Things I Miss

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The Big Things

 
 

My friends

The seasons

The weather

 
 
 

The Small Things

 
 

Being part of something

Being there for someone

Coming and going as I please

Doing something on the spur of the moment

Doing things just because

Doing things for myself

Having things to look forward to

A Year On

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Cold Blue Stare - Face of a Painted Gorilla Sculpture

This wasn’t what I was expecting.  It was meant to be all done and dusted by now.  Over it.  Getting back on with my life.  And it didn’t work out that way.  A whole year.  Where did it go?  What have I to show for it?  I don’t even think that I’ve made any progress.  A whole year.  Where did it go?  A whole year that I will never get back.

Expect Nothing

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idiosyncratic eye:

Wise words and a beautiful moment

Originally posted on My Pajama Days:

Expect prompt

I’ve spent a lot of wasted time expecting people to be different.

Expecting them to be thankful or honest.

Expecting them to love unconditionally or be tolerant without question.

Expecting them to be compassionate, self-less or encouraging.

Expecting them to apologize.

But mostly, I think I’ve just spent a lot of wasted time being disappointed, time that would have been better spent giving wholly of myself without expecting anything in return.

As I crossed over the 40-something threshold a couple of years ago, my perspective changed. My focus became less about being and more about doing. My mind’s eye has finally partnered with my heart’s desire, working together to hopefully leave this world a better place than I found it and without any expectation of being recognized for my efforts.

Give without getting.

Forgive without an apology.

Trust without hesitation.

Help without judgement.

Love without condition.

The more I work…

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My Body is a Two-Year-Old

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‘I can’t sleep … it’s too light in here.’
 
‘I want a drink of water!’
 
‘I don’t like the dark.’
 
‘It’s too cold.’
 
‘The covers are too heavy.’
 
‘Now I need a wee!’
 
‘My leg hurts.’
 
‘Can I have another hot water bottle … pleeeeeeease?’
 
‘What was that noise?’
 
‘I don’t like the rain.’
 
‘My head hurts…’
 
‘No, I really need a wee… NOW!’
 
‘I can’t sleep … it’s too windy.’
 
‘My duvet smells funny.’
 
‘I can’t breathe.’
 
‘I’m thiiiiiirrrrrrrsty!’
 
‘I itch…’
 
‘My tummy hurts.’
 
‘Why’s the neighbour hammering at one in the morning?’
 
‘I want another drink of water.’
 
‘That draught hurts my ears.’
 
‘I can’t feel my fingers.’
 
‘I might be hungry.’
 
‘Does someone want to read me a story?’
 
‘My head hurts.’
 
‘I’m tired.”
 
‘I don’t like it here any more; can we go home now?’
 
‘I don’t like that shadow.’
 
‘Owww. My toenail just stabbed me!’
 
‘My pillow squeaks.’
 
‘I’m too hot now.’
 
‘Isn’t it time to get up yet?’
 
‘… my beaker’s empty…’
 
‘This is so booooooring.’
 
‘I’m so sore.’
 
‘There’s a lump in my mattress.’
 
‘My foot’s gone numb.’
 
‘What’s that flashing light?’
 
‘My neck’s a funny shape…’
 
‘I need another wee.’
 
‘That clock is really loud.’
 
‘I want a different pillow.’
 
‘I just want to go home…’

Where there is no spring and no autumn: the world of rapid cycling

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idiosyncratic eye:

What are your own seasons?

Originally posted on purplepersuasion:

Seasons are funny things. If you live in a equatorial region, you may barely experience them at all; if you live in a polar region you probably live part of the year in unremitting darkness which eventually gives way to “white nights”. Living through a heat wave that has gone on for weeks, it can seem impossible that our streets and parks and fields were once covered in snow. Bizarre, even. Yet as we crunch over layers of ice, in that strange silence that comes only after snowfall, it is the sensation of heat and light, of long days and high pressure, that we cannot recapture. No wonder that so many films and novels play with the idea of perpetually cold environments, or create desert planets, or dream up worlds in which the seasons are very different to our own.

I think I’m on pretty safe ground in assuming many…

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Pieces

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It’s two in the morning and all I want to do is get out, go for a walk, find fresh air.  I want to clear my head, try to make sense of what I am feeling.  But I’m not feeling anything;  I am numb and empty.  And my body is too weak to go anywhere.  I just lie here, hoping that this too will pass.  I don’t even have the strength to hope.  I just lie here and wait.  Sometimes tears escape my eyes then they backfill, stinging.  I have no strength for this pain.  I feel nothing; just suspended in time.  Lonely, disconnected from everything around me.  Some things never change.  I am lost.  I am broken.  And too afraid to feel.  I will be ripped open and there’s already nothing left of me as it is.  I am broken.  I cannot be mended.  And my body has given out, given up.  I don’t know which.  The pains, they never leave me alone.  I grieve.  I have my slumps.  But this feels like some deeper monster about to burst forth.  And I’m scared.  I want to be done with all that.  I am broken enough already.  And if I cry, who will stop the tears for me?  I can’t.  I don’t want to be brave and I have to be if I go outside so I will just lie here with my pain and weep.  I don’t have the strength to fight it or to make sense of it or anything.  There are too many exhaustions.  The night is very dark.  But there will be a morning.  One day.

Some Thoughts on BPD

Link

Having a BPD diagnosis – my reality | Mind, the mental health charity – help for mental health problems.