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 |   The simplicity of my day to day. |
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This is where I write my thoughts, feelings and my daily trials, tribulations and happy things
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Prompt for
My saddest memory was when our youngest daughter, Emma, gave birth to a stillborn baby boy, Jack. Emma was only twenty years old and the death of the full term baby caused her to suffer depression and anxiety and alcoholism, from which she still suffers 28 years later. |
Prompt for
Having two big brothers was nice when I was little. As a family we were always nice to each other as far as I can remember. Growing up in England in the 40’s and 50’s was a time of peace after the war. Although rationing was still in force, and many things were scarce, we never went hungry. My mother was a great homemaker and my memory of childhood is of being loved. We lived in many different houses during my childhood, although all within ten miles of each other. We were pig and chicken farmers for a few years and then after that, shopkeepers, running a local corner store. |
Prompt for
It’s a little difficult to select just one thing I’d change from my childhood because there are many. I’ll try to put them in some sort of order. 1. I wish my baby sister hadn’t died when she was a few days old. 2. I wish my mother hadn’t had mental health issues caused by the baby’s death. 3. I wish my father hadn’t been absent in WW2 for six years. 4. I wish I’d had my teeth straightened. |
Prompt for
Oh my goodness this hits home, especially lately. I have always been told that I don’t look my age. “How can you be a Grandmother ? “ That was when I was 42 years old. “ How can you possibly be a great-grandmother? “ That was 14 years ago at 63 years of age. I think I’ve been so used to people not thinking I’m the age I am, that now the years have caught eventually caught up, 78 now, I feel old for the first time. The reflection in the mirror tells the truth. That is hard to come to terms with, but also it tells me I’ve lived a life. A life that has been packed with family dramas, love, laughter, illnesses, pain and whatever else life throws at you. How else can all that not draw lines upon my face. It’s been a process but I’m starting to accept those lines, even if secretly hating every one of those that appear overnight, despite the cream I spread across the skin in a failed attempt at defeating them. |
Prompt for
As a writer the lyrics are the most important part of music. I don’t like music purely for the sound, it’s always the words. It’s the same with dance, even though I appreciate ballet, I find watching it frustrating as I need the words of the story, not just that interpretation of the words. That probably means I’m shallow or unrefined, well I’m afraid that me then. A local singer had a great idea for a show, locally. She went around the area to various groups for inspiration. She came to our writing group one day. She asked us to tell her about a memory attached to a certain song. It was amazing the songs and memories which came from the idea. Eventually she made a performance piece and invited those who’s memories inspired the songs she was performing. Mine was when I was sixteen my boyfriend cleaned a clubhouse after it was closed for the week, he did it for pocket money, he was saving to buy a motorbike. Anyway there was a microphone plugged in and I sang him songs popular at the time while he mopped the floor! Love Me Tender by Elvis, the song that I sang to him takes me back fifty or more years when I sang to my boyfriend now husband. Oh the power of music. I like gospel songs sung by choirs, they always lift my spirits even though I’m not a church goer. Songs from musicals are great. Maria from West Side Story takes me back to when the film first came out and I was about 17 years old. So songs can take you back to places and times you have forgotten, or thought you had. I laughed at my husband’s expression the other day when he heard someone say the f word in a song. “Did he sing what I thought he sang?” I’m afraid so. There is no reason I can think of for spoiling quite a good song with swearing, but when I told my 20 something grandson he laughed. I guess we’re old fogeys now. But there’s no denying the power of music, it can make you laugh, cry, dance or be romantic. It’s quite extraordinary. |
| Written for Journalistic Intentions. prompt : "Most of all, you feel unseen and unheard. The other person is demonstrating that there are two things more important than your pain: Their desire to avoid negative emotions Their need to offer unsolicited advice." I think what we’re talking about is empathy. Some people find it impossible to relate to peoples pain and anguish without making the situation all about them. I’m not saying it’s easy to listen to some harrowing story without wishing you didn’t have to be the one on the receiving end of all the angst, tears and pain of the person relating the story. Without meaning to generalise I’ve found almost without exception men are the worst culprits for interrupting as someone pours out their troubles. They do this I’m sure with the best of intentions. Their wish to stop seeing someone in pain without being able to fix the problem overcomes the narrator’s wish to spill the beans, to relive the event, to explain. There is nothing more frustrating when someone has encouraged you to talk about it. You’ve girded your loins to relate the story one more time to yet one more person. And then you get “ Look, what I think you should do is…” Sometimes you just want to be heard, to have that person hold your hand and make the right noises. Then there are the ones who’s main concern is that they aren’t distressed by your event. I actually have an example of such behaviour from a relative when I was desperate for help. My two year old boy had been hit by a car and was in hospital. I had two other children, his twin sister and a four year old. I asked my Mother-in-Law to help out and she said “I couldn’t bear to see Ben like that, it would upset me too much.” I can’t say with hand on my heart I ever forgave her that. |
| Written for Journalistic Intentions."And it hit me, that to me, those are two of my deepest-felt emotions. Justice, equality, fairness, mercy, longsuffering, Work, Passion, knowledge, and above all else, Truth. Those are my primary emotions. I wouldn’t call myself a really emotional person, I try to stay even tempered, take things in my stride. I don’t show anger very often, but as my dearest and nearest can attest it’s best to stay clear when I do erupt. I decided to check out primary emotions for this prompt and what surprised me the most was that in the main the emotions, according to different theorist, were mainly negative. Off the top of my head before reading about emotions, I would have said things like, happiness, the feeling of joy or love. But what came up were, fear, sadness, disgust, contempt and surprise. Then came the real downers such as guilt, shame, confusion, resentment, frustration and remorse. Nearly all those are negative. It surprised me because when I attempt to describe an emotional person I rarely think of a sad, unhappy, vindictive or hateful one. I imagine an emotional person more as being softer, loving, easy to bring to tears. Caring, loving and sensitive, that’s how I think of emotion. As to my own primary emotions I’d say, cheerful, optimistic, happy, with the occasional show of frustration, resentment, sadness and remorse. I don’t know if guilt is classed as an emotion or not, but I was brought up to feel guilty if I wasn’t busy doing something. Even now I find I feel guilty if I have a lazy day or don’t achieve at least one thing I had on my list. All this proves what complex creatures humans are. My dog, Lucy is watching me write this and I’m sure she feels none of the above emotions. She lets me know when she’s hungry, thirsty and needs to go outside. That’s the sum total of her emotions. But that’s not really fair in retrospect. She does show love and excitement too. But she’s letting me know it’s time for dinner now she’s making feel that emotion, guilt. |
| Written for Journalistic Intentions ”It's the power that gives you the strength to survive." According to Lao Tzu “Mastering others is strength. Mastering yourself is true power.” So is being the master of yourself the power you need to help you carry on when life turns on you? You know, those times when all seems hopeless and you may not be able to find a reason to keep breathing. On reflection I believe it to be true. (It’s not beer after all, Robert Waltz.) if you aren’t able to master or control your emotions or reactions in times of trouble all is lost. I had written a poem about family being my power: Family is my power, my reason to survive. Without them I’d have no wish to stay. They’re the ones who fuel my will to stay alive. I watch their lives, have news of them each day. It’s different now to how it used to be, Back when they all relied on me, To have the answers to their situations. Ask Mama, she’ll give advice with good intentions. My children now have children of their own, Who go to them for sage advice. But hopefully the way I’ve shown, And that for me is quite suffice. I had been giving this prompt some thought over the last week. I had thought it was my family that is the force that kept me going, but over the last few days I’ve come to realise they don’t need me anymore. I’m not suggesting they don’t care or love me in their different ways, but they are busy with their own lives and families. Some live far away and although they call regularly to check in, so to speak, I think it’s just another chore to tick off their to do list. So I need to be master of my own destiny, master my feelings, master my need to be needed. To learn how to simply be. What do I actually need to survive? I need the love of my husband, which I have. I need a reason to get out of bed each day, I get that from my daily habit of a walk before breakfast with the dog. A few good friends and activities, again which I have. And I need to harness that power of controlling my mind against those feelings or thoughts which creep in and whisper that without my large family to take care of life is meaningless. |
| Written for Journalistic Intentions. Prompt:Trauma does not make you stronger. Trauma makes you traumatised. The end." That statement is so matter of fact. It’s as if it’s set in stone. Everyone will be forever traumatised who experiences trauma? Surely not. Each and everyone of us is different according to some quirk of nature. Or is it nurture? We all know ourselves on a level that is actually perfectly fine on an every day level. We know, most of us anyway, that we can or must roll with the punches of everyday life. No one has sailed through without some days which are s***. However no one can tell how we’d handle being paralysed after an accident or if we lost a child or our house burned down. I’m sure we think we’d know. Hope that we’d be brave, philosophical and cope with it in an adult fashion. And yet in truth who actually knows? Personally, I know I could face losing my home to a fire, I know this because possessions aren’t that important to me. I’ve moved countries, left family behind and beautiful homes. What I wouldn’t react well to was losing any of my family to a tragedy. Would I fall in a heap? Possibly, but forever? I hope not. But who knows? Not I. Yet I think that in some cases trauma could make someone stronger. It might elicit strengths they never knew they had. There are so many examples of trauma bringing out the best in people, making them angry or determined enough to not let the trauma destroy their lives but to make it even better. |
| Written for Journalistic Intentions Prompt: Alive at both ends but dead in the middle. Alive at both ends but a little dead in the middle Sounds to me like some sort of riddle Could it be meant as a joke? Or how someone is after a stroke? Alive at both ends but dead in the middle Brain still working but heart’s a jiggle He’s still walking And can’t stop talking Alive at both ends but dead in the middle Sounds like some people I know They pretend to be human But in conclusion They’re just doing the motions Not showing emotions Living a life of pretence But in their defence They’re alive at both ends but dead in the middle |
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Though I hear there are amazing waterfalls in Australia. 
