Dancing in the Figurative Autumnal Rain

I started this Monday off by reflecting on the previous week and thought I’d try to put some of it into words. After months of struggling against the stream and just trying to keep my head above water I feel like I finally got a few tangible rewards last week. I think when one experience a period of hardship, it really makes one that much more grateful for the little things.

It began on Tuesday with being able to do three hours of work, which hasn’t been possible since June I noticed once I’d checked my calendar. I mean, I knew it’d been a while since I’d completed my three hours, but not that long. It felt great, to say the least, so I rewarded myself with a proper lunch out and a book to read beside it. That too felt absolutely amazing, being able to dive into a literary world without immediately being pulled back because of my body screaming for something or other. For a few hours I was blissfully satisfied. Friday brought the same achievement, another three hours! It felt amazing, like despite everything that demands my attention every single day health wise I could still be allowed a few moments of feeling invincible because of that sense of achievement that came alongside this.

I also enjoyed some wonderful hours in the company of really good friends. It’s friends like those that help keep my spirits up even on my darkest days, so to be able to share time together in the light as well is something I appreciate dearly.

I am feeling so grateful because these little (but simultaneously big) things have filled me up so much just when I needed it the most. The hard times are hard, but it gives me strength to outlast it knowing that there are these wonderful things waiting for me on the other side. Something worth fighting for.

To quote a song I’ve taken to listening to lately when I am just trying to get through the day, or am experiencing progress and just want to relish in that feeling:

“This is my fight song
Take back my life song
Prove I’m alright song
My power’s turned on
Starting right now I’ll be strong
I’ll play my fight song
And I don’t really care if nobody else believes
‘Cause I’ve still got a lot of fight left in me” – Fight Song, Rachel Platten. Listen on Spotify HERE

So, here’s to fighting, even when it just feels like you’re giving up. Some times fighting is simply getting through the day, going to bed and doing the same tomorrow.

We can do this, each and every one of us, that I believe. We just have to remember we’re the reed in the storm and not the oak; The oak might be strong and resilient, but eventually it breaks, but the reed bends with the pressure, and when the pressure lessens the reed rises once more.

So, until then, let’s dance in the figurative autumnal rain.

With love,

– Martie xx

One of Life’s Many Messy Parts

‘All the world’s a stage,

And all the men and women merely players:

They have their exits and their entrances;

And one man in his time plays many parts…’

– William Shakespeare, As You Like It –

I am tired. Again. And I am tired of being tired. Again.

My head is full of worries and thoughts about my life, about me, which is making me more tired because as I can’t find any satisfying solutions they continue to grow and fester, tapping my sputtering energy faster than it is able to reload. When it comes to me a full worrisome mind often leads to a heavy, hollow body.

It’s way too warm for wool and turtlenecks, but I was craving the comfort of a thick and snuggly sweater, so here I am, wrapped in an overly large woolen knitted turtleneck while my feet remain bare to compensate for the temperature. The fabric’s pulled up to my nose, so I can see and breathe, while the tunes of Miles Davis trickle from the record player and thunder rumbles in the distance outside the open windows.

I am so tired from all the things going on in my head that I just want to disappear so that I can catch a break, reload and come back refreshed and ready to take on my own slumbering thoughts. That is a luxury I am unfortunately unable to obtain. And so I need to try and cure this helplessness before it sets me back even further.

See, in the past six months I’ve gotten a taste of what life can be. I’ve spent so many years being sick that I’d completely forgotten what normalcy was really like. I thought I knew, of course, but it turns out I had no clue what I was talking about. And now that my health has taken a step backwards, again, I am forced into standstill in order to nurse it back up, again, and I hate it. Normalcy lingers like a bitter aftertaste in my mouth as I am forced to sit back and watch as it dances just out of reach, taunting me.

My life was, is, going well. It was, is, truly on the uptake and I was, am, seeing a light at the end of the tunnel, because if I could, can, go from bedrest to short runs and doing things every day, being with friends and working six hours a week and still have energy to spare as long as I took breaks when needed, then I could, can, also truly believe that there was, is, a way out of this limbo life, a way for me to beat this illness altogether.

At one point I began thinking of the future, something that had not been a possibility before just because I had more than enough to deal with in the present and just getting to tomorrow, without lumping the future onto the plate as well! To begin playing with thoughts about my future was a daunting and exhilarating thing, I knew I wasn’t there yet and still had a lot of work to do with rehabilitation, but now I was able to ponder these things because they felt possible further down the line. The multiple what if’s were so exhilarating that I felt like I could fly, now that I’ve plummeted so has their weight on me.

I finished my book. A book that has been my lifeline on my darkest days, a project that has kept me occupied when I felt like I was failing at life, at living. When it felt like everything got taken away from me at least I had my writing. I do not know how I would’ve faired in all of this if my passion had been a sport like running or swimming, because my writing has been therapeutic at many occasions, and given me a sense of purpose at others, of achievement, when I had little else going for me. (Not taking credit away from friends and family, because they have truly been an invaluable support through everything and continue to be so to this day, and words fail me in my gratitude towards them.)

To finish writing and then editing said book is hands down one of my greatest achievements in life. I have written many books, but all of them are first drafts. This one is different, I’ve worked hard on this on and off whenever I could muster up the energy, it’s been a slow process, but it has given me something to do when working or studying was just a distant memory as well as a distant possibility. An idea that was born in 2010 has now come full circle and turned into a finished novel, next step being to embark on research to take it to the next step towards my dream of publication.

Thomas Edison said: ‘Opportunity is missed by most people because it is dressed in overalls and looks like work.‘ A tough road is up ahead for this book, and for me both writing and health wise, but I know the dream can become reality just because I am willing to do the hard work required to make it happen. But right now? Right now I need a break so that I can gather the resolve I need to get my motivation going again.

The future. Some times I want to just strangle that phrase with my bare hands, because right now it feels like mockery even though I know it isn’t, it certainly won’t be when I get some of my energy and optimism back. Three years of my life have fallen victim to this chronic illness, and even though I am doing much better now compared to how it used to be (my bad days now would’ve been a very good day three years ago), I can’t help but wonder how many more years this illness is going to claim from me. I guess that is why it’s called a chronic illness, because there really is no telling if or when it’ll happen.

All the world’s a stage and we are merely players, and one man in his life plays many parts. Shakespeare hit the nail on the head there. I suppose this is just one of the many parts I shall play in my lifetime, and I’ll hopefully soon go back to the optimistic and motivated person I know myself to be, but right now I just need to rest.

If you made it to the end of this post then I salute you, because I have a tendency to ramble on and on as you can probably tell. But it did feel good to write some of it down, like some of the weight left my shoulders simply by putting it into words. Words are amazing that way and it’s one of the many reasons why I love them so much.

Thank you for listening.

With love,

– Martie xx

The Drowning Poet

19.05.16 01:19

You walked with a poet and she became intrigued

The way you’d calm her erratic spirit with a glance

It was almost like magic

She didn’t sprint away like her past always said she should

You ran with a poet and captured her interest

With soulful azure eyes you shattered her walls

It was like they’d never even existed 

You were the calm that stilled her storms

You lay with a poet and made your way into her bloodstream

And now your essence in her veins must become ink on paper

As she bleeds her precious words

In an attempt to extract you from within

While her soul sighs with practiced longing

For the vibrant muse that rescued the drowning poet

– Martie xx

Newfound Freedom & Vibrant Hearts

29.09.15   16:16

Words always failed her when she tried to put her happiness to paper — pain, sorrow and lostness always had a more natural flow as it poured with ease from her fingertips, a comfortable world where she knew all the dark corners of her inner demons; of her sputtering heart and dead emotions. 

She does not know all the ins and outs of this newfound world of hers, where each day is as mesmerising and bright as a firework show — forever changing and expanding. Laughter now bubbles to her lips each day without effort, filling her up as she dares to walk blindly further into the spectacular show of colours, people and the unknown. 

Where black holes and numbness recided seedlings of life have taken deep roots, gradually expanding their territory, banishing the dark with a stubborn ferocity. 

She has stopped questioning her smiles, the easy arrival of her laugh, her whims and feelings — she still doesn’t understand them, and suspects she never will — instead she’s learned to let them out, let them fly. She has stopped pretending like she knows where she’s going; she threw away her broken compass that could never stop spinning in vicious self destructive circles, and dared to find her own road through trial and error — she is still wandering. 

A sensation of unbearable lightness has enveloped her as her wings rest against the soft surface of a white cloud above — with crossed legs she stares down at the faraway cities, the people she’ll never meet but still wish happiness upon, trying to decide where she’ll go next. The question remains unanswered, so for tonight she’ll take to the stars as she awaits the sunrise — as she awaits a soft breeze that will guide her to strangers with vibrant hearts; her next adventure.
– Martie xx

Beneath Ink Stained Fingertips…

A soya macchiato with steam rising into the still air as the caramel topping sinks down through the foam. Shoes empty and toppled over beneath the chair while the soles of my feet are tucked beneath my thighs, legs crossed. White headphones cover my ears and fill my mind with the sweetest of tunes, ‘he told me son, you know I lost my true love for the same exact reason that you crossed the sea’ — the morning’s still young and only a few people occupy the room, we’re all going it alone with books, laptops and phones as companions, caffeine at our sides. I sit, curled in on myself in the tiny chair, all 5’10 of me, with my chin in my scarf and my coffee within arm’s length I enter the bubble I’ve missed for so long, pen poised between my fingers as the ink flows from the tip and onto the pages. What had up until this point been a fickle of my imagination becomes a little more real as the dimensions of new people and their tragic little lives are created onto paper. My Moleskine becomes ladened with the pieces of a new world that I’ve yet to string together coherently and the very essence of my soul sighs with a neglected relief as all the fragments of thoughts and ideas release their grip on my mind and gets transferred to the crisp awaiting pages. For a blissful hour I exist only within, until I unfurl my now stiff limbs and muscles, roll my aching neck, down the remaining cold coffee and put the notes away — until next time — and enter reality once more. As I leave a guy takes my seat, I hope he will find the same peace in the pages of the book he is holding as I did with my own during the time it took my fingertips to get stained with the ink I so often can’t live without…

– Martie xx

With Love

Some times a feeling creeps up on me and I don’t notice until it has coiled itself around my very spine — until its tendrils are buried deep in my bone marrow, sending shivers through my entire body.

At times it comes because of something I read, or something I wrote down, or because of a song. The reasons vary, but it’s always the same: an otherwordly emotion that brings with it a precious moment carved out Time’s personal archive — it is deep and pensive, and the world goes away for a little while. It’s just me and my head, a moment where thoughts and words flow without inhibitions, they are born from a different place within than the other ones… I love those moments.

Music fuels the mood and emotions when I’m already in it, and it’s my own personal way of prolonging what I’m feeling, and some times it works as a cure for emotions I don’t know what to do with — things I don’t know how to process usually finds a resolution within melodies and lyrics, and they come to a mutual understanding some place within me.

The sensation that follows this particular feeling of enchantment is one of the best things I know, it’s one of the reasons I love writing so much as well because it fills me up in ways other things seldom do.

I spent today without internet — no social media, no phone calls, no text messages — and with my best friend. Take-away coffee, conversations and laughter, a walk in the cold across the thin layer of frost and snow around the cathedral, two and a half hours at the cinema followed by an hour and a half of conversation across a coffee inside as she waited with me for my bus. I treasure days like today, because I’m filled up on pure joy and happiness, and it reminds me of the lyrics from Taylor Swift’s song ‘Best Day’ that goes like this: “And I didn’t know if you knew, so I’m taking this chance to say that I had the best day, with you, today.

An entire day of nothing but good emotions because of the presence she brings and the love I harbor for her being. It was followed by that sensation I mentioned — as I sat on the bus ride home I took my notebook out of my bag and jotted away as the bus stops whizzed by while music played in my ears, and I just let it fuel the wonderful emotions already churning inside of me. It’s like a little piece of wonderful magic that comes out to play, and I always welcome its visits with open arms.

With love,

– Martie xx

My Nano Bubble

Writing. Writing. Writing. That is basically what takes up space in my mind these days, how, when, how much and how the best way is to make the words flow. After three days of partly forcing the words out I finally detected the problem: this is a story that will thrive better in past tense, and as I was writing in present tense (and as a result feeling like I was murdering a seemingly okay idea) this proved to be a problem. So, today I switched on the spot in the middle of the chapter, and finished the chapter this way, catching up with today’s word count goal in the process, and then I went back and rewrote the whole thing into past tense.

Even though nano is all about silencing your inner editor it was driving me mad to not do it, especially as I plan to post the story on Wattpad as I go along, and how can I do that if the beginning is in a different tense that sounds absolutely horrible? Let me just tell you that it was such a good decision and I didn’t mind the extra work one bit because as a result I now enjoy writing Nickels story. Luckily I don’t have too much of an editor brain so I didn’t change the story as a whole, I just rewrote the sentences to fit the new style.

I now have 7000 words and three completed chapters that I’ve also now posted onto my Wattpad account. The first chapter can be found here if you want to have a look!

My plan for tomorrow is to take my laptop with me as I head into town for work and hopefully when I finish at noon I’ll still be up for some writing as I need to get ahead of my designated word count goals as I’m spending literally the entire Saturday at the cinema, and I find it much more motivating to be ahead as opposed to playing catch up!

It still remains to be seen if I can follow through on my plan as my health fluctuates a lot these days, so for all I know I’ll have to head straight home from work, or I might have to leave early, or I might not even be able to go at all. Such things are usually revealed in the morning, but regardless I bring my laptop with me basically everywhere I go just in case.

– Martie xx