The Mind is the Source of Happiness and Unhappiness…Buddha

How do I do this? Seriously, HOW the fuck do I do this?

They’re holding your ‘ceremony’ where they’ll sprinkle your ashes in the forest, and then the dysfunctional shitty lot of them, will all get pissed, be ever so dramatic, talk about wonderful, crazy, exciting, witty, daredevil stunts you did, many of which will be untrue, but they’ll all  agree, nod their heads,  exclaiming ‘exactly!; in tandom, no matter what anyone says about you.

Some will cry and sob, and make it all about them, just so that others can put an arm around their shoulders and whisper, ‘oh don’t cry honey, I know it hurts, but she’s in a better place’, and that’ll make the self pitying, self loving, self obsessed person feel so much better. Of course, it’ll become all about who is the most ‘hurt’…how ‘wrong and unfair’ it is that you took your life. So many questions will be asked amoungst them, stupid questions like ‘WHY? she had such a good life!’ or, ‘WHY didn’t she reach out to ME!’ ‘I would’ve helped her! I could’ve stopped her!’ and their pointless self serving bullshit will go on the entire day.

I hear they’re going to be streaming the ‘ceremony’ they’re holding for you, to all who loved you, so that they can be there in real time, albeit over the net. That’s good. I’m happy. There are many people that truly loved you. Your severe mental illness, wouldn’t allow your mind to acknowledge that though. I get that. It’s not your fault.

So my precious Sister. I’m sorry I won’t be at the ‘big’ ceremony. I cannot partake in a party filled with self serving, egotistical, dysfunctional people. As you know, hell, I’m not that functional myself!

I’m sorry I don’t have the guts to join them.

Please understand that I will, with my own family, go to the place where they hold your ceremony the weekend after. To the woods where they’ll scatter your ashes,  with my statue of Buddha firmly under my arm. Incense in hand, loads of candles, that I hope the wind won’t blow out and incense. Lots of incense.

We’ll sit quietly where your ashes are sprinkled. One of us will sing to you. I’ll light all the candles and put flowers all over Buddha. I’ll put your scarf around Buddha, and we’ll sit in a circle holding hands, then as the Gods hold our hands, we’ll peacefully let you go.

I hurt. I pray you have found the freedom now, to really live in Peace.

Your ever loving Sister. I will miss you forever.





13 reasons

As beautifully suggested by mahbuttitches (god, gotta luv that name), I’m writing my 13 reasons why I haven’t killed myself, and then 13 reasons why I am happy.

13 reasons why I’ve not committed suicide.

1. My children. I couldn’t take my life no matter how rough and raw it got, or gets, as i love them too much to desert them in this way and break their hearts.

2.  I refuse to give the mean bastards out there any sense of satisfaction. Let them stew in me living regardless of how cruel they can be.

3.  Spirituality. I’m deeply immersed in the Truth, and the truth has removed the need to end it all.

4.  It’s doesn’t seem fair to take away the normals judgment. nope. Gotta let them have an opinion even if it’s way off mark.

5.  My love for animals. I adore elephants especially.

6.  Despite being a bit batshit crazy, there are people who really love me. I appreciate them so much.

7.  I love being a mental health advocate. My ability from Grace to help others who suffer, fills me with gratitude.

8.  Gratitude. In learning gratitude, I found a meaning to live.

9.  Shew this is getting tough. I’m running out of reasons, so can’t kill myself, as I have to find more reasons.

10.  Love. Love kills the demon. Every time. Being able to love sincerely brings joy.

11.  I beat 100’000000 sperms in the race to get here! Ok maybe I shoved a few out the way, but I made it!

12.  Babies. They always fill me with joy.

13.  Because I don’t feel like it.


im too tired to say why I’m happy, but I truly am, and for so many reasons, it’s exhausting to contemplate listing them. But the number 1 reason, is finding freedom and truth after years of searching. ❤️❤️❤️

My Picture Perfect Life of illusion

Please, come inside. Taking off your shoes is not a requirement, but you are welcome to set your toes free, if you’d like. My toes prefer freedom.

To drink, I can offer you coffee, hot tea, tropical punch kool-aid, or a tall, clear glass of water. You may prefer the water. Truths I serve here will be difficult to swallow.
My wish, if wishes could be made, would be to paint for you a word picture of my life that is so inspiring, indescribably beautiful, richly intelligent, and so wildly admirable it would have you striving for a life as picture perfect as mine. But if I painted you that picture, it would be filed under fiction.
Right now, you’re seated in my foyer, a place diligently designed by the mind of a perfectionist. Here, the ambient lighting works in conjunction with proper angles to show everything in its most flattering form. Solid oak, hand-carved, dust-free polished furnishings lead you to conclusions of solidity. This is a solid space on a strong foundation, elegantly drizzled with finery and accomplishment.
No detail forgotten, you find yourself intrigued by the creative concepts that made this mansion possible. Hand-woven silk rugs, beaded and embroidered throw pillows, puddling drapes, crystal vases with fresh flowers.
But if I break the spell, if I erase the illusion, if I cared not to enchant you with my distracting seductive song and dance, you would find your eyes disbelieving the dilapidated ruin in which you stand, and your heart mourning for the potential that once shone here.
Mental illness lurks here. Swept under that silk rug, stuffed behind the puddling drapes, in every nook and cobweb infested cranny, and was ignored, denied, and rejected until the elephant in the room pissed all over everything, and the bulls in China shops reeked havoc with chaos and dark destruction.
I want to paint you a pretty picture, but I don’t know how to do that and tell you the truth at the same time.
My truth is ugly and I tried to keep it chained in the dungeon, but there are no chains strong enough, no dungeon big enough. No lie loud enough.
Welcome to my bipolar palace, a house of mirrors planted on the tallest, creepiest, loneliest mountain peak my soul could find.

 Shaun & Marindas houde 004

Talking to God?


Hi Folks

Why do we pray? and who do we pray to? According to statistics there are roughly 4200.00 religions around the world, and each one of them swear that their religion is ‘thee’ one.

Here are the stats of the most common organised religions in the world today;

Rank Religion Members
1. Christianity 2.1 billion
2. Islam 1.3 billion
3. Hinduism 851 million
4. Buddhism 375 million

So what religions make up the rest of the thousands? Well there are tiny sects, larger ones, but aren’t large enough to be put on the scale. each walks his own path in his own way.  It seems a huge hypocrisy to fight about who is right and who is wrong about a God that every Western religion ultimately believes will save them from burning in the fires of hell.

While all religions, (except the passive ones, like Buddhism for e.g.) are yelling traitor!!! at each other, what does this say about them?

Some religions believe that meditating is bad or ‘the devils work‘, as they think it allows demons into your Soul. And this is taught to children. It has been my experience that the most passive and loving people meditate daily, and want not for anything.= No greed.

Mahatma Ghandi said ‘I love your Christ, but I don’t like your Christians’. Incidentally, Christ was never a Christian.

In 330 A.D., Roman Emperor Constantine I chose Byzantium as the site of a new Roman capital, Constantinople. Five years earlier, at the Council of Nicaea, Constantine had established Christianity (once an obscure Jewish sect) as Rome’s official religion.

Columbus spearheaded the transatlantic slave trade and has been accused by several historians of initiating the genocide of the Hispaniola natives. Columbus himself saw his accomplishments primarily in the light of spreading the Christian religion.

So truthfully, and without judgement, in the name of Christianity, Columbus started the slave trade, and slaughtered millions! Just as, in the name of Allah, suicide bombers run around blowing themselves, buildings and people up. All this destruction, hate, bloodshed and war, in the name of the same God, worshipped in different ways.

Oh, and don’t start me on the amount of money you can make by ‘selling God’….those preachers make so much money it’s a joke, but the truly tearful thing is that a desperate old penniless woman will give her last penny to the Church, in the hopes of not burning in the hell she’s been terrified into believing in. But on the other side of the coin, religion brings comfort to many, and so that can’t be that bad.

I realise I’m taking a chance writing this, as I may be condemned, but I’ve made none of it up, and it sure is interesting reading.

Love and peace to you all

Deborah x

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ODE TO LOVE – Valentine’s day through the eyes of a bipolar and a broken heart…

Hi Folks

When we are young, depending upon how quickly we mature, Valentine’s day is the most special, romantic wonderful day of the year! We looked forward to Valentine’s day with our tender hearts beating, wondering who we’d get secret cards from, who would purchase us chocolates, flowers, gifts! All so exciting, and the future was now. There was no thought of anything ever going wrong. Just the perfect everything, and Valentine’s day started this ‘I will love you forever’ trend…


But then we grow up. Life happens. Happiness happens, and terrible sadness happens. We love, we live, we laugh, we cry, we marry, perhaps we lose our partner through some tragedy, or we divorce, and Valentine’s day, somehow became a schmulzty, schmoozy, money making racket, where a bunch of flowers cost around £25.00 and that’s in TESCO! Imagine how the florists cash in on this.

It’s ridiculous, but not if you are young, aching for love, thrilled with imagination, over flowing with excitement as to who has sent you cards asking ‘will you be my Valentine?’ the cost of cards, flowers and chocolates doesn’t enter your mind! and if you are hitched, then the money your loved one has spent on the flowers and the chocolates don’t even come into your equation. You are way too happy to worry about such silly stuff! Besides…………you are worth it right?

Imagine sitting in the lounge, candle light everywhere, these gorgeous beamed lights burning, nibbling away on yummy nibbly things on Valentine’s day. Sounds good doesn’t it? Do it whilst you can, because you don’t know what tomorrow will bring.

IMG_5153 dbl pebble & candle Tlite (1) single stone & teak Tlite (2) Striped marble Tlite (6)

Thinking about Valentine’s day, marriage, divorce, death, separation etc…I have written this poem. It’s called ODE TO LOVE.

I hope you enjoy it. It is meant to show how love can break when life becomes too much to bear. When there are no more Valentines days, and you are left with an empty hole in your heart.

I’m sure many of you will understand and perhaps relate;

Once again I lie in my bed and it’s half past two in the morning. I want to go and make a cup of tea, but I’m afraid I’ll wake my sweet daughter and her husband. This water is starting to taste vile, evening after brushing my teeth.
The neighbour’s baby has been screaming for well over an hour, and I squeeze my eyes shut wondering why they don’t pick the poor little babe up and soothe him? I have visions of myself going outside into the freezing weather, knocking on their door and asking them if they perhaps need help? I cannot stand the screaming and crying of the baby who is in distress, and so I take a couple of tranquillisers, but they do nothing. It’s happening again. I’m on a manic. I’m awake. Can’t sleep, and the owl I heard last night, has gone tonight. Probably snuggled up with his love in a cozy nest somewhere deep in the woods.
What an amazing life birds have, especially owls. I want to be an owl when I come back, IF I have the misfortune to ever come back to this earth. Owls get to sleep the day away, when it’s busy, noisy, full of crazy people, hustle, bustle, and it all passes them by, and then, at night, when the moon is at it’s zenith, they sit quietly on branches in trees, watching. They don’t need any candle light, they can see in the dark, one of the reasons they are so marvellous, and then suddenly, they hoot in a low, beautiful, baritone, which reaches across the valley…..wait…..and then, if you listen, you’ll hear that same low but distinct hoot come back from far off. He’s found a mate! So he calls her again, she waits, then answers, and this ‘courting’ if you will, goes on for a while, before he gets the signal from her to ‘come my love, I’m here’, and he’s gone.
Then, the woods are deathly silent again, with only the squirrels and small little rodents foraging around here and there for bits to eat, but the leaves have settled, as the cold wind blows, and perhaps the snow will start to gently fall again. Tomorrow evening, I will wait up for my mystery owl, whose hooting brings me so much comfort. It’s a sound unlike man could ever produce, and it soothes my soul and calms my mania.
Tonight I lie here, away from my childhood sweetheart, as we finally, after years of just ‘too much’ decided to take a break from each other. I am trying to get to grip on how I feel about all of this.
Having never been in love before, this is very difficult for me, and yet, in a way, it’s also like a breath of fresh air after not fighting with him for the first time in a week after months of tearing each other apart.
How do people who truly love, and I mean truly love right down to the very depths of their souls, how do they end up ripping each other to shreds?
In Wuthering Heights, my all time favourite movie, Heathcliff loved Cathy so much, that a vile, putrid, hatred grew in him, when he overheard Cathy’s remark about not marrying him, due to him being a stable boy. She was playing, just as she always did. But Heathcliff raged and rode off in the dead of night abandoning her, his love, his life, because his pride wouldn’t stay and confront her on what she said.
Rather than lash out at her, he abandoned her.  He was her life and she was his. That killed her. Heathcliff’s actions killed the only woman he could ever love. Why? Because of pride! He knew she adored him, he had no doubt. They’d even made love. They played together, lay together, she teased him often, and he was well aware of her nature, so for him to ride off when she playfully remarked that ‘she couldn’t marry him, he was just a stable boy’, instead of tackling her, like he did on everything else she said, he broke her, and then himself, his Son, her Daughter, and the rest is history.
Such is the propensity of a man.
In the wake of this story, I think about my own marriage to the only man I have ever loved. Loved since I was a child. I even call him ‘my Heathcliff’.

I have a mental illness, and just like Cathy and Heathcliff of Wuthering Heights, My childhood sweetheart and love have played, laughed, danced, loved  and have been inseparable.
There was a time when we couldn’t imagine life without each other. Where we’d rather both die than be apart. And here we are. I sit alone in this bed far away from him, and he lies alone in our bed at home. How did this happen? Two people, who’s love and commitment could’nt have been stronger?
So now we live with what we have. My illness will continue to taunt me, and I will continue to do what I can to knock it back. I never brought it on myself and there’s a sadness that dwells in me that I cannot shake. I need my love, but I fear it’s lost. If my love is lost, so am I, and so like my mysterious beautiful owl, who I imagine is white, I too will call in a clear voice until I am heard, for I will never be silenced, and I will not break.

Till next time folks

Love Deborah x


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