A Year Later

So a year ago i wrote a rather angry piece:


It was suggested i write an update a year later. So here you go.

Occasionally upon waking

The demons stir, their claws reaching for sunlight

Momentarily I freeze, awaiting their grip

But when I roll over and see the splayed hair of the man I love contrasted against his pale skin

Their hushed, angry whispers disapte, retreating back to their dens.

Some days they find a hold, their grasp choking,

Their familiar sting like a sweet home coming to a masochistic brain

And I want to scream and gouge out my eyes and shred the brain tissue to dust

But reassuring words from my benevolent love wash over the pain, like a soothing balm, reducing their grip and calming the turbulent seas, and these days grow fewer with farther between.

I rarely think now of the girl I once was, no sense in mourning the long gone, the potential, the ifs and maybes. She is never coming back, she is a myth.

Who can say if she ever had hopes and dreams, I don’t remember after so many years of not having any other than the simultaneous wish to survive and die

But I feel the dreams, the ardent hopes returning, sizzling at the base of my skull, waiting to strike. Waiting for a cue that it is safe to come out.

Occasionally I catch a glimpse of that girl, her shadowy visage reflected back at me in the windows of the cars and shops as I walk past, but like a ghost, she is always in the peripheries, too scared to reveal herself and converse.

As I walk, my armour spreads all around me, it’s sharp, poisonous barbs pulsating a deep orange,

A warning to any man who dare try to approach me,

But when I arrive home and see the smile of the man I love reach his eyes, the barbs retract to spiky stubble on my skin.

I try not to bristle him with them, as I seek his arms and lay my head on his chest.

On lucky nights the stubble falls off, my skin grows smooth and soft against his, and a warm glow makes me eyes prickle with tears.

Melancholy is my best friend, along with ptsd despair, but these days we only converse through messenger. They appreciate I have stuff going on.

I Will Find A Way – Lucy Lyness

youth’s ultimate beauty of innocence and hope

if ignorance is bliss, then surely, therefore, so is this

the potential and possible timelines and paths

streaming out of my body like ribbons of life, like lifeforce  itself


you took this, it attracted you like the murderous magpie you are

that malleable soul before you

that you systematically destroyed, inhibited, reduced to nothing

but it was my fault of course


no different from those that find a rare and undiscovered animal

Shoot it and put its head on their mantel piece

I sat on your mantel piece, broken remnants of a once wondrous masterpiece

now shattered into a thousand jigsaw pieces, the complete picture wiped away forever


that lifeforce, once so bright and strong

now a dark cloud, a demon smoke

inside every one of my cells

it is more me than I am


now that I have gained my freedom, why can I not be free?

still trapped beneath your limitations, your words and intentions, your strikes and misses

I wish I could twist your neck until I heard every last vertebrae snap

watch the ligaments dangle like spaghetti from my hands

I wish I could scream in your face, unhinge my jaw

and release that black demon smoke into your own being

fill you with everything you gave to me, an unwanted gift

watch your brain spark and burn under the pain

I could crack open your ribs, splinter one into a quill

remove your heart and write on your forehead

in your own blood, am I enough now?


At least through my anger I can purge you

I can feel something, a reminder that I was once a person

I don’t know how to start my life without you

I don’t know what to do or how to cope

you were my battle

my fight for freedom defined my every thought and action

now I am free I have nothing to live for, no purpose

but I will be damned if I waste it

I will find a reason to live

I will find a way to allow myself happiness

I will find a way to release you from my soul

I will find a way to love life again

with one foot in front of the other I will walk away from you

until I no longer hear you in my brain

until your reach no longer permeates

and I can finally fly away




How do I bury you?

You are in my head, from morning til night. In my thoughts, in my dreams, in my hopes, rattling around my brain, a jumble of memories and sentences, expressions and feelings.

Should I bury you?

It probably isn’t healthy, but it can give me so much joy. Where lies the balance between helpful and harmful? How do I stop myself from investing in the good things and protect myself from the harmful things?

Could I bury you?

How could I stop the constant internal chatter? How can I move past this? How do I bury you when I don’t want to?


Friday Lunchtime 

Fridays are a wondrous thing. Something we look forward to all week, as it heralds the end of work and two days of freedom. (p.s. thanks a bunch Industrial Revolution!)


How sad is it that in western society we strive all week, fighting against our instincts, and coop ourselves up in badly lit offices, the yellow of the bulbs your only source of light. Sat in unnatural positions, stressing muscles groups with repetitive activity, talking to people you don’t want to talk to and doing things you’d rather not be doing, usually for somebody else’s benefit. Someone once said to me, if money was no object what would you be? I answered, chocolate taster (haha!) wine connoisseur (lmao!) professional dog petter (pmsl!!) before saying, “I dunno, happy?”, (like some sort of living John Lennon quote). But if I take it seriously and picture this “happy”, what is it? What do I see, what is it I would like to do with my days? So I pictured it, and it is me on a sunny day, it’s between 10am and 2pm. I am pottering. Maybe I am gardening, maybe I am making myself a cup of tea. I am writing something, drawing something, making something. I am doing something later, seeing someone, going somewhere. I am healthy. Maybe it’s not sunny, maybe it’s raining and howling and I am curled up by the window, writing or making something, watching a Netflix favourite in the background or putting on a moody album. I’m threading beads onto elastic, I’m sipping coffee as I type one handed, I am mixing ingredients together to make a home remedy, I am connecting and disconnecting and contributing and inspired.


And that’s kind of the complete opposite of how I live my life………….


I am only on this planet for a finite amount of time (time that is already rapidly accelerating at a terrifying rate!) so how much time do I really want to waste on not living my life in a way that makes me happy. But to be happy how would I manage to pay my bills? Is there such a thing as a balance between the two? This is my goal. This is what has been driving my life for years now. It occupies my every thought and action, everything driving toward discovering the secret to this balance. Of course the secret and the answer is different for each of us, but perhaps this is the meaning of life? To find your own meaning, and your own secret to happiness?

Am I an adult yet?

Am I an adult yet is not necessarily a question or a statement, but more of a way of life. Not a way of life that I chose, but one that I, and many others, live. When I was little I had a frequent thoughts that started “When I am a grown up…” and I am still waiting for this magic event to happen to me. Happen TO me being the key. Now I do have the depressing knowledge that adulthood doesn’t appear during your sleep one night in your twenties, with a magic wand that transforms all your disorganisation into wonderful clarity. The ability to have one’s sh*t together isn’t granted by your fairy godmother, but I have also learnt that calling her a b*tch and threatening her doesn’t inspire her to turn up either.

The clarity I speak of is the mental kind, and I feel everyday I am a step closer, since I started studying psychology and counselling. Suddenly the world shrank for me. All those people, who before were alien to me with their quirks and different upbringings, were humans, suffering from the mental and psychological anguish almost all of us suffer from. In my first year (ok, maybe first two years), I was too scared to speak up in class, so intimidated by all these “grown-ups”, but bit by bit I realised that I wasn’t the only f*ck-up in the room. We are all f*ck-ups in one way or another. What truly sets you apart, however, is how you deal with it, with what life throws at you, what other people throw at you, and what you throw at yourself.

I have learnt so much about myself and others, that I barely recognise the person I used to be. In fact, if I could go back in time and meet my 22 year old self, I wouldn’t give her nuggets of wisdom. I would simply hug her and tell her that she is ok. That things will be ok, and that nothing is too much for her. But I know I am still only at the start.

Thank you

So this is something that I have often thought of doing, but been too scared to do. It is a very vulnerable thing, to put oneself out there for the world to look at, especially when the thing you are intending on showing is the worst and most hidden part of you. But I decided to do it.

Yes there is a benefit for me, but I also hope that there will be a benefit for others, that somehow this will serve to connect people who have had similar experiences, and to make people feel a little less lonely.

I have mental health issues. No I do not know what they are. Words and labels have been banded around, but I always refused to go to the doctors. I didn’t want to be officially labelled. I didn’t want it going down on a piece of paper somewhere, banded around computer systems in black and white; “There is something wrong with this one”. I didn’t want to end up having to take medication for the rest of my life. It is bad enough knowing that you are different; I didn’t want to have everyone else know it for certain. Now this might not have been the most sensible attitude to adopt, but I have never claimed to be the most sensible person. I can get away with being quiet, quirky, a bit weird, a bit socially awkward, those are labels I will embrace and throw back at people if I am ever questioned as they can explain away many things, without the need for medical notes backing them up.

I was convinced that whatever mental health problems I may have, were not impacting my life to any great degree, and, therefore, could not be serious. They must be mild, and I was coping fine. Which for the most part is true. I do manage, I have a full time job, I do well at it (sometimes) and I am a functioning person within society, and yet at the same time, I do struggle. I struggle with the simplest things that most people take for granted. But I also excel at things that others do not, because my moral compass doesn’t always point in exactly the right direction.

But I am so blessed. I have so many people that love me. I have people who believe in me 100%. I have never had to announce my troubles because I manage and I manage because of these people.

To them I owe a debt of gratitude that I do not show often enough.

Nothing is black and white, that is one of the biggest lessons I have learnt in life so far. Do not judge others because things are never black and white. Hold yourself accountable because of the same. We write ourselves as heroes in our own stories, but we may be villans, extras or the village idiot in someone else’s.  Always thank your supporting cast.

Thank you