Let me ask you this, dear
friends, have you ever lost Jesus in your oven?
Or am I the only one?
One might wonder how its
possible to lose Jesus in the oven, and unfortunately this is the second time I
have mislaid him (first time was in the stockroom at work, a labyrinth of lost
I have a fondness for wearing
rosary beads with a crucifix, which I have now discovered can get caught on
various implements. Door handles, ovens, chickens, ears, buttons, you get the
This afternoon I decided to
roast a chicken, which is usual a very simple task. But not today. Oh no.
Today, as I bent over the
oven, moving the metal shelves, Jesus decided to jump ship. He was obviously
bored of hanging around my neck, and was searching for pastures new.
Well, I think this Jesus is
invisible or something.
I have swept, poked, and
prodded every inch of the oven.. I even made a poking device. I found a lot of
dust, and general grossness, but no Jesus.
I have nervously sniffed the
oven, wondering if I could smell Jesus burning, but no.
I even peeled back the foil
covered chicken, to check if Jesus had hidden in there, but I couldn’t spot
him. I have taken off my clothes
twice, just in case he fell somewhere slightly inappropriate (this has also happened
before.) So if he turns up near you,
my Jesus is about an inch tall, made out of metal and on a miniature wooden
cross. He’s also from the Vatican, so maybe he converses in Italian. Actually,
I suspect he’s bilingual, so that doesn’t really matter. And so, I am anxiously praying
for a miracle. The resurrection in my chicken dinner perhaps? xxx
My creative block
continues, and I’m pulling my hair out.
I feel like a fake.
Repetitive and unoriginal.
A waste of space.
I’ve got a horrible
medical assessment form to fill in at the moment, which I’ve almost done, but
its hanging around me like a bad smell. (Or maybe that’s just Mr B’s trumps…)
My support worker has told
me to have a ‘tentative’ look at part time work. But I literally freak out
every time I go on one of those websites. I look at the list of jobs and either
see a job that I can’t do, or one that I wouldn’t really want to do (like being
a bin man or something, just don’t think the outfit would suit me.)
In a few weeks I’ve got
some employability and IT courses starting, so hopefully they will give me a
bit of confidence.
I just feel like a useless
waste of space. Whoops said that already, told you I was repetitive.
If anyone does have any
inspired ideas about what to do with my life, then please let me know.
In the meantime, I’m available
to create you a painting (Sue and Jim, I haven’t forgotten yours, just waiting
for the creative lull to end) proof reading essays, dog walking or dog sitting
(not that I actually sit on your dog, but I’m sure you know that already.)
Mr B says I should stop
worrying and watch the Muppets, he knows they always make me smile. Top advice
Sitting here in my incredibly tidy room feeling a little
My monstrous mess had been making me feel rather itchy. I
just wanted to chuck everything away and sit in an empty room surrounded by
space. In my quest to declutter, I even managed to throw away some
of my beloved cassette tapes. Talk about tough. I did let myself hang onto
about 10, I just couldn’t bring myself to throw away NOW 27. It might be worth
a fortune one day, you never know.
However, I probably haven’t helped the future of my
cluttering collection this morning as I purchased another second hand book….
When I see a book that I used to read as a child, I simply
cannot resist buying it again. It allows me to have an instant trip down memory
lane. Todays purchase was ‘Milly-Molly-Mandy Stories’ and for the bargain price
of 20p, it has made me a very happy lady.
Now for those of you who aren’t familiar with this literary
gem, let me tell you a little bit about Milly Molly Mandy….
“She had a Father, and
a Mother, and a Grandpa, and a Grandma, and an Uncle, and an Aunty; and they
all lived together in a nice white cottage with a thatched roof.”
I can’t quite imagine how they all fitted into this cottage,
but as a 7 year old reader, I never really thought to question the sleeping
She also has a dog called Toby, a cat called Topsy, and two
friends, Susan and Billy Blunt. The stories tell of birthday parties and
gardening. Blackberry picking and knitting. Published in 1928, they transport
you to a simpler world. Where small pleasures become exciting treats, and
nothing is taken for granted.
You may be wondering why I’m wittering on about this old
childrens book, and I don’t really have a good answer. Part of me is just super
pleased about finding it again.But the
other part is pushing me to try harder at appreciating the little gifts
in life (just as Milly-Molly-Mandy does. You should read the chapter when she
finds a penny in an old coat, wow, that is true excitement for you.)
Its something that I have been attempting to do for a while
now, but I need to remind myself to keep practising.
I become so overwhelmed by the looming prospect of the
future, that I cant always see the good stuff that’s happening in front of my
Don’t think an 8am physio appointment
I am not a morning person.
No idea how I used to get up at 7am every
day. 8am is pretty much my earliest these days.
Yet so many people have to do the early morning
thing! I commend you. I salute you. ‘Cuz I’m utterly hopeless. I end up
spending all afternoon fighting against my eyelids closing.
Had a creative art session today which will
progress towards us making some sort of sculptures. I love working in 3D, you
can be so messy and really connect to your work.
However, the theme which we’re working on
is ‘identity’ and it triggered some difficult stuff for me this morning.
I’d had quite a tough, full-on counselling
session last week, which had bought up the theme of identity, and how I see
I’m not going to lie, its not pleasant
And so to be challenged again in the same
area, just made my heart sink.
I don’t like thinking about identity. I
don’t like thinking about who I am. Because, quite frankly, I end up feeling
utterly crap and just want to stab myself in the eye. So I avoid it, I try not
to dwell on my inner self.
My mind feels already programmed to dislike
my personality, and that bitter poison runs through my veins, infecting each
part of me.
I know it sounds weird, but I often think
that’s why if I’m having a bad black dog day I’ll often be really cold, or have
a headache, or stomach ache. Its like the poisonous depression has been running
through the whole of my body, dragging each part down with it.
So, you can see why I don’t like pondering
on this identity stuff. It just seems to bring up a wave of self-destruction. But
I guess, I just have to ride the wave. Get through this threatening stormy
darkness and wait for the clouds to disappear.
I commend anyone who can write or express in some way their own experiences with mental health. But for me, it also raises the question of the celebrity obsessed culture we live in.
Why does it take the face and the voice of someone well known to raise the profile of mental health issues?
Why do we sympathise with the celebrity who tried to commit suicide, yet ignore the person in the office who has been suffering with depression?
Like I said, I am grateful to the many well known faces from the celebrity world who are tackling the stigma of mental health. But what worries me, is that we live in a culture where we seem to be mesmerised by these celebrity stories.
Why are we not opening our eyes to see the people that our part of our daily lives that are struggling too?
They are the heroes, they are the survivors.
They need your compassion too.
They may not be on the cover of a magazine, but that doesn't make their battle any less important.
But I am sure that tonight I'm going to have a relaxing evening, stuffing my face with chicken nuggets. Yum.
Oh I can't even write properly tonight, my mind is all over the place. Nutsville.
So perhaps I shall share a poem, one that a lovely lady emailed to me this week.
Now this lady who emailed me, I like to call her my train angel. She doesn't have wings or a halo. She isn't called Gabriel or anything like that. She did however, make a difficult 4 hour train journey a lot easier.
Sometimes our worlds collide with another human beings for no reason, sometime it can be the beginning of a friendship, a love affair, or even an argument.
A stranger can make your day, or equally ruin it.
My stranger on a train relieved my anxiety, and made me feel like I wasn't alone in my battle against the black dog.
I can't write any more tonight, I want to, but I'm all wonky in the brain area. Urgh. Useless.
After a beautiful and memorable weekend in Devon, I am now back home.
The wedding was super special, and I felt so privileged to be part of it!
Now for wedding number 2 and a dress fitting up in Warwick on Wednesday :) .
I seriously think I could become a wedding planner after this summer of love.
I had earmarked today as a 'day of rest' but after all the fun and busyness of the weekend, I've found it really hard to wind down.
I feel a little bit like a Catherine Wheel that wont stop spinning.
Luckily though, I remembered that I used to spend a large proportion of my time painting my nails and generally titivating myself.
Looking back, I cant quite believe how much time I did spend on this, but it really does relax me. And so, once again, I have sparkling nails. This also stops me from biting them off in moments of anxiety.