Time to say goodbye

This morning I had someone round to look at the house. It's too early to tell if they will be my eventual buyers, it's a huge decision to make and somethng I wouldn't want anyone to get wrong. Time will tell and once more I can do nothing but WAIT!

Then I spent the afternoon watching Back to the Future 2 with youngest son, a great thing to do on a wet Saturday afternoon.

Because it is a film I have seen countless times I decided to "do" something constructive while half watching.

It was perhaps an unlikely choice of occupation but I decided to read through the sympathy cards sent to me when Andrew died.

There are two shoe boxes full, not all sympathy ones, some from the first Christmas and birthdays without him.

I have read the tender words bequethed to me and been filled with an overwhelming sense of love that people care so deeply but without exception I have thrown each one away.

It is time to move on, the kind words will live on in my heart.

Unlike Marty McFly in Back to the Futiure I don't have a time machine, I have no way back to the past to fix things there.

But I can change the future.

And on that note I have decided this will be my final re-ravelling blog post.

For a while it has lost direction and focus as have I.

I have unravelled, re-ravelled as best as I can but now it it time for the next stage of my journey and I have set up a new blog called in search of lost glitter...

I explain my title in the very first post but otherwise it will be a blog of just stories and poems, or at least that is my intention.

I hope you will follow me there, re-ravelling has been fun but it's time to move on continuing my search for sparkle and lost glitter that I began here...

A new Twitter writing dare...

Oh dear I've found some new writing challenges on Twitter from @storybandit, including this one 

We dare you to write a 199-word story that includes the following words: scream toddler metallic glazed failure #writingdare

well obviously now I am back in a writing mood I can't resist, so here's what I came up with. It didn't quite go the way I thought it would but it was interesting to write ...

There was a time she would have screamed in outrage, thrown herself on the floor and had a full toddler tantrum fit.

But now the medication gave her face a glazed countenance. 

She was revered as one of the success stories here at Sunny Brooke. An oh so cheery establishment where problems were dismissed and swept away by the popping of pills that kept the residents numb.

Her eyes unfocussed and the world passed by. It was easier that way.

Only she’d been getting restless for a little while, surreptitiously hiding the metallic tasting tablets in the pot plant behind where she sat for dinner.

With fascination she monitored her own little science experiment. For weeks the plant showed little ill effect.  However there was a renewed spark growing within her, a sense of something stirring. 

Then one day she discovered a dead leaf lying like crumpled brown paper by her chair. Stooping she bent down to retrieve it, turning it casually to dust between her quivering fingers.

It was time once again to embrace the idea of being a failure. It was time to see if she could still scream and put a voice to her growing disenchantment.

#VisDare - Precarious

Recently I’ve been writing Twitter poems, mostly inspired by some excellent poetry prompts. A mere 140 characters – give or take – I’ve found there are many ways to stretch your word limit when a single tweet is not quite enough!

However today I have returned to a more substantial writing prompt and I have up to 150 words to play with thanks to Angela Goff’s surreal #visdare picture prompt with the optional title Precarious…

When my world turned upside down I felt as if the “game” was being played without me.

It continued and I watched as if in a dream unsure of what my “moves” should be.

I no longer knew the rules but as time passed I realised I could make up my own this side.

Forwards, backwards, sideways, jumping - I concocted my own intricate dance steps.

But there is no one to watch, no challenge playing on my own, I have to find my way home.

This means taking a leap of faith, over the edge, into the abyss, hoping gravity will pull my back to earth and return my feet to solid ground.

Now here I stand finally ready to jump.

Unclenching my fingers from all I hold onto here in my upside down world, I let go.

I tumble, wondering what I will meet on the other side!

I don’t know if my words make any sense but I throw them out there hoping they reach someone who understands or someone who needs to hear them.

For me “letting go” always means giving everything back to God.

Once again on my own I have constructed a tangled knotted mess. It is such a jumble I’m not sure any more what I was trying to create in the first place.

But once more I drag the tattered unravelled and reravelled remnants to the cross and offer a heartfelt apology knowing that God will graciously smooth out each tangled thread. He will give me back what I need piece by piece, if I let Him and don’t snatch everything back!

It’s precarious standing on the edge when you know that’s the only way down but this morning I found this on Twitter…

“Sometimes you have to jump first,

and build your wings on the way down”

I guess that’s a good description of faith.

God’s never really let me down; I think it might just be time to trust Him once more…

Do you know where you’re going to…?

When I went to the tip a few weeks ago with Andrew’s records suddenly I heard this song on the radio

I cried my eyes out saddened by the thought I was letting something go that was so precious to us both but also aware I have to let go to move forward.

But I don’t know where I am going anymore. At the moment I feel as if I am making such a mess of everything on my own and today once more for no apparent reason I am in floods of tears.

I miss Andrew so much and wish he would just walk through the front door with his cheery “honey I’m home” said in jest, a take-off of American sitcoms.

I wish he would look at the accumulated mess and resolve to sort it out together. Because together we could do this

Cue another Diana Ross song 

On my own I fill my days up with nonsense but every now and again a bitterly cold wind blows away the fairydust and I can see what’s underneath, just me, lost, alone and in a muddle.

I push on each and every door I come across hoping one will open, but when one gives I fall flat on my face and it hurts!

I reach for bits of glitter but however far I stretch it soon becomes clear they are merely pinpricks of light in the night sky beyond my grasp.

I used to be able to write myself happy, somehow turn the sad thoughts around, today I think I’ve lost the knack.

But every day some small things do make me laugh out loud and I am using them as stepping stones to cross this river of tears.

I have no idea where they will lead me, or if they will have me spinning in circles, but smiles and laughter are always good.

And one thing always leads to another like a "chain reaction"...

 

... now that's a song that will always make me laugh and cry... but that's another story!

Has anyone ever written anything for you?

There was a saying often quoted to me as a child that 

“Sticks and stones may break my bones 

but words will never hurt me”

Thankfully we recognise all too well these days that some words can be very damaging. 

I have had plenty of things said to me in the past that on a bad day can still weigh my down and I can trace back a lot of my own insecurities to a few key spoken words and phrases which have left the deepest of scars.

I’ve been very aware over the past week how many other people out there have been stung by a misplaced and careless word too. Some of which I will admit have probably fallen from my own lips and I am truly sorry.

But I don’t really want to dwell on the bad, sad words any more than necessary, instead I want to delight in the happy words and compliments I have been given, especially recently.

It started two days ago when out of the blue I received a compliment on Twitter about my hair!

Without boasting I have to say that my hair has always been one of my best features, long, luxurious and now the colour comes from a bottle probably even more striking!

Now I’m the type of girl who gives compliments to strangers all the time when I meet them.

“I love your dress/coat/hair colour/shoes /nail varnish etc etc!”

But these are compliments from one girl to another and my kind words the other day were from a man I’d never met, just a follower of a friend and our paths crossed for the briefest of moments.

He just made a comment in a Tweet that my hair was AWESOME in capital letters just like that! WOW!

I don’t know how I’m supposed to react in these situations; I usually blush, get tongue tied and feel like I am fourteen again! My finger hovers precariously over the send button wondering if I should tweet back. 

However for once I just responded politely saying thank you while quietly smiling to myself. I am beginning to learn how to graciously accept kind words when they are given. It is something we all seem to need to learn.

But then yesterday I had a whole string of words written for me, actually an entire poem.

I have always, desperately wanted someone to write something for me, the nearest I got to Andrew writing anything was a shopping list of what we needed from B & Q!

My special poem is not a romantic love poem in the traditional sense. It is about my love for Andrew and the boys, words about loss, finding the strength to carry on, dry my tears and laugh again.

The man who wrote my poem for me also suffered an unexpected bereavement around the same time I did, because of this I know his kind words are written straight from the heart and are therefore extra special. I am truly flattered he took the time out to write this for me, I know it wasn't easy.

However it really doesn’t take much to make people feel loved. A poem is not always required and you are stuck for words to say; a smile, even the smallest compliment, a “like” on Facebook or “favourite” on Twitter will often do the trick and let people know you care.

But if perchance you do decide to write or speak just be sure you always use the kindest of words in all situations because words somehow last forever, buried deep and lasting long in our memories when all else is faded.

Kind words rescue us from the saddest days, make us bolder and somehow fortify us for what lies ahead.

Honestly I haven’t stopped smiling since I watched my poem appearing on the Twitter time line and in preparation for that day when my smile slowly begins to diminish I have printed out a copy ready to read those beautiful words once more and just smile! 

Or if I cry it will be those happy kind of tears, the ones that fall when you realise you are loved and someone out there really cares...

The land of make believe where the little blue birds tweet…

I admitted a while back that been extra distracted of late and my mood has altered very little since. I’m still here in a house I can’t sell feeling stuck, thinking my life will never change for the better!

To that end I’ve been avoiding the real world, hiding my paperwork and trying to escape the overwhelming grief that is so stubborn it won’t go! 

However I know from past experience that my moods are subject to change very quickly and this can’t last much longer can it? 

And while I wait for some excitement in my life there is always Twitter, my latest favourite waste of time!

Only a few months ago I decided to give up Twitter altogether just because I was getting bored with it and couldn’t see the point of following the people I did.

My timeline then was filled mostly with two sorts of people

·         Writers promoting their latest blogs posts/ books/stories and I don’t feel like a “writer” anymore. Was I ever? Isn’t it all just hype spinning out of control?

·         And Christians expounding lots of wisdom that I didn’t always want to hear. God may have a plan for me but he is keeping it so secret I am totally frustrated to the point of falling out with him on a daily basis!

In the end I didn’t delete my account, somehow I knew I’d have a change of heart and in the last few months I have added a third group of people I follow and who follow me - my #Musketeer friends. 

And I hold my hands up and admit I now spend so much time on Twitter my best friend has to tweet me to get my attention because I don’t always answer her texts!

It all started with conversations about which musketeer/actor we fancied most – we are like a bunch of giggly schoolgirls sometimes and it is so good to laugh and daydream – I’ve reverted to being a teenager again!

It’s crazy to think they would be too old for me if I were still a teenager and they are far too young now I am somewhere in my forties (let’s just leave my exact age out of this - I've told you before anyway!)

But over the last few weeks I’ve discovered something else new to me on Twitter that I never knew existed – Role Play.

Some people have special Role Play accounts and pretend to actually be the Musketeers and other assorted historical characters.

Now one of my friends sternly raises her eyebrows at this, concerned that I am chatting to the wrong kind of men! She always has been suspicious whereas I am probably too naïve and trusting.  

I promise her I will be careful and not get carried away…too far! It’s a bit of harmless flirting and quite honestly I could use the practice! Most are university students, some are older and a few have admitted being single but you never know for sure what's true and what's not (inside or outside the brackets)!

It is fun, reading Musketeer storylines played out, the writing is usually excellent and has you on the edge of your seat as you wait for the next tweet to appear.  Meanwhile another thread weaves in and out of the timeline made up of those of us reading and making comments.

Sometimes us “real” people even get to join in and it gets confusing, it’s sad, it’s funny, sometimes poignant and often very sexy *blushes* - I am learning lots. 

I’m not sure I can explain it all very well without if sounding, well just a bit strange to the uninitiated. My real life friends shake their heads at my new found hobby but they know only too well it will probably be another passing phase, another step along my grief journey perhaps, another way I try to mend my broken heart or at least fill in the gaps.

Consequently I have become a part of yet another on line community who at this moment in time are encouraging me, supporting me and mostly making me smile. That’s got to be a good thing.

In return hopefully I am being as encouraging and giving out as much as I receive because as people open up you can see underneath we are all the same - aching, hurting, needing - and Twitter is such a great way to communicate succinctly, dispensing positive thoughts like drops of April showers.

And I’ve found it easy to just drop into a conversation that I will pray about something. It’s not a glib comment I truly mean it and if people want to ask me more about my Christianity they can. Yes my faith is a little shaky at the present time but it’s still there under pinning everything, it always will be.

I think carefully about what I tweet and try not to get myself into controversial situations I feel uncomfortable with.

So now my Twitter timeline is made up of Musketeer fans, who make me smile, Christians who regularly challenge me and writers who remind me that once I wanted to write too and even if my words only fill 140 characters I think it’s good to remember that that is still writing!