First Impressions

Tall. She was very tall, so tall that I had to step back to speak to her. There was no chance of eye contact. Truth is I am not a very tall person so this is not an unusual situation yet it was. I am more used to men towering over me. Don't think I have ever met a woman this tall.

Not that she was a freak or anything. She didn't have those large features that make some very tall people seem odd. Her face although the right size for her body, she definitely wasn't a pin-head, was pretty and her features beautifully sized and shaped. You know a sort of TV face, perfect shaped nose, large brown eyes almost child like but made up with long mascaraed lashes and two tone eye lids that shimmered in brown and gold. Her lips were perfectly full, but not overly like you would want to stick her on the window or think of Lesley Ash!

Her hands were big, but not shovel like with long pianist fingers that were immaculately manicured and the nails painted with a gentle and subtle pink, not to pink or bright as to be common and not too faint either. Her hands were feminine. I didn't find myself searching for a possible Adam's Apple or seeing how huge her feet were, or seeing if she walked legs wide apart and perched on her heels stumbling inappropriately and walking too heavily.

This was all woman.

A different poet

SPIDERLIKE

Spiderlike
the questions spin
pulling answers
from within.

Spiderlike
they swing about
on themselves turned
inside out.

Though to do it
there must be
something solid,
like a tree.

Which is not
a part of you
to attach
the answer to,

Yet, (I spin again)
That tree,
is it really
part of me?

What is out
and what is in?
Spiderlike
the questions spin

Am I here
or am I there?
Statements sparkle
in the air

Answers to
the questions why
hang like sickles
in the sky.

Every one
a question mark
cutting into
what is dark.

Spiderlike
the spinning night
swings upon the
inner light.

Love More or Less
Sydney Carter
1971

Another word from Spike

HOPE

Just when I had made my today
Secure with safe yesterdays
I see tomorrow coming with its pale
glass star called hope.
It shatters on impact
And falls like splinters on cruel rain
And I see the red oil of life
running from my wrist
onto tomorrow's headlines.

Woy Woy, New South Wales

December 1971

Hidden Words

Spike Milligan

Published 1997

A good day and a terrible day

Yesterday was a contradictory day. I had a good day at work even though, as per normal I was anxious about it and then just before I left I tried to sort out a problem with someone who is being very rude. And it was like trying to speak to a tree. No not a tree as I love trees. It was like trying to talk to a concrete bypass - one of those slashed through the middle of a lovely area that just sits there unmovable and unhealable and unable to be anything but ugly. The other person was horrible. She told me she hated me. She told me she didn't want to work with me. She said I had 'dropped her in it' at work. She sat with arms crossed and stiff negative body language and said horrible things.

I asked for compromise. I asked that we could work together without the arguing, without the constant bad feeling. But no, she said she did not snap at me, she was not rude it was all me.

And now, as I look back I feel so hurt. This is all about my illness. If I had broken my leg or had a serious operation or anything else I would get sympathy. But no - because my mind broke I am just judged - I am told it is 50/50 because we both have depression. I know in my mind I did nothing to this person - she was just someone I worked with and when I was ill I admit she did not cross my mine. Depression is a serious illness, it is a selfish illness - I admit that but a deliberate illness - no, no, no. No-one would be in the darkness because they wanted to, surely? I didn't want to. I really didn't want to.

And now I don't want to have to listen to this tirade of abuse, this horribleness because I was ill. And the boss just sat there and listened. And do you know why? Because she agreed with it. Because she was allowing her to say it because it is what she wanted to say but couldn't say it. So she used her puppet to be rude and horrible and cruel.

And that is what having a mental illness allows others to do to you. That is what you have to deal with, not just the illness, and the darkness, and the self hate and the paranoia, and the pain, and the distrust of your very thoughts. You have to put up with what others think. Because having a mental illness means you are not perfect, means you can't be trusted to be 'normal' - it means others can speak to you however they want because anything you say in defense will just be 'your illness'. That is what admitting you have depression means.

Today I have to remember the good things. I have to remember that I have many people who love me, that I have friends who have helped me through, that I love my family and my family love me. That I am not a bad person just someone who has a brain that sometimes doesn't behave. Sometimes it is not to be trusted.

I have to remember that each day is beautiful; to wake up; to see the sunshine; to feel the rain; to speak to people I love; (and maybe even to those I don't); to walk on the beach with my beautiful dog; to stroke my lovely cats; to hug my daughter; to tell my daughter I love her; to cuddle up with the man I love; to smell the grass; to see a pile of freshly laudered washing (I know sad but it does it for me); to hear the birds sing; to see my lady smile; to write: to hear and sing along to music; to read a book (good or bad); to smile; to laugh; to care; to love; to be me; to be alive.

Words (Spike's and my own)

DREAMS II

Am I too, then, a fading dream,
for that's how other people seem
As I see them day by day?
Does looking make them fade away?
Perhaps if I start looking fast
I'll be the one who's looking last.

Corfu

August 1981

From

Spike Milligan
Hidden Words

PANDORA

My dreams are melting
They lie in pools on the floor
When I was five
My dreams were endless
Now, I have one left
Dare I dream it
or should I phone the police?

Spike Milligan
Hidden Words

Ditty

'My head feels hot' I said
'Well take your hat off then!' he said
'I have no hat.
And no, my head feels hot inside.'

By DiH

I am not sure this is going to be a good day for me - please, please don't let me be sliding back. Take more meds and feel the goodness is all I can try.

A Promise

Every day I think about things I want to put on my blog, ideas, opinions, pieces of writing, photos etc. And every day I don't achieve this. My promise is to try and blog at least twice a week. It means that at least I am writing something at least twice a week.

A couple of weeks ago I attended the MA end of year show at Uni. Some of the work was very good, in fact absolutely amazing. A video piece on memory and reality just blew me away. I just had to watch it and watch it and was lucky enough to see the artist to speak to him. I picked up a novel written as part of the Writing the Visual and managed to read the first 3 chapters but ran out of time. I so wanted to read the whole book - it was good - very good. Some of the work was not so good (or I had real trouble engaging with it - or even understanding it). The trouble is now I really want to do my MA. Next September it would be lovely to be studying again, even if only part time, to be able to put together both written and visual work would be so good. But it is only a dream. My current financial situation will not be sorted in a year, it may not be sorted in ten years!!

This year has been pretty awful for me - my illness, my mental state has been difficult, teetering on the edge of 'that kind of madness'. I know I am lucky that my friends and family have supported me and not allowed me to dive into the abyss but it still sometimes seems very welcoming. It still sometimes seems the answer. I miss Uni so much. I miss the creativity, I miss the conversation, I miss being an aged art student. It felt the most like 'being me' that I have felt since being a child. I wish I had worried less about fitting it and just lived the dream to its fullest extent. But hey, that is me always worrying I am not good enough, always seeing how good others are and missing my own potential.

I have been off line for a while, my hard drive failed. Now it could have just been one of those things and I guess that is what I thought it was and then something really strange occurred to me. The last photographs I uploaded were from the disused mental hospital in Norwich. I published a couple in my last blog. But some were very haunting, they appeared to hold the pain of past patients and were almost painful to look at. Did these photos make my hard drive fail?

A friend managed to save most of my data - he managed to rescue many of the photos but guess what most of the ones from the hospital have gone - only 3 remain - and they were the two I published and one showing my car. Even typing this is making me feel a bit 'creepy up the spine'. Ah well - I will never know and unfortunately I will never get to look at the photos properly.

I really should be in bed as I am very tired - I just want to sleep but didn't want to go to bed without blogging something. I will end with some of my 'words'. A piece I started a while ago and carry around in my latest handbag notebook. I think it is a work in progress.

Contradiction

am i a contradiction?
light and dark
bacon and cream
like chocolate
glass half empty
glass half full
am I
that kinda girl?

do they love me?
do they hate me?
normal.
am i
normal?

i wake to a heavy pain
that turns to feathered happiness
am i
that kinda girl?

do they hate me?
do they love me?
normal
am i
normal?


running, walking
smiling, frowning
unable, static, still
and eating
eating
bread and brown sauce,
cookies and ice
is that the kinda
girl I am?

do I love me?
do I hate me?
normal
am I
normal?

am I
a
contradiction
or
normal?

By DiH