I live in the hills
You live in the valleys
And all that you know are those blackbirds
You rise every morning
Wondering what in the world will the world bring today
Will it bring you joy or will it take it away
And every step you take is guided by
The love of the light on the land and the blackbird's cry
You will walk in good company
The valley is dark
The burgeoning holding
The stillness obscured by their judging
You walk through the shadows
Uncertain and surely hurting
Deserted by the blackbirds and the staccato of the staff
And though you trust the light towards which you wend your way
Sometimes you feel all that you wanted has been taken away
You will walk in good company
I love the best of you
You love the best of me
Though it is not always easy
We will walk in good company
The shepherd upright and flowing
"Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness.
It took me years to realise that this too, was a gift."
'You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.'
- Mary Oliver
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
their bad advice --
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do --
determined to save
the only life you could save.
Peps I have left that poem the Geese by Mary Oliver in one of my letters to one of my dear friends - I want it read by her if she is strong enough at the end. I am so sorry you feel you cannot be understood or express how you feel ((((((((hugs))))))))))
Being there was like having a warm blanket over me….it was safe and secure and felt like someone might actually be bothered. I always said it was the hardest thing I ever did. I still think that’s true. Opening up was hard. When you’ve been closed your whole life, it’s not easy to let people in. But I did, and in a way, I let myself in. Or at least a part of me that had long been ignored - that I probably didn’t even know existed. We found a scared, lonely little kid who needed some parenting, and in a way, that’s what happened.
Now its about dealing with the residue, I think. It’s about coping with feeling small sometimes, with feeling anxious sometimes, with feeling utterly alone sometimes. It’s about hanging in there and knowing those feelings will pass eventually, and doing what it takes to get through it. It’s about crying myself to sleep, or writing it down, or distracting myself, or just plain putting up with it and waiting. It’s about figuring out what to do with the child part of me that is scared and often howls for what it can’t have, but wants more than anything else – and I have no idea how to be a parent. It’s about wondering if this is a temporary state of affairs, or if random low moods are now part of the scenery. Whatever it is though, and however long it takes to figure out, and however much I miss the person and the place that has been a large part of this, you know what, I think it’ll be ok.
That's a big step Pepcat, and a hard decision for anyone to make. I wish you the best luck in continued coping and maintaining your mental health away from services. For me it was a relief and a good feeling in a way when I realized I didn't need them anymore, hope it's the same for you.
Ouch, I know you probably won't miss them, CMHT in my experience have been spectacularly unhelpful for anyone other than the floridly psychotic. But they're still an in to services such as psychology and things, which is why I preferred to stay on the right side of them while I was in England.
It had become a pointlessbox ticking exercise. I'm not on meds, not in therapy any more (as of yesterday), and I only saw them every three or four months anyway.
Whatever i said it was always 'come back in three months'. There is NO point.
My gp is good, and the specialist psychotherpies service have also been brilliant. It's the less-than-helpful CMHT in the middle who aren't so good. Seems to be par for the course though. They are (unfortunately) the gateway into other services (like psychotherapy) which is a pain in the ass. My therapist did say I could contact her though, if I had any queries or anything, so its not like now I've stopped seeing her that's it, no more contact ever.
I'm not 'unwell' enough for NHS services, but not quite well enough to do on my own. It's that weird middle ground that there is no provision for. Can't be seen by the 'refer yourself therapy' lot either, because I've previously been too unwell for that and have a diagnosis and have had specialist therapy. So they won't touch me, apparently. Will see how I get on and then try and figure it out myself if I need to.