Note to Self

I broke my own rules and let my emotions spill out onto Facebook.  I know, I see people every day do exactly this and each time I witness the support of their friends.

I try to refrain from doing so,  because of my own bloody stubborn mindedness.

Yesterday I might have broke my own rules,  but I also discovered the reality that people not only care,  but they also understand where I am coming from.

I’m not alone,  we do indeed all fight our own battles…  However it also helps to be kinder to myself too xx

 

Anne Harrison 20.07.17

My Friend Anxiety

It is cold
Creeps through your soul like steel claws
They clutch your heart
Your tummy
Your gut
Frozen

Your hands start to curl
Stiff fingers clenched
You can’t breathe
Or breathe too quickly
Hold your breath
Frozen

A white wash from head to toe
Heart racing
Mind racing
Thoughts racing
But you’re still
Frozen

You’re detached from reality
The mundane becomes surreal
Focus foggy exhausting
Feel sick
Can’t eat
Frozen

*

It’s all in your head
Snap out of it
You need to be more positive
Look on the bright side
You don’t look ill

*

But I’m in bed at 8:30pm writing shitty poetry
Because a phone call is too difficult
So i seek peace in sleep
Using words to touch kindred spirits
Until dreams take me away

*

Anne Harrison  19.07.17

Unleashing caged up words

*Personal*

^this little word is important… it means this is a diary entry, it is not fiction^

I write a little personal shit at times because I follow an interesting theory that ‘Writing about emotions may ease stress and trauma’ it means, when I have a bad day (which are thankfully few and far between) I write. I pour my heart, my emotions and my pain down upon *my* page.

I don’t even go into detail, I skirt around subjects which haunt me. I use words to free my mind without having to trouble anyone. I like this freedom, I value this ability to have this page for self expression.

I have chosen to focus on my Poetry lately, this was a proud moment in my life and because I feared being seen as big-headed, it took months to choose to share the whole assignment. This also gave me a short break from my fiction and gave me a little time to reflect upon how I use this blog for my scattering of ‘diary’ entries.

Feeling unable to express yourself, when you have already established a good mental outlet for bad days, is utterly crippling. Like feeling caged up inside your mind, because my thoughts torture me with guilt about letting free emotions upon my page…
… why should I feel guilty? 
Why should I give up something which helps lifts the lid on painful memories, it’s unhealthy to cage words, it’s such a relief at times to pour my heart out into words…

This is my freedom, this is my self expression, this is not a ‘woe-is-me’ this is where I put my hurt, so it can’t hurt me.

Through my words, through my blog, I am free!

If you see any blog marked *Personal* you are hereby also free to choose to read my words or not, but I won’t give up using a tool which is of benefit to my mental health.

Family

I’m just Me

Thanks,
Anne Harrison  17.07.17

Crossing Paths

FE in Creative Writing, Poetry Assignment at Leicester University

 

As ‘Crossing Paths’ is made up of two poems spliced together and rearranged to create a visual image with words. The concept requiring the reader to rotate the paper, to mentally follow the paths of the two poems that have relating themes. Indicating that there is balance in nature and words alike… The two (untitled) pieces are as follows: 

***

5am wake up calls tip-tapping along the hull

precision dog-fight pilots with

a cascade of noise excited chatter

squabbling feathers fly

i turn to see your black glass eye hungry

you come so close yet still so cautious

you talk to me you watch me

yet you still won’t trust me

our royal highness you do not ignore

giant feet slapping churning frothing

water he reaches his full long length

tip-tapping upon glass round

the watchful mother guarding

black cotton wool balls of life

shrill cheeping calling cries

alert learning flight

once i saw a flash so bright so swift

brilliant orange electric blue a purr

hovering wings flutter zap gone

a split second of breathless awe

***

i arrived in the heart of winter amidst falling snow

trapped in the mud my arrival scarred the earth

my whole life wrapped up in boxes

i was alone

frozen water immense sheets of ice fizzled and cracked

electric sounds echoing through the air

a creak ting snap friction

i thought i would never be warm again

the scent of new life brings hope

rich thick earth parts for growth

sleeping seeds awake reach for light

a frisky underlying desire

hatch doors thrown open to welcome the sun

we count babies from week to week

watching hatchlings grow yet

only those strong survive

the leaves decorate the surface water

wood is horded and stored

a fresh nip clips the air with

a taste of frost

we circle water rises and drops

in the heart of nature

weather rules and i learn

i am never alone

***

Anne Harrison 30.06.17

Home

Dreams, Reflections and Clarity…

*Personal Blog*

 

Last night I had a dream, I don’t usually recall my dreams, but this was vivid and frightening. In my dream I had a total breakdown, as I write the details are swiftly scattering from my thoughts. Yet my Mother was still alive in the dream, she was harsh and unsympathetic, disregarding my breakdown and walking away. I was a wreck, utterly immobile, my physical form trapped by my raging mind. Blocked from activity, screaming silently… Always screaming in my thoughts…

I sought help, walking down the yellow lines in the road until I found a house that would give me shelter and hope… Yet I was early, I was sent away while they took someone else into the property, escorted them to the guest room where they would be staying, I walked away towards a park, which was part of a park from my youth.

Upon awakening, I could hear the rain on my roof, that was soothing. Cats wanted feeding and the morning gave me little time for reflection.

***

It is no lie that I have been battling my own little mental monsters recently, a lot of this has to do with some painful truths which have emerged after my Mother’s death… The prominent pondering is whether or not she really loved me at all?

Six months on, I’m still awaiting grief counselling, initially this is something I snubbed and rejected but as the year dwindles by I am left considering that this maybe a good idea… Especially when dreams like this haunt my mind.

I am grateful that I have this blog, besides my silly little tale, I can freely express myself and pour all my thoughts onto the screen. Which I have done over and over again throughout 2017. I keep returning to this theme, I keep finding myself so close to breaking point and each time I turn to writing. I write until my demons subside and I can regain clarity.

I am calm as I write this morning, despite my lingering nightmare, despite feeling like I’ve failed in life throughout the first half of the year… I wonder if it is too easy to blame my failings on having to deal with Mum’s loss… I wonder if it is other little niggling facts that are a painful reality I have to deal with – externally I am almost dismissive in regards to some details (forgive me if I can not explain) Internally, I know that if I dwell, I will snap.

This I can not afford to allow, in my dreams maybe I crack, broken, rejected and cast aside. In reality, I write.

Writing gives me focus, even if it makes for dreadful blog reading… I would apologise, but why beg forgiveness for something which ultimately helps. I feel like I freedom, my mind is clear, I feel lighter, more focused. Like blogging gives me the ability to unravel my tangled thoughts and find direction.

I can face my day with a clear head and let the dream fade from my thoughts… One day, maybe I will find the words to go into the detail I need to cry.

Today is not that day.

Thank you for being there for me x

 

Love, Anne Harrison 27.06.17

When Words Fail You

And your brain just won’t shut up…

… Mood crashes and everything,  EVERYTHING is just far too much…

My mind is my own worst enemy today

Broken Words

 

you can stare at the screen for as long as you like and still it remains blank…

 

the words are there

you know they are there

they have been running around your thoughts for days

you can picture the scene

hear the voices of your characters

they push into your dreams

they play in your daydreams

lingering on a long bus ride

 

but

 

sat before the screen

the words flee

the scene fades

words slip from your fingers

their voices silent

everything is distracting

focus scattered

 

sit

 

i have an hour

i had an hour

time dwindles

still i stare at the keys before me

qwerty mocking me

another lunchtime escaping creation

 

confused

 

even non fiction is fuddled

a change of direction

failed

im still sitting here

still sighing hard

 

watch

 

half my time is lost

and these words

are all i have

my fiend

 

im using the delete key more than i care too

words are written

then deleted

gone

 

i know the scene is there

i know what happens next

i know what i want to write

i know ill be on twitter instead

 

Anne Harrison 09.06.17

 

 

 

 

 

 

Forgotten Poetry

 

Anne Harrison

Posted – 26.05.17

Written – Date Unknown…

Wednesday Wonderings

 

This is me Today

Compliments are a pleasant surprise, I am humbled when I get a lovely message from someone saying how much they have enjoyed reading my work. It doesn’t happen very often and I don’t fish for comments. I just write because I love to write. I already know that it is far from perfect and it’s not destined to be anything more than scribbles on a blog. Because I write for fun, not for fortune, not for fame.

I have a little following here, which is very comfortable, these are my invisible audience, my friends, those I address freely without fear of judgement, for this is my safe haven, my corner of the internet where I can discuss personal thoughts along side fiction and if you’re really unlucky, my dreadful poetry.

Thankfully I have had some lovely comments from friends and strangers alike, which encourage my words, I’m inspired to write and my silly little story flows freely from my mind to the screen, my fingers carefully finding the right letters on the keyboard to create the words I’m thinking… It’s all a weird kinda magic if you think about it…

I wonder how far my words travel, I wonder what inspired people to follow my blog, I wonder a lot… I know that there are countless other writers out there in cyberspace, all seeking an audience, most far superior to my own humble attempts. I read plenty of other blogs with sincere admiration this casts doubt upon my own wild hieroglyphics. I badly need to edit, yet because I write straight from my thoughts, the whole editing process kinda gets sorely neglected. I am wordy, overly wordy, but inspired by Lovecraft (among others) I adore collecting beautiful rolling words and long expressive sentences. The words are there to be used after all..

My Self Doubt is born from a fear of judgement, it follows me throughout various aspects of my life (a significant example is my weight) my self doubt craves approval and security, pacified self doubt is transformed into peace of mind and all this can be turned around by a few kind words… there is so much power in words, they can destroy or they can elate.

I think it’s important to be kind with words to others, for you never know what is hidden under the surface and how the right words might just clear their own clouds of self doubt and ignite smiles…

Maybe one day I’ll face the dreaded editing? There again, maybe that’s not my ultimate goal and I shouldn’t worry so much over what I wonder?

A few ponderings over my lunch-break today to share with you.

 

Love Anne 17.05.17

There’s nothing so cruel as memory

*Person Musings*

 

As a child, my first experience of being humiliated and disillusioned was a painful experience at Sir Jonathan North. I was deeply passionate about history, I wanted to study history and either be a historian, librarian or work in a museum. That was my goal, my fascination with ancient cultures… Especially the Romans, meant that I had collected a fine display of Roman pottery and coins. When we covered this era in history class, I was beyond excited and chose to take my collection to class to share in a ‘show and tell’…

Well that was a disaster, my class ‘friends’ mocked my collection… Calling the whole thing a waste of time and boring etc…
My bubble was burst, I was disheartened and at that point neglected my life goals, feeling humiliation and bullied…

My passion became a dirty secret, I lost a lot of the pottery (because it reminded me of being bullied) but somewhere in my heart the ancient Romans refused to let go of my interest…

So when the chance arose to visit the dig site in Leicester last weekend, I couldn’t resist, waiting an hour in drizzle and cold with hundreds of others, for a glimpse of Roman Leicester awoken some of my passion, but also a fair deal of humiliation.

However it has thrown into light an interesting concept in my mind, how one painful experience changed the whole direction of my life, because I was bullied for something I loved… Had I not took comments so personally, had I shrugged off such negative attitudes, would I have never been bullied for so long?

Had I just ignored them, would I have followed my dream, fulfilled my goals and become an academic? How different could my life had been had I reacted differently to one singular event?

 

Anne Harrison 15.05.17