 2018

“It’s Good to Talk …”

Tags

awareness, compassion, counselling, counsellor, creativity, emotion, fears, healing, journey, Julius caesar, letting go, mental health, mind, opportunity, pain, self-knowledge, therapy

Image: Courtesy of TheCrazyBagLady

HEALING HURT
(Talking Therapy)

In moments of pure fantasy
And wild imagination
I fancy that Karen could be
Just distantly
Related to Julius!

But I’m rudely awakened
And snap back to reality
As beaming, in black she beckons me
To her small but cosy surgery

Karen Caesar sees me as
Her work in progress
She’s dedicated to releasing
And decreasing the pressure

That calls me religiously
Each fortnight on a Friday
To discuss with some intensity
The demons that bind me

For Karen Caesar
Explained her calling
At the end of a session
Which begged me to question

The degree of her ability
To address the responsibility
Of dealing with healing
The complexity of the human psyche

Karen Caesar tells me
That caring seized her
From a very young age
And at the stage

Where she felt that
She was able to lend her
Tender, and compassionate bearing
To caring for victims
Whose minds were so painfully hurting

It’s a splendid opportunity
This talking therapy
To engage with a professional
As dedicated as Karen
Caesar, who certainly aspires

To deliver with some certainty
A tireless and dedicated approach
And unstinting efficacy

To help her patient,
Speak, cry or remain silent
In her surmountable journey
Of feeling, healing and self discovery!

Dedicated to Dr Karen Caesar

This poem was written eight years ago, but I thought it tied in nicely with my posts on agoraphobia which having spanned 17 years of my life to date has had an enormous impact on my life and the way I live. My counsellor encouraged my creative side which emerged in the form of poetry as I started my healing journey. She said very kindly when we parted after a year in counselling that she would be the first to buy my poems if they were ever published.

I also want to thank TheCrazyBagLady for allowing me to use her sketch in this post. I saw it months ago before I even decided I was going to write about agoraphobia, but I felt at the time that it was such a beautiful sketch that I would one day use it. The opportunity came today and I took it, just as TheCrazyBagLady says on her sketch: “Every day another door opens”.

And to close, in the words of British Telecom (in their sales initiative some years ago): “It’s good to talk…”

~ Marie Williams 2017

copyright Marie Williams – 2009

The Wise Woman’s Stone

Tags

awareness, beggar, Christmas, coin, communication, compassion, gift, giving, hungry, money, precious stone, security, self-knowledge, stone, therapy, traveller, wisdom

Lately I find I having been giving a lot. I don’t know whether I am especially aware of this because it is the season for giving, or if something has triggered something deeper within me. But I think the act of giving, whether it is in recognition of a celebration, ie a birthday, charity, a good cause, Christmas or something like that is actually beneficial to the soul. I personally feel such joy and contentment when giving or sharing that I’m sure that internally, physically there is a way the body responds by removing toxins and releases feel good chemicals which flood the body and in turn makes you feel much healthier. You can probably tell that this is my own clumsily conveyed take on what giving means for me. I don’t make any claims to expert scientific knowledge.

Earlier this year, someone approached me telling me that he had to get to work and he had no money for his fare to get there. He said he had seen me, and that he had thought about it a long time, and he knew that I looked like a ‘kind lady’ and that I would help him. After much questioning, I gave him some money to get to work for the whole week. He thanked me profusely and bestowed many blessings upon me. I did wonder if he was genuine, but I thought if he is trying to con money out of me, then that is his problem and not mine. I felt better for giving and helping someone who I believed needed help. I like to think that if I had been in the same position, help would be forthcoming.

Two days ago at the train station, a beggar approached me, dirty, dirty clothing, in need of care and attention and I gave him some money. He had run up to me hand outstretched as I stood in the queue at a cake shop. I had a few bags and had to shift them around to get into my handbag to find my purse. He stood waiting patiently, hand still outstretched while I tried to get my money out. He had no idea if I was going to give him any money at all because I did not say anything, just rustled around with my bags. I eventually found my purse which had some change (lots of pennies) and one shiny £2 coin which I had been saving and did not want to spend because it was so shiny. Call it one of my foibles! I had no other change (apart from some notes), so I gave him my shiny coin which had been in my purse for months, while I broke into pound notes in order not to spend it. So you can see how much it meant to me. I gave the beggar/homeless person the coin which he eagerly took, blessed me considerably and ran off into the crowd. I felt good. I didn’t even mind about giving him that particular coin.

I discovered this story around Easter time, this year. I was actually looking for something else on the Internet, but came across this and it resonated with me. I hope it does the same for you.

The Wise Woman’s Stone

A wise woman who was traveling in the mountains found a precious stone in a stream. The next day she met another traveler who was hungry, and the wise woman opened her bag to share her food. The hungry traveler saw the precious stone and asked the woman to give it to him. She did so without hesitation. The traveler left, rejoicing in his good fortune. He knew the stone was worth enough to give him security for a lifetime. But a few days later he came back to return the stone to the wise woman.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, “I know how valuable the stone is, but I give it back in the hope that you can give me something even more precious. Give me what you have within you that enabled you to give me the stone.

~”The Wise Woman’s Stone” ♥
Author Unknown

Approval: part 2: Paws for Thought

Tags

animals, communication, compassion, emotion, harmony, healing, journey, mental health, metaphor, rejection, seeking appeoval, thoughts

“We are good because we are loved.  We are not loved because we are good”. – Desmond Tutu

 

~ Marie Williams  2016

Guidance

Tags

communication, compassion, emotion, fears, flowers, harmony, healing, heart, journey, metaphor, nature, poetry, prose poetry, self-knowledge, therapy

Image: Google Images

Guidance

When I’m floundering fixedly on facing fears; fully aware of my shortcomings, I find you pointing proudly in the direction that I should go. Don’t you know that if I go, I go with the knowledge that I am not enough out there on my own? My needs are not necessarily manifold, but many are they and they won’t go away without first feeding that part of me which hungers for your staunch support; stepping in line with me.

So when you point, please don’t point with those elegant finely forbidding fingers. Instead, firmly hold my hand, grasp it lovingly and lead me along the path where the bluebells grow, dancing in freshly fallen snow, in the chill wind of April’s noon-day sun.

~mew

Salmon

Tags

Anna Waldherr, anxiety, compassion, depression, low mood, medical profession, mental health, physical health, salmon, stigma, taboo, understanding

My dear friend Anna Waldherr writes with such clarity, compassion and wisdom about a subject which many find difficult – mental health. For many mental health is considered “taboo”. Many would rather empathise with you on a physical ailment: a broken leg over a mental health issue such as depression. But aren’t those two worthy of the same depth of understanding and compassion. One you can obviously see and understand how debilitating and unpleasant this can be: restricting movement and preventing you from carrying out necessary everyday tasks. The other equally debilitating and that too preventing you from living life as you would wish until it “lifts” if indeed it ever does. Let us remove the taboo heading over mental health and begin to talk about it in just the same way we would never shun someone with a physical health issue such as a broken leg. This is perhaps easier said than done, but someone has to start the conversation, don’t they? Thank you Anna for doing this so brilliantly!

ANNA WALDHERR A Voice Reclaimed, Surviving Child Abuse

Salmon jumping a waterfall on the way to spawn, Author Marvina Munch for Fish & Wildlife Service, Source http://www.public-domain-image.com (PD-Federal govt.)

WARNING:  Graphic Images

Suppose I took a knife and gutted you with it, like a fish.  Suppose I left you to bleed out on the floor, but you somehow survived that catastrophic assault.  Would you expect to be unchanged by it?  Would you expect to recover just by thinking happy thoughts?

Obviously not.

Physical v. Mental Complaints

Yet this is the cold comfort some physicians offer abuse victims suffering from long-term depression/anxiety and PTSD or other chronic conditions, for instance migraines, stemming from our abuse.  We are not trying hard enough for them.  Better still, we must be malingering.  Who could possibly grieve for decades over a “mere” childhood violation?

Forget it.  Put it behind you, we are told.  Easier said than done, however.

The ignorance of such physicians is…

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The Gift

Tags

awareness, blogging, clouds, communication, compassion, feelings, healing, metaphor, nature, poem, poetry, self-knowledge, therapy, tranquility, trees

Why this feeling of sadness now?  I think I’ll sit with it a while, after all it cannot hurt to understand the feeling if it manifests itself to me.  If I ignore it and send it away will it be hurt and think that it cannot come again to remind me of something I have not yet forgotten?  Breathe deeply, stare at the yellow walls and the sunlight reflecting through the window at the foot of the stairs.  It doesn’t feel any better, but then why should it?  You’ve only been thinking about the feeling for a few seconds.  Is that all the time that you can spare for this feeling when it so urgently wants to be felt?  Don’t you owe it to yourself to sit and engage with it, have a conversation with it, listen to what it has to say?

A small knot in the pit of your stomach.  A small pressure to the right side of your head, just under your ear.  Tingling in the feet and curiosity around the base of your neck and furrowed forehead.  Lips pursed as if to kiss and greet the feeling that has chosen this moment to visit, when you really weren’t expecting visitors today.  Invite the feeling to stay and find out what it has to say.  Don’t be cold and formal, treat it like a long lost friend.  Connect with it and let it know that it is important, that it is welcome and that although you have other things to do, this feeling has priority right now.  It relaxes and reclines and something shifts within you.

You turn your head and gaze from the foot of the stairs to the open window where the breeze softly caresses your skin, notice too that the trees are waving at you, as the cool air touches their leaves.  That the clouds in the sky floating on by suggest softness, cushioning your  thoughts.  Having gazed a while, seconds, minutes – who knows, you glance away, noticing the feeling has crept away.  You smile and acknowledge the gift your visitor brought today.

~mew

 

 

 

Father

Tags

90th Birthday, abuse, anger, child abuse, communication, compassion, forgiveness, healing, heart, hurt, prose poetry, sadness, self-knowledge, therapy

Father

I know so little about you. I do regret that and I wonder if it is possible to go back while there is still time. But is there still time? And if there is, what would I ask you and would you answer me truthfully, or would you continue to evade my curious, questionning heart,confuse, abuse, lose me in that maze, that maze that you constructed, stiff, stifling, solid walls around you, saying “keep out!”.

Who mothered you? Who fathered you? Who were your friends? Who struck you? Where did your rage come from? At whose hands did you learn to fight, bite, keep tight, never lose sight of the anger, hold it, nurture it, feed it, plead with it to keep you safe, safe from the hurt and the pain which surely must have followed you doggedly in your formative years?

My tears, my fears, the passing years, heaped in a pile in a bundle in the centre of my heart. I keep meaning to have a clear out, but I don’t have the strength to tackle that bundle, so I trundle along in the hope that one day soon, I’ll march in, take hold, unfold all those offending garments, toss them into a place where I can see them for what they are: questions, questions with no answers. No answers.

I have known you for years untold and yet I do not know you. You have been in my heart, never too far apart, lingering languidly upon my lips, in my thoughts, in my prayers and layer after layer of you is impressed upon my being. I need to forgive myself for not getting to know you. I need to forgive you for not letting me get to know you.

~ mew

Day Five: Fog, Elegy, Metaphor

Tags

compassion, elegy, ethereal, fog, heart, metaphor, mist, poem, poetry, touch, Writing 201, writing 201 poetry

It’s day 5 of Writing 201:Poetry and the assignment is to use the following in a poem:

Today’s prompt: fog
Fog. Today’s word prompt can be taken in so many different directions: condensation on your car’s window. An eerie landscape (or streetscape) at dawn. Your glasses as you enter a warm room from the cold outside. The mental state of confusion, forgetfulness, or dementia. How will you introduce fog into your poem today?

Today’s form: elegy
Today’s form, the elegy, can trace its history all the way to ancient Greece. It started out as a poem that could be about almost any topic, as long as it was written in elegiac couplets (pairs of verse, with the first one slightly longer than the second). Over the centuries, though, it became something a bit more specific: a (more often than not) first-person poem on themes of longing, loss, and mourning

Today’s device: metaphor

Not Alone

I’m not alone here where I stand
in fields of green my friend
You promised you would always stay
close by no matter where I am

If I could touch your warm hand
And feel your white breath
Rising slowly upon the cold morning air
Glimpse your misty presence near

I would raise my eyes to the sky above
My hesitant heart would laugh
And my soul, ethereal fingers outstretched
Would touch your face once more

~ MEW

Purple Tree

Tags

awareness, beauty, compassion, creativity, flowers, harmony, healing, inspire, loss, purple flowers, sadness, tranquility

Pain and loss are an inevitable part of life. Sometimes when we are grieving for the loss of what we see as a valuable part of our lives, we are blinded to the beauty that is the backdrop to circumstances beyond our control. My friend has a tree in her garden which delivers the most beautiful purple flowers in the spring/summer time. These flowers are mesmerising whilst proudly displaying themselves on their branches. You cannot fail to be struck by their beauty. One year, we had a particularly gusty month of May and sadly, the next morning after a very windy night, purple petals lay strewn all around on a carpet of green. I was touched by the loss of the leaves so soon, but could not fail to see the beauty of the pattern the petals had formed on the grass. This led to me see that there is beauty in every situation if we look for it.

Purple Tree

I hope our purple tree
wasn’t too traumatised
by the actions of the Mighty Wind
and the Goddess of the Trees!
A carpet of purple petals sounds very alluring,
and I hope our purple tree recognised
that sometimes losing
its petals maybe painful,
But it can be beautiful
to the beholder’s eye.

~MEW