Welcome to my attempt to live fully and honestly, to sing out the song of myself, to truly know who I am......

.....either that or the ramblings of a barely coherant, tired out mum of two!!

Thursday, 27 July 2006


What are your foundations built on? Who laid your foundation stone?

For many of us it is our parents that lay down the groundwork on which we build our lives. If our parents weren't too screwed up themselves and were up to the job most of these stones will provide good foundations. Things like knowing right from wrong, respect for authority, belief in ourselves.

Sadly for some of us our parents were not able to provide such solid foundations and in some cases they may have deliberately used shoddy materials. Abuse whether it is physical, sexual, mental or emotional can leave us adrift on ever changing foundations. Just as we figure out how the world works we find the foundation stone is faulty and what we thought we knew turns out not to be true or reliable.

We have to re-lay our foundations, perhaps through counselling or the love of faithful friends and partners. Sometimes we need help to realise that the way we look at the world isn't the way most people see it. As a Christian I have tried, and often failed, to replace my dodgy foundations with the foundation stone that is the triune God.

God never changes and His foundations are true and solid. He can be relied on, even in the darkest times. Thanks be to God!

Wednesday, 19 July 2006

One Day At A Time

Poem #3 really is an end of the line type poem. It was during one of my darkest times and I had no desire to continue my existence but could see no way out. I would go to sleep hoping that i just would not wake up again. Of course, I always did.

There was no joy and I was scared to cry in case I found that I could never stop.

Poem #3

So Hard.

Life, so hard to live
Love, so hard to give
Tears, so hard to cry
Death, so hard to die.

Me, so small inside
I've nowhere to hide
Life, so hard to live
I've got nothing to give.

Dreams, all unfulfilled
Hopes, have all been killed
Fears an unending stream
Anger, a silent scream.

May 1993.


Poem #2 is the other side of the coin. I spent my time swinging violently from a desperate need to tell all and find caring people to support that journey to an all consuming need to be small and hidden away from prying eyes.

Some people had by now realised that I was in deep trouble and were tentatively offering their support. Sadly I was too far gone and couldn't cope with even the gentlest probing. My need to hide was overwhelming and I struggled even to leave the house.

Thank God for those who did not give up on me.

Poem #2


Building a wall
Around my life
Keeping me safe.

Each new hurt
Providing a brick
Keeping me safe.

The wall is so high
No-one can break through
Keeping me safe.

My wall is strong and firm
Keeping you out
Keeping me safe.

Inside I'm weak and scared
Hiding inside my wall
Needing to be safe.

You can't get past my wall
I won't let you
But I'm still not safe.

May 1993

Surface Relationships.

I wrote poem #1 at a time when I was surrounded by well meaning christians, who though they were lovely people seemed happy to only touch the surface.

I was looking around for people to connect with, people who could offer some kind of support network as my sanity and ability to cope were becoming dangerously close to fracturing and disintegrating.

The poem sums up the questions I wanted to ask them but I was too scared that they would turn and run. Occasionally I allowed a little to slip out and some of them did indeed do a runner (figuratively speaking).

It seemed to me at the time that Church was full of nice people who would willingly share the peace with you and participate in communion but don't you dare tarnish their beautiful lives with your pain and misery.

I no longer think that it is quite as bad as all that but there are those who will only ever desire the surface relationship and will never want to know anything about the real and deeper you. I think this is sad. What is even sadder is that sometimes I am guilty of the same thing.

Poem #1

What Do You See?

What do you see
When you look at me?
Do you see the fear
Wrapped around my heart?
Do you see the pain
Concealed within my smile?
Do you see the heartache
Deep down in my eyes?
Tell me, what do you see
When you look at me?

What do hear
When I talk to you?
Do you hear the years
Of doubt, of trying to be free?
Do you hear the chains
Rattling as they hold on to me@
Do you hear me screaming?
Do you want to?

November 1992

A Life Survived In Poetry

When I went through my decade of depression I wrote poetry. I wrote to survive and to leave something to explain my demise if I could no longer go on surviving.

I wrote and wrote and from time to time I revisit it and marvel that I ever found a way through. But I did survive and what is more I eventually learned how to live and to love.

From to time - perhaps even a lot - I will reproduce some of these poems - the good and the not so good - here. They will help to tell my story.

A Poem


Red, orange, Gold.
Proclaiming God
He exists, He lives.
How Can you look at
and tell me God is dead?

Red, orange, Gold.
Announcing the day.
He exists, He lives, He loves you.
Do you see?
God is alive in you and me and

May 1991

Tuesday, 18 July 2006


If people were honest and only asked the questions they really wanted answers to - what would the world look like?

Can you imagine it

'Oh hello, how are you today?'

'Well the kids had me up all night and I feel kinda tired and the cat gor run over and I can't afford a vet and I've got this pain around my heart that won't go away and yesterday I buried my best friend and I can't quite get over the trauma of the past and I would really like to talk and I would really like you to hear me'

We ask the questions but we don't really want to hear what the other person really feels and what is going on in their lives. That would somehow be too messy, too personal, too close.


Sometimes I am woken by screaming only to realise it is me.
Sometimes I am too scared to close my eyes and sleep for fear of what lurks in the darkness.
Sometimes the tears fall for no apparent reason.
Sometimes silence is terrifying.

Sometimes I hope for a better future.
Sometimes I find joy in just being alive.
Sometimes my children remind me of all that was stolen from me.
Sometimes my children remind me of the beauty of living.

Sometimes the Son shines into my darkness.
Sometimes the Light threatens to reveal my secrets.
Sometimes I welcome this.
Sometimes I cower in the dark corners afraid to come out.
Sometimes I think I understand.
Sometimes I know I never will.


One would think that it was fairly easy to write about ones own life. Just start at the beginning and move forward through history until the present day is reached.

It isn't that easy. Much of my childhood is lost in the trauma of survival, some is jumbled and can't possibly be exactly as how I remember it. Some memories only exist in a series of photo like images that flash into mind and then are gone before I can really understand them. Others are two painful to contemplate and yet they will not be still, they will not be silenced.

It is time I think to allow them to speak, sometimes in the small voice and sometimes to shout. to give voice and words and articulate-ness to the inarticulate scream of a frightened child. She will not be silenced, not now, not anymore.

Come forth Child, for here you will be heard, here you will be safe.

Tuesday, 4 July 2006

Baby Blogger - Urgh!

I have conjunctivitis in both eyes and I am teething and I am a bit miserable! Apart from that I am happy and healthy and I am now 13 months old! We are going on holiday next week - I don't really know what that is but Peter seems very excited about something called a beach and the sea.

Love Eleanor xx


I have had a new splint but my foot still does not seem right. I am at the hospital on friday so hopefully that will help.
We are going on holiday on Saturday but I have not yet got a bucket and spade. Mummy says she will definately get me one.
Ellie is cute but she cries when I sit on her - I don't quite understand why!

Love Peter xx