I haven’t posted a picture from the 365 self portraits I did for sometime.
Like all of them, at the time I did it purely for myself. This one was a bit of an ironic joke to myself. There was a particular issue bothering me and then I listened to the Smiths’ song. Bigmouth Strikes Again.
Sweetness, sweetness I was only joking
When I said I’d like to smash every tooth
In your head
Oh … sweetness, sweetness, I was only joking
When I said by rights you should be
Bludgeoned in your bed
So, with the juxtaposition of the two things I shot this, as I say, meaning it to be an ironic joke. In fact, the thing that was bothering me was and is very far from funny. It centres round the lies of an ex that I have mentioned on here before. I was bothered that she had renewed her campaign of lies about me. Perhaps not renewed. I had just become aware again of an ongoing situation. The particular lies this addresses were the story she likes to put about that I used to beat her up. Two particular expressions come to mind. “He used to beat the crap out of me on several occasions.” and “He beat me to a pulp on more than one occasion”. These phrases paint a very specific picture. It just isn’t true. But it’s not a ver nice picture for someone to be painting. Especially to some of the people she involved. One of those people has since died. Before I had a chance to correct this picture. That saddens and angers me. Historically her lies have seriously impinged on long-term friendships. Which is also saddening and angering. Added to the additional sadness that these friends seem to have believed at least in part. There is also the issue that the liar was comfortable to say these things around these people.
I have attempted to address these lies with the person concerned. I have even cited these specific examples. She just says that she never said. (I know she did). You can’t even begin to deal with a person like that. Someone who knows that you know it is true they said them but just denies it. There is nowhere you can go forward from that. Although I do suspect that she no longer knows what is true or not. She has that ability, once a lie has been accepted or repeated, to believe it as absolute truth. She likes, also, to tell people I am totally crazy or mad. An easy target because, of course, I have had mental illness. But these are depression and PTSD. Crazy? At least I know what is true and what isn’t. It all calls into question a lot of other things. For instance, when we were going out she told me tales of abuse by a family member. I accepted this without question at the time but now I have to winder. More about that on a future blog.
There is another interesting thing. She threatened me, both directly and indirectly, with violence from her husband if I wrote things she didn’t like on my blog. Whether that actually bothers me is not the issue here. The issue is that SHE seems to think that violence is an option for her to use or threaten. It also implies very strongly that her husband is prone to aggression and violence. Under the circumstances quite an irony. I think that explains, to a degree, her need to demonise me.”Dark and dangerous” is also an expression she has used about me. Definitely a bit of projection going on there. This implication of his tendency is very much reinforced in documentary form from a different source on the web. A different but very damning source. I intend to use it in a future blog where I will deal with this catalogue of lies. It continues to affect my life and I have had enough of it. I will name and shame.
So, here is the ironic joke of a picture.
Posted in Mental Health, Photography, Recovery from mental illness, writing
Tagged abuse, betrayal, depression, friendship, lies, memories, music, poetry, PTSD, relationships, self portrait, trust
Yesterday, I had a truth confirmed. A very old truth. Well it’s always been true and remains true. Just that it happened a long time ago. I first heard it a long time ago. At the time I heard it, and ever since I suppose, I held on to a small thread of hope that it really wasn’t true. I think I needed that hope, however small, however unlikely in reality.
So now I’ve had it confirmed as true. I think I always supposed confirmation would make me very angry. It hasn’t. Beyond the frustration of intense disappointment. The realisation of something I have always thought of as having the potential to be especially beautiful could never have been. Was always destined to be spoilt. I do feel, however, overwhelming and devastating sadness. It is a sadness so vast, so total that there are no words big enough to describe it.
I feel absolutely full of an emotion too big to even describe, to big to stand up to, too huge to resist. And at the same time empty of spirit and will. Such a loss of the will that I thought was coming back. Everything is destined to become shit, even if it wasn’t at the beginning.
There is that saying that the past is a foreign country. If it is then it’s a foreign country able to powerfully invade the territory of the present.
Really, at the end of the day, what is the point? When everything is destined to be accompanied by such sadness.
I still have all your letters and the other
bits and pieces.
They are few enough of course,
you weren’t a big one for writing
at least not to me, too busy
Communicating with lovers past
The thing is there is this one
that pinpoints the lie, The one
That pisses me off so much,
The lie in which it never happened
But there it is, talking about the thing
That “never happened”. Talking indeed
About it actually happening.
Strange that, maybe my paranoia
Is strong enough to imagine this
Letter into existence.
I could just get this letter out
for all to see; but really I can’t
I have this principle on that
inconvenient as that might be.
And yet somehow, and some way
I have to find a way to nail
this lie and all its effects.
The anger it causes, that too
which with no release or valve
always turns so devastatingly
inwards. A destructive force
Of course it makes me angry
You condemn me for my reaction
to painful events, things you didn’t
Put others through so of course
They are wonderful by compare
not having to bear that pain
That most intrusive of pains
I suppose it’s so much easier
to be wonderful when you’re
not sharing. In fact I seem
to remember I was seen as wonderful
until I had to deal with that shit
and all of its aftermath, but then
you were never good on cause and effect.
And then you say the event
That caused my reaction, never happened
Just far too unfair I’m afraid.
I’m falling apart. Pretty big time
Shouldn’t be here really but
The lines and the tubes and the care
Mean that I am. Fighting hard
Mainly for the sake of others
Not to go to that place again.
Come to think of it, there is
another lie. I even checked it out
with you being prepared to accept
the possibility of memory defect
being bonkers, as I am. It’s a lie
that should bother me more, would many
people that I know. It pisses me off
for sure. Just doesn’t grate as much
as the really big one does.
footnote (I published this before then deleted by mistake. I’ve changed the title)
Another one from this group of pictures.
This picture. Oh dear, this picture.
I mentioned when I posted them as a group that when I did these photographs I was at a very low point of my illness. Very dark days indeed. I think the shot conveys some of that darkness
I didn’t set out to take this picture.I was in the area and then found myself outside these windows of a building that was being renovated. The shot isn’t so much about the windows but about the room behind a couple of them. Other parts of the building held happy memories for me. This room held, mostly, quite unhappy memories. They are memories of an extremely difficult time that could have been so different. Of a time, under huge stress, I wasn’t behaving totally rationally. A time when I held ridiculously optimistic hopes that things might change, that another person might change. That’s a stupid hope. You can’t change people by hope or will especially if their basic behaviour beforehand has been unreasonable. I acknowledge that some of my own behaviour in reaction to that was unreasonable. I lost my way. In this room I learnt of, what was in a way, the death of a child. I thought I got over that, I thought I moved on. A couple of years later the actions and outpourings of another person dragged it back. Even after that I thought I’d got over it. I don’t think deep down that I have. Many years later, and quite recently, some very offhand and uncaring comments showed that I haven’t. These throwawy comments made me very sad and their offhand nature actually made me quite angry.
This picture tells quite a tale.
Posted in Mental Health, Music, Photography
Tagged betrayal, depression, grief, guilt, infidelity, lies, memories, pain, trust
The title of this post is something of an issue for me currently.
I don’t know what the dictionary definition is but for me if you disclose something on the basis that it’s confidential it means it is absolutely privileged. Especially when the person has received that information on the understanding that it’s confidential. I have worked as a workplace mediator. On some mediations the key to resolving an issue has only come about because someone eventually discloses some sensitive information. This happens only because they trust that things are absolutely confidential. It is an important concept for me on many levels.
Confidential does not mean that you only tell one person at a time because you have a juicy piece of gossip that you want to share. Or because it makes you a bit of a cool kiddy because you know something that person you’re telling does not.
Having said that I have generally been pretty lucky with the people I have trusted with information. But there is, unfortunately, the odd person that lets you down. It should seem obvious that someone who has betrayed you in the past is likely to betray you again but I seem to be a bit naive in that area. Or, perhaps, too ready to give people another chance. My outlook now, however, is that where this betrayal of confidence has happened then all bets are off, or perhaps that should be the gloves are off. More so I think if their behaviour is passively unreasonable in other areas. Obviously the breach of confidence is greatly enhanced when accompanied by some unnecessary (and actually untrue) insults!
I hate being misled. With a passion. It’s up there with being used and being lied about behind your back. Funny how they seem to go together with the same people! It is probably a character defect on my part that it bothers me so much but it always feels like a personal affront. I would say it’s less of a character defect than that of the people who do it.
I’m sure I’ve misled people in the past. But never as part of a deliberate policy of deception. My OH frequently tells me that I am too open and too trusting. Which, in the end, makes it easier for people to be miselading.Leaving aside all the other things, it makes life more difficult all round.
One of the problems with being misled is this. You behave according to the impression you’ve been given as that is the reasonable thing. This isn’t actually what the other person wants or expects in fact. Then they get all hurt and probably aggressive because things are not as they expect when the misunderstanding is their fault in the first place. This pisses me off.
I am prone to being pissed off at the moment. Following a period ofwhizzes and unexpected unnecessarily loud nearby bangs and explosions. This taps into my PTSD you see dear reader. For those outside the UK we are enjoying what used to be Bonfire Night but which now appears to be Bonfire Month. Whatever the reason I am very pissed off!