Breast-pumping Blues

Whir clack
Whir clack
The pump churns out its rhythm

Stretch slack
Stretch slack
My breasts worked by the system

Perusing the dream
Keep mining the seam
Of milk the colour of cream

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Signs My Body is No Longer My Own: A Draft

Let me begin by apologising for how barren my blog has been of creative thought recently.

In my post about blogging and creative writing, I talked about the connection between my writing and mental health. Thus, my poetry has always been inspired from strong emotions, the numbness of depression meaning that before starting this blog I hadn’t written a thing for two years.

For those of you who have been following my journey into writing, you will be aware that other than my first efforts (which were essentially homework) my poetry has come from a place of uncertainty, illness, pain and grief.

There are still some earlier pieces that I hope to share with you, but it has been far too long since I produced anything new, that I liked. I wanted to change my creative drive from a place of darkness to one of positivity.

That is at the heart of everything I feel throughout this pregnancy, even with all the recent unpleasantness, I feel incredibly positive and uplifted by being pregnant.

With the awareness and deep appreciation that not everyone finds joy and security in their pregnancies, I wanted to capture how I feel about my situation.

I have received criticism in the past for being too personal in my poetry, but I was so thrilled to have written something this morning that I was too excited not to share.

It is essentially a piece of free writing, my favourite, and I do hope that in some way it will resonate and perhaps bind the two different aspects of this blog; the public and the personal, together (#Idonthaveaniche).

As always, your thoughts and feedback are greatly appreciated, I look forward to reading them in the comments!

Signs

I feel nauseous
As my organs
Shift, squeeze
Into the narrowing space
Around my womb.

I am weary
With a tiredness I have never known
Physical, mental, emotional
It feels eternal;
Pregnancy’s constant companions.

I vomit
Retch
Rinse and repeat,
But whoever said that
Miracles came easily?

The midwife called him a parasite
But this is not a hostile take over
My body is a vessel
A cradle
Carrying a new life forward.

The marks on my body
Are not weakness.
They are not cracks or fractures
But glaze on my porcelain sides,
They bare the truth of my task.

 

 

The Light of Life

Sitting in a dark room,
Surrounded by an eerie blackness of despair,
For days and days.

Suddenly I see a light up in a corner of a room,
Is it a window or my imagination?

I get up and go over to the corner.
It’s a window of light in all the despair and darkness.
I struggle with the rusty lock and open the window wide.

I look through the opening
And feel the warm glow of the sun.

I see the sunlight, I hear the birds,
I smell the flowers, I feel the cool breeze,
I taste the flavours of freedom.

I climb through the window
Leaving the darkness far behind.

When a door closes, there is a window somewhere
Leading to somewhere wonderful:
a place you never knew was there.

The Importance of Taking Time

It has been a long time. A very long time.
Since I wrote anything.
A blog post, a short story, a poem.

Over the years, I have found that I have to be in certain moods to write effectively. Throughout a swing of emotions, or in the moment of extreme feeling, positive or negative. I have written before that creative writing is, for me, a means of expressing, processing and coping with my mental health. As a teenager it helped me channel the pain and confusion I felt about my father’s illness and eventual passing and to navigate the new emotions and hormones I was experiencing.

Creative Writing enabled me to transform negative thoughts and feelings into productivity that felt positive (even though the poetry seldom was).

Since I started blogging, my writing is no longer purely stemming from emotional extremes. But at the heart of blogging are topics that the writer feels strongly about, moved by and it is still (for me) an emotional and personal writing experience.

Hiatus: A Break From Blogging?

A lot has been happening recently. It has been a really positive and exciting month.

So why am I not feeling it?

In my last post, before this unplanned hiatus, I detailed some of the challenges I felt I have experienced as I began to use blogging as part of my recovery.

For me personally, the most persistent is pressure; the meeting of self-set or recommending posting deadlines, and frequently the stress that is self-imposed. I don’t think anyone other than myself is really keeping track of how frequently I am posting or whether I am posting at the same time of day, on the same day of the week and the same amount each month.

To be honest, this month I thought about giving up, packing in blogging. But when I began to give it serious thought, I knew I would be losing something that I enjoy, that builds my confidence and motivates me to be creative.

I am not stopping blogging. But I am stopping putting pressure on myself to fit into a self-created blogging timescale. If I feel like writing, I will. If I don’t, then I am not going to turn it into another thing to stress and be anxious about.

Instead, I am starting to take time.

Time and Creativity

At present, my creativity is appearing in short, sporadic bursts. I am having ideas but not the energy to fully pursue and sustain them. I am lacking consistency (even more than usual) and although things are beginning to move forward (at last), I still feel as if I am going around in circles.

I did manage to write my first poem for about two months however. It’s very simple but satisfyingly sums up for me this particular moment of creative stagnation:

Why do ideas never emerge at sensible times?
When you have a notepad, envelope or pen/pencil
Why do you get them, when these are not at hand
When you are trying to sleep
Are in the shower or on the toilet?

Why can your brain seem so dusty and empty,
Deserted by all and any reasonable ideas
Then awash with a tidal wave you can’t keep up with
Trying to grab at shavings to keep the idea afloat.
Is it just a distraction from that big meeting tomorrow?

I did indeed have what felt like a huge meeting the next day. I was presenting a new research proposal to the company that I work for and I wasn’t sure how it was going to be received. Of course, accompanying this concern were all the usual niggling doubts: would I remember my points, would I be sick, would I make my point persuasively?

Amidst all these thoughts and doubts, a blog post suddenly presented itself. It was almost a completely formed entity, but I always struggle with endings. That is were the post remains, a neat demonstration of my point – of not being able to sustain momentum for an idea.

I have been experiencing the same feelings with blogging as well; should I keep it up, will it ever be more than a hobby, can I continue to be creative enough to make it worth pursuing? I listed the pressures and challenges I have encountered throughout my brief time as a blogger in my latest post.

A great many of the people I talk to compare how they feel day-to-day with the familiar metaphor of being a hamster on a wheel. It’s not even to do with the notion of seeing the same four walls everyday, or the same sawdust and plastic beneath your feet. It is that we are continually moving from one project to another, sometimes almost simultaneously, never pausing to absorb or reflect or even fully enjoy what we are experiencing. We all have so much going on, at the same time, that we feel we are constantly moving at top speed, flat out, and wondering all the while how long we can sustain that pace.

Taking time is becoming increasingly challenging.

I know that I am not the only one who looks forward to a day, an evening, or elusive weekend off at a time that coincides with my husband, consisting of long dog walks through the woods or along the beach, to suddenly find that I have agreed to additional shifts, volunteered for activities at church or youth groups and suddenly that precious time is gone.

These are, of course, worthwhile and enjoyable activities, but with the ever-increasing pace of the world around us, it is becoming more important to take time to relax, replenish, refresh. To take the time for our friends, our families, our loved ones.

Technology, Work and Time

Technology is a wonderful, marvellous thing. It holds so much potential for connections, old and new, for information and knowledge, but it also has the ability to eat time. We have all seen the statistics for how much time we spend on our phones, on social media, and we have all experienced how technology makes us available all the time. We can constantly be contacted, connected with, and it has become expected that when we are contacted that we respond within a smaller and smaller window of time.

This is overwhelming at the best of times, but especially if you are already feeling overwhelmed by mental illness. Recovery takes time. From physical and mental illness and injury alike. It can be even more challenging to take the time required for healing mentally, because the injury is not visible. If you have a broken or sprained limb you will have a bandage or a cast, from an operation you will have a scar. Even if you have a virus your body presents observable symptoms.

With mental illness the changes in personality, in posture, in expression, can be so subtle that even those who know us well can miss them. Often we even miss them ourselves. We continually try to push on and through the mental strains and obstacles, which can result in denial and further injury. We can end up exhausting the resolve and energy that we had left to keep pushing through the illness.

Which is why this post is all about taking time. Taking the time to check in with ourselves and see how we are feeling. Taking the time to rest, physically and mentally, during and between projects. Taking the time to spend time with others, to observe them; how they are feeling, how they are acting, so we don’t miss the onset of severe mental strain in ourselves or those closest to us.

Taking the time for ourselves and for others.

Catching Happiness

Patter patter patter
Patter patter patter
Pounce!

Tail wagging, lips
Pulled back
Like a
big smile,

My dog has chased, flicked and
Found
Her ball. 

She reminds me of the importance
Of being pleased
With the simplest actions

Of how
Happiness can be so easy
To find
If only we stop looking so far away.

Happiness is right here.

In this muddy field,
She knows it.
She found it.
She caught it.

Lassie does a form of victory lap every time she catches her ball. She almost never brings it straight back, she always does a small semi-circular run first. She chases the ball, picks it up and loops back to me to repeat the action all over again.

I like the repetition. I think it is good for me.

I am taking time away from my computer screen, from reading and words, from work, and playing with a creature who is full of the purest joy.

It is routine.
It is simple.
I am focused on one task.

For someone who struggles with clearing her mind and disentangling her thoughts from her worries, to be able to focus on just throwing a ball for half an hour is very calming.
My mind is free and unharassed thoughts lead to creativity.
I have written a poem, a post, out here in the open air.

This is my hobby.
This is my happiness.
My dog has led me here.

If I stop trying to move beyond this moment and instead enjoy being in it, I can catch my own happiness.

Stop.
Walk.
Wonder.
Breathe.

Pause long enough for happiness to catch up with you.

Distance

I wrote this many years ago about a long-distance relationship, I hope you enjoy it.

A dull, constant ache
A hole in my heart. 
Emptiness in my arms.
A great gap
Between them.

Cold air – 
An oversized room
A space waiting to be filled.
Empty frames
Hearts waiting to be healed.

How can I love a ghost
Of a face I never see?
How do I keep going
When you’re nearer France
Than me?

How can I say I know you
When there’s a void between us?
With this missing link –
How do we close the distance?

The more a metal is heated
The stronger it becomes;
Steadfast under pressure
Another test of patience
It doesn’t matter about the distance.

Silent Scream

Silent Scream

Mouth a vacuum
Dead space.
Words suffocate,
Settling on a graveyard tongue.

Lips sealed.
Speaking would crack
Ceramic composure;
Plaster masks damaged walls.

Eyes,
Frosted windows,
With unseen pain behind.
Only hands show hurt

Hurling words at innocent
White pages;
But no one sees the blackness
For the ink.