The Box

A rattle; a shudder.

I turn and face... nothing.

For a fleeting moment,

Confusion reigns.

I pause, then pick up

The threads of today.

A life - infused with colour,

Discourse, demands and distractions -

Drowns out what I know deep down is real.

Later, in the stillness,

It beckons me again,

Only this time in silence.

A presence rather than a sound

Draws me back towards the box.

It's been a while;

I'd almost dared to hope

Its grip on me had vanished;

That the power within had died.

When those weary days were done,

I placed them all inside the box.

Their minutes spent; their hours full -

Too full to hold inside one mind;

Too intense for a mortal to contain

Their colours rich and dark

As images swirled and merged and pooled like blood.

Summer scenes of countryside and friends

Turned ghoulish on the pages

As the ink spread out to reveal

The images of nightmares.

I picked them up and folded them together,

Their burnished edges catching at my fingers

Even as I gently folded the pages,

Stroking them closed

As though to calm the horrors within.

I placed them in the box

With plenty of space to breathe.

I sealed the box with steely threads

Fashioned from Determination and Will,

Then tucked it away on top of a cupboard

Where it would now remain

Quite pacified; no longer volatile.

And then, with time,

It grew silent, still.

The pages' fractious energy was spent -

Burnt out -

And life could once again resume.

I stand, and pace the room

Face upturned to survey the box.

Its contents draw me inexorably:

They will not rest

Until I reach inside

And view them once again

In the fresh light of today.

I tremble now, unsure what I will find.

Have the colours mellowed with age;

The images composed themselves

With the benefit of hindsight?

Or will those pages once again unleash

The horrors they once held?

One thing I know for sure:

I will crack open the box

And peek through cautious fingers at the pages within

Before they burst their shackles

And explode from the box all by themselves.

So this is how it goes:

All that is left to do is be courageous

And to play it out.

THE MENTAL HEALTH FILES, #3

Interesting.

I'd totally forgotten about the post that I wrote four weeks ago, and it saves me quite a bit of effort tonight.  In short, I've been fine for a while, and now everything in my last blog applies once again.

The day after it was written, I was inspired by some very fit friends to attempt a marathon, but it's not what you might think.  Three of my friends ran the not-London marathon recently, but I cannot run at all (or walk more than a few hundred metres, negotiate uneven ground, or step over puddles and around obstacles without falling).  I was a bit jealous, until I decided to get fit and raise money for charity by swimming it instead!  A friend swiftly joined me, and between us we've raised over £400 for charity so far, yay!  I do love a positive project.  Focusing my energy on that, and working on my fitness, clearly improved my state of mind for a few weeks, but I've lapsed over the past couple of days.  This is, in part, due to the fact that I haven't been able to swim for a week and a half due to my husband receiving a positive Covid test and the whole family having to isolate for two weeks.  My other big charity project - nine music exams on one day - is also on hold.  I can't take face-to-face exams because of Covid, and am not content to do the watered-down online versions.  So there we have it.

In addition, it's not a good time of year for me. September to New Year has often been bleak, but was improved 15 years ago when I gave birth in October.  Now my daughter's birthday is a high point to look forward to in a season I find difficult, and we did manage to make it extra-special for her this year.  My general health has admittedly not been good for the past couple of weeks.  My asthma has been awful and I've narrowly avoided a course of oral steroids.  My chronic pain is bad and I've dislocated ribs, a wrist and my jaw, amongst other things.  I never feel sorry for myself, generally keep grinning and plod on, but how can the amount of acute and chronic pain I've been experiencing NOT affect my mood sometimes?

However, the main thing going on with me is the fact that I need to come to terms with the past six months, and I'm just not ready.  DD1 told me today how happy she feels, which is absolutely amazing!  It's been a huge amount of work to get her to this point.  I've spent six months doing most things for her, and basically trying to keep her alive.  How can I ever come to terms with the fact that she didn't like the life that I gave her, and that my love isn't always enough?  How can I ever fully relax, knowing the extent of her self-harm, recent impulsivity and three suicide attempts in quick succession?  Above all, how can I start to make sense of that terrible, terrible night; to process it and understand it, and to be able to move on now that all is as well as it can be?  I can't bear to think about it, ever, and sometimes wonder how we've managed to just take it all in our stride.  But clearly, it's all there, bubbling beneath the surface: it looks like boiling lava at the bottom of a huge chasm, and it's too scary to look at properly.  For my own sake, I think I'm going to have to go through it rather than keep telling myself that it's all over and we can now forget about it, but I'd be interested to know if anyone has had a positive experience with putting aside a traumatic event like that and never thinking about it again.

My own mood disorder is severe, but rarely all-encompassing.  So on these past couple of bad days, I've kept busy-ish by playing games, painting a bedroom, writing the odd email and making food for everyone.  Creativity helps, as does looking and thinking like Summer Me.  So I dyed the ends of my hair purple today, just the way I like it.  I work at a private school and wouldn't dare go in with purple hair on display, but if it continues to give me a lift, I'll keep dyeing it and wear my hair in a bun for work.  Simples.  I'm in touch with friends... from a distance which feels safe to me.  I don't want to burden any one individual with the stuff that needs to be discussed, because it's just so big.  I am also quite reserved emotionally, and don't want to become a blubbering wreck in front of ANYBODY.  To answer a couple of questions that do get asked occasionally: yes, I am medicated and always will be; no, I am not receiving any support to deal with what has happened.

Looking forward to my safety net kicking in soon, and grateful to everyone who's been there for us.

THE MENTAL HEALTH FILES, #2

So we made it all the way to October, and like last year, I'm currently not in great shape. Up until the new year, all bad patches were part of an atypical two years for me. It's more usual for me to be fine for a really long time, then have discrete and brief (around 4 months long) bad episodes. It's been going great for 9 months, so yay! At the moment, I can work, converse fine, be sociable(ish), funny, take an interest in other people, and find every moment of my work an absolute joy. When I stop, it's suddenly... urgh.

So in the interest of kicking its bottom and being authentic, I'll describe it a bit more. Feel free to scroll on if it's self-centred or boring.

My triggers: major changes in pace/ season/ responsibility/ stress levels; start of the school year; autumn in general; walking around in the dark; having too much time on my hands; (historically) completely overreacting to criticism or unkindness.

Early warning signs: the odd bad evening, especially more than one in a row, although I've learned over the past few years that this CAN mean nothing, thankfully. Bad dreams and/or not sleeping well. Not wanting to do things, starting with work before spreading to life admin and leisure activities. Repeatedly putting off insignificant jobs that I just can't face.

Later signs (bearing in mind that I am capable of going from 0-60 in a matter of days, and this time it's all happened so fast - around 48 hours): Persistent feelings of being unwell and not being sure what's wrong, until I stop to identify the cause, and realise that my brain is making my body hurt. Waves of physical pain that start at the top of my body and wash over my whole self. Feeling that my veins contain cold, murky ink, which occasionally gets shaken up to cause the physical sensations. Sometimes, motionlessness. To the outside observer: no discernible difference from normal, as far as I'm aware.

I can certainly see the good and the hilarity all around me. I'm just about doing everything I need to, with some procrastination. I'm working part time - about four days per week, but spread across six days. My kids are fine and we're having loads of positive conversations. The house is still standing and so are we. An advantage to being medicated permanently is that this episode might well magically get cut off short after a couple of weeks, which is pretty cool when it happens. If not, there will be some rocky days and nights ahead, and things should be OK some time in the new year. It's all good... I think.

Ask me anything, if you feel that way inclined.

The Mental Health Files, Part 1

As I promised myself about a week ago, I'm going to do a quick update about something earth-shattering and life changing that I figured out the other day, with the help of a video that FB decided I might be interested in watching (message me for the link if you like).

I haven't watched any of this lady's other videos, before or since. I will be doing so when I have time. From what I can gather, her issues are very, very different to mine. She has had substance abuse issues in the past - I haven't. She was diagnosed bipolar as a child - I haven't - and it turns out that it's not a good fit for her either. In this clip, she gets diagnosed with ADD as an adult, and lots of things suddenly fall into place. I don't have that either.

This post isn't an invitation to challenge my own diagnoses, which I'm incredibly firm and secure in, having researched everything and figured them out for myself. My primary MH issue first appeared when I was 5 years old, and recurred with any sort of new experience, change, and seasons that reminded me of those changes. I finally figured out what the problem was when I was 19 and doing my Psychology degree, then started treatment a year after that. I self-diagnosed my other issue in my mid-30s, and that had been a recent development... an understandable one in relation to circumstances at the time. It's now on the wane because I'm (a) out of the situation that caused it, (b) much older and (c) more confident in my personality. I'm just not sociable and that's that. I like people, relate just fine to one or two at a time, and will find an excuse to not come to your party. People generally don't bother to invite me any more!!

So, with the understanding that we're two very different people and this lady's problems stemmed largely from substance abuse and untreated ADD... there are some very interesting parallels. It's worth watching from the 4:30 mark, when she gets her brain scan results. At 5:45, the doctor tells her what looks like bipolar is actually ADD plus trauma from having lived with an unpredictable, angry alcoholic dad. And the more I hear about this sort of thing, the more I realise that even just the first 14 months of my life (when I was exposed to the same) has impacted me profoundly... and much more than my sister, who was only 6 weeks old when we were removed from the situation.

At 8 minutes, the doctor discusses the patient's amazing recognition of social cues and negative faces. YES!! I am the same. I have mild face blindness, especially with men (probably unrelated) but pick up on negative expressions, atmospheres at work, he-has-just-fallen-out-with-her, etc, instantly. My social problems don't stem from being unable to read the cues, because I absolutely can. They stem from not knowing what to do with that information. E.g. someone tells me one thing, and their body language tells me they are lying... which one am I supposed to respond to? E.g. I enter a room at work and can instantly tell there's been a row. I have no idea if I'm meant to know that, or supposed to act like everything's normal. I will usually spin on my heel and walk away fast. Guess who has trained us to recognise negativity and anger so acutely? Our unpredictable alcoholic dads again.

The biggest revelation came even later for me, around the 11 minute mark. In every way except for one, my problem is an exact textbook case. I read an entire book about it for university, and it felt exactly like somebody had written a book about me. The one thing that doesn't fit? We are supposed to feel worse in the morning. During my worst episodes, when even sleep feels like torture because the blackness seeps into my dreams, the only bit of respite I would ever get was the first few moments of the day. Then things got progressively worse throughout the day, until evening/ nightfall, when I would be (and I now mean as recently as 8 months ago) completely desperate and unable to function. The doctor in the video says that at night, when it's dark, is when the trouble would tend to happen with a violent alcoholic parent. Nightfall is like a daily emotional reminder of those times. This news took my breath away.

Maybe it's coincidental, and maybe my first 14 months were generally happy; I obviously don't remember, and probably won't talk to my mum about it. My issues are something I usually muddle through alone, although I've started to talk about them a bit. I found this very helpful though, so I'll file the information away and view my evenings, social sensitivities and acute radar for sadness/ anger through the lens of having been set up to experience such high alerts due to my very early life, and the way I was parented.

Before I finish, I get asked a LOT if I'm bipolar, and people often don't believe the answer. No, I'm not. When I'm at my physical and mental best, I cram lots in to make up for lost time, and to occupy my mind. My best strategy for keeping my own demons at bay is to have a lot of projects on the go, to feed my mind and not give it the chance to wander off to places I'd rather it didn't. My mood and attitude changed for the better a few years ago, when someone I barely know described my personality as 'bright and strong' - I don't see it, but I guess that's what is there once you get past the reserve. I also like to do crazy things, and occasionally to shock (e.g. cutting all my hair off on a whim; writing a rather surprising song for some friends recently) and the overall effect is clearly very chaotic and 'up'! So it might appear that way, but no, I'm definitely not bipolar.

Will definitely ponder on it all some more.

keeping it real

i have been keeping a diary of our activities since the beginning of lockdown, over on facebook.  apparently, this is day 152.  i tend to talk about what we've been doing, plus anything major in the world of musiclady and musicfamily, and give updates on my charity madness/ music practice.

before i carry on, i know lack of punctuation is extremely irritating.  i just feel that lower case suits the way i'm feeling at the moment, which is small, insignificant and powerless to change anything.  normal service will hopefully be resumed shortly.

today, i managed to teach a variety of lessons, and it all came back so naturally.  they were actually face-to-face lessons too, which was particularly nice.  i got daughter 1 (henceforth known as goo) to play some flute duets with my grade 6 student, because they're going to do some gcse performance stuff together next year.  it's the first time goo had played in a couple of months, and the most she'd played since march.  i really hope she'll decide to pick it up all by herself soon, but if she doesn't, i'll just keep inviting her friend round for long duet lessons!  goo also had a bath, after a few days of paying no attention to hygiene, refusing to get dressed or brush hair/ teeth.  unfortunately, that's where today's progress ended.  she spent the rest of the day watching rubbish and fighting with us.  i've managed to fall out with both kids, which doesn't feel good at all... although i had a much nicer chat with her sister rara later in the evening.  rara has been to a sleepover and is just exhausted, but it turns out that she also got told off while she was at her friend's house, which seems to have affected her unduly and ruined her day.

i did waste some time, watching stuff on youtube (pointlessly) and playing souped-up boggle (fruitlessly).  i also spent a huge amount of time helping both girls talk through their troubles and try to find solutions.  this ended with screaming and yelling from goo, and floods of tears from rara.  i seem to be the common denominator in their outbursts, and i've literally had enough of parenting right now.  and enough of adulting.  i haven't been thinking about it, but i go back to work in a couple of weeks, and my position (self employed woodwind teacher, lots of children in some of my groups, which won't be allowed) is going to be extremely precarious.  i'm stressed about the fact that i can't leave goo unsupervised at all, and the fact that we all have to be locked, bolted and chained into the house overnight.  mr music is working all weekend, so i won't be able to pop out for anything, or go anywhere with rara at all.  she wants to go for a run/ bike ride tomorrow, but that will only be possible if we go before goo is awake and aware that we've sneaked out.

i'm now way behind on practice... three instruments per day, taking 20-60 minutes each (usually 30-40) isn't that big a commitment when i'm working so little.  i'm therefore cross with myself.  today was meant to be bassoon, piano and something else, but mr music has had to go to bed very early.  i'll have to pick something quiet now... but at 26 days in to my 100 consecutive days of practice, there's no way i'm starting all over again.  i think this is my 4th attempt in any case!

so in summary, not a very productive day; a bit of a setback for goo, who's also unhappy with her teachers for year 10 (she does have the worst english and maths teachers possible) and rara is downright miserable with everything in her life.  there's only so much positivity that i can deal out, and that particular jug is almost empty at the moment.  on the other hand... what is the worst that could happen if i weren't here to constantly encourage, motivate, troubleshoot, nag, etc?  probably nothing... they probably couldn't be any more miserable if they tried.

and on that cheerful note, i'll leave you for now.  good night.

the lost days

once again, i find myself in an alternate reality that nobody else can see or experience with me.  i don't consider myself an optimist or a pessimist; rather a realist, but positive with it, if that makes sense.  the current situation at home is getting to me once again in spite of all my coping strategies, strength as a parent, resilience forged in the fire of my own pain, and various projects to occupy my own mind.  this time, the pain is not mine, but my daughter's.  even with our best efforts and medical input, we are currently staring behind us at 3 suicide attempts (that i am aware of), one instance of extreme self-harm, three disappearances including one in the middle of the night, and intention/ threat of causing criminal damage, which she did not carry out. none of us quite knows how this has happened to a wonderful, loving, sensitive, gifted, sociable 14 year old.  at the moment, the biggest problem is her inability to let go of the pain that many of us caused her several months ago, by putting an end to some inappropriate behaviour and attachments.  she is constantly revisiting it, curling up with it, playing out different scenarios in her head, and telling me things are now hopeless because she can't go back and do things differently.

as her mother, i am doing everything i can: being strong when i think i can't, endless chats and encouragement, distractions, organising fun activities, checking in on her, holding her while she sobs, doing things for her until she can do them for herself, and forgiving her for the many hurtful things she is doing.  she is hurting everyone around her, she is hurting me a lot, but most of all, she keeps on hurting herself over and over, by pulling the metaphorical scab off an old wound.

she is officially under camhs and has her next appointment on wednesday, to talk things through.  however, since may we have had assessment after assessment; now extended assessment after extended assessment.  in reality, we all know what's wrong with her, and nothing therapeutic has been done, at all.  it falls to me, as usual.  we haven't had access to our scissors or most of our knives for 3.5 months.  we are having to double lock the windows and doors at night, and there are various other things i need to confiscate from her room tonight.  she's also currently grounded.  i'm trying hard to maintain my own relationships, jobs and projects, but i'm very behind right now.  i don't think i'm paying enough attention to her 12 year old sister, who is currently and mercifully out on a sleepover.

despite my own issues with change and autumn, i will welcome september and her return to school for some routine, friends, distraction and normality.  but the prospect is fraught with foreseen and unforeseen difficulties; will she fail to catch the bus home and simply wander off? act out at school? refuse to do her homework?  become so sick and needy that i will have to give up my day job to stay home and carry on doing this for ever?  

this is not the life that i want for her.  or for me.  until she can find it in herself to forgive, to stop living in the past and to move on, nothing is going to change.

Escapril: Day 30. Prompt: Dusk

I'm aware that it's May; I've just got behind.  After this, I need to decide whether to go back and do days 1-14 of Escapril (either daily or in my own sweet time), or leave it and join in with Mayhem instead.  It depends on my motivation over the next couple of days, because Escapril would give me more breathing space, but I'd never catch up.  Mayhem would require more commitment, but I'll be 'on the same page' as others doing the project.  Decisions!

Dusk

Sunlight squints across the horizon,
Leaving trails of pink and orange as it fades.
The sky exchanges her daytime robes of azure
For her alluring indigo night attire.
As crickets chirp and mosquitos buzz,
A whole new world emerges.
Night creatures begin to appear
As humans tire and begin to relax.
The children's excited shouts are silenced
While sleep carries them to morning.
What's done is done; what's said is said.
Today has been lived, and tomorrow is a new day.

Escapril Day 29. Prompt: Monochrome

Shades of grey

When I was young,

I believed 

That everything was right or wrong;

Good and bad; Yes or no;

Black or white.

It was easy to think that way.

How clever I thought I was

To be so enlightened and decisive,

To have an opinion on everything,

And to think that I was right.

When I grew older, 

I realised

That sometimes there's no right or wrong.

That some situations have no good outcome

Or happy ending.

That the answer can be both yes and no,

That manifold factors must be considered, and

That some questions have no answers.

I don't feel quite so clever any more

But have perhaps grown wiser 

Since I realised that life

Operates in shades of grey.

Escapril Day 28. Prompt: ________ as a weapon

Words as a weapon

The biggest fallacy of childhood:
"Sticks and stones may break my bones
But words will never hurt me."
How did it start?
Perhaps in a vain attempt
To build resilience.
Yet all of us have been wounded
By a careless remark,
Some needless invective,
An incisive insult
Or a cruel comparison.

The pen can be poisonous - 
Spewing out lies, filth and libel.
Words carved out by a nib in minutes
Are capable of damage for decades.
Hastily scrawled letters
Can break hearts, shatter families,
Uproot lives,
And cannot be taken back.
Our words outlive us
So we'd better choose them wisely.

With the gift of language
And the power of the pen
Come the responsibility to use them well.
Expressions of encouragement
Or utterances of understanding
Might be highlights of someone's day.
A friendly phrase
Or affectionate affirmation
Can build harmony, relationships and love.

Sticks and stones may break my bones
But words are the most powerful weapons of all.

Escapril Day 27. Prompt: Fight or Flight

Warning: this poem contains themes of severe mental illness.  It might not be the best thing to read if you're feeling vulnerable.

The enemy within

Out of nowhere,
He reappears:
That monster within.
Asleep, dormant for so long
That he's drowsy at first.
As he stirs from his slumber,
He sends small shockwaves
And feelings of malaise.
I brush them off,
Shake my head clear,
Disregard them and say,
"If I ignore this,
It might go away."
As days turn into weeks,
He begins to take hold,
And tries to control
My work, my time, my thoughts,
My life.
I busy myself,
Absorbed in music:
My life's work!
A life lived full of colour,
Replete with activity,
Can drown him out;
Silence his voice
And disguise waves of pain.
Until one day,
On completing a task,
His full horror wells up within.
Blood becomes black ink,
Warmth turns to ice,
And he shakes up my entire being
So the cold, black sensation 
Seeps through my veins,
Finding its way to every extremity.
Friends tell me I can fight
With perseverance,
And with the power of my mind.
I freeze, still shocked 
By his resurgence
And unsure 
If I possess the strength.
As his grip tightens,
Horrors of each day
Bleed into the night,
Infusing my dreams
With darkness and fear.
I'm not strong enough
And can't fight this monster,
So must run and hide instead.
But where can I run to?
How can I flee from his presence
When the havoc he wreaks is within?
So the real choice is:
Do nothing, or fight?
Doing nothing means risking my job,
My family, my home;
Losing my choices;
Giving in to his power,
Possibly forever.
It might be small,
But there's a chink of light inside me.
Something tenacious, 
Bestowed on me last time;
So clear and strong
That I cling to it like a life raft.
I cannot give up,
Or let the enemy win.
He's won enough battles;
He's NOT claiming me too.
I hold to the light,
And summon my energy.
I MUST fight him, as always before.
Slowly, s l o w l y ,
more strength returns,
And small victories grow confidence.
There's too much to lose,
Which is why
I will NEVER give up.
For as long as it takes,
Even all of my days,
I will stand up and FIGHT.

Escapril Day 26. Prompt: Serpentine

Kynance Cove

Place of exquisite beauty;
We walk, then run, then climb
Ever downwards
Then pause to look at breathtaking views.
We've been here more than fifty times
But every trek is still worthwhile.
Steps grow ever steeper
Until we land on fine, white sand
And scramble over boulders,
Splendorous cliffs yawing overhead.
Kids run on in front,
Keen to splash into the sea,
While their dad tries to locate
The best possible bit of beach.
I sit for a while on a boulder - 
Strong, immovable and firm.
My fingers skim damp stones;
Smooth, jagged, large and small.
They rest on one, warmed by the sun.
I pick it up.
Hard and still warm, it glows
Red and green, with grey beneath
And shines in the summer sun.
Polished by millennia of crashing waves,
It resembles the gleaming snakeskin
From which it takes its name.
Serpentine.
And then I wonder:
How long has it been here?
Has this tiny stone been handled before,
Or was it put here simply for my pleasure?
I feel simultaneously 
Present in the moment
And part of something far larger
As this little piece of history
Connects me to generations gone before.
Thankful for this moment
And infinitesimal beauty,
I put it in my pocket and
I am ready to carry on my day.

Escapril Day 25. Prompt: Extinction

Extinction

Wake up from your sleep.
Extinction is for ever.
Please protect us NOW.

Escapril Day 24. Prompt: Black Hole

Black Hole

There's a place where it's best not to go.
A human-eating black hole.
You can sit by the side and look,
Repulsed by the horrors within
And vow to always stay away.
For its forces are strong;
Its sides slippery and steep.
Once in, in's impossible to come out
The same way you went in.
You can only hope that with time
You will pop out the other side
Goodness knows where.
If you're lucky, it won't take too long,
But be warned: it might make you stay.
Oh, and nobody,
NOBODY comes out unchanged.

She circles its edge,
Her own personal hell,
Unsure what brought her here this time
And ambivalent... torn.
A life lived on the brink
Means she's learnt to co-exist with its pull.
Though she walks on solid ground
With head held high
And living her life, engaged with the world,
The Black Hole's force never leaves her.
As it grows stronger, she returns to the edge
To peer resignedly down inside.

The grey-black iciness emanating from within
Chill her to the bone, and never fail to scare.
But walking on a knife-edge is hard too.
Sometimes it's easier to just let go and fall.
Both worlds are pulling her
As often before.
She teeters, and wobbles...
Once... twice...
Momentarily unable to right herself.
With a last supreme effort,
She steadies herself, falls...
And she lands on firm soil.
Breathless, she scrambles away, for today.
It won't be her last encounter,
But this place does not own her.

Escapril Day 23. Prompt: Focus on the texture

Achnahaird

Squinting against the early morning sun,
Running barefoot down the hill.,
This is what dreams are made of!
Rough paved path gradually gives way
To sandy ground punctuated
By thick tufts of grass.
Excitement builds.
Uncomfortable heat of neoprene suit
Is more than worth the future joy.
Jump, scramble, bound...
Pure sand awaits.
So soft and fine,
Yet searing with heat
Despite the day's youth.
Particles gather between toes
Until dampness begins to seep
Up through the sand,
Compacting it 
Into something much easier to walk on.
Ah!  The coolness of the sea
Soothes baking feet
While they leave behind their imprints;
Temporal memories.
Rhythmic waves create their own inimitable music.
Sunlight glistens so keenly on the crystal clear water
That it almost hurts to look.
Eyes closed,
Feet keep moving, ever forwards
Though slower now.
Blissful cool, clean water
Bathes sweltering legs;
Slowly inches over torso.
With wild abandon,
Whole self is flung into
This beautiful, cold, crisp
Exhilarating and essential ocean.

Escapril Day 22. Prompt: Into the Woods

Strength

Trudging along,
Stumbling occasionally;
Wearing troubles like a lead apron.
Weighed down by woes
And weary of this world,
Moving morosely
Without real direction;
Just keep moving
And find somewhere quiet.
Somewhere to think.

At the edge of the woods,
Circling at first,
Then scrambling among gnarled roots
And twisted trunks which form the gateway
To another world.
Down, down, down, gathering pace.
So cool and calm; finally quiet
But buzzing intangibly with life.
Run past a river,
Leaves brushing against face.

Densely packed trees
Interlock limbs.
Branches sway gently in the breeze.
Trunks of many textures
With leaves of varying shades.
Majestic oak, elegant beech and
Towering pines
Teem with life.
All provide shelter and shade
To whoever needs it.

Here, a clearing!
More light enters in a dappled pattern
Through the sparser canopy.
The light beckons
And gentle branches brush shoulders
Like a parent gathering their child into a hug.
Insects, birds and animals
Make their homes here.
Life is slower; calmer,
But thriving.

The trees are so wise -
They do not worry or strive.
Appearances don't matter
And possessions are irrelevant.
There is a right time for everything;
No need to rush.
The woods are witness to so much
And hold the knowledge of many years.
They live through storms and scarcity;
Every weather,
And every world disaster,
As generations come and go.
Still they thrive and grow,
Providing life-giving oxygen.

We have survived many trials.
Rest here awhile, and you will survive yours.

Escapril Day 21. Prompt: Hands, Wrists, Teeth

Realisation

(Or the Seven Ages of Woman)

7 years:
Night waking, legs aching.
Bendy thumbs impress my chums.
"Growing pains".

11 years:
Start to feel sharp pain in heel.
Teachers now see I'm failing P.E.
"Achilles Tendonitis".

12 years:
Dislocating jaw, always sore.
"What do you expect? You're having your teeth rearranged.
And besides, you have a Low Articular Eminence."

14 years:
Nothing can calm searing pain in arm.
"Repetitive Strain Injury."

24 years:
Everything seems to crack; increasing pain in back.
"Well, you're not a teenager any more!"

26 years:
Tripped over own feet, banged elbow in street.
Small joints dislocating, everything else aching.
"Ehlers Danlos Syndrome.  Yes, it explains a lot."

30 years:
Music teacher, student, mother and wife.
An achy EDSer leading a full and busy life.
"A serious case of Determination
Accompanied by a liberal does of Bloody-Mindedness!"

Escapril Day 20. Prompt: Moon

Luna

She's like the moon,
Calm, cool and light.

Hidden by day,

Working magic at night.
Changing appearance,

She waxes and wanes.

When all's dark and silent,

There she remains.
Casting her light 

Over all who pass by;
Imbuing with healing
Away she'll then fly.
Whether she's dressed in
Pink, silver or blue,
Half of her face
Stays hidden from view.
When the sun rises
To shine on the streets,
Mysterious and modest
Luna retreats.
She's rarely visible
While the sun's out,
But her elegant beauty
Is never in doubt.

Escapril Day 19. Prompt: Tough to be a bug

Tough to be a bug

Nestled, cool and dark.
Prying fingers pull back stone;
Shrink back from the light.

Escapril Day 18. Prompt: How did the sky look?

Beneath the sky

for GNJ

Nervous glances, holding hands,
Their first meeting as something more than friends.
Once so chatty over the phone,
As life histories came tumbling out;
Now tongue-tied, inhibited, waiting... for what?
Still in her teens, red-haired, petite,
She trotted along to keep in step
With his long, lithe strides.
Though awkward and out of sync,
They gave each other boldness
And she felt secure in his reassuring presence.
The sky, so blue on that sultry August evening, was
Kissed with white clouds and 
Buzzing with anticipation.

Among the flashing lights and blaring music
Of her local funfair,
Nervousness evaporated.
They joined the throngs of people
All ready for a good time.
Laughter flowed as they deliberately crashed their bumper cars.
She rode the helter skelter
While he captured the evening in photographs.
Together they giggled about the farcical ghost house
And played for prizes without success.
As night fell,
The summer sky turned indigo overhead
Rushing through violet and red
To a burnt orange sun blazing across the horizon.

They took the long route home;
A high road following the coastline.
And away from the still-bustling seaside town, 
Words cascaded easily
In the youthful thrill of being together.
They sat on a bench overlooking the sparkling sea.
The haze of summer and anticipation of the unknown
Hung in the air.
In the darkness, conversation stopped
And they leaned in for their first kiss.
The sky was black and full;
A witness to their fledgling romance.
Early stars twinkled like a firework display of celebration
Of a heady, electrifying evening
And the start of something enduring.