#mentalhealthcare

Nothing Special

Posted on by ROCK

Photo by Magnus Polla, Fjärås,Sweden copyright2023

There are few people who make us feel special, something most humans crave at some point in their lives. One expects parents to find us special, extraordinarily so yet sometimes the ones who are most likely to believe in you simply don’t. The why’s are a mixed bag of variables so it’s not an easy script to sum up; ROCK is the strongest, deepest part of LittleMe, the one who shakes me out of the darkness and sets me straight, well at least gives me some sort of hope in a really shoddy world at times. MiddleMe is trying desperately to accept GettingOldMe and time seems to be in fast forward. As most of my readers know, ROCK and MiddleMe have spent so much time trying to heal LittleMe and just when there is this triumphant breakthrough, she’s triggered and falls down into her dank, silent cave. Being nothing special is alright I suppose as I am just a stone, a discarded carved art project left in the woods who was rescued by a curious boy. He grew up and married twice and I sat at his mother’s country house for years without much notice. Then, there was something about my face, my expression rather, that spoke to my human’s second wife so deeply that she brought me to my year round, hopefully lifelong home. She took photos of me, created my persona and put me in this blog. She made me her hero and I am like, I hate to say this, a rock star! Haha. We have to laugh about my meaningfulness. Truth be known, she is the strong one, pulling herself up over and over, not me. I want to give her credit because she is special, even though the people she loved most before her child and husband didn’t make her feel that way. Her new approach is cognitive therapy, soft yoga and pouring on the love to those who have brought her the gift of loyalty. In the big scheme of things she knows she is nothing special, but I sure think she ought to be to a whole lot of not so nice people. GettingOldMe (GOM for making things easier on arthritic fingers) is still dragging LittleMe around like that box of junk that sits for ages in the back of your car and never makes it to the recycling station or dump. MiddleMe is hurting as she watches her own young adult child struggle, and is starting to give up on should be wonderful, meaningful, relationships and is just learning to accept them as tragedies of her life, shake loose, let ’em fall. They should have seen her special, praised and carried her in their spirits always, but they dropped her. She just was too nothing special.

Goodness;A Still Life With God

Posted on by ROCK

Photo by Leo Arslan on Pexels.com
Youth, black and white, yes or no, speak or silence
I hold my breath for peace, for calm, for all that is right
Goodness once defined by order, authority, defined, underlined
A shift of consciousness bows to the moment, the breath defines
Who we are, who we were, where we are going
Goodness is a portrait unfinished, a process unleashed
A place where the divine encounters the ordinary, forgiveness
We fall at the feet of our own making, our deeds portray shame
In the darkness we long for what we could have been
We are alone in our fear,truth is coveted
Goodness does not hesitate nor hinder
For we, the unfinished, the raw form, the model in making
Suffer as we witness grief, despair, incomplete masks
Why seek to better ourselves when around us a dark shadow beckons?
Goodness is a portrait unfinished, a process unleashed
A place where the divine encounters the ordinary, forgiveness
We fall, we seek, we bow, we resonate; are we capable?
The clock hand moves forward, no change is gained
A decade passes, we remain.

Obsessive Reflections; Listening Blindly to Memories of You

Posted on by ROCK

Photo by Skitterphoto on Pexels.com

                                           

                                     

The mirror shows a reflection that is not my own now. Lm was a young girl of thirteen when she turned all feelings inward; no one could truly know Lm or reach her no matter how hard they would try. They, meaning, my desperate mother, teachers, school counsellors, psychologists, and “friends”; from there came bullies who learned not to cross me and then silence when I passed nosey neighbours and those who fed my peculiarities.

MiddleMe, doesn’t want to remember Dad, but Lm breaks down without him. Tears spill and plop down onto the paper she is writing on. Lm is learning that Mm doesn’t hate you; she detests your lying, bullying, and trauma invoking behaviours such as witnessing the grooming of your new younger conquest, your next spouse, and endless lovers in between. We are not your enemy; you’ve done a good job at hating yourself for eighty years.

Lm however remembers just “US”; fourteen years of just Lm and you. She hid all your ugly behaviours and stuffed them into a closet with a heavy lock for her need to be loved and love was stronger than she. The parts she hangs onto are singing in wonderful harmony, a shared love of sentiment and this unspoken code that read, ” I got your back”. She had your back until Mm just, just couldn’t, watch her try anymore. Dad, “You were a stupid teenager and human; parenting was out of the question for you. I feel sorry for your sons who could not be seen because you took up all their space with your ego.” Mm screams this to Lm.

She mirrored many of your behaviours which Mm so wishes could be erased. Thing is Dad, no matter how much her heart can be set afire with a desire to see you and hold your hand again, you will never admit the truth. It’s completely impossible for you to tell a straight up honest story. We love our siblings which you have strayed like breadcrumbs across the globe, yet the pact you push is, “Shut-up or get lost”. Mm won’t go down that road with you and your “NOW” family. You manipulated our dearest treasure, our first baby sister, then my unforeseen siblings became jaded from your lies. You embalmed your current partner with some sick, dysfunctional image of you as honourable, admirable, worthy. She is the enabler you needed when we quit the job. So, while Lm’s tears are justified, and memories can be good, Mm tells her you are dead. Merging is difficult for Lm and Mm. They are learning that they can talk to you without any fear through heaven’s ears where they imagine God makes you listen. He or She or They sit on you and force you to hear Lm and God threatens to send you back to earth and do it all over again, yet with honesty. Oh, this dream is a good one. We wish you were not a dream, nor a place we fall into if a photo appears of you. Our minds too often visit a place where good times live.

If we were to see you in human form again it would be brief; we want you to only cry and say, “I love you; I am sorry! “Bravely, Mm and Lm would turn away and walk away stronger as one. But alas it is not a movie, a dusty western where we win, and you lose. The reality show is we all lose.

No Photos

Posted on by ROCK

Twenty-Twenty Vision Without Paparazzi

One thing ROCK, Lm and Mm, (Middle Me), agree on is there shall be no frivolity when we speak our truths.

No fancy decor as we all know truth is very black and white. It is or it is not. It isn’t wrapped in pretty paper and often leads to complete hell.

Lm looks up to Mm in awe. How did we get this far, this strong, and survive? ROCK. We came from a history of strong women on mother’s side. Our family name was Steele. Our heart’s were soft but our character was pure, selfless and like in the delightful film, Lilo and Stitch, “Ohana”, means family; nobody is left behind.

Being strong means letting go. Releasing our need to validate our truths, offing the redundant longing for acknowledgement from those we dream of standing up for us is a must do. Honestly,those who hurt us do not care if it means damaging themselves. Siblings, ugh. To stay in today’s reality show one must, “stay out of the ugly”, less the reality show be cancelled. Truth jeopardizes who “they”, “we”, “us”, are collectively; breaches what is needed in regards to family and most are too weak to stand up for the black sheep who has been kicked to the gutter. All on the table, hands up, a good liar is always preferred when the good go rogue.

Uncaptured Memories

Posted on by ROCK

How far can one run before all that one is trying to forget, divert, and escape comes back to where we have fled? Is this the middle of our lives where we draw a truce breathlessly, stop bargaining with our pasts and face the incongruities of our deepest emotions? Or do some of us weasel around our truer selves, aborting our most harmful and hurtful memories?

I don’t know that everyone is as introspective and determined as I to make sense of my losses and embrace my gains. Many I know continue the grand avoidance by burying themselves in newness or clinging to safe behaviours which cause them deep regret. Newness, as in changing jobs, locales, or partners. Some embrace a new religion or avert their deepest threats by falling into the huge word, and world of “addictions.”

To fully grasp ROCK’s significance, is to understand that most all of us have an inner strength, a will, one could say to push on, to overcome adversities and pursue, albeit often ignorantly, a better place for ourselves. Not all of us have the skills, in fact, most of us do not. We learn the tricks along the way, bumping into walls, heading down one-way streets that end in catastrophe and facing the unexpected dips in the road with surprise. ROCK knows that no one has control over anything other than their miniscule tasks that give them the illusion of control. Unloading the dishwasher, vacuuming, and tidying up one’s surroundings gives some people a sense of control. True adhesiveness, however, doesn’t exist. Life will get messy again and again and there is not a damn thing we can do about it but examine who we are, accept our temporary gift of living on this planet and make choices that will break our hearts, or others, lose loved ones and gain loved ones, discover our passions and cling to them, for at the end of the day it will not matter how well you ironed that table cloth, only who sat around the table with you and enjoyed your company.

LittleMe is the part many of us hide away, live with in a small corner of our memories and try to avoid. There are amazingly many whose LittleMe is quite satisfied. They were adored, cared for and have the childhood the rest of us can only dream of; we can’t undo what is done, yet we can undo how we let what was done THEN affect our NOW.

Just when I think ROCK has given all the power to LittleMe and my NOW self can live in contentment, even joyfully, there will be a wee part, still unhealed that can be triggered and the roof I have built with confidence caves in. There’s more to address with all of me and with ROCK.  

For readers who have been following our journey from October 2021 perhaps you can see growth, we can, but the self-doubt is very present and MiddleMe must address some more hurts that broke her carefree ways, her giving heart and the unkindness, unfairness the world delves out and learn to shake the fear she still clamours to quell within.

I hope you stay with us on the journey as LittleMe, MiddleMe and ROCK cut through the untrodden jungle within.

Photo by u0410u043du0430u0441u0442u0430u0441u0438u044f u0411u044bu043au043eu0432u0430 on Pexels.com

Extricated;Revelations of Freedom

Posted on by ROCK

Revisions of LittleMe

Photo by Tolga Aslantu00fcrk on Pexels.com

Upon a mattress of memories, covered in a blanket of words
The ceiling is removed, my mind wanders like driftwood
Washing up on the pebble coated shore
Sun hidden, yet it will shine again

Free now, with no constraints upon me
Except for those I have created myself
My eyes watch as clouds shift
Shadows of LittleMe linger yet I am not hindered

Letting go of you was the best part of me
Not caring, not wondering, no second thought remains
Rock pulled me through the stench of unrequieted suffering
Like the fires of hell, each piece of me was burned 
As a steamy iron flattens out the wrinkles
Patience led to a better version of now

No longer am I tied to you
Blood bares no meaning
Selfless, I once gave you all of my dreams
My visions are only mine now
Each hour a page is turned

The further I delve into my gentleness
My heart without borders sighs
I soar above you
I always have

What makes a woman strong is not the good days
Untethered, we can face our needs
Without roses
Without holding another's hand
I hold my own

Courage to speak the words
That create our story
Defies dysfunction

Trees begin as saplings, just like me
Each branch stretches out with a bit of my growth
Each leaf is new, renewed, then falls
Like the end of summer
A bit of old me is left
An autumnal breeze is my new pulse

Rock does not sway like unbridled emotions
Together we finished another season of me
Triumphantly without your curse
LittleMe curls around her newness
Clouds will always move
As I move
Further and further away from you

I was not born brave; sorrow made me courageous
I am proud that I found peace with my anger
One by one the leaves fall away
Taking you with them
Steadfast I remain
For I am still beautiful in my nakedness

LittleMe

Posted on by ROCK

Moving Toward Forgiveness

Photo by JoEllen Moths on Pexels.com

What you gave me was the feeling of being important, of mattering, of being irreplacable,capable and loved. What you stole from me was everything I clung to and it has taken me years to see, to feel, to love and forgive myself. I am the pearl, the rare gem and you are no longer in charge of my value. I am so much more than you ever deserved. I am genuine, not some nock off rolex from the side alley in the city. I am no longer just LittleMe, I am ROCK solid. I am as gentle as the still lake on a fall morning, I am noone who needs to hide my heart or be afraid anymore. The stone is more than a shield, it is a tool, one that helped me grow away from you and into me. I am sorry for who you lost, for I was always the only TRUTH you had known. I release you and I can laugh again. You were not my hero afterall. I am my hero.

Sleepy Eyes;The Reawakening

Posted on by ROCK

Lm Rises With Relentless Passion

Photo by eberhard grossgasteiger on Pexels.com
Eyes Squint as the sun rolls over the hills pulling Lm up and out of her       lengthy hibernation.
There is a grace around her,calmness is rewarded with a toast of familiar aromas between her and Rock. He has stood silent, never pushing her to write or paint for he knows she always will find her bearings after all these years as one. One woman, wound in threads of her past, always mending her wounds, sometimes unravelling and redoing her old patterns. She rips at the stitching she has worked so diligently on and then regrets her lack of believing in her self. 
Rock is not one to heal, he simply listens to her heartbeat, her dreams, and guards her memories with pride. He loves his protective role, yet desperatly longs for Lm to embrace him and allow their codependency to gain an impenetrable force of a love for life beyond the silences lingering between them.
Lm has indeed been writing on the walls in her stairwell, deeply hidden in her darkness she creates prose and poetry that brings heavy tears to those with a true understanding of the life she has lived, survivied and continues to embrace.
Rock pulls open a drawer where some of her writng is growing stale, longing to be shared with the world. "Go on" he insists, "Put it out there!" Lm feeling somewhat nervous takes the words she has written and takes to the keyboard of her laptop.
Poem? Prose? Lm sees no reason to give her words a title and let's it spill into print.
         
Like turmeric, pomegranate,and cumin, we fill the room with exotic spice.
Pungent scents of our newness exhale around our discovery, circling like a dancing nymph.
Ochre and cinnamon, brassy, hot, flesh soothed only by the midnight air.
Dainty, cool, silver falls upon our sturdy moon, a flash of our future, our beginnings. Desert orange, a flush of your cheeks.
An odd mixture of clay and clover, of cabbage and okra, we long to be the same.
We grope for the chance to blend.
We are an experiment, unlikely ingredients combined by chance.

Rock can't applaud but is pleased. His stoic face never gives way to emotion.
Dissociative still, yet hope will always be on each mornings horizon.
#ChildhoodTrauma

Oh Where,Oh Where Has LittleMe Gone,Oh Where, Oh Where Can She Be?

Gallery | Posted on by ROCK

Photo by Mohammad Kashkooli on Pexels.com

She fell backwards then downwards,landing at the bottom of her darkest place; she laid there for days refusing to accept TRUTH doesn’t matter. Rock as always stood near but honestly, he feels ashamed as he never saw this coming. She’s been so forward, following her own path and rules then as Father’s Day approached stateside and in the UK she leaned into her Buddhist and mindful consciousness and forgiveness came to mind. She had conditions however; she wanted to be heard and have a safe space, a witness, a protector so she could say outloud to her BadDad all she remembered and all she knew. That is not forgiveness. She wanted him to be seen for who he was, is and will always be by someone else, too. She sets her standards very high and wrongly assumed others after twenty years may have grown wiser. She was way off course. No one wants to hear that her BadDad hit on her friends and even her, sober and drunk. No one wants to know he had an affair or twenty and she has proof. Lm sunk into her bellied belief that someone in her paternal family cares. They don’t. They are all suckers for his new working persona. He doesn’t feel guilty and although he always said, “There are no athiests in a foxhole” that epitath doesn’t ring true. He dosn’t want redemption to get into heaven, if there is one, and he sure as hell doesn’t want Lm. How did this whole thing get triggered? On her sixtieth birthday in January he wrote her an email saying he will always love her. She had blocked every account he had so he couldn’t reach her. Yet, the schemer always has had his tricks. She deleted the email and let it simmer. Six months after this email under extreme stress, feeling sick (she always gets sentimental when getting sick), she broke her rules and wrote his wife. His wife as always, the one a year younger than Lm, shut her down. Luckily, a few days later while convalescing Lm turned on the television after moping about for a day and there was Oprah Winfrey and Michelle Obama. Michelle Obama said, “Some people never outgrow their smallness”. Basically, Lm’s father’s wife loves a good grudge, thrives on them and has no intention of letting Lm near her father or her family. Lm was bullied by this woman because she has always not known how to stand up for herself, never been quick on her feet, nor good at come backs and when her BadDad’s wife yelled at her or wrote or said mean things to her in the past she just cried. Being an empath, extremely sensitive is a good quality, a beautiful way to exist, yet it has it’s drawbacks and bullies love to watch the way Lm sinks, loses control and runs away from her pain. Luckily, Rock has seen her inner strength struggling to regain her balance and although she is not even on the first step, she is aware that she has fallen and it won’t be long before she gets up and starts to trust the ones who are here NOW, allowing them to comfort her and allowing herself forgiveness for falling off the “No Contact” wagon. For those who have wonderful parents, be they a Father or two, a Mother or Grandparent who love you, hang on to the good stuff. The bad seed planted by the ones that hurt you may try to sprout when you are weak but you don’t have to water it. Sow self love.