‘Oh, does it hurt? I forgot to ask!’

A man resting on a chair

 

The story of Cinderella is a brilliant example, albeit a sad one, of how people ignore as well as shy away from raw reality.

When one reads or even thinks of the fairytale of a beautiful young lady, (Cinderella in this instance) – who finds her charming Prince, living in an ostentatious castle, (but it’s beautiful right?)  dressed in the finest garb, hair perfectly styled, absolutely she’s blonde (what else?), beaming with joy. That is what they love, and that is what they perceive. Only.

Let’s take the story of Cinderella;

Of course it’s only a fairytale, but if we’re to ‘enjoy’ the finer bits, the ‘feel good’ pieces of the story, then we should embrace the entire story.

The fact that Cinderella scrubbed floors all day on hands and knees with a brush, probably having cracked, dirty and broken fingernails as a result, including hard hands which, if you think about it, is very unflattering, does not enter into people’s minds. Cinderella had to sew her Step Mother and Step Sisters clothing by hand, which meant she’d suffered more than a few pricks from needles. Perhaps her hands often bled? Her clothes were tattered and torn, and I imagine, her hair wasn’t all that clean and definitely not styled. She had no friends, and was made to sleep in the attic.

Viewing Cinderella in this light, how do you now perceive her? Do these raw realities of a child being subject to pain, hard work, exhaustion, and perhaps eating only scraps, make you want to read the story of Cinderella, if no Prince was coming along, no fancy castle, just, broken fingernails, torn clothing and perhaps dirty hair, still have you  reading this story to your children at bedtime? Well, I imagine not. This is an example of  life’s realities, in their truest and rawest forms.

When people ask someone about how he or she lives with any sort of pain or disorder, more often than not, it is out of curiosity, not care. They want to see and hear about the hero in you. The juicy bits where you’re coping against all odds. They don’t want the raw reality of the suffering you endure. Oh God no, that would just be yucky, wouldn’t it? Ruin the entire illusion.

Another example is this; If you’ve suffered a horrific car accident, and end up in a wheelchair, paralysed from the waist down, needing a carer 24/7, including help with going to the toilet, do they really want to know these things? Your bedsores, the pus that seeps onto your bedsheets, because your carer has somehow forgotten to help you turn, the constant ghost feelings in your legs, which are driving you crazy, as well as depressing you, the poo bag you have strapped to your side, because you cannot feel the urge when it’s time for a number 2? Oh no! please no! Will they even enquire or want to hear you share your sorrow, fear and pain? 

No.

They want to know how it happened?  Who was involved? Is your car a write off? ‘I hope the accident fund pay you out well’ (silently wishing for you to give them a share of your loot), and what happened to the ‘other person, who was involved?’ did he or she die? and that’s about it. Perhaps they’ll ask about other juicy bits, like ‘were there witnesses? and ‘whose fault was it?’…..

They won’t ask you ‘where does it hurt?’ They won’t caringly enquire about bedsores in an effort to help,  and if you bring this up, they’ll quickly change the subject, trying to hide their uncomfortable feelings of disgust.  They certainly don’t want to hear about the bag strapped to your side, which if said carer doesn’t change, the content of your feces will spill onto your clothes, causing a horrific mess and smell. And God forbid this should happen when they visit!! They’ll run calling for the carer, and then make up an excuse to leave immediately.

Will they be interested in any pain, depression, sadness, you might be feeling? or the loss of loved one’s who’ve left because ‘they simply couldn’t take anymore of you crying at night’, I mean, seriously, ‘get over it’! You have a carer don’t you? You’re waited on hand and uh…foot! Shit happens man, just get a grip already!‘ they’ll yell.

If you mention wanting a manicure, I imagine the answer would be ‘why?’ they’re so expensive and you’re not going anywhere special are you?’  having lost sight that you’re still human. With feelings and a heart that beats, albeit to a different drum.

Yup. The raw realities. Who wants them? Let’s cut to the part where you miraculously heal, as spinal surgery has come a long way, and you’re the ‘lucky’ one, who was operated on successfully,  and to everyone’s delight, you have the use of your legs again! You don’t need the bag for feces strapped to your side anymore, and you certainly won’t suffer bedsores. What a beautiful ending! (but the ending began when you had the accident, something most couldn’t comprehend). oh wait, they’ll throw in a lot of ‘God is so good!‘ (um, ok, so why did I have the accident then? subject to shame and terror?’)

That’s the part that’ll have them proud to ‘be your friend’.  Your loved one will probably rush back home, especially once you’ve received a massive payout from the accident fund, citing how he/she was, at the time, suffering deep depression, and they’re so sorry they left, but missed you terribly. (oh, sorry they didn’t call, their phone was broken)….

Yep. The reality of life. If not for Prince Charming, poor old Cinderella’s story wouldn’t be in print.

 

 

They Shoot Horses don’t they?

grief statue

 

I lost another Sister to mental illness last week. She took her life, after living for years in hell with a mind that was fucked, and refused to function.

YET, she did 12 years research on ‘the mind’ when she was diagnosed, determined to ‘fix’ her mind. but you see, the demon that is mental illness, won. No matter that she built a hugely successful career, is a published writer ( on how to deal with your mind, or actually, more accurately, how to master your mind), which is now used by therapists in their practices,  ironically,  didn’t work.

She was a Master trainer in hypnotherapy, NLP, and so many other things I dont even remember, and she was a true genius. She was an incredible self taught musician, poet, writer, leather maker, artist, singer. Impossible, that someone can be so talented, and yet, never properly educated thanks to an upbringing of poverty be such an amazing high achiever.

But there she was all of it. Still, the demon called mental illness WILL win every time. She even had a doctorate. If you google her name, she is referred to as Dr. Terri Ann Laws.

whaaat? you say? How does someone who is THAT intelligent, talented and entrepreneurial especially about learning everything there is to know, determined and desperate to fix and heal and take control of their broken minds, end up being a victim to this cruel evil condition?

Simple. Mental illness doesn’t give a shit about what colour you are, where you come from, how smart you are, how rich or poor you are, what clothes you wear, how educated you are, how hard you try to defeat it, it seems to laugh at every  positive affirmation you repeat over and over again, believing that these ‘positive affirmations’ will somehow programme your sick mind to be ‘well’. Not possible. A sick mind, stays sick. It’s just the depths that vary.

My heart is shattered obviously. I loved her. She taught me so much. She was funny, charming, witty, clever, had enormous intellect and a sense of humour that was so good it was wicked. This didn’t have to happen, but then I ask myself;

‘Would it have been worth continuing to live in torment, mental hell, for the rest of your life, continuously stuffing up with people, changing personalities, out of your control, forgetting your friends, saying terrible things to people that you don’t even remember saying….and believing shit that doesn’t exist, all the while tormented by the demons in your head’?

‘ Or would it not be better, that you let death take you. Free you from the horror that is more real than anyone will, or can believe, and finally, finally, be at Peace?’

HOW did she manage to accomplish what she did? We could ask the same about Einstein, also apparently insane.

Suicide is completely understandable and actually takes a shit load of courage to actually carry it out successfully. I understand why she took her life. But I cannot let her go. It’s selfish to feel this way, because it’s not a death we should mourn, but rather celebrate a Spirit’s new life. She is gone. Only her shell is left, waiting to be cremated.

Astonishingly, this is a poem from her book called ‘Help! I’m going crazy! which she wrote many many years ago, when convinced she was conquering the demons in her head, and would beat them.  What made her write this poem,  is simply alarming to me; It seems there’s always truth in what we project, even if we’re doing it poetically.

help im going crazy

Terri (1)

Fly free little bird. May the demons no longer haunt you.

I miss you deeply.

In loving memory of Dr. Terri Ann Laws,

another victim to the disease we call ‘mental illness’.

 

 

In Loving Memory Of When I Gave A Shit.

Its occurred to me, (duh) that, due to en masse media bullshit, people are becoming slaves to crap they neither want or need.

If someone hits a tweet on making £50 with Bitcoin over the weekend, (because bragging seems to validate some people), then a hundred or thousand will quickly scoop over to get a piece of the action. I mean, if your friends are dabbling in other currencies, my God, so should you be right? you’re gonna be loaded soon! But no one told you, you need to watch the market like a hawk, forsaking everyone while you play all day, and almost wet yourself, when or if, you make £2.00  –  wow PROFIT!! But if you LOSE £2.00 , you go into instant depression.

so my point is this.

What is actually important? I mean, what really matters while you’re alive?

Eating healthily? ….uh no, we’re all dying, and besides, that piece of toast with peanut butter you deprived yourself of this morning, seems utterly stupid, as you’re lying in hospital when a car hit you, while you were crossing the street. Both legs broken, looks like that ‘ol excercise regime is on hold for a while! (Pass the peanut butter toast please).

Running every morning for half an hour and then hauling weights to get a super hot bod?…….uh no, you could develop an illness at any time, be put on meds, that make you balloon in size. Even if you up your running to 2 hours a day, your metabolism is screwed, so nope, your gorgeous curves are now meaty rolls.

ok you get my drift.

So what matters then? New car?…nope, new house?….nope. You see NOTHING outside of you means anything, if you’re not at peace with who and what you are.

YOU MUST FIND HAPPY!

when you’re on your deathbed, what will give you peace?

Because peace and joy with ourselves, is the only “thing” that no one can take, can’t crash on the stock market, loves you rolls and all, and finds immense joy, in that old car you drive. Of course the peanut butter toast goes without saying.

Laughing until your tummy aches, even though your clothes aren’t “on trend” and your hair is looking like a birds nest, is an instant healing elixir for your entire body, even if no one likes your joke!

the absolute Most freeing feeling in the whole world, is

WHEN YOU STOP GIVING A SHIT!

not that you don’t care about anything.  It just doesn’t matter like it used to, causing so much stress you’re struggling to breathe. So, you simply don’t mind.

swopping distress for acceptance and joy, opens up a real world for you. One that matters to you!

So, if you dabble in bitcoin for e.g. for FUN, coz you have some extra boodle, and if you lose it all, it doesn’t matter, because you’re ok with that. But If it matters don’t go there.

we cannot hope to predict anything. Tomorrow doesn’t exist, yesterday is gone and no longer exists, but NOW is alive. Make this moment happy, and relish that peanut butter piece of toast. Yum!

 

 

 

The Insect Rave!

insect rave

 

Hi peeps

So, a few years ago, in my search for some kind of meaning to my life, seeing as my mental illnesses all but screwed it up, I hated religion, having been raised a Catholic and going to confession from when I was 5 years old….(what the hell does a 5 year old know about sin?)…

anyhow, finally, I happened upon a Guru. I real life, enlightened Being, who answered all of my questions, who makes sense, who pointed me to the TRUTH that I AM, and who I love, asking for nothing in return.

NO hellfire and brimstone shit, NO, ‘you’re going to purgatory’ shit, NO ‘sin’ shit, NO guilt crap, plus all the other stuff that the white man’s religion indoctrinated us all with, in order to control the masses, (remember, ALL wars back then, were based on Religion)…

So, all that said, I thought I’d share my Guru’s ‘Insect Rave’ which carries a profound message with it. We sit in what is known as ‘Satsang’, which means ‘gathering’ (in short). We sit on the floor, we ask questions, about TRUTH, not about ‘my husband is having an affair, what should I do?’, no personal stuff, because once you really wake up to the TRUTH of WHO you are, all delusions disappear, and an amazing peace overcomes you.

I’m not here to ‘preach’. Just to share with you a glimpse of a clip that I hope you’ll love as much as we all do!

Enjoy….

Oh, ‘disclaimer’...I’m not trying to convert anyone…just sharing a good piece of wisdom put in a very funny way 🙂

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. ❤️❤️❤️