Last night I had an interesting dream.
I dreamt that I was looking for a new house. I went to an exhibition showcasing new build houses and found just the one I wanted. It was a town house in a little cul-de-sac with a plunge pool and access to a boating lake. I signed on the proverbial dotted line and started to choose paints, curtains and kitchen fittings.
Now several things struck me as odd when I woke up. Firstly I have no desire to move at all. I am more than happy in my messy, chaotic little home and I don't need the stress. Secondly, as a non swimmer and boating loather, why would I need the pool and row boat?
But as the morning wore on I started to wonder if this was a message from my subconscious. Although why she can't be a bit less obtuse I don't know. Maybe it's a message to mentally sort out my shit. To move into a new mind set (house) and embrace some new challenges (boats?!?)
I may be reading far too much into this but it's an interesting idea.
So do I pack all my mental baggage into boxes and move on? Or do I stay where I am, where it's cosy and familiar?
Sunday, 27 August 2017
Saturday, 26 August 2017
Thank you for being patient.
It's been a while since I've written anything on here and for that I am sorry. Sorry for me as a writer because it is an indication of how difficult these past few months have been and how that took me by total surprise. After all, I'm one of life's copers. I'm also sorry for you out there in Internet land, popping by every now and then to see if I've written anything new and going away empty handed time after time.
I have found the recovery from my surgery to be a two fold thing. Physically I am well on the mend, only the occasional twinge to remind me that I had the operation. Soon I will have my follow up appointments and I hope to get back to more normal life and get to the gym - my cardio fitness is crap at the moment!
Emotionally? An different beast altogether. I was so sure that the fact my cancer was all removed during the surgery meant that I would have few if any after effects. But sadly that has not been the case. I have felt sad for no reason, low and flat, unable to shake the torpor. Sure signs that I was not functioning well were the lack of interest in reading or writing. I struggled to see the positives in many things, resorting to faking it so as not to upset those around me.
Well now is the time to change all that. As I said, I am seeing the doctors next week and I hope that the news they will give me will shake me out of this mood. I think I need to hear someone say the words before I can bear to believe it. At the moment it's just reassurance from loved ones and friends. I need the white coats to tell me too!
I'm also trying to pamper myself every now and then, just little things like some nice new smellies for the shower. But it all helps so they say and I must confess that stepping out of the shower in a cloud of perfume is good for any girl's soul!
So again, sorry for being so absent. I hope I haven't lost too many readers but I will just have to build up my fan base again!
I have found the recovery from my surgery to be a two fold thing. Physically I am well on the mend, only the occasional twinge to remind me that I had the operation. Soon I will have my follow up appointments and I hope to get back to more normal life and get to the gym - my cardio fitness is crap at the moment!
Emotionally? An different beast altogether. I was so sure that the fact my cancer was all removed during the surgery meant that I would have few if any after effects. But sadly that has not been the case. I have felt sad for no reason, low and flat, unable to shake the torpor. Sure signs that I was not functioning well were the lack of interest in reading or writing. I struggled to see the positives in many things, resorting to faking it so as not to upset those around me.
Well now is the time to change all that. As I said, I am seeing the doctors next week and I hope that the news they will give me will shake me out of this mood. I think I need to hear someone say the words before I can bear to believe it. At the moment it's just reassurance from loved ones and friends. I need the white coats to tell me too!
I'm also trying to pamper myself every now and then, just little things like some nice new smellies for the shower. But it all helps so they say and I must confess that stepping out of the shower in a cloud of perfume is good for any girl's soul!
So again, sorry for being so absent. I hope I haven't lost too many readers but I will just have to build up my fan base again!
Wednesday, 26 July 2017
Surprising poetry win!
A couple of weekends ago someone flagged up a flash poetry contest on Facebook. There were some prompts to follow and one of them spoke to me so I powered up the laptop and wrote a little something. Before I could change my mind and come over all 'imposter syndrome' I emailed it off and forgot all about it. Then I got a message to tell me that I had won second prize! How thrilling and most unlike me - the last time I won anything it was a Brew XI bumper party pack at my school raffle and I was too young to drink it (Dad to the rescue!).
Now I have finally got round to popping a blog post up and sharing my poem with you. The prompt was 'The Camera Never Lies' so guess what my title is?
The Camera Never Lies
Black and white, board mounted, 40 years ago,
A face I recognise laughs out at me, a face that was mine, is mine.
Carefree, relaxed, happy, a young girl with her life ahead of her.
I remember that sweater, blue and white flecks, slightly itchy,
A polo neck that I would never dare today, foreshortening my already short neck.
Her eyes sparkle and her laugh is easy, open, filled with joy.
I remember when it was taken, late afternoon in the art studio at college,
A roll of film to use up, young friends messing around.
We posed and gurned for the camera, taking turns to shoot or model,
Unselfconscious as only the young can be.
Someone told me to smile, I did then I grinned and a belly laugh erupted
Caught forever on film.
Cameras scare me now; I hide in the background, make my excuses, run away.
The face I see in pictures now is not a face I like, a face I want to own.
The years sit lightly on me, that much is true, yet I still hate the picture I see.
The face is too faded and grey, too much like my mother; I see her everywhere
In my face these days.
My eyes are ringed with shadows as hers were,
My face is too round and soft as hers was,
My hair frames my face in the same way hers did.
The first hint of downturned wrinkles drip from my mouth,
Again I see her mirrored in my face.
Sometimes I catch a glimpse in the mirror and my breath
Flies from my body as I see my mother frowning back at me.
Where is that youthful laughter? Why is my face so frowny and sad?
If the camera never lies then I will avoid it, shun it, hide from it
Until it does. Until it shows me myself and not my mother’s shade.
Or I can forget the uncomplicated relationship I once had with my face.
Now I have finally got round to popping a blog post up and sharing my poem with you. The prompt was 'The Camera Never Lies' so guess what my title is?
The Camera Never Lies
Black and white, board mounted, 40 years ago,
A face I recognise laughs out at me, a face that was mine, is mine.
Carefree, relaxed, happy, a young girl with her life ahead of her.
I remember that sweater, blue and white flecks, slightly itchy,
A polo neck that I would never dare today, foreshortening my already short neck.
Her eyes sparkle and her laugh is easy, open, filled with joy.
I remember when it was taken, late afternoon in the art studio at college,
A roll of film to use up, young friends messing around.
We posed and gurned for the camera, taking turns to shoot or model,
Unselfconscious as only the young can be.
Someone told me to smile, I did then I grinned and a belly laugh erupted
Caught forever on film.
Cameras scare me now; I hide in the background, make my excuses, run away.
The face I see in pictures now is not a face I like, a face I want to own.
The years sit lightly on me, that much is true, yet I still hate the picture I see.
The face is too faded and grey, too much like my mother; I see her everywhere
In my face these days.
My eyes are ringed with shadows as hers were,
My face is too round and soft as hers was,
My hair frames my face in the same way hers did.
The first hint of downturned wrinkles drip from my mouth,
Again I see her mirrored in my face.
Sometimes I catch a glimpse in the mirror and my breath
Flies from my body as I see my mother frowning back at me.
Where is that youthful laughter? Why is my face so frowny and sad?
If the camera never lies then I will avoid it, shun it, hide from it
Until it does. Until it shows me myself and not my mother’s shade.
Or I can forget the uncomplicated relationship I once had with my face.
Saturday, 15 July 2017
Thinking about cancer
I'm going off-piste with this post as it is not to do with my writing. However it's a piece I've been musing about for a few days now so I'll go ahead anyway and see what happens.
On May 18th I was given news which I was not expecting. After a few rounds of tests and biopsies I was told I had cancer. Luckily it was Grade 1 so not aggressive but nevertheless had to be treated urgently by way of a hysterectomy. I hardly had time to process this information before I had a date for surgery and had the procedure on June 6th. I was lucky that I didn't need any chemo or radiotherapy and have been told that there was no sign of the cancer spreading so it has all gone, subject to an appointment with the oncologist later in the year.
My problem is that I feel a bit of a fraud. I hear harrowing stories of people's battle against cancer. I watch medical programmes where people have a difficult time dealing with a cancer diagnosis. And I feel a fraud because my experience was not like theirs. Most of the time I forget that I had the surgery - until I overdo things and then I remember when the ache sets in - and the whole 'cancer' thing seems to have passed me by somewhat.
I mentioned this to my OH the other day and said that I don't feel like I had cancer. His response hit home in a big way. He said 'But you did have cancer.' And it hit me that it was true. Cancer had invaded my body and I had been a cancer sufferer for a brief time. I was lucky, it was caught early and could be treated easily with surgery. But for a time I had indeed had cancer.
I'm not trying to trivialise what I went through. There were some dark thoughts and a few secret tears but for the most part I just 'got on with it'. But I still struggle to think of myself as someone who had cancer. I don't feel like I went through enough to link myself with all those people who fight and struggle and suffer. I feel like a fraud.
All this is rather baffling and complex. I don't know why I feel the need to write about it but I do. I'm also trying not to be too 'romantic' about the whole 'cancer survivor' thing. I curse myself when I start noticing things and rejoicing in them - the smell of a rose, a beetle's iridescent body, a scampering squirrel - but a little part of me thinks that the story could have had a different ending and I need to remind myself every now and then that life is good and there is joy and beauty all around.
So I'll try not to beat myself up too much and to be thankful that things turned out the way they did. But I don't think I'll ever completely lose the feeling of being a fraud when it comes to cancer.
On May 18th I was given news which I was not expecting. After a few rounds of tests and biopsies I was told I had cancer. Luckily it was Grade 1 so not aggressive but nevertheless had to be treated urgently by way of a hysterectomy. I hardly had time to process this information before I had a date for surgery and had the procedure on June 6th. I was lucky that I didn't need any chemo or radiotherapy and have been told that there was no sign of the cancer spreading so it has all gone, subject to an appointment with the oncologist later in the year.
My problem is that I feel a bit of a fraud. I hear harrowing stories of people's battle against cancer. I watch medical programmes where people have a difficult time dealing with a cancer diagnosis. And I feel a fraud because my experience was not like theirs. Most of the time I forget that I had the surgery - until I overdo things and then I remember when the ache sets in - and the whole 'cancer' thing seems to have passed me by somewhat.
I mentioned this to my OH the other day and said that I don't feel like I had cancer. His response hit home in a big way. He said 'But you did have cancer.' And it hit me that it was true. Cancer had invaded my body and I had been a cancer sufferer for a brief time. I was lucky, it was caught early and could be treated easily with surgery. But for a time I had indeed had cancer.
I'm not trying to trivialise what I went through. There were some dark thoughts and a few secret tears but for the most part I just 'got on with it'. But I still struggle to think of myself as someone who had cancer. I don't feel like I went through enough to link myself with all those people who fight and struggle and suffer. I feel like a fraud.
All this is rather baffling and complex. I don't know why I feel the need to write about it but I do. I'm also trying not to be too 'romantic' about the whole 'cancer survivor' thing. I curse myself when I start noticing things and rejoicing in them - the smell of a rose, a beetle's iridescent body, a scampering squirrel - but a little part of me thinks that the story could have had a different ending and I need to remind myself every now and then that life is good and there is joy and beauty all around.
So I'll try not to beat myself up too much and to be thankful that things turned out the way they did. But I don't think I'll ever completely lose the feeling of being a fraud when it comes to cancer.
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