its been 3 years.
April 11, 2011
I have no idea where this post is going, but, anyway …
my life is full of milestones. lots of them. lots of ‘its been x amount of years since this … or that’
today is one of those milestone days.
its been 3 years since i tried to take my own life. and failed miserably (well, at the time it was miserable failure)
i got my dates a little confused last week, with something else, but having clarified with my faithful old journal, today is the day. 3 years ago. wow. where have those 3 years gone? sometimes it feels like it was only yesterday, sometimes it feels like it was a long time ago.
and what an immense journey it has been. the journey beforehand was immense anyway, so i guess its been extra immense since.
Sometimes i try to put into words just how incredibly hard the last 5 years of my life have been. And i am never quite sure if i have managed to do it justice, or whether or not i just come across like some whining woman. I hope i dont. Something I think about quite often is how 5 years ago I had no idea how life was going to roll for the next set of 5 years. Same with 10 years ago. Who knew that 10 years ago the roller coaster ride of my life would bring me to this point.
Who could ever have imagined that when you are already at the very bottom, end of the rope, struggling to hang on anyway, that life could get 100 % worse. That one moment life meant one thing, and the next moment it meant another. I was already unwell, struggling with childhood memories, abuse, self harm, faith and God, big time, and then came the assault.
I wrote in a blog once, this blog, some time ago, about feeling like a glass vase, being broken in to pieces. And then each piece of glass being broken even more, into tiny shards. The smallest bits, until there were no bits left, just dust, sprinkled all over the floor, for people to trample on. Thats how i felt. It was all too much. Too too much.
i had to do something. to get out of it. on reflection, i now feel guilty. i didnt leave anything, for anyone. my head was in a spin. i was being irrational. even to this day, some very close family members do not know, because it would hurt them too much to.
I could not see any other way, i felt like life would be better with out life. i already had no life, so what was the point in breathing? I felt like everyone elses life would be better without me in it. i was too messed up, too complicated, too many issues, too much hurt/pain, too much for anyone to do anything with.
so i tried to die.
it didnt work. now i say that thankfully! it didnt work. i do believe here by the grace of god i stand (the story of how i was found is a whole other blog for another time)
thing is, its fair to say, despite it all, there were people who were able to do something with me. people who loved me. who cared.
who helped me pick myself up off the floor, and slowly turned the dust back into shards, and then into fragments. Ever so slowly and lovingly teaching me that life can be worth something. that life IS worth something. that I am worth something.
its been a long ride, and one that isnt over yet. but 3 years on and life is slowly turning. I am learning to live with myself, and some of the pain. I am learning to laugh again, to smile again, to have fun again. i am learning that I am never going to forget the past, but there is a way, and a time to move on from it. to not be beholden to it. that doesnt mean i dont have my dark days. i do. nights when i cant sleep because the nightmares have kept me awake, or i am so restless because something has triggered a memory. however, the intensity of it all isnt as intense. I dont want to die because of it!
the last thing to say that i am learning to do again, is to love and accept love. i am learning to love people and life again and accept that people and life love me.
I would like to say such a deep huge and heartfelt thank you to all of the people involved in my life the last however many years.
You have all had a part to play in the fact I am still here now. Thankyou.
thank you for everything you have done and do for me. you really have and do make a difference.
lots of love
fragz xx
Dear Dad.
March 1, 2011
I have been reading an old hand written diary. One I wrote roughly three years ago. In about 6 weeks time, I will be celebrating a 3 year milestone in my life, and so I thought it time to read back at how life was three years ago. How I felt, and what I was writing. Three years ago, I was a mess. A bigger one than I sometimes am now! Life was a big struggle, in fact, everything had collapsed. The letter below, I wrote, to my biological father. I wrote it the same weekend I decided I couldn’t live any more. Its very poignant to read back. To read this back. Its also poignant for me to publish it. For some of you to read. Because it signifies moving on. For me anyway. A couple of years ago, about a year or so after I wrote this, I met him. For the first time in many years. It was an incredibly emotional experience. However everything I’ve written below still stands. I never sent the letter. He has never read it. Maybe if I was to write another one now, it would be a little different. Life has changed over three years, however the hurts are often still around somewhere nearby. They never go far.
I have so much inside of me, that is never going to be said to you. So much that I want to say and so much that I just want to put at your feet. But I never will. I will probably never let you know how much you hurt me when you walked out that day. When you left that day, I was only young. A small child, but do you what one of my earliest chilldhood memories was? You. Walking out. I even remember which way your huge motorbike turned as you went out of the driveway. I have never been able to admit out loud, in voice how much that actually hurts. How much it hurts to have no happy memories of you. The summer holidays we had to endure with you were hell. Did you know that? Did you know that when you were beating me that day, in that room, my brother, your son was learning from you. Do you know that he then went on to copy you? When you were not there. Do you know that? Do you give a damn? I think not. Do you know how every word you spoke made me cry inside. Every single nasty word. Yeah, I smiled, at you and everyone else, laughed it off. Promised to try and change. Be a better, different person. But I did wonder whether even being a different little girl would have made you happy. I tried so hard to be everything you wanted me to be but every time I reached a goal you would knock it down. And how do you still have the ability to do that? Even now? Even now, while I am an adult you have this power to knock me down to the ground with your words. Do you know how much my heart used to cry because you were not there? And then how much my heart used to cry when you were there, for those 2 weeks of the year because of your behaviour and action. Did it ever occur to you how much harm it did for me to stand at that window that day while you had my brother in the garden? Did it occur to you what you were doing to my brother and I? I doubt it. How could you.
Will you ever know how much pain I then had to endure with my brother? My darling brother. Who couldnt cope with your behaviour towards him. Who turned to drink and drugs to blot out the memories of you. Who do you then think took the blows when his anger let out? That would have been me. So, I was at school, and being bullied there, and then I would go home and be bullied there too. Bullied at home is probably a tame way of saying what happened. Bruised, beaten and hurt are prbably the words that describe it best. Will you ever know how hard it was to live at home, taking it from my brother, as he let rip? And where do you think he learnt/got that from? Where did he learn to hit, smack, punch, burn, taunt and spit out words that will probably never go away from my memory?
Do you know how hard I tried to please you? How hard I tried to please everyone? And did it ever work? You will never know that as I sit writing this, the tears fall. The tears I have never cried. The tears you believe show weakness. I have spent so long being strong, not crying, because what would it do? Change everything? Make it all better? I doubt that very much. But does anyone care? Do you? Again, I think not. I usually doubt you even loved us at all. Maybe we just an inconvenience.
I dont know what it is I have to do to make you proud. To make you love me. Sometimes I ask myself why it even matters. Why you even matter. And I wish I knew. I wish I could explain.
I have never said this to anyone, and I don’t know if I ever will be able to say it to your face, but do you know how angry and frustrated I sometimes feel. Sad, angry and hurt with you, at you and your behaviour. Why couldn’t you or don’t you love us? I know I am not good enough but isn’t a fathers love suppose to not be about that? Were you not supposed to love us no matter what? Why do you disappear from my life for months on end, and then when I am finally coming to terms with you not being in contact you ring or email. Sometimes I long and long to hear from you, but then when I do I cry.
still here …
February 10, 2011
the battle to keep my head above the water is in full rage.
as in full fragmentz style, everything is/has all kicked off at once.
nothing is ever quiet, simple or easy in my world. although i am not sure i’d know how to live if it was!
anyway, i am here, i am surviving.
i am 13 weeks in on the not smoking effort.
i am 10 months in on not self harming.
i am nearly 3 years into being alive, and my OD not succeeding.
so, although its fair to say the shit has hit the fan, it is also fair to say there are some achievements there too.
i’m trying to hang on to them!
and the fact i have some wonderful people around me, and beautiful and amazing people across the country who tweet at me, put up with me crying and going on on the phone, and who are generally all round lovely.
sorry my blog posts have been so little.
i appreciate all you who read, and hope you have not buggered off because i have been so quiet. also hope life is treating you well too.
love Fragz x
a short poem by fragz
January 8, 2011
The below is a poem I have had on the go for many months now. I keep coming back to it, time and time again, to ‘complete’ and yet, every time I do, or every time inspiration has hit, and I think ooh that be part of that poem, by the time I’ve got to write down the thoughts, they’ve gone. So I have concluded that maybe the poem is meant to be unfinished, and there for complete as it is.
The blink of her eyes, the teardrops fall,
as the tired body crumples up against the wall,
no one and nothing to stand her upright
on to the floor she goes, losing her fight
The feeling is extreme, rushing through her veins,
Never before has she felt such pain,
In the middle of the night, when silence is all around,
Who is there to cry out to?
protection.
January 6, 2011
this is one of those songs ive mentioned as being very special. because a friend sent into me, to listen to. i had never heard of them, or the song. and it was such a needed piece of music at that time, and is on my list of top 5 songs.
protection by massive attack
Dont Quit.
January 5, 2011
A few years ago, times were tough. Very tough. Tougher than I ever could have imagined. As I have mentioned before recently in a blog, 10 years ago, I never in my wildest dream would have imagined what the next 10 years were going to hold. I had no idea what life was going to make me endure. I sometimes wonder if I had known then, whether I would have quit the race before hand, perhaps its a good job I didn’t know?
Anyway, during one of the bleak days, when I could not bring myself to get out of bed and face the day, my stepdad who I lovingly regard as my Dad now, popped in to bring me some food. He also bought me a little card, to say he was thinking of me, and in that card was a bookmark type thing, a little laminated piece of paper. On it was the poem ‘ Dont Quit’ and a message from my Dad telling me to keep going and to not quit fighting the fight. It made me cry as I read it, and it makes me tearful to re read it now. To think at times I was so close to the edge. So close to throwing my hats in, and giving up. In fact, I tried several times, and perhaps only by the grace of God and some very beautiful friends I’ve managed to get back on the road of recovery and journey.
I was listening to some music tonight, that means a lot to me, songs that friends suggested or sent to me over the time, at random times but that meant the world there and then and still does. It made me think this poem, Dont Quit, author unknown.
And I guess it made me want to share it with you, whoever reads this, in the hope that, maybe someone out there who is contemplating quitting will read it, and hear it, and let it speak into their lives, so that wherever you are and whatever your situation is you can somehow find some inner strength to keep on fighting the fight. If life is tough for you right now, like unimaginably tough, do know, I am thinking of you and sending you love and hugs as I type/post this blog. Love Fragmentz x
Dont Quit
When things go wrong, as they sometimes will, When the road you’re trudging seems all uphill, When the funds are low, and the debts are high, And you want to smile, but you frown a bit, Rest if you must, but don’t you quit.
Life is strange with its twists and turns, As everyone of us sometimes learns, And many a failure turns about, When he might have won had he stuck it out; Don’t give up though the pace seems slow, You may succeed with another blow.
Success is failure turned inside out, The silver tint of the clouds of doubt, And you can never tell how close you are, It may be near when it seems so far; So stick to the fight when you’re hardest hit, It’s when things seem worst That you must not quit.
Author Unknown
thinking of you.
December 26, 2010
with half an hour left (or less by the time I have pressed sent) before we leave this day, and move into the 26th Decembers 2010, I wanted to write a little blog.
I wanted to say I’ve been thinking of you today. My friends, my family, people I know well, people I don’t know so well, and people I don;t know at all but have connected with through the wonderful world of online social-ness.
I’ve spent most of today working, and so throughout the course of my very busy shift I have also had the chance to think about people I’ve never even met, or know about, such as the sick (very poignant considering my job), the homeless, the hungry.
I want to say Merry Christmas to those of you who have had lovely days, and I really really hope thats most of you. I hope you’ve all had a good chance to be with friends, and family, and people who you love and who love you.
I want to say I’ve been thinking of you too though if your day has not been so merry. In your hurting, your grieving, your pain. You have been in my thoughts and I hope today has been survivable.
lots of love
Fragmentz x
lets talk about … rape.
October 8, 2010
yep, you read the title right. rape. thats what this blog is about. if it is something that just reading the word or thinking about it makes you flinch, for whatever reason, i understand if your unable to read the following post.
I just felt it fair to warn you right at the very beginning so you can make the informed decision as to whether to read on or not. I really do not wish to upset anyone, and whilst writing this blog, and rereading it for the umpteenth time I have considered and re considered whether to actually publish/post this, however I came to the conclusion that I would not be being true to myself and this blog if I didn’t.
so, on we go …
.
.
.
when I logged into my computer this morning, like every morning, the first thing I do is to check out the BBC News website, just to glance over, to check out whats going on in and around the world. One of the headlines I saw was
‘ Rapist attacked woman twice in 12 weeks in south London’. I then clicked to read the story which you can find here …
i dont know about any one else, but as I read this, and the story, all i could do was think of the woman. the victim. the person who was raped. the survivor. and even as i am writing this, right now, i am thinking of her, and sending her my silent thoughts and prayers, that she may somehow learn to live through her ordeal and somehow come to a place of peace.
throughout today, my mind kept returning to this story, and to the woman involved. thinking about what a horrific and life changing moment it is for it to happen once, but to happen twice?
then, this evening, i was watching tv, and law and order UK came on. never seen it before, but nothing else was on that i liked the look of. the story line was complex, i don’t deny that, and please dont think i am trying to make light of any of the other issues the episode this evening used, however, towards the end, rape was one that was bought in. the woman, already in prison for other offences (all fictitious) was then in court accused of murder, of someone who was raping her. there was a scene, which was almost tearjerking where the barrister trying to help her sat with her in her cell and talked to her about what some would see as the human aspect of being raped.
the aspect of not having a choice. of not being in the wrong. of not asking for it to happen. for losing a part of something that is yours. something that you hold dear, that is yours, that gets taken away. it nearly made me cry.
i thought and thought about blogging on this topic, decided not to, then decided to, and went round in circles.
as i was deciding i looked up the definition of rape online. and found a dictionary which says this :
noun, verb, raped, rap·ing.
–noun
1.the unlawful compelling of a woman through physical force or duress to have sexual intercourse.
2.any act of sexual intercourse that is forced upon a person.
3.statutory rape.
4.an act of plunder, violent seizure, or abuse; despoliation; violation: the rape of the countryside.
5.Archaic . the act of seizing and carrying off by force.
point 3. is Statutory rape. this would appear mostly in US law and is the act of sexual intercourse with a person under the age of consent. I would like to point out, that that is something i am not writing about at present.
In fact, what i am really focussing on, as i write this blog, is the act of rape against a woman, which essentially is having sexual intercourse without her consent.
there are lots of ways this occurs, such as stranger rape, so a random attack, maybe in the street?
it could be marital rape, so within a marriage this act occurs.
it could be date rape, where drugs are used, so persons are not aware.
it could be something that happens within many boundaries.
I’d also like to highlight that rape among men happens too, there are men who are raped. its not as highlighted as woman, and maybe not so common, however that does not mean it is not a real thing happening out there.
if you want to find out more about the definitions, or what constitutes rape, or within what circumstances it can happen, do google. You can find a whole world of information out there, that might educate you, that might shock you, that might make you want to pray for people involved in this.
months ago, i wrote a blog about depression, and it was after i watched a programme about the illness in the sporting profession, and how rife it is. I wrote something on the lines of how indiscriminate depression is, as an illness, how it can find and attack all kinds and every kinds of people.
this afternoon, that was my exact thought about rape.
rape can affect anyone, and everyone, god forbid, but if could even be you, your wife, your husband, your daughter, your son, your best friend, your neighbour, your mum, your dad. who knows? it could be anyone.
as mentioned above it could be, and often is within the constraints of a marriage, but when it comes to random attacks by strangers, as well as the victim being anyone, it could also occur anywhere.
on the bus you travel home on, on the street you walk down to get to the shop, the shopping mall you buy your clothes in. it could be the train station you wait at everyday. maybe it could be at the festival you go to every year, and camp out with friends at while listening to great music ? (i was shocked to read several reports over the summer of rape occurring at a UK based music festival)
it could be outside or inside a place you feel the most safe. a hospital maybe, a church, who knows …. it could be anywhere.
i dont say the above as scare tactics. thats the last thing i would want to do to. i don’t know the statistics, but one thing that is clear is although it can happen to anyone, and anywhere, it doesn’t. the amount of people who are attacked and raped are in minority to those who are not. so pleased do not walk away from this blog being afraid of all the above places. thats not the intention (but obviously good personal awareness and safety is always wise) .
what i have been thinking about all evening, tonight, is about the victims of such attacks. the victim of a rape. how they are left feeling, how their lives are so changed by something that maybe only took a few minutes to happen. how one minute, life was ok, and you were walking to the bus to go and see someone, and the next your in a heap on a floor in the middle of an empty street, sobbing as they run away from you. one minute you had your phone in your hand, texting a friend to say how long you would be and the next minute someone is running towards you to help you up off the ground, and to call an ambulance, or the police.
how one minute life was pretty clear and defined, and the next in all the haze and commotion, you realise that your life has changed forever. because nothing will ever be the same again. ever.
the thing about rape, is that physically one may be able to recover quite quickly. depending on the nature of the attack. for others it may take longer. maybe physical bruising and pain takes longer to disappear and fade. but eventually they do fade, as do all physcial signs of what happens. and what your are left with is what is in your head. what is left are the memories, the thoughts, the flashbacks, the nightmares, the scin crawling moments where all you want to do is scrub your skin over and over until it bleeds or you feel clean again.
thing is, for many victims, and i dont speak for them all, in fact, maybe i dont speak for any other than one, but i guess for many, and i know for one, that actually, for them, to ever feel clean again, is the biggest of tasks.
its hard to explain that kind of thinking to someone who may not have the empathy or understanding. and thats ok, because not everyone will or does. its a big complex area. however, something kicks into your head. all you want is cleanliness, but whether you actually every achieve that again, who knows.
because the way you see it, the only way you can see it, is that something you had absolutely no choice over happens, took over, and that some of you was taken away.
you spend weeks and months trying to wipe it away, erase it but you cant. you spend days sitting in silence, with tears rolling down wishing you had done something different. wishing perhaps you hadnt walked down that same road you walked down every day. or thinking perhaps it was your fault because you dared to leave the house and walk the street you live on. you analyse what you could have done differently. what you did that made it your fault. you come up with one hundred reasons why it was your fault, even though every single one of those is wrong, and not true.
and then, because a few years before, the only way you knew how to deal with life was to cut your body, you decide that right now, its the only way again. so you find the knifes, and razors and start to carve your body up.
you also decide that maybe alcohol will change whats happen. so you drink. and drink.
and pretty damn soon, the physical scars are gone, and your left with an emotional mental heap with thoughts going round you can deal with , and cant process, and figure out.
perhaps it is the most life changing thing you will experience? maybe it is one of the most life changing experiences, because maybe, you were abused as a child anyway, and bullied as a teenager, and beaten by your siblings, and so, as an adult when this happens, maybe you shrug it off and think, well, i deserve it anyway.
maybe.
maybe not. maybe you would deal with it different. maybe you have?
somehow though, you have to keep going, keep breathing, taking each day as they come, day by day, and week by week and very quickly those days and weeks turn into months and years.
and although the pains and non visible scars dont go away, are not forgotten about, maybe you discover a way of living, that means you can move on. maybe you can learn to be at peace with yourself? and dare i say it, the person who committed this crime against you?
i dont know. maybe.
being raped tears a soul apart. being raped can break a person. being raped
rises up such a huge amount of emotions. rage. anger. pain. humiliation. embarrassment. silence.
often there is silence. a huge silence because you dont know what to say or how to say it. a huge silence because people around you dont know what to say. or how to say it.
and i guess, the reason i personally am writing this blog, is to be part of a process that is breaking the ‘silence’.
i mentioned i was writing this blog to a few a people today, i got a couple of positive reactions, and a couple of ‘oooh do you think thats a good idea’ responses.
i am aware, that some of this blog has gone into ramble mode, and i have to confess i am not too sure what my main objective of it was, as i started to write, other than to raise the topic, type it, write about it, and bring it into the blogosphere (i am sure others have done this too, so it isnt just me). i wanted to be part of the group of people breaking silence on the topic. i want people to talk about it. so it is not something others feel they have to be silent about. i want it talked about in our churches too. because right now, how churches meet the needs of survivors of abuse, and rape has alot to be desired for, if you ask me, though i acknowledge there are some good places.
i think i wanted to say out loud to whoever is reading this, that if you are a victim of rape it is not your fault. you didn’t ask for it. you didn’t want that happen. sex was not designed to be something that was taken away from you. it wasnt back then in jesus day, and it isnt now.
i have run out of writing steam, although i have more to say on this topic.
but please, if you feel you have something to say on this, please feel free to respond.
i shall be back to write about this again.
also, if this has stirred anything and you want to talk to someone, in the UK the Samaritans run a 24 hour service where you can call and find someone on the other end of the line : UK 08457 90 90 90
world suicide prevention day
September 10, 2010
hey peoples.
Hope this blog finds everyone well. I am always honoured that people come by and read the stuff i have to say. I hope you have enjoyed the last couple of blogs, about Greenbelt. just to let you know, I have a third and final Greenbelt blog to post, which will come in the next few days.
However, today I want to write about something else. Because today, 10th September 2010 is World Suicide Prevention Day.
I am sure, that there are lots of blogs out there being written about today, and about this topic, so my thoughts may be nothing original or new /different or profound, however what they are is something personal to me.
I am no expert on this topic (or any other for that matter) and so all I have to go on is experience.
The experience of losing someone I loved, respected and had a lot of time for to suicide, and the experience of being in a place myself that felt like the blackest of black holes and no way to climb out of it, other than to think the best option was to die.
I was a young teen when we got a phone call, and my stepdad answered it. I knew then that something was wrong. He sounded serious. He often does, but it was a different kind of serious, and as he walked into the lounge, I knew in my heart that something had happened. As soon as he said A’s name, I put the pieces together, and knew. I don’t think I actually heard my stepdad telling me what had happened through the tears. Turns out, that A had felt he couldn’t go on any more. That was my first experience of the thing they called suicide. At that point, A was someone I trusted. He had been my youth leader for some time. Someone who hosted BBQ’s, who listened to my teenage woes, who talked me through issues when they were too much for my head to deal with. And to be honest, when i was that age I was a bit of a self absorbed. So much stuff was going on in my home life, with my brother being very unwell and a drug user, and issues with my biological dad as well, I kinda looked up to A, to be there, and had no real idea of what was going on behind ‘his smile’. The first I knew all was not so well was when he was admitted to hospital. for help. It didn’t.
I cant profess to know what was totally going on in his head. What his thoughts were. I cant profess to really know how his wife felt, and how his children coped, being very young and now beautiful young adults themselves, but dealing with the loss of a father they can only have a few memories of, as they were so little back then. I cant profess to know how his close friends felt.
The only thing I do know is that, for A, at that time, there was no other way out. None. It was his way out.
It was mine too …
April 2008 – I even remember the date exactly. My life had slowly fallen apart, over a period of a few years. I was physically unwell, and mentally in a mess. I was trying to hold on to little strands of hope, and every time I thought I had hold of one firmly it was snipped away, cut in half, broken.
I once wrote, on this blog, about feeling like a vase, being broken, into tiny tiny shards of glass. And each time glass was broken, I would think it couldnt break any more, but it did, until eventually it was a dust. Eventually, so broken there is nothing left.
Thats how i felt. thats how it was.
Its very hard to explain, because I dont know who is going to be reading this blog, and what your views are. Its hard to describe to people just how much pain and torment you can be in. Its hard to put across, that actually, there really is sometimes no way out.
I didn’t know where to turn. i couldnt see a turning. a right, a left, a forwards, or even a backwards. I couldnt see anything.
Well i lie, i could see something, it was hell. It wasnt something I could just ‘pray’ myself out of. It was not something I could just ‘get a grip’ out of. It wasnt something i could get out of without making sure I went to sleep, not to wake up again.
And , so to that end, thats what I chose to do. and took enough of the stuff I did to make sure I didnt.
Thing is , for me, I survived. Thats a whole different blog/story in itself, for another time. But i survived. It hasnt been easy since, but two years on and life is moving in a different direction, I am learning to live again with the help of some lovely super people, learning to love again, learning to smile again, and although the process is long, and sometimes very tiring, rebuilding life. and thats a good thing.
As part of that process, the last few months have seen me become more involved in supporting people with issues I myself have experience in. It involves chatting to other survivors of child hood abuse, it involves speaking out about stuff, it involves having a voice. And sometimes thats exciting, sometimes its scary too, but an important thing.
Thing is, the way I see it, is that its important that peoples perception of issues are challenged. Especially, issues such as suicide.
Its important people are not afraid to talk about it.
Its important for people to know we’re not freaks, and neither are the people who have gone before us and have not survived.
Its also important to acknowledge the pain and heartache suicide causes.
Which is why I have rambled on above.
To this end, today, on world suicide prevention day, at 8pm, in just a little while in my time zone, I shall be lighting a candle, in memory of those we have lost, those who have survived, and those who are affected by it.
I hope you are able to join me, and if you read this when the time has passed i encourage you to say a thought, or a prayer, or something in your own time.
Also, if you are struggling, the samaritans number is - 08457 90 90 90 – please give them a call, and i urge you to seek help.
Greenbelt – Blog 1
September 4, 2010
Those of you who used to follow my old blog space will know that the last time I wrote about Greenbelt, I was unable to get it all into words in one post, without it being a mega essay, so did a series of GB blogs. I think this year will be similar. I am struggling to sit and write about ‘Greenbelt’ in one go, so shall be doing it in parts again.
this post, however I think is the introduction. For those who dont know what Greenbelt is or does, or means to be, it kinda mentions that. Then i’ll crack on with this years highlights 
Greenbelt is, for me, a really special time of year, as I know and am sure it is for many other people too. Its kind of like the end of one year, and the beginning of another. Its my new year. Forget beginning of Jan, for me the time to take stock, to reflect, to think, look back, try to look forwards, move on and lots of other stuff is August Bank Holiday. Its at a racecourse turned into a festival site. Its a place, that when set up, a friend of mine once called ‘Gods Playground’.
Greenbelt is so many things for me. Its the place I first started to explore life as a ‘survivor’ … its the place where I was able to join a group of other people who all got together to support each other throughout the weekend, and its the place where I found some safety in a world that felt unsafe. Its the place where I first cried my eyes out until they ran dry, with someone sat beside me offering me tissues and a lighter for the ever many ciggies i kept lighting. Its the place I felt accepted, without condemnation and judgement.
Its the place where a few years ago I sat in the middle of the arena field area, trying to participate in a service by ‘Grace’ and which was communion. I was alone, and sat with a group of random people I had just joined, and whom took me ‘in’ so to speak, because every time I attempted to say something within the hour, I just cried. Those peoples patience was unending. They took me as I was. Which sums up Greenbelt for me. Its takes me as I am. (incidentally it was during that service, that I still have a rainbow coloured windmill from as a reminder – that I felt for the first time in a long time life might be worth living – gb that year fell just four months after my OD, so life was still very raw at that point)
Its the place where I have turned up broken, so totally, yet have found some peace. Its also the place, where I have turned up in a different moment and been able to contribute something to it (i hope!).
Its the place, where friends from everywhere descend. Its the place where friends who are so close and know me inside out are, and the place where those friends are ‘there’. Its the place where I know people are at, and if i just rang one of the handful of folk this apply to, they would be there, whatever time of day it is. Its a place where people I love are at.
i could go on and on … about what greenbelt is … and actually what it is above, is personal to me.
greenbelt is many other things, its talks, its music, its about peace, justice, issues. its about faith. its about people.
if you have never been, dont know what i am rambling on about check out www.greenbelt.org.uk
sorry if the above is a ramble, my next blog will be about some of my highlights.
