Raindrops

Raindrops are the tears we cannot hide from. They fall from above, touching our faces or tapping on windows, almost hoping someone will stop to hear their story. We often look up to the sky with disgust, cursing not again, which only makes it worse or it stops to hide away, as nobody tries to understand or listens. When someone cries with depression, each tear is like a raindrop falling; so telling someone to stop crying or go away as too busy to deal with them, is not an answer. Just as we want to shelter from the rain or the sun to return, with depression it is wanting to be happy like the sun, but hoping for good friends or family being to be the shelter to give support and understanding.

© Fi S. J. Brown

raindrops

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Semicolon

I have seen over the last month various posts pertaining to a semicolon (;) tattoo. For anyone who has not come across it, the semicolon tattoo is a mental health awareness trend among suicide survivors to self harmers, those with depression to addiction, as a metaphor for a moment when a person contemplates suicide – in other words, thinks about ending the story of their life – and yet they continue through their difficulties.

As someone that has depression, in the past self harmed and come close to suicide this trend hits very close to home. Although I have no tattoos (per se) I am not against them, just one of those things meant for others not me. Equally, I do not follow fads or trends and they quickly lose the meaning with which they were started and to those it was/is a statement. Will a mark really cause others to pause, laugh or pity another if they see it?

For me I do not need a ; on my wrist because I have a phrase on my left wrist, which in my mind is tattooed on invisible ink. Those that are close to me know the phrase, its origin and the deeper meanings. So to me it has power beyond the words themselves and does not be seen by the world to explain something very deeply personal or justify any of it.

Instead let us talk about mental health without stigmatising it further, instead of a semicolon let us put a full stop to say enough.Alternatively, use a comma, where by we pause to think of a friend and pick up the phone to text/call/Facebook them to say ‘hello’ and ‘I was thinking about you’. Finally, remember nobody is a freak or abnormal, they’re living this difficult thing we call life the best they can and in ways that are normal to them.

© Fi S. J. Brown

Imperfect

What is perfect? Does such a concept truly exist? We all seem to strive towards it, yet it seems that it is permanent flux and not something that can truly ever be grasped. How two people see perfection maybe very different; one may look to remove any trace of so called flaws or imperfections and this maybe from wearing glasses to their inability to do a task or the beliefs they may hold; where as the other may share some of these ideals, what makes it perfect to them maybe quite different, brunette vs. blond for example.

When we look for a partner we sometimes develop a fantasy of someone we’d love to have, yet even if someone looked say like our favourite celebrity crush, what of their personality? Does it not say far more about someone than an outer shell does? Sometimes we try lose weight to reach that “perfect weight”, which even if we did make, maintaining it is far harder, so is it really so perfect? Also supermarkets that want all they sell to be a certain way, uniform in shape and size, so they are “perfect” by their standards.

Take a step back and the ridiculousness of it jumps out, like the little boy in “The Emperor’s New Clothes” pointing out to all that nothing is truly perfect as highly subjective and unlikely. Imperfection or flawed is something that is frowned upon, yet can be seen wherever we turn from rust on the door handle to grey hairs or wrinkles upon our face, and the four from six glasses now left from a gift from a friend. Writers to painters and musicians all strive for the perfect work but isn’t what they create beautiful because it is not?

We see images in the media from newspapers to magazines and websites to social media altered to show someone else’s vision of perfection as how they actually look is imperfect; the image the camera took needed to be altered or manipulated to meet an idea of a perfect image. What is wrong with seeing someone how they actually are? On a person do flaws not show character and their story? In a writing song with lyrics and music it is creating a balance not reaching for a perfect blend of both. Is imperfection not in fact real beauty?

From Japan comes the aesthetic term “Wabi Sabi”, which can be defined as: “a beauty of things imperfect, impermanent, and incomplete. It is a beauty of things modest and humble. It is a beauty of things unconventional.” Perhaps we need to learn to see this more in the world around us, not replacing something because it is old and dated, or broken and chipped, even dying hair and botox injections. Who are we really to judge something or someone as perfect, when the world around us imperfect and flawed by nature?

© Fi S. J. Brown

Song with no name

Standing on the edge of the hill,
Like an entertainer to an empty crowd,
And nobody hears their warning words.
No more practising in front of the mirror.
There’s a silent pause in the evening air,
As though even the wind has been muted.
And the sun sets, another day has ended.

Watching from the edge of the forest,
For the next chapter to unfold.
Words and music for now lie unwritten,
And new adventures to begin.

I am the phoenix,
I am free in heart,
I crave nothing and no one.
Like a warming mug of tea,
A calming energy to others.
Inside my cracks may show,
But I repeat ‘believe it again’.

Standing on the edge of the lake,
Looking at the world reflected there in,
Hoping to find some truth not more lies
And an end to the loop of endless repeats.
There’s a silent pause in the evening air,
As though even the wind has been muted.
And the sun sets, another day has ended.

I am the phoenix,
I am free in heart,
I crave nothing and no one.
Like a warming mug of tea,
A calming energy to others.
Inside my cracks may show,
But I repeat ‘believe it again’.

I am the phoenix,
I am free in heart,
I crave nothing and no one.
Like a warming mug of tea,
A calming energy to others.
Inside my cracks may show,
But I repeat ‘believe it again’.

© Fi S. J. Brown

What’s in a kiss?

I have read today is National Kissing Day (who makes these things up)!? Just what is a kiss? How do we know they are Mr Brightside or Christian Grey to Mr Rochester or Fitzwilliam Darcy; Miss Moneypenny or Mrs Robinson to Lisbeth Salander and Karen Blixen, from their kiss alone?

Our lips are part of how we communicate with others, so perhaps a kiss is part of the secret language of love. The first kiss is the foundation stone and the language born as we entrust another with our vocabulary and grammar.

As we fall in love, these merge with another so that our language is an unique blend, which only we know. It is accepting the irregular verbs and learning we all make typos even in our language as nobody is perfect. This is why communication is key in a relationship as the language is this special one.

However, be careful who to kiss as not all want to create a lasting language, some only want taster sessions and others want to mute our words so only their ones are in our language. Trust instincts always, as if the language seems to good to be true, as may well be. Nevertheless be brave as they may just be the one that completes us.

© Fi S. J. Brown