Categories
Words.

Being Eimear.

Laughter cannot be contained.

Writing passionately, unrestrained.

Probably paint and coffee stained.

Bundles of sheets scribbled upon with pure devotion.

A brain filled with ideas, worries and commotion.

Hearing people with empathy and emotion.

Lost in a books pages with intense concentration.

A tendency for messiness and procrastination.

Distracted easily, encapsulated by rumination.

When I feel lost, nature helps me survive.

I stumble through darkness and yet I thrive.

I am human and fallible, but I am alive.

I hold those I love with the deepest affection.

I sometimes build walls for a sense of protection.

Quiet time is needed for gratitude and reflection.

Open and honest about how I feel.

Accepting parts of me I have tried to conceal.

Learning to love being me and starting to heal.

Categories
Thoughts Words.

Show up.

My advice? Get the help you deserve.

I have spent a lot of time in a purgatory somewhere between anxiety, low mood and sleepwalking through my life.

This year finally pushed me to breaking point. It finally made me realise that I couldn’t let my fears control me anymore. That I had to face some uncomfortable truths and do the only work I was not willing to do. To learn to stop hating myself.

I had pushed my body, my mind and my soul to the point of burn out. What’s the next thing? How do I be better? How do I achieve more? How do I get the perfect body?

These were my values even up to a few months ago. And it seeped into my relationships too. I became obsessed with what I ate, how much I exercised and body checks. I tried to hate my body into changing and expected to be happy as a result. I neglected the people who were there for me and kept running to the next thing.

The healing process is rough. I’m not going to lie. I still slip up… A LOT.

A turning point for me in my healing has been accepting help. I mean really taking on advice and realising that I am not super human. Everyone faces suffering, and everything is relative.

So doing life alone- no matter how introverted you are, no matter how independent or strong you are is just not an option. This is not a one woman show. Your vulnerabilities make you lovable. Make you human.

Another major lesson that took me the longest time to accept was that this isn’t just a quick fix. This isn’t another thing to perfect. Or something on my to do list. Or something that I can use to gain peoples respect and acceptance. This simply is not a means to an end.

Healing requires showing up every day and living by your values.

This does not mean you have to overexert yourself or overfill your days.

 I find that writing out my top 3 values on a white board or piece of paper helps me to visualise and organise my days better.

  1. Self-care- This includes my body mind and soul. So including hobbies, exercise and relaxation are really important for me to incorporate into my weeks in order to avoid burnout.
  • Family + Friends- This one can be tricky to balance!! I found saying no really hard and was such a people pleaser- I still fall into this trap at times which is why having my values listed out helps me to come back to them with compassion and with no judgement.

 With this I aim to put in energy to the people who put energy into me. People who are with me through thick and thin are the people I try to give most of my energy back to. This helps me when I am feeling down and tempted to isolate myself and push people away. I remember all the energy people have put into being there for me. All of the people who continue to show up for me.

There are friends that I text regularly and occasionally but still value them so much. I have learned that accepting that friendships vary and do not have to be ranked, compared or all the same allows for more peaceful relationships and I do not expect too much of them.

  • Sharing/ Working/ Connecting- This includes writing, making a living, connecting and taking part in society with everybody else.

These values can be changed or updated whenever it feels right and only serve to help you have more organisation and peace of mind in your days. They are not rules and you do not have to honour them if it doesn’t feel right.

 I do not stick to them every day but I try my best. Leave space for mistakes and errors. Nobody is perfect. And that is what makes life interesting and beautiful.

I just find that I have a lot less anxiety when I balance my needs and responsibilities in a healthy manageable way.

They also help with planning. If I have a long list of things to do on a particular day I can categorize my activities and I usually chose just 3 things- 1 from each category to do every day. This helps me to still respect my values while not burning out.

This also satisfies my need for achievement because even on my bad days I can look at my little wins.

For instance if what I can manage one day is to chat to my mom. This serves as self-care, family time and connection. Thus making this day as valid as any other day even if I achieve or do a lot more.

Two more things that help me are gratitude and ‘little wins’.

A treasured friend of mine got me a whiteboard and I adore it. I aim to write on it daily with just three things I am thankful for and three little wins. Even if I am too tired to do it or not in the mood, I just say them in my head and it helps to bring me a slight change in perspective.

Even the days you are really struggling and hopeless, I think this can give you space even for a moment- to see the hope beyond your sadness, depression or mental rumination. Even if some days all you can be thankful for is shelter, food, water or your breath.

Once you start you will find other things in your day that you didn’t even remember happening.

This could be the kindness of a stranger, a nice meal, a nice customer, a good conversation, laughter, a TV programme, an Instagram post, or even just having this time to be grateful. It sprouts optimism and helps you to identify the little things that bring so much value and meaning to your life.

Gratitude has especially helped me with unhealthy, restrictive eating patterns. To day by day moment by moment chose to be grateful for my body rather than hating it. Rather than wishing it to be like anybody else’s or to reach societies impossible standards. This is an ongoing journey and I still feel negative emotions, I just don’t try to get rid of them as much anymore.

I know that this time of year is so so difficult and you are more than likely being bombarded with plans for exercise, self-development, and weight-loss.

But I find that if you struggle with perfectionism, procrastination, over-exerting yourself to reach impossible standards, self-care can become another achievement to excel at.

Love yourself and let yourself heal in whatever way suits you. This is just something that is helping me so I wanted to share it. Please don’t put pressure on yourself. This is not scientifically proven and is not written by a healthcare professional.

 Just a girl who has read a lot of books.

Categories
Words.

Rosie.

A chair lies empty, lifeless, and bare.

Filled only with shadows of the memories we share.

Once held by mischievous giggles, warm faces.

Slobbery kisses, Strangling embraces.

Infectious laughter compelling hearts to dance.

Relentless Robbing at every waking chance.

Boisterous roguery, unrestrained affection,

Gentle soul, with kindness and connection.

A smile that could quell a storm and calm an ocean,

Open, unreserved displays of devotion.

Your playful spirit forever in our hearts,

We treasure your stories though we are apart.

Categories
Thoughts Words.

Be Yourself.

Every single one of us has a box we are trapped in. Confining discomfort we tolerate, numb and avoid straying from. We all wonder what lifting the lid might look like. What expression of ourselves could be set free?

Yet in reality what we see is ugly. It is messy. It is not a neat path. It’s thorny, it’s full of unpleasant truths. It forces us to give up our comfortable habits, and to relinquish our pain. It compels us to challenge our fears, so that they no longer control our actions. It pushes us to ignore our critics, and dive full frontal, all cannons blazing into uncertainty.

Into opportunities, dreams and possibilities. We are hushed, tossed away, rejected, and jeered at. But it doesn’t matter. Because we can laugh and fly and realise that life is a carnival of weird, bizarre chaos. It can’t be orderly, it can’t be perfectly balanced in all aspects. We will mess up, we will get hurt and we will upset people who chose to stay confined.

But at least we will be living. At least we will let the gifts we have so kindly been blessed with be free. Because to die having lived a half-life would be the greatest tragedy of all.

To have hustled, to have busied ourselves, to have scurried through life in the pursuit of pleasing others. Chasing our own unreachable expectations. To have forgotten what it feels like to be alive. What it feels like to be vibrant. To have fun. To laugh. Blocking everyone else from experiencing our quirky, beautiful, remarkable souls. Our passions. Our voices.

Stray from your cage. Dare greatly. Dance to the funkiest music like no one is watching. Wear clothes that light you up. Love openly, speak honestly and keep the ones who really love you closest to you.

.

Image by Rupi Kaur*** Taken from her book ‘Home Body’.

Categories
Words.

My sisters presence.

It’s like a warm room.

A welcome light.

A laugh that makes your belly dance around.

It’s like a smell that takes you a million miles away to some place familiar, recognisable, yet new all at the same time.

A cherished friend hugging you. A safety net when you’re drowning in the oceans depths.

The last gulp of coffee on a cold winters commute.

Opening the door after a long day at work. 

Your favourite song coming on in the car.

You and your childhood best friend running through grass bare feet.

A light that fills you and makes you want to shine.

Categories
Poetry. Thoughts Words.

The beauty of your pages.

Peeling through chapters and tearing out pages.

Only to tape them back together and scope out answers.

Tugging at words, sewing them together, editing.

Filing the edges, polishing the cover.

Alone? The exception? Individual?

We are all of the same paper.

Bound together in chapters of varying lengths.

Different fonts, languages, styles.

Paragraphs we would rather not read.

And ones we act out every moment of every day.

To convince our readers that the book is worthwhile.

Stained, blemished, disregarded.

Laying dishevelled in a second hand shop.

Now only read by the ones who could recite a chapter with closed eyes.

Seeing past the grammatical errors,

Beyond the aesthetics, through the hyperbole.

And so a book never dies.

Its’ stories may fade into the background of busied minds and disappear.

But the feeling that book gave to its readers can never be destroyed.

For it lives on.

In the tingling of a chest.

In the dreams of a child’s imagination.

In the changes people are inspired to make.

In the pages of other books.

Where light spreads and flows and never ceases to be.

Categories
Uncategorized

Hope

She is trapped in a box. There are chains tied around her ankles. Weighing down the chains she bares is a heavy stone, heavier than she.

The box is filled with water, engulfing her body, soon submerging her head beneath it. She splutters and chokes fighting for air. She pulls the chains as she panics and screams helplessly.

She keeps going until she is truly exhausted and out of air. In her final exasperated breaths she realises that she can lift her head above the water. And that there is a key perched beside her.

 Outside of the box there is space. There is peace. There is hope. It’s familiar. She recognises it. Has she been here before? Has she heard of this place? It feels like home.

It is bright and warm. It welcomes her like a treasured friend, like the scent of a loved one, like the sound of the ocean, like the stillness in a tree.

Sometimes when the floor gets slippery she falls back in the box. And again she cannot breathe. The water penetrates her lungs and she chokes for air.

But not for long. For she knows there is a key beside her and that she has the strength to lift her head above the surface. And that this place is always there, waiting for her return.

Categories
Flash Fiction.

20 Years Stolen by a Single Letter.

She slugs the end of her coffee, cold and brittle settling like silt on her tongue.

She swallows unknowing. Around her there is white clinical walls extending from corner to corner. There is a blemish in their intersection, but she doesn’t notice.

There is a painting, smudged on a canvas. A blur. An insignificant stroke of a brush. No different to that of a couple trying out paint colours for their first shared bedroom. And yet he’s gone.

Her phone buzzes absently in the background, like tinnitus in her ears. So many people vying for her attention like it’s a commodity that can be attained and toyed with. Absent breaths emerge from her in sighs. She doesn’t notice.

His phone was always there. Always the antagonist that disrupted a shared meal, the intruder that demanded to be answered in the most intimate of moments, the contender who stole 20 years of marriage from her, with one text.

‘Harry will you collect the kids tomorrow? Thanks, A.’

White clinical walls surrounded her 20 years earlier too. Branding her as infertile, accusing her of being worthless. Silent car journeys. Unspoken conversations. A rushed marriage to prove he still loved her.

And yet here she sits, barren. Gaping like a wound that never quite heals. Wrapped in a flimsy tourniquet that never feels quite right. That falls off after 20 years leaving a scar exposed in plain sight, for all to see. For all to pry open with pity and ‘thinking of you cards’ and suggestions of single bachelors who never wanted kids anyway.

And ‘A’. Fruitful bearer of his kids. Every hidden notification, every hushed phone call, every text demanding attention.

Avoided conversations. Faked orgasms. Failed IVF.

20 years stolen by a single letter.