Eight years on

Some anniversaries are times of celebration, some are ones we want to forget. This weekend is a personal anniversary of days I’ll never forget, shaping and painting the foundations of the woman I am today.

I was dreading Easter 2008, I did not want to travel north or even be part of Planet Earth any more. I felt alone with nowhere or no one to go to. Yes I was on antidepressants but they only made me feel worse in every way. Also, I was having psychodynamic therapy but felt I was left on top of a cliff in a rocking chair at the end of every session. I decided there was only one way off the merry go round and the chair was ready to snap, sending me over the cliff.

Nervous breakdown and suicidal, yes and yes to both. I also self harmed, usually my feet but that weekend I used a pen to create marks in my hand to show the world finally I gave up. No matter what you may think of those that consider suicide or do it, please know it is not an act of cowardliness. Being stopped from jumping in front of a train or hanging from my dressing gown robe were not signs of being crazy but more a white flag to say I can take no more.

Eight years on, my depression is giving me a good beating recently as feel purple and blue all over from where it has kicked and beaten me with its stick. However, I have friends that are like family who I open up to, feel less the watcher of the play of Planet Earth but have a few lines, use the pen not in self hurt but to give voice to what hurts me or give voice to those that have none, and use trains to have adventures accompanied by my trusted camera.

On my left wrist are tattooed three words that say much more than they do alone, you may be able to guess them but I will not say them aloud such is the magic spell they cast upon me. They are not your regular tattoo because they are written in invisible ink. There to remind me of the journey to this present time and what the present moment holds, the good things and people, and why to throw it all away now as could not hurt them with my final actions.

So remember dear reader, no matter how dark the present moment maybe, there is always light (outside and within). Nothing in life is black and white, it is that muddy grey bit in the middle that we find ourselves living in and our normal lies within it. Normal is what is right for us and our journey, trying to conform to the expectations and ideals of others is like wearing our neighbour’s underwear! Life is multisensory and multicoloured, so lets go painting!

© Fi S. J. Brown

What is love…?

It will soon be Valentine’s Day, is it a commercial celebration in the name of love or a day of romance and love? Aside from the usual questions of: do we need one day to celebrate our love for another when our words, thoughts and actions show it every day to can a monetary value and a gift really be bought that symbolises something so special and unique between two people. Personally, I do not think it ever can.

Instead I have been pondering, just what is love? One word, a hundred and one emotions and feelings. What it means to me maybe very different to you or another; for many it is how that person looks, e.g. their dark brown eyes or sense of humour, not how that person makes them feel when in their company, how their trust is unspoken instead and love them that person for who they are on the inside not outside.

When I say who they are on the inside it makes me think of pistachio nuts, no I am not being crazy. Think for a moment about the outside of pistachios, they can be uninviting or perhaps boring, but when opened reveal a brilliant green; just as when we look beyond the surface shell of another, tap that bit deeper, and we may discover others that if judged by their shells alone, we would never know the real them.

© Fi S. J. Brown