Marbles...

Coloured marbles

Lost and found,
Every time they break 
I'll stand my ground.

If I had a colour
For every hour that went,
My currency in marbles,
Rainbows spent.

Let’s hear it for the marbles
Shake them and they roll,
For every day wasted
Will take a toll.

Image: Pinterest

#helenswriting

Tomorrow Will Be Better!

"Do you want to know how I know you're feeling low, other than the fact you're withdrawn"?

"Mmm"

"You're playing Solitaire on the computer. You always do it."

"No I don't..."

"You probably don't even realise that you do it, but it's a give away!"

So, I thought about it, and I realised hubby's right. I think it must be that it is enough of a distraction so that I don't have to think -when there aren't any other ones.

The thing is if I knew what was wrong, I could TRY and take steps to correct it - but I don't. There's not one thing I can put my finger on, anyway.

It's the usual feelings that campaigning brings about, it's fear of the future, it's missing my family, it's writer's block, it's the book and it's just feeling yucky all the time and not being able to do much about any of it.

All of these things are going around in my head - all at once -and the relentless struggle against pain, disability and hormones don't help either.

Every time this happens I have to try really hard to remind myself that it is temporary, and that I will (and can) feel better. 

I know that I have to just allow myself to feel all those things, and know that it passes - or at least gets easier.

The knowledge that I am my own worst enemy and that only I can change that, should help but it doesn't. How do you fight against yourself?!

I know that this is only a 'rough patch' rather than a full on slip back into depression because I can still see the wood for the trees. I'm aware that things WILL get better.

The times when I've been really ill, that has disappeared and so has the energy to fight it. I'm not going to let that happen.

Everyone is entitled to a bad day aren't they?

Tomorrow will be better. 

Image: Google

#helenswriting

Reality Bites! -(Short Poem)

Reality TV numbs the brain, you know,
Just another hyped up show!
Shallow subjects
That thrill Joe Public,
They really make me sick!

Edited, Unreal,

They manipulate how we feel,
But still
We fall for it.

Faces, bums

Vacuous and dumb,
That fill hour after hour.
A mass distraction,
Showbiz attraction,
Plays right for the hands of power!

#helenswriting

Image: Via Google.

A 'Meet the Author' Piece -(For 'The Story Reading Ape)'

(This is a piece I wrote for Chris Graham, as part of the Promotion for 'Taking Steps' in 2016). Link at Bottom!




'I have always loved words! As a child, I would flick through the dictionary, and try to learn the meanings of whichever word my little fingers found first.

It may seem like a strange hobby for a little girl, but I had realised very young that I was different from other children.

I was born with Cerebral Palsy, which means I cannot walk or stand unaided. Whilst I did go outside and play in the garden with my sister, (and later cycle around the neighbourhood on my beloved (specially adapted) red trike, there were lots of things I could never be part of so I felt left out, and often lonely.

At age eight I made a small decision to try and raise awareness of disability – to help people understand what it can feel like, to try and turn negative into positive, and to ensure we were treated as equally as we should be.

Of course, being so young there was no way I could understand how much that ‘little decision’ would become even bigger. It was just something I felt I could and should do –and that has stayed with me ever since.

I gave assemblies and talks about my disability, throughout my school years – after my parents moved me from ‘special’ to ‘mainstream’ school. I made friends, but was always aware I was different (in some ways, at least) and there were times when I struggled to accept myself. I still do.

I sought refuge in that love of words. Within them I found a freedom that would become increasingly important as I grew older and began to suffer other ailments -including a lifelong battle with clinical depression, which began after multiple surgeries, and a nearly four month stay in a hospital (over a hundred miles from home), when I was fourteen.




During that time, I had to learn to walk from scratch – undergoing daily, painful physio in a bid to keep me out of full time wheelchair use, for as long as possible.

It was during that long hospital stay, that the idea for (what was eventually to become) ‘Taking Steps’ came to me. I wanted to keep raising awareness of disability in a creative way, but I never wanted it to be JUST about that – and it isn’t!

The idea was to show that there was to be positive and strong, but real at the same time. At this point, I had already been writing poetry for a couple of years, so it became a big part of the book.

As I grew up, the book grew with me – but the idea remained the same. The final version contains a bit of everything from poems, short stories, and some ‘commentary’ type pieces. As such, I guess it is difficult to categorise! One reviewer called it a ‘gutsy miscellany’, and a friend called it ‘Helen, -with a bright pink cover’!

It is. It is everything I am.

I hope it is informative, entertaining, and funny in places. Writing the short stories was the thing I enjoyed most. I think if I had to choose my favourite pieces they would be a short story (written for children) called ‘Christmas is off’. I had great fun writing the dialogue!

Another favourite, (on a much more serious note) is the initial poem of the book. It’s called ‘Please’, and it is very special to me. It was written when I had only been out of hospital for about seven weeks. When I came home I was terribly depressed and overwhelmed by everything. Readjusting to school, keeping up, pain, continued daily physio, loss of friendships

There were times when I was suicidal then, but I’m proud, because even at my worst, I managed to end that piece positively. Later that year, it won a local ‘World Aids Day’ poetry competition.

The book covers many serious issues. Aside from disability (and associated ‘activism’), there are pieces about mental illness, and my continuing struggle to accept childlessness. You’ll find some feminism in there too – but there are also some very light hearted ‘everyday’ observations. Some are in poetry form, some are not.

There have been many drafts of the book over the years, and many attempts to get it ‘out there’. It has become even more important to me since 2010.


People with disabilities and illness are in a far worse situation than we were before then, and. I’m watching the cause I love and believe in, go backwards!

I’m angry…Government have destroyed lives, and not just via cruel and unnecessary social security sanctions which have indirectly (and directly) been responsible for the deaths of thousands and thousands of disabled and ill people, but through loss of independence and self- esteem.

My own mental health has suffered further as a result of us being labelled ‘scroungers’. We are not ‘scroungers’! We are not just numbers on a page! I think that fact is getting lost, amongst the rhetoric, various lies, and negative media coverage. I hope the book counter-acts a lot of that.

It’s been a long hard slog, (of over twenty years) interrupted by my (continuing) battle against ill health, but it is here now. It’s real and something I can hold in my hand, and say ‘I did that’.

My life isn’t easy. I am in constant pain, suffer chronic insomnia…the list goes on, but I’ve been so lucky in so many ways – and apart from raising awareness of some important issues, I’d like the writing to stand for itself.

Taking Steps has been a ‘labour of love’, and although it probably sounds corny, I hope you love it as much as I do.






Link to original post below:


https://thestoryreadingapeblog.com/2016/08/27/meet-guest-author-helen-sims/

Taking Steps...A Dream, A Book, And an Evening to Remember!

My book launch Party was amazing! – (Yes I know I kept the existence of the book quiet, but the way campaigning works these days, I knew I’d be opening myself up to all sorts of allegations and misconceptions about my motives).

 We held it in a newly opened local cafe called ‘Essence’ (in Midsomer Norton) It is an arty, colourful place. Paintings line the walls, and they make the most gorgeous chocolate cake!

I started to write (or at least have the idea for ‘Taking Steps’ when I was still at school and in fact several early drafts were put together then too but for one reason or another, it never came to fruition.

I’m glad of that, because having to wait until now means that it is the best (I think) it can be.

It’s taken over twenty years to become what it is. As I have grown up and experienced more of life it has grown with me, - so to say for example that I ‘stepped back from activism’ to work on it, would be hugely inaccurate. The two work in tandem whenever I’ve been able.

My motive was (and still is) primarily to raise awareness of disability in a creative way, but actually as time went on the book became about more than just disability. It covers many issues including mental health, childlessness, and activism. I would have written anyway – disabled or not, and I think there is more to my writing than that.

I didn’t write it for money or ego purposes. The book and the ideas behind it were part of my life from very young –and I don’t expect to make money out of it. If that was a consideration I wouldn’t be struggling to do Public Relations type stuff (although I have to do a little).  There is something about that side of it which makes me uneasy – for lots of different reasons.

I wouldn’t want you to think either, that it’s a depressing ‘woe is me’ type book. I don’t think it is. It includes fun short stories, articles and commentary on everyday issues too. Maybe as such it is a bit difficult to categorise.

Anyway, back to the launch!

My favourite English teacher-(who always believed in me and gave me confidence) walked in, and I started crying! I shed a lot of tears that night -all of them happy.

She said, "I knew you'd do it", and gave me a hug, then said, "but you embarrassed me by dedicating it me". I replied, "I kept a promise, and I wouldn't have done it if it wasn't for you believing in me, and all your little tricks to keep me at it". "Yes you would" she told me, firmly. 

I’m not so sure! I’ve always been plagued by self doubt, and I’m not as prolific a writer as I’d like to be, - mostly because of that and the fact I’m a bit of a perfectionist. Also, a lot of the time I feel too ill or am in too much pain to write, so I have to do it as and when.

She and I just clicked and I was so lucky to have her teaching me because her enthusiasm for the subject, for Shakespeare, for theatre, and for words was infectious!

Another English teacher was there too, and she hasn't aged a single day! (Yes I guess I was one of those English Department swats who spent many lunchtimes and break times talking to teachers or sitting in the corner of a classroom...writing)!

Everybody gave me lots of hugs, cards, flowers and wine! A friend bought me a necklace (with a tiny pen, notebook, and footprint charms attached) which I admit I didn’t take off for forty eight hours afterwards.

I probably would have slept in my dress as well if I hadn’t been so scared it would tear! The dress is a floaty, strappy number of grey, pale blue, pink and brown (and so much nicer than it sounds)!

Everyone was so lovely to me and having them there meant more than the book did. Maybe I shouldn’t say that though!

Anyway, the speech was predictably nerve -wrecking and I could feel myself beginning to shake inside, so I didn't say all that I wanted to. I think it went well enough. My family filmed it but I haven’t worked up the courage to watch it back yet.

Later I was told,

.”When you talked about what's happening to disabled people (in your speech) people's jaws dropped”.

I couldn’t miss a chance to raise awareness of the hardship, struggle, sanctions, ‘scrounger’ rhetoric we’re facing as a result of government policy, After all, it’s what I do (and what I’ve always done). Disability rights is part of who I am – and it’s not like it isn’t covered in the book- (at least in places).

My family were so happy too, and I felt all was right in my little world

The food was lovely, the atmosphere was all cosy and I felt so lucky to have so many people I loved all together.

The book made that possible, so I owe IT a lot. 

I hope that it does raise awareness, as well as showing that something good and positive can come out of bad things. I didn’t choose my Cerebral Palsy, but I can choose to use my experiences to help (and hopefully entertain) others.

#TakingSteps 

#HelenSims

#Helenswriting

*Taking Steps' is Available from Amazon, and you can keep up to date with the latest news on Facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/TakingStepsHelenSims/?fref=ts

And Twitter:

https://twitter.com/TakingSteps_HS?lang=en-gb

It's The Little Things...

I love the way the sun reflects on our living room wall, filling the room with light. I can go from feeling low, to being bright as soon as I enter the room.

I love to sing. I’ve been singing for as long as I can remember. For stress relief it’s amazing.  The tension ebbs out of me, and I feel like I can take on the world. Music is a big part of my life, and it’s a place I go when I need to escape.

Watching snow fall is one of the most calming things there is. I wish for it regularly because it’s a great leveller. No one else can move properly either! I think it covers normality (or what people perceive as normality), with a beautiful white blanket – at least for a little while.

New notebooks of all shapes, colours and sizes. People closest to me know that if they want to buy me a present (besides chocolate or wine) then a notebook or pen is their safest bet!

I get a sense of promise from a pristine notebook. I know that I can fill it with anything I choose. There is always a notebook with me.  

I think most people who write,( or otherwise create something) need somewhere to put the random sparks that fly through their mind - even if the ideas come to nothing, at least they're there.

That brings me on to writing. I could go on forever about this – in fact I have in other places. Here though, I’ll try and be brief. I wrote my first short story when I was eight. Even before that I was asking my Mum to take notes from books on different subjects, so I could write my own versions.

Writing is my constant. I guess it is another form of escape. Whatever situation – physical or emotional state I have been in I know I can go somewhere else, either in my imagination or with a paper and pen.

There is a sense of satisfaction in knowing that I can create something from nothing –another world even, and if I do it right I can take other people with me too! I can try and help them understand things, and feel things.

I have always thought the best writers are the ones which can evoke an emotion or a sensation in the reader, and really connect with them. I hope to do that on some level, (at least sometimes)! There is nothing like the buzz I get when I write, or finish a piece (and I’m finally happy with it)!

Spending time with people I love - Suppose you could say that's an obvious one, and it is. I'm a ‘home bird’. While sometimes I  think I want to travel more and experience new things, I know I’m just as happy being at home, and having a long chat on a Saturday night or drinking wine and reminiscing.

Time with people they love is denied to so many and it is like treasure to me. That probably sounds soppy,  but  if you have got people who love you, (and you love them), you have got the world...and no, I haven’t been drinking I promise. It’s just the truth!

Tea is my ‘wonder drug’! If I’ve had a horrible day the first sips of tea slip down my throat and I can feel (at least some of) the strain leaving me. There is something lovely about cradling a warm mug, especially on days when it’s raining or bitterly cold outside.

I’m so grateful for my home. As soon as I step through the front door, I feel safe, warm and wanted. I can be entirely myself. There are no expectations here, no demands, no feeling of not being good enough. 

There’s just my husband, and I. It’s our space. Maybe this too seems obvious but with homelessness rising, I’ve become even more grateful for it than I was before. It’s a place of calm and quiet. 

Material things don’t matter ,at least not to me, and we have all that we need. What matters to me is peace. I find that here.

 

#helenswriting

Image - Google

Childlessness -One Day at a Time. (A Diary Entry).

I was very low and frustrated overnight. A close friend  will give birth to her first baby any day now.

I have asked all the right questions, the way you're supposed to! She knows me well enough to know that it's hard, and said 'you don't have to ask'. What am I supposed to do? Act like I don't care, pretend it's not happening?! That's not fair to her. Of course I care!

What makes it harder for me though, is that I thought she (was) the least maternal person you could ever wish to meet. She just wasn't interested at all...but then she got married and her blasted biological clock kicked in, as it does.

I know a lot about biological clocks. I'm permanently at war with mine, and there are reminders everywhere I turn, from adverts on television, to social media. Sometimes it can feel like a conspiracy. The world has a secret that I'm not allowed to share. 

Realistically I know that even if it wasn't unlikely I'd go full term and not 'possibly' dangerous for me, I physically could not cope with motherhood.

Due to the fact I can't walk or stand unaided, (as a result of Cerebral Palsy) I'd find it difficult to pick the baby up and I wouldn't be able to rescue a toddler from potential danger.

On top of that,I'd be even more exhausted than I am now, plus I would worry about how my limitations, (and depression) would effect a child. It would break my heart not to be able to do so many of the things other parents take for granted, although I know there are ways and means...

Not that I'm saying disabled people shouldn't have children. Of course we should - but with our age gap too, there's a high possibility I would end up alone -even if hubby did want any more children.  

It's all very complicated, and most of the time I can be fine with it, (at least on the surface), It's a different story underneath. It doesn't stop hurting. Like so many other women (and men), I have to find a way to live with it.

Last night though, I was lying in the dark, my hips were killing me and it all just hit me in a massive wave! Hubby was asleep in the next room. We often sleep apart now, because my (chronic) insomnia coupled with his snoring is not conducive to a good night's sleep for either of us!

I got up and wandered aimlessly around the house, and then sat on the sofa in the dark for I don't know how long. I've tried on line childlessness support groups, but I find them frustrating. This is going to sound wrong, but there I'm surrounded by people for whom childlessness is the only issue. 

They don't have disabilities to contend with as well, so their situation is the centre of everything. Not that that is wrong, (and I understand their pain completely) but if I'm honest, sometimes I've  ended up thinking ' you're lucky that this is all you have to contend with'...and then I feel intensely guilty for thinking like that! I had to leave the groups because they were just too confronting for me.

The thing is, I don't want my disability or my childlessness to define me or my life. I want to move forward and just be myself, and I know I'll get there one day. 

I'm already further along the road to acceptance (of both situations) than I ever thought I would be, but that doesn't mean I don't feel completely ripped apart sometimes. I don't know if I'll ever fully accept it. I don't know if I ever can!

There are times when I don't feel like a 'real' woman because of these things, and in that way I'm at war with myself too - but I don't want to be at war with myself, so I try very hard to take everyday as it comes, and make something good out of my life - because it IS good!

Hubby has made me happier than I ever thought I would be, and I KNOW I'm so much luckier than a lot of people, so I try not to take anything for granted - but by not taking anything for granted, I'm super aware of what I have to lose.

I'm super aware of everything actually. I can pick up on the emotions in another person, and I can sense things. 

Of course, then comes the guilt! I know how lucky I am, so I feel guilty for feeling sad and frustrated about the things I don't have! Mum always tells me 'There's always someone worse off than you', - and she's right!

 Also the multiple anaesthetics I had when I was fourteen (during multiple surgeries to improve my mobility) has meant my serotonin levels are damaged - so to a certain extent I have to allow for that - and I know I'll be on anti-depressants for the rest of my life.

All I can do is hope that it really does get easier and that that I'll be OK until it does. I just have to hang on in there, and take one day at a time.

After all, that's all any of us can do.