Tag: patience

Sleeping

'A Poetic Potter & A Potting Poet'Leave a comment

First published 27 May 2020

Ironically, I’ve recently been feeling too tired to write about what I have wanted to write about: sleep. Until today.

Breaking the cycle of inactivity is massively difficult during a period of depression. It feels impossible to know what to do or where to start that will make any difference in any meaningful and lasting way. And then sleeplessness takes hold and so it goes on.

I still have variable experiences of being able to get to sleep, and sleep long and deep enough to feel rested. However, any current difficulties I have are nothing compared to what it was like for me, years ago, when I became addicted to sleeping pills (Triazepam).

In the end, to detox, I took myself to Turkey in the hot season, walked and sweated for miles and eventually screamed myself off them.

The process of detox itself, especially in unsupported circumstances, is very dangerous, and, to anyone contemplating taking tranquilizers of any kind, I would say, “Don’t!”.

It might be easy for me to say that now, as I did take them then and felt that I needed to – desperately – at the time. Maybe I did. But that was before I had explored all the other options and possibilities, mainly because I didn’t know about them.

There is much more awareness and access to mental health coping strategies than there used to be over twenty years ago when I was going through some extreme experiences. Meditation courses and apps, Cognitive Behaviour Therapy, affirmations (I use these a lot), talking therapies, the benefits of exercise and so on. Even so, despite drawing on these approaches and applying them in my day-to-day life as best as I can, I don’t always sleep well.

Now, though, I’m much more able to sit or lie with the lack of sleep and rest into it, be patient with it, rather than going for a quick fix with all the associated draw backs. If I’m really struggling to settle, I might get up, watch a bit of telly (reading is usually out of the question at these times, such is the impact of depression on my capacity to concentrate), make a cup of tea or – even better – hot chocolate. I also occasionally indulge in a glass or two of wine or a gin and tonic. (I’m conscious of the drawbacks and addictive aspects of alcohol reliance but it does sometimes do the trick; a couple of paracetamols – again as a very occasional alternative and never at the same time as alcohol – also eventually send me off.)

I’m gradually working towards having a kinder and more balanced relationship with myself, doing what I can to be good to my body and my brain. I work on being thankful, get my brain into ‘glad’ mode and accept that I am getting “there”, which is “here”, with every day a blessing.

It is much easier for the me that I am now, than the me that I was twenty years ago, to not fall back on the quick fixes, partly because I have worked hard to find out about and put self-management strategies into practice and partly because I am in a much better place on a personal level. It is much easier to get to sleep on an evening, knowing that in the morning I will wake up in my partner’s loving arms.

Maybe there was a time when I did shoot the Albatross, and paid the price. But sleep is a very gentle thing, and doing my best to let sleep slide into my soul is part of an essential process of healing.

A Woman, a Dog & a Blog – Writing into Life:
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'A Poetic Potter & A Potting Poet'Leave a comment

Being Glad

Originally published 21 March 2020:

I’ve recently been fortunate to have taken part in a group poetry project.

Group experiences have been central to my mental health recovery for many years.

Some group experiences have an uplifting, energising and inspiring effect; others lead to alienation, isolation and degradation.

The poetry group experience that I’ve recently had was a good one, thanks largely to the enthusiasm and encouragement of the group leader https://mariafrankland.co.uk/.

Everybody’s contribution was important though, otherwise we wouldn’t have ended up being able to publish our anthology https://www.amazon.co.uk/More-Poetry-Newly-Single-Something/dp/1697621732/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=more+poetry+for+the+newly+single+40+something&qid=1584785987&s=books&sr=1-1.

In case you don’t want to buy the book, or perhaps as a taster (I’m one of 12 poets in the completed work), here are my poems from the collection:

Now

Now
at the Pinnacle
14-and-a-half per cent
proof point of my existence
I’ve reached the Nottage Hill
sub-station of my life
I haven’t got a Sauvignon Blanc’s clue
about what to do next
other than to ‘méthode-champenoise’
my way through and hope
that if the cork crumbles
the bottle won’t be blue
and the sieve will be fine
so that
just for now
I can at least
drink the wine

 

I can dance

I can dance without moving my feet at all
I don’t have to do the foxtrot
or quickstep my way to any ball
I can cry without moving my lips
I can laugh without making a sound
all I have to do is know
that the earth is flat, it isn’t round
The dance is mine to make up
from the music of the wind
a sense of something swirling
in and around my mind
I don’t need a choreographer
an audience or loud applause
I just need to dance in my own way
and then I’ll dance some more
I can dance without moving my feet at all
on and on and on and on
it is my dance
my life
my call

 

Here’s to Wealth!

Cheers my dear
to the love that you bring
into my life
and though I never want
to be your wife
I want to share with you
all the good things
that life brings

I love it when you sing
as I know it comes
from within your soul
and as we learn together
to love each other
something magical
unfolds

The trees without leaves
that you hung
around my neck
and from my ears
help to take away
all my fears
of things undone
of words unsaid
the sadness
of never nurturing
a child upon
my breast

Where once was hope
and then despair
becomes a sense of
stillness
in the air
and from that place
of breathing
and of wings
comes freedom to wonder
and wander
into the rich realms
of being together
feeding the birds
with the wealth
of our love

 

Instant Coffee

Heading for instant gratification
no time to waste or spare
I take my mug into the kitchen
only to find a queue of people there

Halted, suddenly, empty cup in hand
my thoughts spill over into the needs of others
heads bowed or lifted
as we together stand

I only needed coffee
and soon the queue was gone
my waiting time was over
but for someone else it had only just begun

***

I’m also proud of the back cover copy that I wrote for the book:

A relationship break-up can be a difficult experience at any age.  It isn’t always easy to see the opportunity beyond the heartache, and even less easy to find ways of putting the experience into words. 

The triumphs of Maria Stephenson’s emergence into a new life as a writer and teacher are embodied in her collection of ‘Poetry for the Newly Single Forty Something’ (2017).  Maria didn’t just stop at publishing her own collection though.  She inspired others to explore their creative approaches to the theme, leading to this exciting anthology, which is more than the sum of its poems.

The words of each poet paint a picture of part of their own unique life story. Demonstrating diverse responses to life and writing challenges, threads of commonality emerge and unite.

What are you waiting for? Dive in, explore, share in the joy of words and wonders of life that these writers have explored and shared. These poems aren’t just about being newly single, or about being forty something, they are about being – essentially – human.

The reason for my pride is partly because I think it stands well as a piece of writing in its own right (and even being able to credit myself with that is a remarkable* achievement in its own right), and partly because of what it represents for me in terms of having come through what I’ve come through, still fighting, still writing, still reaching out.

* https://iamremarkable.withgoogle.com/ (#IamRemarkable is a Google initiative empowering women and underrepresented groups to celebrate their achievements in the workplace and beyond.)

Rules, Rhymes, Recovery, Recipe, Random – Glad About Life:
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A Woman, a Dog & a Blog – Writing into Life:
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I’m Glad

'A Poetic Potter & A Potting Poet'Leave a comment

First published 21 March 2020

It’s not my real name, but ‘Glad’ is better than sad, and I’ve worked hard in my life to be Glad, not sad.

I’ve recently started decorating my house – our house. This may not seem like an amazing revelation or achievement, but it is for me. I’m 64 years old and have had a long struggle to be able to enjoy doing the everyday things that I can focus on now.

It’s taken about fifty years of unlearning and then re-learning how to be me. Poetry hasn’t been the only vehicle I’ve used for recovery and discovery, but it has been a regular companion along the way.

As a teenager – like many teenagers since and still – I developed a very negative self-image of myself, inside and out.

Out

Out, out into the world
That’s where I wanted to go
What I wanted to do
When I was young
But when I looked in the mirror
All I could see
Was an ugly, unattractive body
Looking back at me

I went on a diet from the age of about 15 that lasted for the next 30 years or so, and affected every aspect of my life (or more accurately non-life that it had become). I didn’t think I had anything to offer as a person, didn’t know how to form relationships, and put all my energy into losing weight. At least if I was thin, that would be something. Except it led to nothing, because it wasn’t solid ground on which to build a life. It was the best I could do at the time, but I did eventually realise, after I’d had a major breakdown in my late thirties, and was trying to get myself going again in my forties, that I needed to eat, to give me energy, to be able to live. I had to finally, eventually, push through that awful sense of self-loathing that I associated with putting on weight in order to emerge as a (literally as well as generally) well-rounded person with an appetite for life.

I still have to work at it, still take anti-depressants, can’t use shop changing rooms or look at myself naked in a mirror, but on the whole this does not affect my ability to enjoy my life – with my partner – and try to make the most of every day.

I can still very easily cut myself off, go into ‘zombie’ mode, more readily associate with entropy than energy, so decorating my house – however long it takes – and writing this blog – wherever it takes me – are positive signs of engagement; action rather than inaction.

I hope my poems and other musings may resonate with anyone who has struggled to find their own identity and path through life. I know now that there are endless possibilities and I hope that the following poem (in six parts) helps to show how important it is for each of us to find our fighting spirit:

Jacket 1
It’s there, on the chair
The red fleece jacket
With hood and drawstring waist
That I don’t want to wear
Don’t want to keep

It’s warm and soft when I put it on
But far too big for me
Drowned in a red sea
Shapeless, I feel
A baggy, saggy, faceless entity

I look at the jacket
On the chair
In limp, loose folds of red, and seams
This isn’t the jacket of my dreams

It’s theirs to wear
Not mine to keep
Their tears to cry
Not mine to weep

It’s there, on the chair
The red fleece jacket
With hood and drawstring waist
That I don’t want to wear
Don’t want to keep
So I’ve put a price on its head
To let it go free
To someone who wants it
But when will that be?

Jacket 2
It’s there, on the chair
The red fleece jacket
With hood and drawstring waist
That I don’t want to wear
Don’t want to keep

It’s warm and soft when I put it on
But far too big for me
Drowned in a red sea
Shapeless, I feel
A baggy, saggy, faceless entity

I look at the jacket
On the chair
In limp, loose folds of red, and seams
This isn’t the jacket of my dreams

It’s not my layer
These aren’t my lies
With drawstring waist
And nylon ties

It’s not my jacket
They’re not my dreams
These aren’t my ties
They’re not my seams

So I leave the jacket
On the chair
To go my way
While they go theirs

Jacket 3
Now it hangs upon the door
That red fleece jacket
That I didn’t want to wear
Didn’t want to keep

It’s warm and soft when I put it on
And not too big for me
Warmed in a red sea
Shapeless no more
No baggy, saggy faceless entity

I look at the jacket
On the door
In limp, loose folds of red, and seams
It’s not the jacket of my dreams
But just a layer to keep me warm
From frozen looks
And glares of scorn

It is my jacket
With hood and waist
To wear a while
From place to place

Jacket 4
What next?

Jacket 5
Jacket in?

Jacket 6
No!

Gladabout.life blog posts from March 2020 to September 2024 are now available as an e-book on Amazon for Kindle:

Rules, Rhymes, Recovery, Recipe, Random: Glad About Life

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Day 27

'A Poetic Potter & A Potting Poet'Leave a comment

Continuing the story of Lydia and Me

I had lunch at the World Peace Café today.

It may not be the only Peace Café in the World, but it is the only one that I know, in this part of the World. And it’s a good one.

The lunch followed a morning of Buddhist meditations and teachings, on how to overcome anger and frustration.

I’ve done a lot of work on my ‘anger issues’ over the last 3 decades but found recently that I needed to do more.

The principle presented in today’s teachings is to practise patient acceptance, with a loving heart.

There are some aspects of my life where I find this easy and joyful, such as the work I’m doing with Lydia.  It does require patience, to keep repeating the same training routines and reassurances, and to keep looking for further ways to provide reassurance and help her overcome her fears.

On the other hand, having let go of most of my own anxieties now about being able to keep going on a sustained basis, I no longer feel under any self-induced pressure to achieve ‘outcomes’. We just do what we do, day by day. I love my time with Lydia, and I think Lydia enjoys her time with me too.

I got another ‘wake up’ call from her at 1.30’ish this morning.

This time she did want to go outside, which I presumed was for a toilet need.

Usually, she’ll come back in quite quickly and we settle ourselves down for some more “sleepy time” but this morning I waited a while and then went out to see where she was.

It was a warm and beautiful starry night.

I’m not great on constellations but I did recognise a clear ‘plough’ and a star that shone very brightly, which I thought may have been the North Star.

Thanks to Lydia, I had those few special moments looking up at the stars.

Sitting outside now, as I write, in the sunshine, after a mellow morning followed by a leisurely lunch, I do feel a sense of personal peace that I thought for a long time I would never be able to feel. Yesterday was grief and anger; today is peace.

I’ll still have to keep working at it: meditating; learning; relaxing; growing; writing; loving.

I’m lucky to have a lot of good things in my life and to be able to have days like I’m having today. I do wish that for others too.

My book, Train your dog; train your mind – positive reinforcement for humans and canines – is now available in paperback: https://amzn.eu/d/eQ2sWjU and for Kindle https://amzn.eu/d/99yW3Qk.

I don’t claim to be a dog trainer or a mind trainer – I’m just a woman with a dog who writes a blog, and has written a book, about life, and about being glad.

Day 11

'A Poetic Potter & A Potting Poet'Leave a comment
Lydia with her food ball this morning. She is very skilled at rolling it around with her nose to release the contents

Continuing the story of Lydia and Me https://amzn.eu/d/99yW3Qk

The Buddhist teaching last night was about ‘patient acceptance’, this being the opposite of anger.

I have been working on patient acceptance for some time, and also been struggling with anger.

In his book, ‘How to Transform Your Life’, the Venerable Geshe Kelsang Gyatso Rinpoche says that “We need to think about our own faults because if we are not aware of them we will not be motivated to overcome them.”

I have been motivated to overcome my fault of anger and continue to be motivated to do so; never more so in my life than I am now. Meditating helps.

The benefits of meditating in a group, for me, are significant. That doesn’t mean that I can’t and don’t benefit from meditating on my own, but there is something about a group meditation that I find has a calming effect, at a very deep level.

Today, I don’t feel angry.                

It’s now early evening.

I had a lovely walk with Lydia this morning, then met up with a friend and sat outside in the sunshine, then met up with another friend and had a walk with her and her dog. I think that all adds up to a very good day. I am very lucky, to have had such a good day, today.

Lydia is lying quietly outside.  It’s very peaceful here.

Day 2

'A Poetic Potter & A Potting Poet'Leave a comment
Lydia – anticipating her breakfast today

Continuing the story of Lydia, Me and our Family of Three https://amzn.eu/d/99yW3Qk

It’s an early start for Lydia and me; she’s going to the groomers.

When I first started taking her for grooming, around 3 years ago, she was very anxious and so was I.

I hadn’t taken a dog for grooming before; I hadn’t had a dog before.

Lydia must have had some previous grooming interventions as her claws were not overly long and her coat, though clearly in need of a good brushing, was not in bad condition.

Even so, there must have been a few pounds of fur on the floor by the end of that session.

We’ve been back every 4 to 6 weeks since, and we have both become steadily less anxious at each visit.

This is at least in part because of the kind, confident, patient approach taken by Vicky, the groomer.  Between us we talk to Lydia, reassure her, and I feed her treats while Vicky does the clipping and brushing.

Today, Lydia jumps up on to the grooming table without even having to be asked. Her front and back claws are quickly clipped and Vicky then goes on to brushing and thinning her coat, which is wavy, thick and soft; a beautiful sandy colour with grey undertones.

I’ve put a muzzle on Lydia, just to be on the safe side. She can feed and drink through it, and it helps to make sure that, between us, we can get the job done.

We opted for minimal intervention, right at the start. Lydia doesn’t have a bath or a shower. After half an hour of clipping and brushing she’s had enough.  We say our goodbyes to Vicky and head out for our morning walk, to a quiet spot nearby.

Lydia walks to heel with me most of the way, hardly pulling or tugging at all.

We arrive home. Lydi and I have our respective breakfasts. Trev’s already had his.

It’s Tuesday and I’ll visit my friend in the village later. For now, I rest, Lydia rests, Trev rests. He’s going to the gym later but we can all take it easy for a while. We’re retired.