Day of Gratitude - The Writer's Cafe and Collaborative Art At Broadacre House

It's happened again.  Another brief comment on Facebook got longer than intended.  This time it was a post in the Sunday Assembly Gratitude Group, for today, July 13th.  I am excited enough by it and by the new beginnings in my life that I post it here.

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Grateful for having the spoons to try new things this week. After kitten cuddling on Monday and going to new places yesterday, this morning I took the plunge and went along to The Writers' Cafe at Settle Down.

I've known about such things for quite a while. But hey, that's where writers go. Proper people who write things. Proper writers who know how to use words. And I'm not a writer.

Except I am.

I am a writer because I want to write. I am a writer because this year have been taking steps and time to write - even if much of it is devoted to a small pink blob! I am a writer because the urge is there inside and maybe this time it won't be stopped by self doubt, self loathing, or any of the excuses I've invented over the years. Honestly, I am a writer because I am writing. It's obvious but it was obscured in the haziness of doubt and a history of unwillingness to ascribe positives to myself.

I have small beginnings. Of course. But they are beginnings. And I am truly grateful for them. What existed only as a desire that I never believed would be conceived into being, let alone born as a helpless infant, now exists in both childlike and childish reality

They say rightly that from small seeds grow great trees. My tree may never be as mighty as a giant redwood. But if my tree grows to have anything like the ecstatically interesting shapes of those I saw yesterday I will be far more than satisfied.

If my branches can be unpredictable. If they form shapes not seen in a child's picture book that shows only the acceptable, idealised form of the tree.

If my wounds, like the splits and scars on the trees, are allowed to proudly add to the story rather than being deemed shameful.

And if my tree can provide refuge for another being, if it can give life, then I will be rewarded by that privilege.

I enjoyed the group. I have another little writing project to try to find the energy and make the time for. I met good people. I met again a member of this Sunday Assembly group. And I'll go back and experience it again.

I could wish that I had managed to go along sooner. I could wish that I had been brave enough to walk into that place and be a part of something unknown. I could wish that I had not spent so many years holding myself back from living in abundance.

I could wish the same about so many aspects of my life that have been finding their place and their freedom over the last few years. But everything must happen in its own time and in our own state of readiness for them.

Maybe, as a writer, writing foremost for my own sensual joy of the words, of the thoughts, of the images, and of the story, it is my time of readiness to become what I often dreamed but could never dare.

This photo was taken in the middle of September when I was wandering around Broadacre House after a mindfulness group. A haiku on a window. It just happens to be by Marie, who led the group.

Oops. The above is over 500 words. Whatever happened to being brief?! This is enough for another instant, accidentally free written on Facebook blog post.  [And yes, here it is.  Hoorah.] Yay! It may be obvious that I'm a little enthusiastic tonight. That is probably a very good thing.

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A thought.

While I'm blogging the words I posted on Facebook.  Here's another photo.  It's of a collaborative piece of art that I was a part of a few days before taking the haiku photo.  Yes, this is really a day of gratitude from ten months ago.  I note that these photos were taken one month to the day after the start of Autscape and the day I first met Amanda.  The nearly a year that's passed since arriving at Autscape has been amazing in a lot of unexpected ways.  Walking into Broadacre House was one of the unexpected things.

There was a peace conference at Broadacre just a fortnight after I learned of the place. At the conference interesting people spoke about different aspects of peace, their own experiences of peace, and of the work they do in different ways to facilitate peace.  This was a couple of weeks after a friend had answered the question "And what do you do?" for me by saying "She is a peace facilitator."  A wonderful answer and I still don't know exactly what it means for me.  The day at Broadacre also included a wide range of workshops and discussion groups.  I signed up for a bunch of them at the start of the day and then participated in a completely different bunch of them.  But nobody minded such indecisiveness.

One of the workshops was to create this collaborative art.  Each person was given one square of the finished item and the idea was just to throw colour on.  This was completely new for me.  I still don't really know how to just throw colour on or to play or to just whack it on and see what happens.  But I had a go.  My first real foray into art as play.  And I think also it was my first time picking up a paintbrush for any purpose other than painting a wall since I was at school.  A day of new experiences.  Here, just so you know and I know, are my two attempts at slapping on colour and trying to let go and just have fun.  My first square is at the top.  My second at the bottom.

 

2016. Day One. Things For Which I Am Grateful.

It's a new year.  An idea was suggested at the last Sunday Assembly that there would be a facebook group on which people would post pictures each day of things for which they are grateful.  I've signed up and started posting early.  Celebrating our gratitude and the gratitude of others is a good idea.  And in the spirit of that, here's a blog post filled with some of the things for which I am grateful.

2015 was unexpectedly hard for me, perhaps the hardest I've ever had.  That is saying a lot given what's happened in previous years - not least 2013 and 2014 in which I came to terms with my gender, my precious faith fell apart, my dad's health deteriorated rapidly and my mum died of cancer.  In 2015 my mental health has been worse than it has been for a very long time and there have been some awful times.  Awful times.  Many tears.  Near despair.  Meltdowns.  Shutdowns.  Sometimes very publicly.  I am currently on four different waiting lists relating to different aspects of my mental health.  But today I don't want to focus on the bad parts of the year because there has been so much good.

So.  Some positives.  There are many to choose from.  These are just a few.

Autism.

2015 has been the year of accepting myself as autistic, starting to learn what that means for my entire life and for the future.  It's been the year of gaining a lot more self understanding.  It's been very difficult for me but worthwhile.  The way that certain unconscious survival techniques fell apart and I learned what it's like without them has been staggeringly difficult.  But I am glad to know who I am at a base level and to be at the point where I can begin to learn to live as who I am rather than as who I am not.

The process of reading and learning and of examining my entire life has been wild.  It affects pretty much every aspect of how I see my life and of how I should seek to be living it in the future.  And through the year I've found excellent people to read online and then met great people.  That led in August to Autscape, a four day gathering/conference for autistic people.  Such a wonderful time.  My name badge from Autscape hangs by my bed.

Autism will affect the rest of my life.  The hopes for this year include learning a lot more about it, seeking some training in how to help and educate others, to be involved with a network in Newcastle for support, advocacy, campaigning and education and to go back to university and study autism in an academic context.  The hopes for the rest of my life are to live it more fully, as someone who can be wonderfully autistic rather than thinking she is a dysfunctional neurotypical.  There will probably be many surprises.

I could write much about autism and my life, and I'm sure much will be written this year.

The Church.

My faith has seen highs and lows and most of the time I don't particularly believe in a creator God-being.  But church is still a home and the people there have stuck by me through everything - even the time where my mental health was such that I pulled out of leading worship half way through a service in which I was helping lead worship.  I haven't been able to go back to that role or any other role.  I am grateful for what Northern Lights MCC has been in my life for the last two and a half years.

Friends I didn't know a year ago.

In particular:

The autistic friend who helped me accept that I might be autistic after all and helped me get to the point at which I had to face myself.  She also got me to read the first of a series of books that I mention later.  And I am grateful for her company, which is always relaxing because there is open encouragement to be who we are and to accept each other in all our perfect imperfections.

The wonderful Christian friend I met at an atheist gathering.  She is so accepting and has encouraged me consistently to be myself, that it's okay to be me, and has encouraged me to explore creativity.  And she tells me how I've helped her which is great to know.

The wonderful witch friend I met at a day singing Christian songs.  Her company is relaxing and I just know whatever happens time with her won't be predictable.  Case in point:  The day I went for a walk in the country with her and ended up leading a pagan funeral for someone's dog.

The wonderful people who are a part of Autism In Mind, a charity based in Sunderland that does so much excellent work for autistic people and in campaigning and education.

Two of the Blue Babes.  Wonderful people I met at Autscape.  We started a little group to talk (and mainly text) and we've been in contact since.  I hope to see them both before Autscape if I can.  The cat pictured belongs to one of the Babes.

And last, but most definitely not least, the other member of the Blue Babes.  Another wonderful person.  We have become very close and she is massively precious to me.  I am extremely thankful that we met and that we have become what we have become.  I guess I may be writing more about us through the course of this year.  There have been quite a few surprises in the last year but she is the biggest surprise I've had and I am grateful to be surprised in this way.  We love each other so much and are both incredibly thankful that we have each other and can share what we share.

This is Portal.  She made Portal for me.  Portal is named partly because we can't be together much but can be connected by a Portal.  Portal is also named after the Archbishop of Canterbury.

Hearts.  To represent us.  Together.  We love.

One of us is blue.  The other is purple.







Just a few positives.  I could talk of my home, my wife, my child, the way people were understanding when my mental health stopped me doing things that I could really have done with doing.  I could talk of Shape Note singing and the joy of that terrible noise!  I could talk of living in Newcastle which is a place that's been so good to me.  I could talk of playing in the sunshine in the water fountains of the Olympic Park when visiting one of the Blue Babes.

I could talk of encountering Broadacre House, of being able to help with the work for refugees - if only for a brief period of good mental health, of the mindfulness groups I've been to there.  And there will be a Broadacre post sometime - with some of the photos I took wandering round the place a few months ago.  I reckon there will be more unexpected Broadacre things in my life this year.  Here's a collaborative picture a few of us made in a session during the Peace Conference there in September.

I could talk of drinking tea in Tea Sutra.  There was a lot of tea drinking in 2015.

I could talk of the joy of having a concessionary bus pass.  The joy of being able to get to the coast easily, not having to buy a ticket, and seeing sights like this.

I could talk of the way I endlessly find new music to enjoy.  Of how much I like my noise cancelling headphones.  I could talk about how 2015 was the year in which I made my first steps into playing with art and how it looks like that will develop this year.  Art is freedom.  The future can be freedom too.  This is my first art attempt - made for a friend's birthday.

I could talk of spirituality and the exploration in the last year.  Or of the free meditation group, Soul Food Spaces, that I have been introduced to in the autumn.  I could talk about an incredible series of children's books, Skulduggery Pleasant.  (If you haven't read those books, read those books)  And of the first post-Skulduggery book by Derek Landy and how fun the signing evening was when we got him to sign two full sets of his books.

I could talk about how my hormone treatment as a transgender woman is progressing well.  I could talk of how I was able to see a friend again who I hadn't seen since 1988.  I could talk about the fact I've taken more photographs in the last four months than perhaps in the previous forty-four years.  I could talk about how we replaced our very collapsed sofa with a lovely, comfy three piece suite, which cost us £25 plus delivery.

I could talk of so many things.  That's not an exhaustive list.

Yes, 2015 has been one of the most difficult of my life.  But there is so much good.  And today I choose to focus on all that is good.  And a year that starts out surprisingly very different to how the last one began.  There are a lot more challenges.

But I firmly believe that the future will be better than the past.

Mental Health Hell and the Positivity of My Life

My mental health has been pretty damn naff recently.  There have been horrible days and even worse hours.  Mental health has stopped me doing many of the things I wanted to do.  It's paralysed me at times.  It means that instead of going to Sussex for 11 days I have had to stay in Newcastle.  I've cried lots, broken down very publicly in the city centre, hurt my head through banging it, had a constant headache from sensory overload, and really struggled to keep going at times.

Yes.  I could look at the last month and choose to say that it's been a terrible time.  I could focus in on the bad things.  I could focus on the painful meltdown on Tuesday and the way I stopped being able to function when sorting things for refugees and the way I had to walk out of my mindfulness session and cry in the corridor.  Or I could focus on the good.

I could focus in yesterday on how awful I felt in the morning, how I didn't even have the spoons to get back on the metro and come home from town.  Or I could focus on how good the day got when it became a surprise.

I have a choice.  To focus on the bad and the pain.  Or to focus on all the good things, accept the bad, and move on from there.  Because the bad is bad.  And the pain is pain.  I can't deny it.  I can't pretend that all the rubbish isn't there.  But I can choose to focus elsewhere and see that, even with all the rubbish, life is a wonderful thing.

Because there is so much good and so much hope and so many good people.  Taking - as examples - my Saturdays:

Four weeks ago I danced with a new and very valued friend, barefoot in a thunder storm at Autscape, a conference/gathering run by and for autistic people.  Four weeks on I know that Autscape was very important to me and there are things that happened there and things it taught me about myself that I haven't even begun to process.  In some way Autscape will affect the rest of my life.  That weekend I met awesome people.

Three weeks ago I went to a barbecue from which arose decisions that are majorly affecting my life.  Majorly.  Three weeks ago I found somewhere that has almost become my second home.  Somewhere that I hope will become a big part of my life.  That barbecue was just a barbecue and the person who invited me was really just inviting me to a barbecue.  Neither of us knew that it would lead to so much in such a short space of time.  That weekend I met awesome people and because I met them I went on to meet more awesome people.

Two weeks ago was a day I could say was rubbish.  Because the first half of it was pretty bad in terms of mental health difficulties.  I wouldn't wish those difficulties on anyone.  But then there was a wonderful message from an awesome friend, a message that really helped me face the day.  And then on what had been that rubbish day I had a surprise meeting with another awesome friend.  We pretended to have an appointment at the optician in order to help ourselves to hot chocolate (my awesome friend does things like that!) and then we sat in the street drinking and laughing with each other.

On the worst days there is good.  On the day I broke down so much in town my friends came to the rescue - especially three wonderful people from Autscape who stayed with me as much as they could through constant text messages until I was recovered enough to get myself safe.  I count myself as massively fortunate in the people who have come my way recently, some of whom I've met in surprising ways.  It's like I suddenly have this brand new extended family of people who I love, who love me and with whom there are all kinds of unexpected connections.

A week ago I belatedly got involved in the work going on in solidarity with refugees.  It took seeing people and donations in my new second home before I finally decided that I couldn't stay away from giving something to the cause.  It's entirely possible that the future will see me continue to be involved in that in bigger ways.  And I've met awesome people.  It takes a lot for me to stand up and do something positive.  But I think right now I am standing and I don't want to sit down again.  The work is there and will continue to be there and, if I allow it and choose it, there is space for me to be useful.

And tomorrow I go to a meditation group for the first time.  The start of what will be a weekend I am really looking forward to - though a very different weekend to the one I would be having had I not had all the mental health issues I've had recently.  There will be awesome people there too and awesome people throughout the weekend.

So.  My life has been a mental health hell.  And I could choose to see it that way.  But it has also been a time of massive and unexpected blessings and of meeting the awesome people - many of whom I would never have met had I not experienced the mental health hell.  For the future I can only see more blessings and more awesome people even if the hell continues.

I had an hour this morning when my head was not hurting from sensory overload.  The first hour in a few weeks.  It was bliss to not hurt.  And sometimes it hurts so much and that pain inside my head falls down and across my body too.  But in this life, painful life, I rejoice and in the last weeks have become more and more thankful and more and more able to see the light that comes from without and the light that I have been becoming from within.

My painful life is one of positivity.  And overall, I love the way it is becoming.