trust

‘Trust’ – An Entangled Drawing

Angela Porter2 Comments

The Drawing

I’m rapidly filling up an A5 sketchbook with drawings like this. Some have hand lettering in them, while others do not. This style of illustration is familiar to me. It comes naturally, and so is something I can cope with now. The familiarity and repetitive nature of the motifs and patterns are soothing. As I’m working in a sketchbook, there is no pressure on me for things to be perfect. And that is what I need at this time. I just need to create for the sheer enjoyment of creating. Then, there will be enough time to continue exploring other things when I’m back on form.

Mental and Emotional Well-being…

I’m often told that trust is a more positive word than hope when used in conjunction with wanting things to improve. So, I am doing my best to trust that my emotions and thoughts will improve and I won’t feel so darned sleepy and tired all the time.

I suspect I’ve been trying too hard for too long to keep up a mask of contentedness, and all is fine with me when interacting with others. But, unfortunately, it’s something I’ve done for as long as I can remember. It probably contributed to my two intense and lengthy bouts of anxiety and depression, eventually leading to me leaving teaching around 9 or 10 years ago.

After years of EMDR therapy and reflecting on the past, I thought I’d learned my lesson about not letting things get worse and worse and refusing to admit to myself I’m struggling with my mood and thoughts.

It seems that isn’t so.

However, I did reach out for help last week. So now, I have to give myself permission to ease off and give the meds a chance to work.

I had tried so hard to help myself lift my mood and dispel the dark thoughts. They wouldn’t go. Waking up in the night with my mind racing and catastrophising wasn’t good. I couldn’t do this by myself this time.

I know what has led to this state of affairs, and it’s not just one thing.

So, eventually, I worked out I needed help before I ended up in a state similar to how I was all that time ago when my Doctor told me, ‘You’ve nearly broken your mind. It needs a rest. A long rest. And these little pills will help, honestly.’

Those words got through to me. And soon after taking the first dose, my mind was magically quiet, and no longer was I being mean to myself.

There should be no stigma or discrimination about medication to help with mental and emotional ill-health. However, there is none if you need antibiotics for an infection or a plaster-cast to help heal a broken bone.

So, I’m in the process of getting the level of medication to a steady level and the side effects to subside. But, until that happens, I have no choice but to be kind and gentle to myself and not push myself to do more than I’m capable of doing. 

The sad tale of a boy and his beloved budgie.

Angela Porter2 Comments

This morning I was going over to the morning staff briefing at school when I was stopped by one of my year 7 special needs pupils.

“You’re my science teacher,” said he.

“Yes, I am,” said I.

“My budgie died last night,” said he.

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. I really am,” said I.

“You’re a scientist, can you make it live again?” he asked.

Oh my gosh, thought I, and then answered…

“I’m sorry, but no, that’s just not possible. Once something has died then it is dead and science can’t bring it back,” said I as gently and kindly as I could.

“But if I brought it in could you do that thing?” he asked while making gestures with his fingers suggesting heart massage.

“I’m sorry, but that would be way too late. That has to be done straight away. I’m so sorry he’s dead and died last night, but there is nothing I can do,” said I.

“Are you sure? You’re a scientist,” asked he.

“I’m sure, and I’m so sorry. If I could bring your budgie back to life I would. I can see how much you love it and I’m sure he loved you so much and appreciated your love. Wherever he is now he’s proud of you, I’m sure,” said I.

“I think I’ll give him a funeral tonight,” said he.

“I think that would be lovely. You can tell him how much you loved him and he’d like that. I’m just so sorry you’re so sad and there’s nothing I can do.”

“That’s ok. Thank you.” said he.

I had tears in my eyes and my heart was broken for this young chap, most probably his first bereavement.

I don’t know where his belief that I could undo nature for him has come from, and I hope I haven’t let him down too badly for his trust in me to disappear.  I don’t know what I have done to gain such wonder and respect.  I wonder if his view of me is of a kind of Dr Frankenstein, able to reanimate the dead, or as someone who can resurrect the dead.

I really wish I could have done something for him and his budgie, to ease the pain of a young, loving heart.

Now I’m home from school, I have let those tears fall.  Tears of sadness for his sadness, the loss of something he loved very much, the memories of those I’ve lost that I’ve loved, pets and humans.  Tears of sadness that I’m unable to share my beliefs about it all with him too.  Tears of sadness that I have no one to turn to for physical comfort in the form of cuddles.

I’m feeling a little sorry for myself.  I’m single.  I have been for a very long time now.  On nights like this I really wish there was someone I could turn to for a cuddle, some reassurance for myself, someone to do a little TLC for me.  As it is, I’ll have to make do with cuddles from the cat when he’s finally feeling in a cuddlesome mood.

That’s the story of the day…nothing else can compare to it, and it puts other things a tad into perspective doesn’t it?