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thinkfeelwrite · 11 months

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Thank you to everyone who got me to 50 likes!

#50 likes #tumblr milestone #thank you

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thinkfeelwrite · 11 months

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Thank you @ferno-does-random-shit and everyone who got me to 5 reblogs!

They would think she was....

If she let herself be who she really was then they would all think she was absolutely mad.

She loved music and loved even more to move to it. It was a struggle though as she could not move in synchrony with the music- she was all out of whack. She would close her eyes to try and ‘tap in’ but then she would stumble and have to stop. Sometimes though if she closed her eyes and really went deep within she never stumbled and she felt a flow of some great soothing empowering energy take her over. Then she could move and become the music…as it became her.

However that happened very rarely. She was always too zipped up. She would never do it if anyone was there.

She did once. She trusted her companions and everyone was having fun, pretending that the rug was a dance floor, in that big old student house in Lancaster.

She started to move. She felt like she could. She felt safe to do so.

They laughed at her. They were ashamed at doing so. They didn’t mean to humiliate her. They were her friends. She stopped and resolved never to let herself be seen in that way again.

That was over thirty years ago.

The friend that had guiltily laughed at her was now dead from cancer.

Everything can be so sad.

Did everyone feel this confusion, this detachment, this separateness, this darkness…

Was this just the human condition? Or were there some for whom the words confusion, detachment, separateness, darkness never existed?

What would that be like?

What Would that be like?!

What would she Do!?

She would probably not always wear a full face of makeup complete with primers, concealers, full coverage foundations and setting sprays.

She would let herself be seen as she truly was.

She might not wear a bra! Outside, in public!

Actually probably best to always wear the bra.

She would open the front door without checking, improving and correcting her appearance first.

She would definitely eat whatever she felt like that day, instead of deliberating and calculating over how depressed she would feel after eating it. She would enjoy the olive oil poured on the warm salads. She wouldn't obsess over the ratio of pleasure to suffering with every mouthful. She wouldn’t feel the real dread at what the scales would reveal the next day.

She wouldn't let a delicious meal ruin her day.

She would wear summer clothes in summer. The ones that were sleeveless. Maybe even shorts. She wouldn't wear her winter clothes in summer just because they covered over the evidence of her weakness around food. She wouldn't tell everyone that she was fine, not too hot at all.

She would eat bread.

She’d be open to people, she’d let them in. Instead of thinking that everyone was a potential source of hurt that would be wise to avoid. She'd stop being so selfish and self obsessed. She would smile at the world and not feel the struggle and antagonism in it…at every breath.

She’d stop pressing the brakes all of the time ,on everything, in every area of her life.

It would be a sort of freedom.

She would be dizzy with it.

She would be like her dog, or cat. Just happy.

#5 reblogs #tumblr milestone #thank you

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thinkfeelwrite · 11 months

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The Misery Part 4

One Kit Kat. Another Kit Kat. Another Kit Kat. Eight Kit Kats, French fries. Just the one packet. Another packet. Four packets. A spoonful of pate, a spoonful of chocolate spread. Toast. Butter. Wine. A Bottle.

I lost a stone when I thought I would be seen. I couldn’t eat. I needed to have a flat stomach. It was so easy. The thought of how it would feel, to be thin when I needed to be. For you.

What’s the point now. I need the comfort. I'm so on edge. I can’t sit still. There’s nothing to do. I need to do something. Feel the taste and the satisfaction of a desire. The satisfaction is a torture. I know I will hate myself. I need to hate myself. My mind is sick and I feel sick. I'm so unhappy. The food doesn’t help. It makes it worse. But I can’t stop.

It’s my sickness.

#binge eat #bingeing #eating issues #eating disorder #disordered eating #upset #food #pain #desperate #degraded #emotional eating #self loathing #regret

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thinkfeelwrite · 11 months

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5 posts!

#5 posts #tumblr milestone

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thinkfeelwrite · 11 months

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The Misery Part 3

It's so tiring to be unhappy. Moving would help. The energy would shift. But you can’t. The thoughts are too heavy, weighing you down. Your heart hurts. Your head is so dense with your memories, re-enactions, miseries, your regrets and your desires.

You seem to be trapped between two conversations. One says all experiences are lessons that somewhere along the line you agreed to have. The other says, you were wronged and were also possibly wrong.

But whatever you think it doesn’t matter, because there is no one to listen. It’s just you, in your own head. It's just you going over and over, examining and re examining. No one is there to listen. No-one wants to hear you. You could scream so loudly but no-one wants to hear. It's just an echo chamber.

Ironic that all you’ve ever wanted is to be truly heard and truly seen. But every time, in the end it's just you again. Just you. Listening to yourself

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thinkfeelwrite · 11 months

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The Misery Part 2

Watching the tall grasses that are weeds move in the breeze. Watching the trains pass. Hearing the trains pass. Watching the crows flying from one point to another. Watching the sunlight through the branches of the apple tree. Watching the insect fall on to the keyboard and walk across the letters. Watching the maize plants as they grow. There are hundreds of them. Hearing the pigs in the shed, screeching as they do. There are a thousand pigs. Watching another train on its way to London. Feeling the sun. Feeling the breeze. Hearing the motorway, like a constant vibration of dull sound. Feeling the chill. Watching the oak tree grow. Looking at the yellow of the buttercup and the green of the grass. Fearing the nettles.

Hearing the silence. Feeling the silence. Knowing the silence.

Feeling the space. The empty space.

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thinkfeelwrite · 11 months

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The Misery Part 1

When you are so chaotic, emotional, fractured, confused, upset…that you cannot speak about it. When you just drive so that you can feel the pain and cry it all out. When you can’t speak to anyone or look them in the eyes. When you are so lost in a moment that no one can reach you, even though they think they have.

When your emotions are so crushing that you just have to hide yourself.

When any demands placed upon you, even just running the bath for your babies or being asked to empty the dishwasher, becomes too much because there is no space left in you.

The only way to survive the moment is to make sure you put one load of washing in every day. The only way to survive the moment is to take the washing out of the machine, hang it up, take it down and put it away.

It’s too much to not let the socks be inside out, they will have to cope with that or wear them like that.

You can’t fold their trousers anymore, not like you did-its too much to cope with.

Be careful to make sure there is always milk, bread and toilet roll, run a little shopping errand every day for those things.

Lay the table like you always did, with the napkins and the table mats. You can't light the candles anymore.

Feed everyone, just like you did-even though there may be your tears in it.

If they don’t eat, you no longer have the strength to challenge it.

No one will know, if you do all the same things that you did before.

Just say that you’re going through something but that it will all be ok. Smile at the end to reassure them.

Please don’t “Mum?’ me. I can’t deal with you. I can’t deal with your requests.

Even though I love you.

I can’t tell you why sometimes you can see that I’ve been crying. I can’t tell you why, after I’ve cleared away the dishes, that I am always lying down, alone. I can’t tell you why I seem older, why I look older, why I’m moving more slowly. I know you’re cross with me, for being so apart from you.

Please let me be…to work my way out of this so that I can serve you all again, as you expect me too.

This is truly an agony. I thought I’d never be here again. I’m not sure that I can cope. Time is running out and this is all I have now. I don’t have it all ahead of me anymore. It is an ugly thing on someone of your age. It is showing on your face now, in the deep lines on the sides of your mouth.

I wonder how I allowed it to happen. And I loathe myself for it all. Actually I cry for myself.

This is what it feels like to be in pain. To be in a secret pain. A pain that has to stay completely invisible and never be spoken about.

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thinkfeelwrite · 11 months

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They would think she was....

If she let herself be who she really was then they would all think she was absolutely mad.

She loved music and loved even more to move to it. It was a struggle though as she could not move in synchrony with the music- she was all out of whack. She would close her eyes to try and ‘tap in’ but then she would stumble and have to stop. Sometimes though if she closed her eyes and really went deep within she never stumbled and she felt a flow of some great soothing empowering energy take her over. Then she could move and become the music…as it became her.

However that happened very rarely. She was always too zipped up. She would never do it if anyone was there.

She did once. She trusted her companions and everyone was having fun, pretending that the rug was a dance floor, in that big old student house in Lancaster.

She started to move. She felt like she could. She felt safe to do so.

They laughed at her. They were ashamed at doing so. They didn’t mean to humiliate her. They were her friends. She stopped and resolved never to let herself be seen in that way again.

That was over thirty years ago.

The friend that had guiltily laughed at her was now dead from cancer.

Everything can be so sad.

Did everyone feel this confusion, this detachment, this separateness, this darkness…

Was this just the human condition? Or were there some for whom the words confusion, detachment, separateness, darkness never existed?

What would that be like?

What Would that be like?!

What would she Do!?

She would probably not always wear a full face of makeup complete with primers, concealers, full coverage foundations and setting sprays.

She would let herself be seen as she truly was.

She might not wear a bra! Outside, in public!

Actually probably best to always wear the bra.

She would open the front door without checking, improving and correcting her appearance first.

She would definitely eat whatever she felt like that day, instead of deliberating and calculating over how depressed she would feel after eating it. She would enjoy the olive oil poured on the warm salads. She wouldn't obsess over the ratio of pleasure to suffering with every mouthful. She wouldn’t feel the real dread at what the scales would reveal the next day.

She wouldn't let a delicious meal ruin her day.

She would wear summer clothes in summer. The ones that were sleeveless. Maybe even shorts. She wouldn't wear her winter clothes in summer just because they covered over the evidence of her weakness around food. She wouldn't tell everyone that she was fine, not too hot at all.

She would eat bread.

She’d be open to people, she’d let them in. Instead of thinking that everyone was a potential source of hurt that would be wise to avoid. She'd stop being so selfish and self obsessed. She would smile at the world and not feel the struggle and antagonism in it…at every breath.

She’d stop pressing the brakes all of the time ,on everything, in every area of her life.

It would be a sort of freedom.

She would be dizzy with it.

She would be like her dog, or cat. Just happy.

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thinkfeelwrite · 11 months

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FEEDBACK (was the original title for a writing course I once did. Am reposting because I need to start somewhere but Im cringing but would also sort of appreciate feedback)

Feedback is judgement. Feedback is fear. Feedback is Failure. Feedback is shame. Feedback is the paralysis of all hope. It is the execution of excitement about my stupid doomed dreams. Feedback is the death of me.

Examples of excruciating feedback experiences and endurances that prove my point

Having to do a personality assessment test whilst at college. Answered it honestly, although I had no idea who I was back then…so did I really answer it honestly?. The feedback said that I was either a psychopath or a genius.

Remembering all the OCD type actions I had to do before lesson observations by senior members of staff whilst I was a teacher. Praying the same prayer over and over in the car until I got to the school. “Please don’t make me fail, please don’t make me fail, please don’t make me fail. Amen’ The exhausting and tortuous repetition of actions that if not done would completely mean crushingly negative feedback. No wonder I was so exhausted post assessment as the adrenalin wore off.

Feedback from the kids I taught. Their feedback can be the worst. You’re not really a proper person to them if they don’t like you, which in their minds translates to ‘I can destroy you with my actions and my words’. I don’t hold any ill feeling towards those that did destroy me though. It was all my fault. I can still envisage my voice dissipating into the air as I tried to teach some of them. Like making the motion of speech but with no sound. It was when I realised I was becoming partly invisible

Ofsted inspections for someone like me with serious confidence issues. Utterly terrifying

Deciding to leave teaching ten years ago and witnessing the changing feedback from people as the years have worn on. Initial understanding and sympathy breaking down into seeing you as a life loser as you struggle to find something else to do.

Presentations. Having to do a presentation after ‘Brain Boy’ had done his. Brain boy was the cleverest person on my university course.I wonder what he is doing now? Anyhow he did this amazing, astute, confident presentation… and then it was my turn. Even my best friend who was sat next to me said it was actually painful to endure. I was so shy and nervy, I couldn’t breathe and so couldn’t talk. Looking back I can see that I had a sort of panic attack. Someone should have taken me aside. The feedback was…

A few years later I had to do another presentation. God help me I filled my water bottle with gin and drank it whilst waiting to do my presentation. I honestly can’t say how it went. There was a lot of laughter, that’s all I remember but I also recollect that the tutor was called out just as I started mine. That had to be divine intervention. Im not sure if anyone could see that I was drinking. How drunk was I? This was probably my worst experience. You’ll never meet me so i can tell you about it. Not many people know about it. I’m too ashamed. Someone should have taken me aside

Being told by your successful Asian father that you are a disappointment as you didn’t become a doctor like him but also being told its ok because you have children and they’re a lot of work.

Trying to become an artist and doing quite well and loving it, although NOT making any money. Feedback from Father: Being asked by your father if you are making any money from doing your art. Giving up on the art.

Trying to learn about Ayurveda at a high level, thinking about practising it. Bemusement from father at ‘you and your ayurveda’. Can feel myself withdrawing from my interest in ayurveda.

My own running commentary feedback on my life. My daily feedback: Middle aged. Getting older. Weak minded. Confused. Really confused. Lost opportunities. Missed opportunities. Unable to focus. Unable to work out what i want to do. Not being able to do what I want to do. Heavy thoughts weighing down my whole body like an anchor at the bottom of the ocean. Full of regrets. Living a fantasy life. Escaping to my fantasy life. Stereotypical middle aged person who will soon be old and covered in dust in the corner of the room and in the corner of people lives. Crying. Staring. Loser. Bored with my own negativity. Wondering if my negativity is a safety blanket keeping me still, unheard, unseen. Wearing more makeup to cover up Wondering if there is a magical solution to life misery

I need a cup of tea now. This is awful. I hope you don’t feel awful. Bet you want to walk away and make tea too now. Sorry

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