Kintsukuroi: Talk of monsters and broken things

Today I feel broken

I have spent the last two days trying to piece together a butter dish

I found it shattered on my kitchen floor when I slunk in from work. Truffles didn’t even have the grace to look guilty- cats never do

It’s been a challenge- the naked fear I’ve felt getting butter on my fingers as I clean it and the many, many broken pieces and cracks. I bought it on a perfect day out with a friend. Now I am still trying to piece it back together, and my days feel broken and soiled. As I put the pieces back together, lots of memories and feelings come up

I guess it’s symbolic- I have chosen the most challenging path around many things; and I don’t like to give up; I am made up of small fragments- I have been broken into them many times before.

Right now I am piecing things back together, but at the same time trying to decide what is right to give up. If I give up my goal of searching for perfection, control- rightness in myself; numbers- will I ever be able  to be all right?

I am very fearful right now as I clean my wounds that things won’t be right. In a few months Simon will be finished his Honours thesis. He says this is where he needs to focus and I can accept that. It is right, but what if when he finishes we still can’t be right? I want to believe that our pieces will fit neatly- I can see many still do, but all I can do is hope they will complete themselves

As I hope

Starting out in my studies

Exhausted, overworked, trying to aspire. Perhaps when I’ve had a proper night’s rest. Said goodnight too it all and woken anew

Perhaps I can paint the cracks with gold then. It’s what I want for my butter dish- to make something of things that were never made to be this way. But still, they were broken and remade

Perhaps I should accept my own perfections, rather than fear them. It is not their fault (nor mine) that people can be so unkind as to pick them out and brandish them like wounds. Perhaps I need not be so sensitive, but if I lose all of that too

Perhaps I will not be the same person. I guess I don’t have a choice about the cracks. But I do have a choice about how I decorate them

Bluetack or selotape?

Superglue or gold leaf?

Bold grout?

Should I just throw the whole sorry mess away and buy anew?

I’ve tried that before. It never seems as smooth

And often the things I buy later are less sturdy. I’ve always been about keeping. As I sit with my glue, I remember how my father used to be the mender.

Sometimes things would sit for a long time

But on a rainy day, often with my sister or I to be the “holder-together” we would try to mend. Perhaps that will always be me

I’ve been told I’m a “fixer”

But sometimes to be “broken” is not so dysfunctional as we think.

I watched an episode of Dr Who with some friends tonight. It was a Peter Capaldi episode (he’s no David Tennant, but he’s ok). It was about the things we fear- monsters- and had a rhyme I’d never heard, but immediately it felt right:

“What’s that in the mirror? In the corner of your eye? What’s that footstep following? But never passing by? Perhaps they’re all just waiting, Perhaps when we’re all dead. Out they’ll come a slithering, From underneath your bed”

In the end they weren’t real, the monsters. It was all fear. They said it makes

“Faster, cleverer [clearly the writer of this episode did not fear anything to get their grammar right], stronger”

But I only want to be myself

Broken, or unbroken. I’m just terrified of what I might lose

It is difficult to talk about… there was nothing I could do

I am watching a movie called “The Good Lie”. It talks about guilt in a way in which I relate to. It is about Sudan, and children who through war were lost. And found their way to a refugee camp. Then to America.

I see how weak my struggles are next to theirs. It is an arcane story

This walk through darkness and war

Death

This struggle to find a way in a place so strange as America

To fight through memories and battles others cannot see

How can they ever be believed?

How can I?

I feel very weak when I put my story next to theirs; and try to see us as parables

I have lived through many feelings this week and am trying to prepare myself mentally to try to settle some of the memories that pull me undone

There are things I cannot do much for. I cannot undo the assault; nor go back to make sure that my nephew is safe (or as safe as we and his father could make him); I cannot undo the wrongs with my family. I can try to show them that I want to be good. But I cannot do that at the expense of my own values.

My father has a double heart bypass soon. I have lots of memories of what he once was to me. My mother used to say when she was angry that I was “just like my father”. Sometimes I am. I make connections with people; I persevere. He struggled with spelling and his handwriting was atrocious (it still is) but he found other ways. I do that. I wish I could say that and know that it would be taken at the value it is to me. There is nothing I can do that my shunt blocked when I was six; or that I fell behind in school. That my parents feared I would not have the life they wanted for me. I have the life I want though and I will fight for those small moments when my family and I connect. Though I am always on guard for the times my words may be used against me.

There is often nothing I can do for many of the guys I work for. I try to have peace with that. And am managing better with that. At the end of most days I have mostly done enough. I am even getting better at talking with colleagues at what we do, so these ghosts of the day do not creep into my life outside

There are still many things for which I cannot do anything

For being born broken

For putting myself together in a way that doesn’t fit completely

Guilt for being different

But not always in the ways it seems are right

For being fragile

But stronger in ways that others are not.

I am not always good at doing

But I watch; listen; remember

I have kindness. They say. But often it is not enough.

I am getting better at talking. And at realising that our actions are more complex in what they affect then we can ever see. Sometimes someone waves to me in the street; or I work with my first client again (as I did today) and see us connect in a way that is different, yet the same as when people first joked of our differences. Him, the giant; me, the mouse.

I have also thought long and hard though this movie about my own lies. In my heart I know they were never made to hurt or punish. Perhaps slowly I can forgive myself for them. And in time see the injustice as mostly being the pain they kept inside, because I didn’t want others to see. Maybe in time I can see that as wrong to me.

It was difficult… there was nothing I could do

I felt

But like those Lost boys

In their strange country, I am beginning to gather my strength

And can even see that like the movie’s end

I can use it to go back. But in the right way I hope

Because there is something…

Guilt for being there

Soul Society

I am not lucky

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jMynmlKJECs

I’ve been out of my comfort zone this weekend

Backpackers

Market food

People swirling

Panic

But better than the last time

If I wasn’t so busy scrambling from these perfectly normal situations

Falling and scraping and getting up again feeling less than I know I should. I’ve had (almost) the most wonderful, normal weekend with my friend. We’ve had frozen yogurt; coloured in; been running. We both fear less than we used to but the effort is still enormous. I’m proud that I was able to take a nap both days. But panicked when I couldn’t find a tin of tomatoes in the supermarket. It felt like everything was falling in around me

I was trapped

I got away. But never for long

It is my gift and my curse, but there were good times.

It was good to feel understood. When my friend found me drowning silently in Aldi’s she saw this and understood

The day before we had pondered on my friend’s two children and their ability to understand each other in a way that was much more than words. Tim, who is nine whose words Hannah and I heard so differently to the way in which Tim’s sister Phoebe heard. I guess this echoed inside when Hannah found me in the supermarket because while I also bumped by chance into one of my roommates from the backpackers I stayed in, they did not see my struggle in the same way. I hope there will always be someone who understands more, but fear and practicality within me tell me I can’t always live that charmed a life.

I had a lot of time to reflect and felt myself wander back and forth through thoughts.  Something that came through strongly when I met my mother for breakfast on Monday was the way in which I differ so strongly from my family (in my eyes) concerns our interpretation of ideals. I remember as a child asking and asking to sponsor a child through World Vision. We never did, but as an adult the first thing I did on turning twenty-one was to sign up with Save The Children; I colour in because I enjoy it (not because it’s so trendy I couldn’t buy in the shops the pack of colour pencils I was looking for as they were sold out); I read when I want to; my job is more than work. I like to think I am relatively free from constraints

Although I know I am just as likely trapped within my own web. Your web is not a bad place to be, but it’s not always the most comfortable haunt for others. This is how I often feel with my family. I want to find a way to better hold true to my values with them. I feel like the anxiety I fall into stuns my authenticity

For a time I am not who I want to be. I want to move past that.

I also had a chance to reflect on my spirituality. I have not been a churchgoer for a long time and to be frank, I’m not sure that my particular ideals fit within one religious framework (although I’m aware that my philosophy has many religions and no particular God

Maybe if I did I would not feel so uncertain. Those I saw in my friend’s church had such purpose. But in a way I am happy to find my own. I often wish I did know the way, but I am also happy searching

For now

I am beginning to wonder what role Food plays in this. I am fighting and fighting, the closer I get to recovery. I don’t want to depend on food. I don’t want the weakness, but without it I am physically weak. I ran so low on energy last week and this week am still struggling to regain that. I wondered as I watched people walk up and take communion on Sunday. I cannot believe in the body and blood of Jesus, but I can see how we use this architecture of food or drink to nourish us. I still feel a constant war within. I wonder if I could be different

I fear the wrong. I fear

In truth I want to escape the constraints of my own soul society

As I have escaped many of my conditions

But still

I fear

Closure

I spoke with my counsellor today about the shouting on my street a few days ago

The police

How even the pale streetlight that  night was no comfort. I felt unsafe again

In many ways I still do. It seems there is no rest for me

I feel dirty again. There are things about human nature

I thought better of. Before the assault. Many of them I still find hard to personalise to myself and those around me, so I segment them away. I make them “the” rather than “my”.

I spoke about the song “Little Lights” and how I felt like there were fragments of what happened still poisoning me

Like shrapnel. About how I wanted to try to heal some of those wounds. I often think of a scene in the film, Drop Dead Fred with the adult Elizabeth showing love to the child she was. About how she went back to make things right

And I want that. Though some things will always be unresolved.

I spoke about what happened with the assault and how I wanted to meet with my nephew’s father to thank him for all he did. I told her how inadequate I felt, having stepped down after hearing the family court verdict

I know that I am not completely capable of shutting people away, or forgetting. I think that’s part of my gift

But I have grown wiser in my affections

Each time I am maimed I grow back not so easily scarred

There are things I will accept

I am beginning to accept the rift in my family as being nothing more than that we are very different people

I accept my need for quiet and some kind of moderate order

Though at times this gives me the strength and creativity to create more chaos and noise than you’d ever believe possible from me

I have not got closure. Possibly I never will for each event opening and closing as the hours of my life file by.

But for what I can heal, I want to

I still flinch away

From an imaginary hand

Often. And with a feeling of endless humiliation

But the gap is getting smaller

I will have this closure. However imperfect

Little Lights of Regret

There was a domestic on my street yesterday

I heard the shouting and my dog barking and snuck

Over to the fence to make sure it was safe

It always was for me

I know that 99% is true

So long as I kept the distance I did

But the shouting made me flinch. And I know it’s irrational

She’s six hundred kilometers away

But I looked twice behind me for my sister in law’s green Ford

And lay in bed last night listening

Bedroom at night

The police van had still been there two hours later as I left for work

I was grateful for the people it was there to protect that they could perhaps feel safe

And things might be ok

I still can’t feel that. And it is lame because what happened to me was not so harsh. People have been through worse

It just felt like I should have been able to do more

The little lights inside me flicker

Mhttps://wordpress.com/post/94316710/572aybe I could have

Should be stronger

Should be over this

More regret

And the lights are dim as I looked out of the window last night

And thought about my nephew

Joe

I want to finish this

Even if it just means finding peace with his life as it is now. It might not be today or tomorrow. I feel all but burned down to the core

I need strength for this

But I will do it

In time. And whatever the life he leads now

I will be free. And perhaps he will know

He can always come back to us

So We Perceive

I have been told many times that I do not perceive myself

As others do. I guess this is true of many

If not all. The fault in our mind’s eye

They say I judge too harshly, when it comes to myself

Perhaps I am like a Camera Obscura but someone has hidden a horrible picture inside so what is on the outside can’t ever be seen

If the bad is not true to begin with

I find it hard to believe

And spend my day ducking to avoid danger

Often I feel like the dirt enshrines me

If I do anything it will touch others

I try to break free

But I’m so afraid

I can’t see it that way

And it’s not as simple as glasses or a bandaid

They say it is the real world but I am still here

I see it but I can’t get out

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M5jp-MkHwvI

Speak “Spoon”

Lately I’ve been feeling so tired and depleted most days when I get up

It’s an effort even to get through breakfast. If anxiety doesn’t swallow me

First

Today has been one of those days and I’m finding it really hard to let others know I’m struggling at all, let alone to see this horror I try to hide.

I’m holding out on the Prozac kicking in eventually but until then

This perpetual battle between

Myself, me and the outside world

A water cracker and cheese leaves me in a dark swirling panic

I sleep some of the shame and pain away

I am a human equasion

But I am wrong

There is no answer and no matter how hard I try to cope

I’m terrified that in the end it will not be enough

This talk of spoons and coping…

A spoon for each obstacle

I am tripping and slipping among them

And still there are not enough

You Can Count On Me: Breaking the Rules

The internal struggle these past days has left me reeling and barely able to function. The rules I have to break

All of the rules it seems

As this is not just a Game of Food, but

Control

I’ve been working my way through Red Dwarf in the evenings while I study and have felt a lot of parallels with the trials of Kryton

As a child I too felt compelled to “help”

To smooth; to do the right things;

To do them even more perfectly; and still want to be better

To not want to be a burden. The interactions I had with my family supported this. I learned to obey

Not to question

Not to ever want to hurt anyone… I knew hurt

I wanted everything to be straight

Perfect

Small

I remember the perfection of my dolls house furniture, and making my writing tiny

Tiny

and how that developed into the love of small. And how I want that for myself. Any tiny piece of fat feels excessive

How these obsessions spilled into other areas of my life

And I worried that I might not be telling the truth through what I said even though I knew it was the truth of what I saw might not be the

Ultimate truth

What was really there. It niggled inside me and as things felt more and more out of control I began to pull to me the things I could control and find order for those things around me I could save… and when others objected I turned to myself

And if I had to lie… and knowing how little I’ve been eating and not wanting to worry people I’ve been doing a lot of that, but it is not a good fit with me. If you look hard enough you can always tell. And that lie cost heavily inside my conscience. Everything about me felt bad

It’s not natural. The breaking of these rules I live by

And I’m having to do that a lot

Eating

Leaving the house without covering every flaw (people can see my weakness if I leave them). Hating that I worry about something so shallow

Not saying the “right” thing

Not doing the “right” thing. The list goes on.

Like Kryton I am struggling to get a one up on the invisible bonds that hold me back from doing anything I perceive as remotely wrong. I will appologise, but like Kryton not know what for

And every move I make that breaks one of those rules weighs so heavily on my conscience

This is my prison

Of sorts and in it’s habit I find comfort

However hungry

However tired

However lonely

I feel I deserve these things no matter how hard I am trying to teach myself that I don’t. I am trying to teach myself because I want to live, and deep down I know that if I continue like this

That is not assured

The things I do risk my health, safety, happiness, and everything that makes me myself. Others often do not see this private battle

They might see the Rescue Remedy pastilles I take (often I’ll share!)  when things feel too much

But rarely will I let the pain  and panic show

That is against the rules

And scary as hell

But I am slowly learning to break that. And other things so that others can see I’m human too

Elle Irvine: Immeasurable. Self-published

And I hurt too much, while the bones of myself are so close to the surface

And my skin so thin and fragile

I’m fucking terrified

While I rebuild. But I will rebuild

I will

I just have to find what I want to create

Uncommercial Song: I Write My Own Lables

These past few days

Weeks even, I’ve clawed my way through a lot of emotions

I’m far from free, but I’m slowly

Slowly finding a way

Right now I feel as the Pevensie children did, emerging from the wardrobe but searching and searching for a way back.

Wondering which world is real. At work a few of us are doing a challenge: try to walk 10 000 steps a day. The goal is to increase fitness, health, well-being… it is also a key I could use to go back if I wanted to

To anorexia

It’s not so far. People don’t say anything now. Many never did. The desperate needle inside me weedless away, trying to unpick all the new stitches I have sewn

I should know better. I do really. I just don’t want to

Whether I have the measure or not…

It’s been such a huge week without work, training, all the emotional twists and turns; burning, burning, burning down….

 

I feel like I’ve covered most things (bar washing, vacuuming and finishing the dishes). I spoke to a friend and colleague about my worries with work and the rights of my guys being taken for granted; I’ve attended two counselling sessions and re-booked for next time; catching up on work; trying to catch some sleep

I still feel paralysed at the door of my cage

Unable to go further. I want so badly to go back

To losing; to living on adrenaline

I burnt myself by accident yesterday and it shocked me how GOOD it felt

And how simply it could be covered. How many of the lies people believed before

I guess there are few in our lives who really want to know our truth

I know better than to go back there, but there are still things I want

Willpower

To be so small nobody will want to touch me

And they do, I won’t feel it anyway

But that won’t take me anywhere that matters… no matter what I think. I have to trust but I don’t want to

I feel to fragile to rebuild myself all over again

But there must be something left to start from…

What You’ve Got… Know How to Use It

I remember the first time I saw this song on Eurovision. There were so many BLATANT sexual advances (I was also watching Eurovision with a group of mostly guys so THEY didn’t mind) and the song was basically about Slavic Girls using their breasts to get what they want. Welll….

So those of you who know me know I don’t have much in the way of breasts to use for persuasion (and I’m really quite happy that way) but after feeling so defeated yesterday listening to people I work with as CARERS ask how to use legislation to force someone into a haircut they quite frankly don’t need I wondered how I could fight this, and other injustices I see using the compassion I have for people?

I KNOW very well in my heart that I am getting too involved. And I am finding ways SLOWLY to learn to

Debrief

Relax

Find my own time and space

But I also want to take the time to learn BETTER how to do things so that the rights of my guys are protected. But right now I know I am so close to breaking it scares me. I need to take these days I have no work on. I need to take them and USE them to rest and to restart living. Again.

They say the answers to so many things lie within us and really there must be some truth to that, even if it is only a tiny seed

I will learn to use this to my advantage, but right now I am so physically and mentally exhausted even the people I love most in the world to be with scare me. I need some time just with me too!

Except in my case this would NEVER even happen as there would be a small cat sitting by my feet

I was talking with my counsellor today about a lot of things and I told her something that scared me deeply. Many people would never have picked me as a person with an eating disorder.

I am slim but not emaciated

I eat healthily but mostly manage to hide my obsessions well

I keep pain tucked inside

I am slowly

Slowly learning to do better by myself

And to feel safe to let others see when I am not doing well

But I am not BETTER yet

I feel so deeply ashamed

Afraid too when people see my weaknesses. I have struggled even to go out or look in a mirror all week because I feel so hideous and huge. Imperfect and frightened

I guess this is normal considering where I came from

And hard again to fight as this is the only normal I have ever known

I guess again this comes back to where I’ve come from and feeling that I had to hide it all. If I ever want to be truly free (and coming back to work, to be of full, BETTER use to my guys) I need to move beyond this.

People say I have a strength inside me I struggle to see because I have always kept going. No matter what. It’s what I do. I guess the gift is that I don’t know how to give in. Hopefully though that there will always be space to learn