Writing as Therapy #writing Guest Post for @McGuireHimself

This is a piece I wrote recently as a guest blog for Patrick McGuire. McGuire offers a webpage that covers a wide variety of interests: jokes, serious commentary, recipes, poems comic and serious. As one reader put it, "McGuireHimself.com is about the life, loves and literature of Patrick McGuire." His blog can be found HERE and hiw Twitter is @McGuireHimself

 

 

 

 

Why do I write so much and so often? For decades I was unable to express my innermost thoughts and feelings verbally. Initially because I was silenced by those that abused me. The fear of reprisals for speaking out far outweighing the need to "tell". I felt disconnected from the world around me, an island in the vast ocean of life. I started writing about my feelings in my early teens. I wrote to stop my head exploding... There was so much I wanted to say but was unable to give voice to my thoughts. Some of these early attempts at writing are difficult for me to read even now, the raw pain I felt then leaping out of the words to slap me in the face.

Writing as therapy focuses on expressive writing and its value in processing life experience, particularly trauma and change. Use writing to express your  “deepest thoughts and feelings” regarding a particular subject (e.g. illness, recent loss, life upheavals, past trauma etc.).  Writing, more so than speaking out thoughts or feelings aloud, presents us with a slower, solitary mode for reflection. Unlike conversations, we’re less concerned with another person’s reaction. We listen perhaps more intently to our own voices and catch glimpses of subtler stirrings. We own our words in a more definitive and personal way.

Many people use writing as therapy, perhaps without even realising it. Keeping a diary or journal is a common and popular pass time in which secrets are often written down, dreams expressed and desires given life. Blogging is a more recent phenomenon and is yet another form of expressive writing. It's a more public form of "therapy", sharing with the world our hopes, expectations, thoughts and ideas. Using the internet also allows one to be as private or public as one wishes. Identities can be assumed and a sense of safety obtained by "hiding" behind a screen of some sort.

For me, being finally able to give my words wings and letting them fly around the world was hugely empowering. I have much that I have not yet shared, things too painful for my consiousness to process still. Some of these exist in private writings and others exist in my mental journal. One day I hope to give all these memories, fears, hopes and aspirations a life, to cast the pain out along with the words.

I find writing to be as relaxing as meditation. It calms my inner seas and brings my sometimes erratic and painful thoughts to the safety of a secure harbour. There are many forms of writing; there are many styles. We have different ways of expressing ourselves; we also have varied reasons for doing so. But when pen and paper or finger and keyboard make contact, thoughts are released and the mind gets more focused as we are instinctively drawn towards the quiet center of the self.

Anyone can use writing as a means to clear their thoughts, to give order to chaos. Writing is a disciplinary act that can give new insights into yourself and your relationships. It is also completely honest, for what do you gain by lying to yourself? It is a therapy designed for everybody, not just for the disturbed, distressed or dying. Writing is a spiritual journey, it is the soul searching for truth. Writing should flow through you, cleansing and clearing as it progresses.

Use writing to manage your stress. Identify the external reason or reasons for your stress, then link your own contribution to this stress. Pinpoint what is bothering you, what happened or is happening to add to the stress levels. Write about your responses, your feelings and thoughts related to the events. Tell yourself in your own written words why you are distressed, decide what you can do to control the situation. Decide on a way forward. Be honest!

You don't have to devote much time to use writing as therapy, perhaps 10-15 minutes a day is all you will need. If you have the urge to write more then be sure to take breaks, read and read again what you have written before you go on. You can write about how writing makes you feel! Don't let writing become a chore. Relax, walk the dog, dig the garden, tell your partner you love them and don't forget to tell yourself the same. Writing as therapy should be relaxing, not a stress in it's own right.

Writing helped keep me sane (well as sane as was possible given the circumstances), it gave an outlet to the turmoil I felt inside and allowed me to feel some benefit from sharing my experiences, if only with myself.. I can't imagine a life where I would be unable to write, to express myself on screen or paper. I write, therefore I am!

Where do I fit?

I'm not used to your ways. This game you play with me.

Is not to my understanding. What am I supposed to do?

What role in your game, am I to play? Want to be a star. Not an

understudy. I'm not a reserve. A last minute choice.

What part do I play? Where do I fit?

I'm not playing your games.

Drop dead.

1989

Live Your Life Fully

Live life, don't just get by.

A year ago this month I had an awakening. I'd spent a miserable winter, my mind unsettled, thoughts constantly spinning, I felt I was falling apart. I broke down in March 2011, couldn't take any more stress. My sleep had been disrupted by nightmares, I woke frequently in a panic. I seriously thought I was losing my sanity.

Recently I've been feeling unsettled again. I've made some conscious decisions to change my life and more importantly, my thinking. Many people, myself especially, are content to just exist...

If you want to truly live life, to really experience it, to enjoy it to the fullest, instead of barely scraping by and only living a life of existence, then you need to find ways to break free from the mold and drink from life.

I've spent too much time dwelling on my own past, wasted years of my life probably. I've been eaten up with bitterness and anger, to a point where it was making me ill. I've learnt much this past twelve months. A great deal of what I've learnt has been painful, not only the memories that surfaced, but also the things I've learnt about myself.

I've let the past control who I am today. I have moved on from much of it now, I've learnt to lay blame firmly where it belongs and to accept that I was a victim. I was done wrong. I can't go back and change the past, can't undo damage that was done. What I can do though is to accept, to learn and to grow stronger.

I've grown stronger in many ways. I've let the anger that was festering inside me out. Lately I've learnt to forgive. I forgive myself. For years I blamed myself for not only letting myself be abused, but also for how it affected my adult life. No more. I forgive myself and it feels pretty good too.

I will never stop trying to make a difference though. I hope that my writing, my blogging and my social interactions help others as much as it has helped me. I'm no leader, I'm not a miracle worker and I'm certainly no hero. I'm a man, a man who wants to bring about change in people's perceptions and a man who wants to somehow make this world a safer place for the children of the future. I want people to learn that it's ok to talk about their past and I want the listeners to not condemn or judge the victim.

You will note that I don't forgive, or ask forgiveness for those that abuse. The bible teaches that we should forgive those that trespass against us... Child abuse and rape is not "trespass", rather it's an abuse of power and control. It's a crime. It deserves no forgiveness.

So many victims of these crimes cannot recover. Suicide rates are higher in those that have been abused or raped. The shame and pain too much to handle. I've attempted suicide in the past, I understand all too well how it feels. Thankfully I failed, but at the time I was mad that I hadn't had the courage to do a better job of it.

Too often we go through life on autopilot, going through the motions and having each day pass like the one before it. That's fine, and comfortable, until you have gone through another year without having done anything, without having really lived life.

Every suicide by a victim of abuse or rape should be classed as murder. Not self murder, but murder by the abuser or rapist. Many will disagree and it is your right to do so.

I receive occasional hate mail and rude comments. So be it, we all have the right to express an opinion. My blog and it's content are my opinion. You are not forced to read it. If you disagree with me then at least have the decency to do so openly and preferably without using gutter language. I understand why some victims would want to post anonymous comments and i haven't a problem with that, but to mail or post abusive comments anonymously only makes me think the sender is a paedophile or rapist anyway.

I'm moving on with my life. I'm moving away from the negative aspects of my past and I am going to try and be the man I should have been.

I am so grateful that people want to read my blog. It's an affirmation that I'm doing something right. Thank you.

Life is for living. Being happy is the goal. Be your own definition of happy, don't waste life trying to live up to someone else's definition.

This is a short essay based on Oscar Wilde's quotation, I hope you fine it interesting.

“To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.”

Nowadays people kill themselves to eke out a living, improve their living conditions or keep their high standard of living, but they forget to live. A Scottish proverb says; "be happy while you're living, for you're a long time dead." In fact, people don’t live, but they survive each day, for they are too busy, too tired, too stressed and too worried to really enjoy the pleasures of life. Everyone says; “time flies.” Thus, hours become days and days become years and years become a wasted precious life, and what for? Of course, for a better living.

It’s believed that to be successful in life and improve your conditions you have to work hard and never stop, because if you stop, another person will come and take your place.

Besides, as the present society demands a lot of effort to survive and keep a decent living, pleasures are the first thing to be put off when wanting to achieve any goal. However, if you postpone your enjoyment until you have time, money and/or proper conditions arrive that time may never come or come too late and your priceless life will be wasted.

The strains of modern life force people to live in such a hurry that they don’t even have time to enjoy the beautiful world we live in. People forget to take delight of the bonny things nature provides us. It costs no money and takes almost no time. "This world, after all our science and sciences, is still a miracle; wonderful, magical and more, to whosoever will think of it." - Thomas Carlyle.

Being ambitious, human beings always want more than what they actually need or would really enjoy like a collector. People accumulate things for others to enjoy them, for they value their lives by the things they possess, which is a quite sad way of appreciating life since they’ll never be satisfied. “The true perfection of man lies not in what man has, but in what man is.” Oscar Wilde.

If people at bedtime review of the day ask themselves how much they delight the day, they’ll probably conclude that they miss another chance of feeling alive. Responsibilities are absolutely necessary as well as a job and material things, but life goes beyond that. How many people at their deathbed regret for not taking the opportunities they had to live, to have adventures and experiences? There is nothing better than to look back your past and be able to say; “I lived and lived very well. I made mistakes and I learned from them.”

In conclusion, our time is not eternal. Each second, minute, hour, day we waste is gone forever. To overwork for something you won’t enjoy is as silly as having the opportunity to live but to prefer to exist in order to talk about the ones who do live. Once we value more what we are than what we have, maybe our goals would change and feel what to be alive means. Thus, after feeling really alive, our life will be neither empty nor wasted but full of precious experiences.

Live Your Life

I found this list on a few sites and wanted to share it with you.

What follows is just a list of ideas, obvious ones mostly that you could have thought of yourself, but that I hope are useful reminders. We all need reminders sometimes. If you find this useful, print it out, and start using it. Today.

Love. Perhaps the most important. Fall in love, if you aren't already. If you have, fall in love with your partner all over again. Abandon caution and let your heart be broken. Or love family members, friends, anyone -- it doesn't have to be romantic love. Love all of humanity, one person at a time.

Get outside. Don't let yourself be shut indoors. Go out when it's raining. Walk on the beach. Hike through the woods. Swim in a freezing lake. Bask in the sun. Play sports, or walk barefoot through grass. Pay close attention to nature.

Savor food. Don't just eat your food, but really enjoy it. Feel the texture, the bursts of flavors. Savor every bite. If you limit your intake of sweets, it will make the small treats you give yourself (berries or dark chocolate are my favorites) even more enjoyable. And when you do have them, really, really savor them. Slowly.

Create a morning ritual. Wake early and greet the day. Watch the sun rise. Out loud, tell yourself that you will not waste this day, which is a gift. You will be compassionate to your fellow human beings, and live every moment to its fullest. Stretch or meditate or exercise as part of your ritual. Enjoy some coffee.

Take chances. We often live our lives too cautiously, worried about what might go wrong. Be bold, risk it all. Quit your job and go to business for yourself (plan it out first!), or go up to that girl/guy you've liked for a long time and ask her out. What do you have to lose?

Follow excitement. Try to find the things in life that excite you, and then go after them. Make life one exciting adventure after another (with perhaps some quiet times in between).

Find your passion. Similar to the above tip, this one asks you to find your calling. Make your living by doing the thing you love to do. First, think about what you really love to do. There may be many things. Find out how you can make a living doing it. It may be difficult, but you only live once.

Get out of your cubicle. Do you sit all day in front of computer, shuffling papers and taking phone calls and chatting on the Internet? Don't waste your days like this. Break free from the cubicle environment, and do your work on a laptop, in a coffee shop, or on a boat, or in a log cabin. This may require a change of jobs, or becoming a freelancer. It's worth it.

Turn off the TV. How many hours will we waste away in front of the boob tube? How many hours do we have to live? Do the math, then unplug the TV. Only plug it back in when you have a DVD of a movie you love. Otherwise, keep it off and find other stuff to do. Don't know what to do? Read further.

Pull away from Internet. You're reading something on the Internet right now. And, with the exception of this article, it is just more wasting away of your precious time. You cannot get these minutes back. Unplug the Internet, then get out of your office or house. Right now! And go and do something.

Travel. Sure, you want to travel some day. When you have vacation time, or when you're older. Well, what are you waiting for? Find a way to take a trip, if not this month, then sometime soon. You may need to sell your car or stop your cable bill and stop eating out to do it, but make it happen. You are too young to not see the world. If need be, find a way to make a living by freelancing, then work while you travel. Only work an hour or two a day. Don't check email but once a week. Then use the rest of the time to see the world.

Rediscover what's important. Take an hour and make a list of everything that's important to you. Add to it everything that you want to do in life. Now cut that list down to 4-5 things. Just the most important things in your life. This is your core list. This is what matters. Focus your life on these things. Make time for them.

Eliminate everything else. What's going on in your life that's not on that short list? All that stuff is wasting your time, pulling your attention from what's important. As much as possible, simplify your life by eliminating the stuff that's not on your short list, or minimizing it.

Exercise. Get off the couch and go for a walk. Eventually try running. Or do some push ups and crunches. Or swim or bike or row. Or go for a hike. Whatever you do, get active, and you'll love it. And life will be more alive.

Be positive. Learn to recognize the negative thoughts you have. These are the self-doubts, the criticisms of others, the complaints, the reasons you can't do something. Then stop yourself when you have these thoughts, and replace them with positive thoughts. Solutions. You can do this!

Open your heart. Is your heart a closed bundle of scar tissue? Learn to open it, have it ready to receive love, to give love unconditionally. If you have a problem with this, talk to someone about it. And practice makes perfect.

Kiss in the rain. Seize the moment and be romantic. Raining outside? Grab your lover and give him/her a passionate kiss. Driving home? Stop the car and pick some wildflowers. Send him/her a love note. Dress sexy for him/her.

Face your fears. What are you most afraid of? What is holding you back? Whatever it is, recognize it, and face it. Do what you are most afraid of. Afraid of heights? Go to the tallest building, and look down over the edge. Only by facing our fears can we be free of them.

When you suffer, suffer. Life isn't all about fun and games. Suffering is an inevitable part of life. We lose our jobs. We lose our lovers. We lose our pets. We get physically injured or sick. A loved one becomes sick. A parent dies. Learn to feel the pain intensely, and really grieve. This is a part of life -- really feel the pain. And when you're done, move on, and find joy.

Slow down. Life moves along at such a rapid pace these days. It's not healthy, and it's not conducive to living. Practice doing everything slowly -- everything, from eating to walking to driving to working to reading. Enjoy what you do. Learn to move at a snail's pace.

Touch humanity. Get out of your house and manicured neighborhoods, and find those who live in worse conditions. Meet them, talk to them, understand them. Live among them. Be one of them. Give up your materialistic lifestyle.

Volunteer. Help at homeless soup kitchens. Learn compassion, and learn to help ease the suffering of others. Help the sick, those with disabilities, those who are dying.

Play with children. Children, more than anyone else, know how to live. They experience everything in the moment, fully. When they get hurt, they really cry. When they play, they really have fun. Learn from them, instead of thinking you know so much more than them. Play with them, and learn to be joyful like them.

Talk to old people. There is no one wiser, more experienced, more learned, than those who have lived through life. They can tell you amazing stories. Give you advice on making a marriage last or staying out of debt. Tell you about their regrets, so you can learn from them and avoid the same mistakes. They are the wisdom of our society -- take advantage of their existence while they're still around.

Learn new skills. Constantly improve yourself instead of standing still -- not because you're so imperfect now, but because it is gratifying and satisfying. You should accept yourself as you are, and learn to love who you are, but still try to improve -- if only because the process of improvement is life itself.

Find spirituality. For some, this means finding God or Jesus or Allah or Buddha. For others, this means becoming in tune with the spirits of our ancestors, or with nature. For still others, this just means an inner energy. Whatever spirituality means for you, rediscover it, and its power.

Take mini-retirements. Don't leave the joy of retirement until you are too old to enjoy it. Do it now, while you're young. It makes working that much more worth it. Find ways to take a year off every few years. Save up, sell your home, your possessions, and travel. Live simply, but live, without having to work. Enjoy life, then go back to work and save up enough money to do it again in a couple of years.

Do nothing. Despite the tip above that we should find excitement, there is value in doing nothing as well. Not doing nothing as in reading, or taking a nap, or watching TV, or meditating. Doing nothing as in sitting there, doing nothing. Just learning to be still, in silence, to hear our inner voice, to be in tune with life. Do this daily if possible.

Stop playing video games. They might be fun, but they can take up way too much time. If you spend a lot of time playing online games, or computer solitaire, or Wii or Gameboy or whatever, consider going a week without it. Then find something else to do, outside.

Watch sunsets, daily. One of the most beautiful times of day. Make it a daily ritual to find a good spot to watch the sunset, perhaps having a light dinner while you do so.

Stop reading magazines. They're basically crap. And they waste your time and money. Cancel your subscriptions and walk past them at the news stands. If you have to read something, read a trashy novel or even better, read this blog once a day and be done.

Break out from ruts. Do you do things the same way every day? Change it up. Try something new. Take a different route to work. Start your day out differently. Approach work from a new angle. Look at things from new perspectives.

Stop watching the news. It's depressing and useless. If you're a news junky, this may be difficult. I haven't watch TV news or read a newspaper regularly in about two years. It hasn't hurt me a bit. Anything important, my wife tells me about.

Laugh till you cry. Laughing is one of the best ways to live. Tell jokes and laugh your head off. Watch an awesome comedy. Learn to laugh at anything. Roll on the ground laughing. You'll love it.

Lose control. Not only control over yourself, but control over others. It's a bad habit to try to control others -- it will only lead to stress and unhappiness for yourself and those you try to control. Let others live, and live for yourself. And lose control of yourself now and then too.

Cry. Men, especially, tend to hold in our tears, but crying is an amazing release. Cry at sad movies. Cry at a funeral. Cry when you are hurt, or when somebody you love is hurt. It releases these emotions and allows us to cleanse ourselves.

Make an awesome dessert. I like to make warm, soft chocolate cake. But even berries dipped in chocolate, or crepes with ice cream and fruit, or fresh apple pie, or homemade chocolate chip cookies or brownies, are great. This isn't an every day thing, but an occasional treat thing. But it's wonderful.

Try something new, every week. Ask yourself: "What new thing shall I try this week?" Then be sure to do it. You don't have to learn a new language in one week, but seek new experiences. Give it a try. You might decide you want to keep it in your life.

Be in the moment. Instead of thinking about things you need to do, or things that have happened to you, or worrying or planning or regretting, think about what you are doing, right now. What is around you? What smells and sounds and sights and feelings are you experiencing? Learn to do this as much as possible through meditation, but also through bringing your focus back to the present as much as you can in everything you do.

Work like you don't need the money.

Love like you've never been hurt.

Dance like nobody's watching.

Sing like nobody's listening.

Live like it's Heaven on Earth.

Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.

Thoughts At Sixty via @McGuireHimself

One of the things I find amazing about social media is the fact you can get to know people from all over. The internet has opened up the world, made possible social connections that would have been all but impossible before. Personally this is a life changing experience.

In my own journey, I have viewed much of life from the sidelines. I have two passions, writing and educating people about child abuse. This week my guest is writer Patrick McGuire.

Patrick McGuire is a writer of fiction, poetry, drama, and essays.

He has been teaching English at the University of Wisconsin-Parkside since 1986. He has received various teaching awards including the prestigious, career-achievement University of Wisconsin Regents’ Award for Excellence in Teaching. His university offerings include courses on specific authors–Chaucer, The Gawain Poet, Shakespeare, Jane Austen, W.B. Yeats, Wallace Stevens, Toni Morrison–as well as general ed. courses such as Intro to Literature, Intro to World Literature, Intro to Modern World Literature, American Literature to 1850, American Literature 1850-1920, American Literature 1920 to Present, British Poetry, British Literature to 1800, British Literature Since 1800, and Three Irish Poets: Yeats, Kavanagh and Heaney. He also has taught a panoply of writing courses: Developmental English, Composition and Reading, Advanced Composition and Advanced Composition for English Majors, Creative Writing: Fiction, Creative Writing: Poetry, and Playwrighting. He has also taught Intro to Language, History of the English Language, Modern English Grammar, and Grammar for Teachers and Writers.
He is married to Chicago theatre director Anna Antaramian. They have five children, all grown and mature and on their way to wonderful things

Please welcome Patrick to my blog.

A few days ago, I celebrated my sixtieth birthday: the Big 6 and 0. It is one of those milestones that gives one pause. Two things have been uppermost in my mind for the few weeks preceding this birthday. First, I have become keenly aware that I have lived more days now than I may expect to live in the future. Even with our advances in medicine and genetic engineering, I'm fairly sure that I do not want to have a one-hundred-and-twentieth birthday. And the second thing is that when I evaluate my life--the mix of disappointments and failures with the joys and successes--it has been a good life, but it has been a seemingly inconsequential life.

I believe in the idea that small actions ultimately have huge consequences. This idea is sometimes called Chaos Theory. I give my current students an example by telling them about a fellow graduate student at NYU asking me to share notes with him when he knew that he would miss next week's lecture. I did share them, and to thank me he suggested we have a cup of coffee at a nearby shop. His name was Josh, and we became friends and were friends all throughout graduate school. About four years after we met, Josh gave my name to the Chair of an English Department in Paterson, New Jersey. I got the job, and over time met a woman named Anna. Anna and I sometimes bumped in to each other on the commuter train between Paterson and NYC. And then eventually we discovered that each of us had let a train go by just to make sure we would bump in to each other again. Well, Anna eventually became the mother of my five children, and we have been happily married for more than 30 years. Anna, a native of Kenosha, Wisconsin, had moved to the Big Apple to pursue a career in theatre. We lived in Manhattan, but often vacationed in Kenosha. As the family grew, so did our need for space. We had four kids when we eventually returned to Kenosha to set up house. I got a position at the local university and Anna became a professor of theatre at a university in Chicago. I tell my students that I am their instructor simply because a man named Josh asked me to share my notes on Medieval English Literature.

This brings me back to my introspective birthday. I realize now that my inconsequential life will never end. I will die, but my influence on the universe will never end. I have affected, positively and negatively, thousands of students. Some I have made a real impression on; others have forgotten me and what I had to teach them two minutes after they left the final exam. Whatever I gave them became theirs; they became themselves, and their presence in their small world touched others, who in turned touched others.

What I say about my students is true of any other professions or jobs. People meet people and affect their lives. I was checking out at the grocery store recently, and one of the baggers came up and announced, "Oh, one of my favorites is here." I asked him what he meant, and he said, "You. You're one of my favorite customers." I didn't even know the kid knew of my existence or had taken any note of me. All of us affect those around us, and those effects continue on.

It sounds like I'm preaching IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE; I'm not. Life is hard and dangerous. We have disappointments and failures, as I said earlier. But I believe we are each of us immortal in the way I've described.

My immortality is most assured in the lives of my children. They are a wonderful mix of Anna and me. There was a pose my father unconsciously took whenever he read the newspaper at the kitchen table. He sat with one hand on the table and the other, the left, on his knee. His left thumb pointed inward on his thigh, and the other four fingers pointed down on the outside of his leg. One night many years ago, I discovered myself in the same position; more interestingly, however, about two weeks ago, I saw my youngest son in the same configuration.

That pose, that position, must go back in time. Perhaps my father saw his father reading that way. I know now that that pose, that position, is also going forward.

My children carry me into the future. We older folks perhaps teach our children about the past; we drag from our memories family stories--every family has its myths--and attitudes and recipes and gestures. And our children carry us and those stories and gestures into the future.

So, at sixty, I feel myself immortal. What about that mix of disappointments and failures with successes and joys? Well, this milestone birthday is a reminder that, if we had to live our days over, we would most likely make the same mistakes. I say that because the failures I regret most are the ones of character.
I contend that the life I have so far lived is the only life I could have lived. I am me, for better or worse. Luckily, I found a woman who accepts that, who knows when I am insensitive and who guides me in that moment so that I do not seem so. Luckily for me, my five children can utter with complete love and disapproval when I say something stupid, "Oh, Dad" or more ironical, "Oh, Papa." Luckily for me, I have a daughter-in-law who accepts how absurd and thick I can be. And hopefully, she and my son will raise their beautiful daughter to be patient to her grandfather.

The only real problem with being sixty is the disparity between mind and body. In my mind, I can still run like the fastest kid on the block. But when I call on my knees and ankles, they don't respond. I decided a year or two ago that I will never change a flat tire again. I don't shovel snow. And when I mow the grass, I ride rather than push.

One bodily change has suited me perfectly, however. With age and experience, I now can distinguish the difference between a fine whiskey and a great whiskey. Can it get any better than that?

(The photos are of me at 27, 43, and 58.)

I am Patrick McGuire.I teach writing and literature at the University of Wisconsin-Parkside. One can read my fiction and poetry (and my famous soup recipes) at http://mcguirehimself.com/or can follow me on Twitter @McGuireHimself

To be, or not to be, that is the question.

I have agonised over sending this post. It is probably the most revealing thing I've written. I have spoken to some friends and the reaction was mixed. Overall the opinion was to post it. I did so briefly yesterday, but then chickened out. To quote a good friend of mine "There are costs & consequences associated with living in truth, just as there are with living in lies & falsehood."

If you choose to judge me harshly then you are free to do so. If you choose to unfollow me then again that is your choice.


To be free of the past, to be free of the nightmares. To be free of my own, personal, demons. My fears haunt me. My desires terrorise me. The overwhelming pressure I feel inside to share all I know; of myself and of the realities of trying to survive through my teens and twenties.

There were times that I sank so low I thought I could never climb out of the gutter. I had different personalities within my own head to deal with too. We've all seen the cartoon depicting a man with an angel on one shoulder, and a devil on the other I think? Imagine four on each side... Each determined to be heard, with me in the middle, mostly unaware. I thought for years that I was mad. The biggest proof I had was the evidence of others and the fact I lost time so often. Blanks in my memory.

Drink caused me to behave in ways that would make me cringe with embarrassment when sober. I smoked weed, at first enjoying the triply highs, but later only experiencing earth shattering lows. Anything to escape who I was. I was soiled goods. I was dirty, second hand trash. Unworthy and unable to fit in with society.

I was raped by a college "friend" on my seventeenth birthday. He was seven years older than me. In some ways I don't blame him because I acted out sexually with anyone who liked me, or wanted to get to know me. I acted out this way through my late teens, my twenties and into my very early thirties.

I left college a year later. It wasn't a decision that made me popular with my family.

After a few weeks someone else tried it on with me. I reacted badly. I sank into a black pit. I ended up homeless, slept on the streets for six weeks in the middle of winter. I also sold myself in order to get some money for food, for drink.

I managed to pull myself together, and with help from a friend got somewhere to live and a job in a nightclub. All went well for a few weeks, though I felt I was losing my grip on reality.

I experimented with much during my late teens. Drink, drugs, sex, religion and even magic. I also experimented with death. One weekend, at an all time low I swallowed a load of pills washed down with copious amounts of vodka. I woke during this attempt to see my mother in front of me. She was mighty pissed at me. Told me it wasn't my time, that I had much to do. I saw her, I heard her, I even recognised her scent. I promptly emptied the contents of my stomach onto the floor, then passed out face first onto it...

A few months later my father died. I knew he was ill, but his death still came as a shock. He had remarried, had a "new" son and lived near his wife's family. I spent little time there. When he had been diagnosed with cancer, I was eighteen. He asked me to look after his wife and baby when he died. It was a difficult moment, but I agreed. When he married her, I was living with the grandparents and also an uncle who lived near my school.

On the night of his funeral, my dear sister, her then husband and also her "next" husband got me very drunk. They sat me down in the living room and she started interrogating me about my life. This is the same woman who had called me a liar when I plucked up the courage to tell her at sixteen that I had been abused...

A few hours into this "discussion" my sister decided I should be put into a mental hospital. She was a trainee nurse at the time and her ex boyfriend worked in such a hospital... My fathers widow tried to dissuade me, but I told the family doctor whom my sister had telephoned that I feared for my life and that I wanted to be admitted into the hospital.

My sister and aunt had told me a few times that I was responsible for my fathers death. That worry about me had sent him to his grave early... My sister had blamed me for my mothers death too. She told me when I was nine years old that my mother would have lived if I hadn't have been born. My mother chose to have me knowing she had cancer. She delayed treatment until after my birth. She lived a further nine years...

I spent about ten days in that hospital. My sister spread the word that I was "nuts. The doctors in the hospital eventually disagreed however and told me to stay away from her for my own sake. I was discharged and had no choice but to go back to the grandparents house. This was after some torturous "therapy"

I spent eighteen months in therapy, but even back then, the full extent of the sexual abuse did not surface. The therapy revolved mostly around my self image and my self harming behaviour. The reasons were never fully explored.

The grandfather died, I married. I saw my fathers widow and my half brother once only. I saw my sister about three times in ten years. After my marriage failed I went off the edge again. I spent my first night alone with a bottle of vodka. It was empty by morning.

The self doubt, the insecurities came flooding back. I spent ten years "in the wilderness" with my fractured personalities. The conditioning I had undergone as a small child leading me. My place in life was to please others. To be subservient, to simply exist. There are memories of these years that haunt me almost as much as those of my childhood. There are people I knew then that don't understand this.

Towards the end of this period I started assimilating some of my personalities. I grew more confident, I longed for normality. I was desperately unhappy. One Christmas I tried to kill myself again. A good friend talked me through my pain, a friend that I've now lost.

New Years Eve, the same year... My sister called me, drunk, apologetic and full of shit. She was having a party. She asked me to hold on then next thing I knew my fathers widow was talking to me, then my half brother. We agreed to meet up. It took 14 months for me to pluck up the courage to do so.

I cleaned up my life. This was eleven years ago.

I eventually kept my promise to my dying father, but not in a way he might have imagined. I fell in love with and married his widow, became stepfather to my own half brother. We are a family. My sister reported me to the police for marrying my fathers widow. They checked everything and we had done nothing wrong. They were considering prosecuting her for wasting police time however... I haven't heard from her since.

The aftermath of the childhood sexual abuse followed me like a shadow.

Rather than go into individual details I shall list those that I have experienced. Still am in some cases.

Alcohol and/or drug abuse. Self harm. Self loathing. Anger and fits of "rage". Random feelings of immense grief or doom, sexual dysfunction, doubts over sexuality, "prostitution", feeling unworthy, feeling dirty, feeling set apart from society, depression, D.I.D, mood swings. Losing time, setting myself up for a fall, hurting others before they could hurt me. Being withdrawn, eating disorders, fear of meeting strangers, fear of being hurt, acting out, attempted suicide, physical manifestations of past abuse. There are more, but even writing this is triggering me.

My life was a mess. Along the way have been those who took advantage of my naivety, my good nature and my generosity (materially and otherwise). I have made mistakes, I have hurt people. I have hurt myself.

I survived the years of abuse, the years of self harm, I lived. Surviving or living is not enough. I deserve more. I could write for days filling in the gaps above. One day.

In the meantime, I will continue to try and thrive. I lost my childhood, I ruined my early adulthood, I escaped.

I've lost my business and the way of life I enjoyed. So I must start afresh. I shall rise from the ashes of my past. I shall do so with head held high and with a determination to succeed, to enjoy life.

This is my life.

Male Survivors - Coming out of the Dark - Stand up and make your voices heard.

I've been blogging in ernest for about eight months now. I'd started my blog a year earlier, more as a way of getting my thoughts down than spreading my words around the world. In that first year I had about 500 hits to my blog.


Facebook was pretty much a mystery to me and Twitter might as well have been a place somewhere on the other side of the galaxy. I wasn't really up on social media or social networking.


I threw myself into it initially to help my business, then a friend suggested I blog about my experiences, my personal background. At this time I was in therapy. The stresses of the economy, health problems, other business problems overseas added up and earlier in 2011 I had what I can best describe as a meltdown.


The past came back to haunt me. In truth it felt like being slapped in the face several times an hour. I remember sitting on the floor in the living room just rocking and repeating out loud " I can't cope... I can't cope... I can't cope..."


I thought I was losing my mind.


Writing has always been an escape for me. I was able to write down my true thoughts and feelings, things I could not vocalise. I'm very shy and insecure by nature (until you get to know me at least... Though even then the insecurities linger), so by writing I could vent emotions; anger, frustration, confusion, pain, longing, etc, etc.


Although I had experienced a great deal of life, I was still quite naive. Especially in business. I was too quick to trust, too ready to accept a "great opportunity". Maybe I was greedy too. I wanted success. This was eventually to be my downfall. Ok, to be fair to myself here, this was during the worst recession in over sixty years. My business failed.


As all of this was going on professionally, I was falling to pieces personally. My childhood memories initially came back like a tidal wave, they then slowed to a trickle. These days very little, though the "dam" does still burst on occasion.


My use of social media kept me sane. Telling my story gave me a new purpose. Sharing lifted the weight considerably, and enabled me to function. I found it much easier to share this way than face to face with a therapist. The only exception to this was when I attended the Amsosa weekend retreat for non offending male survivors of childhood abuse last summer. I have written of this previously. Basically amongst other survivors I was able to let my walls down. Hell, I even sang them a song! I have no voice for singing I promise you. I think the song I made up was "Take your abuse and shove it, I don't own it anymore..."


I have been very remiss in keeping in contact with most of the other guys from that weekend, but have remained in fairly regular contact with Steve, the guy who runs AMSOSA.


In the last six months my blog has grown and grown. I probably pee a lot of people off as I post so much, but then I can't force anyone to read it... I have met some truly amazing people on Twitter too. Yes, there have been a few idiots along the way, but on the whole really fantastic people. The ability to connect with other survivors has been crucial in my development from being victim, to survivor and now I hope thriver. I post some utter rubbish sometimes, but hey, it's my rubbish!


I'm no great writer, my spellchecker gets used to death and my grammar needs serious work. The thing is though, that I write from inside of myself. My heart and soul is in my writing. It's real, it's raw, it's me.


Something that I am painfully aware of is how few male survivors are able to "put themselves out there" to stand up and tell their story, or even some part of it. I suppose men are traditionally not so good at sharing their innermost feelings, especially about a topic that still appears to be heavily stigmatised. There is still a cloud of shame that seems to hang over male survivors. I have bared myself to the bones this last six months in an attempt not only to heal myself, but also to show other guys that it's ok to put your hand ip and say "me too" or "yes, I was abused/raped"


The most important quality we can exhibit is that of honesty. Be true to yourselves, and be true to others in turn. Everyone has aspects of their lives they want to keep private, I understand that. However, if something that happened to you as a child, teenager or even adult is affecting your quality of life now, then I say get the help you need. Reach out and share your troubles. How much you say is up to you. Remember that it's your life, you control it. Unless more men feel able to stand up and be counted, the subject of male survivors will always have some stigma attached to it.


There is no shame upon the head of the victim. The shame is on the head of the perpetrators. I include in this those that might have stood back and allowed abuse to happen. I am pretty certain my grandmother knew what was happening to me, yet she did nothing. I later told my sister, she didn't believe me. The shame is not mine. It is theirs.


I am a male survivor of childhood sexual, physical and emotional abuse and also adult rape.
Aspects of my life have been disastrous because of what happened to me. I survived though, I am here and I will not sit down quietly and brush it under the carpet of life.


I feel shame, yes. I am ashamed of those people within my family that hurt me, those that did nothing about it and those that called me liar. I am not ashamed of myself. I feel very strongly that those who turn their backs or refuse to believe are almost as guilty as the abusers and rapists themselves.


So come on guys. Swallow that male pride. By speaking up you are helping to get real knowledge out there. We might have been inhibited by the reactions of society in the past, but unless we make a stand now, the truth about the impact on male survivors and therefore the available help will always be limited.


I'm not going to say we can wipe out sexual abuse or rape, I'm not that naive anymore. We can however shine a very bright light on the subject. Perpetrators need harsher punishment. Having indecent images or film of a child should carry far heavier jail sentences than are currently handed out. Pedophiles and rapists steal innocence, ruin lives so I believe in an eye for an eye i.e life imprisonment. Rehabilitation? Ha! Most sex offenders go on to reoffend once released. Fact.


Make the punishment fit the crime


In these past six months I have shared my story around the world. I decided also to share the intimate details of some of the affects of the abuse on myself then, and now as an adult man. This was my choice. Knowledge is power and it's about time that power was taken away from the abusers, pedophiles and rapists.


Some have warned me I might be seen as obsessive, or that people don't want the facts "shoved down their throats". I understand this. If you don't want to hear the truth then it's simple. Either don't read what I write or don't follow me at all. Turn your backs, look away, pretend that the growing epidemic of child abuse doesn't affect you. Obsessive? I was sexually molested, raped, abused in ways unimaginable to most. I think I've every right to speak up, to help others understand or show that's it's ok to talk about it.


This is the social media age. We have the chance to make a difference. We have the chance to be heard., even from behind the safety of a computer, mobile or tablet. Speak up guys, and gals! Sexual abuse is about power, so let's take it for ourselves. Let's make a difference. Nobody can undo what happened to me, or any other survivor, but we can do our best to protect the children of the future.


This might sound like a call to arms, maybe it is just that. Pedophiles use the Internet for their own evil ends so lets use the same technology against them. Better still, take the message further, out into the "real world"


We were the victims. We won't stand back and let yet another generation endure what we had to. We can and we will make our voices heard. We were innocent and have nothing to be ashamed of or frightened of by standing up and saying NO MORE.



Together we CAN make a difference!

I have added a new page to the right of this blog called "Male Survivors - Your Space"

Please use it, please add something. By reaching out to other survivors we can help them.

Love is...?

Why do I write so much about this subject? What is the connection with Childhood Sexual Abuse?

My thoughts, mixed up as they are, are these.

The abuse that I suffered, gave me an altered perception of love; and of myself. I hate feeling smothered, possessed.

It is commonly believed that a child's character is formed before the age of six. I lived two lives. On one side a fairly average family life ; though my father was away frequently due to his work and my mother was slowly dying of cancer. On the other side was a nightmare of physical, emotional, and sexual abuse.

As I grew up I was exposed to familial love of various kinds. The twisted views of some of my family and the conditional love I was frequently exposed to, combined to totally confuse and instill fear in my young mind.

My mother loved me unconditionally. My father was very Victorian in his views and did not express emotions, i.e. he was cold, though I do know he loved me though . My sister was jealous and resentful of my existence. None of these harmed me; though later my sister would - at least not to the degree that others did.

My grandparents demanded a condition for "love", the grandfather especially. Love had a price, a painful and perverted one. When asked at what age I lost my virginity I used to glibly reply "four years old". This shut most people up when I explained why... My grandmother spent much of her remaining years trying to make up for the pain of my childhood and she smothered me.

The abuse that I suffered not only fractured my perceptions, it literally fractured me within and from myself. I developed Dissociative Identity Disorder - D.I.D. Disassociation occurred within me as an escape, a means to survive trauma. The different "versions" of me all had their own views and ways of dealing with love and intimacy. The connection between love and sex; for in an intimate relationship that connection must exist, was for me... fractured. I was... fractured.

When I first experienced romantic love at the age of fifteen, I didn't know how to handle it. In truth though no one does at that age, my experiences, feelings, perceptions made this all the more confusing and difficult.

Being loved, being wanted just for who I am, has been something I have struggled with all of my adult life. My feelings of unworthiness were stronger than anything else. I always used to seem to "fall in love" with the wrong person. I was well accustomed to being told I made a great friend, but that was it... I fell deeply, easily, and blindly. Was this love? Was it simply a desire to be loved? I don't know.

I've done all the regular "lovey dovey" stuff. Become entranced with someone, bought gifts, written love letters, sent recordings of mixed love songs to my hearts desire... Was this love? Or was this simply infatuation? Was I simply going through the motions of what I thought love required? Or giving what I so desperately needed to be given; time and effort from another that would make me feel worthy? Likely both.

When I did have relationships I seemed to always be on edge, waiting to be hurt. Fear and mistrust had been strongly instilled in my reaction to being "loved" I know I ended several because I wanted the control, I wanted to be the one who decided when it was over. Frequently I would then feel ashamed, stupid. I would berate myself for spoiling something just because it was "too good" for comfort.

After I had the breakdown at age twenty, things changed somewhat. I was married at twenty one to a woman fifteen years my senior who had two children under the age of ten. It lasted just over two years. The split was amicable.

This had a strange affect on me though. I knew what love was supposed to be, I knew how people were supposed to act when in love. I felt I was living outside the real world. For a good while I was the one being chased, the one who would say "you make a good friend, but..."

I fell in love with the idea of being in love. I couldn't let myself go there, I had to keep control of my emotions. I didn't like or love myself so how could I allow myself to be loved?

My relationships were strained, wrong somehow. I settled down for quite a few years but that relationship turned sour. We stayed together quite a long time though, unhappily for the most part. Possibly it was easier to accept the known, though painful, than to face unknowns, alone?

Even now, I do not feel worthy, so much so that I feel "alien" as I look at other people and I'm envious of how freely they express themselves, how comfortable they seem in their own skins and within their own relationships. It feels alien, or should I say, I feel alien.

Love.... Love has historically been the most written about, most sung about topic. Wars have raged because of it. People have died for it. Others have made complete idiots of themselves because of it. Love has destroyed nations. Love is also the reason for so much good, so much beauty and joy!

Those three words "I Love You" can do so much. They are very powerful words, almost magical. The same words can also cause panic and fear...

What do I know therefore of love?

I write of it, I have experienced much of it and it's side affects. My pulse has quickened, my eyes lit up, my heart has ached. Love is a wondrous thing when it is a positive and shared experience.

It can also be destructive and harmful.

I've read that some pedophiles have said they loved the child they were abusing. I was told this, that I was extra loved and special because I was the favoured one, because I kept the secrets. The "love" shown by the pedophiles that abused me was a conditional love. If I didn't do as asked I was punished..

That is not love, that is just sick and causes further harm and confusion to the "victim."

I was conditioned to see love in a different way. Love was used as a reward. If I was a good boy then I would be loved. If I did as I was told, if I shut up and put up, then people were nice to me. They told me they loved me. I was conditioned to accept and look for, conditional love.

This self-abusive connection formulae for love remains within me... . If I want love then I must forget my own needs, what I want does not count. I am insignificant. I am still unworthy and tend to choose partners with personalities, behaviors, and demands that reinforce that identity!

It has also affected my friendships. My desire to be liked, to fit in. I tried too hard. So I gave up. In the real world I have few friends. I find it simpler. The same rule applied for "like" as it does for "love"; I don't really like myself so therefore am unworthy of being liked. There are exceptions but they are few and far between.

To just be myself has been very difficult, painful almost. It has improved in the last eighteen months. The D.I.D. seems seems to have diminished . I am now in control of me. Additionally reinforcing my self-esteem in this unreal world of social networking I feel I am fitting in, that I belong. I have a purpose. I have cyber friends! I can take off my protective mask and just be me, though protected behind this screen.

I long to take this out into reality. To finally let myself be me. Am I good enough? Will I fit in? My mind spins with the questions and the doubts hide around corners.

Learning to love myself is the hardest thing I have ever undertaken.

If it frees my mind and opens up my life, the journey must be worth the anguish.

Yes?

The Story Of MYRDDIN WYLLT

The Story of Myrddin Wyllt

Elis Gruffudd, 16th C 

According to the narrative of some authors there was about this time within one which is called Nanconwy a man who was called Morfryn. But others show this was Morfryn Frych, prince of Gwynedd, - which he could not be according to the tenor of his songs. Nevertheless the writing shows that a man of this name had a son who was called Mryddin son of Morfryn, and a daughter who was called Gwenddydd as the story shows, the son was unstable in his senses; for at one time he would be witless and out of mind and reason, and at another time he would be in his mind at which time he would be wise and discreet and prompt in his answers and good counsels concerning everything that would be asked of him. To him God had given the of prophecy, which prophecies he would declare in poetry in metre, when he wool in his mind, and especially to Gwenddydd his sister, who, as my copy shows, was wise and learned [and] who wrote a great book of his utterances, especially about prophecies as related to this island. Some of these follow hereafter in this vein although there is hardly any profitable meaning to be gathered from any of them. nevertheless, in order to ward off sloth, with God's help I will write down all that I have been able to see in writing.

The books show that this Myrddin was so unstable in mind and senses that he would not live within dwelling houses, especially during the three months of summer, but in caves in the rocks and in harbours of his own work in the glens and the woods on either side of the river Conway. To these parts and places Gwenddydd his sister would come many a time with his food, which she would set in a place so that he could take his nourishment when he came to his senses.
And at a certain time, as the narrative shows, it happened that Gwenddydd saw certain rare dreams on various nights. All these she carefully retained in her memory until she should find a place and time to relate them to Myrddin her brother. Against that time Gwenddydd prepared bread and butter on a herb cake of wheaten bread with various drinks in various vessels, every drink in its grade as its nature demanded, as wine in silver, and mead in a horn, and the beer in sycamore, and the milk in a white jug, and the water in an earthen jug. All these she placed in order besides the bread and butter inside the harbour to which Myrddin was wont to come, when he was in his senses, to take his nourishment.
To this part and place he came soon thereafter, as the writing shows. At which time Gwenddydd hid herself within the harbour or cell to listen to his declamations. At which time, as Gwenddydd shows at length, Myrddin took the finely wrought cake and the bread and butter upon it, to which he composed many songs. Of it he said:

England will not muster hosts to every place;
It is not from its centre that bread and butter is eaten.

And after he had eaten a portion of his bread and butter he complained to himself about drink. Thereupon Gwenddydd revealed herself to her brother, to whom she showed the drinks in order, as she had placed them in order. At which time, as [the story] shows, Myrddin asked his sister what kind of drink stood in the bright shining vessel. To which Gwenddydd answered saying, 'This drink, which is called wine, has been made from the fruit of the trees of the earth.' 'Aha!' said Myrddin, 'verily this drink is not suitable for me or for my people, for it is the nature of this drink to make such as are wont to drink it in these regions poor from being rich'. And after this he asked Gwenddydd what kind of drink was in the horn. To which answered Gwenddydd, who spoke thus: 'This drink, which is called mead amongst our people, has been made from water and honey.' 'Aha!' said Myrddin, 'much of this drink is not healthy for me or for anyone, for its nature is to make ill the healthy'. And afterwards he asked his sister what kind of drink was in the many coloured wood, to which Gwenddydd answered saying, 'This drink, which is called beer, has been made from water and from grains of barley.' Aha!' said Myrddin, 'this drink is not at all good for me, for its nature is to deprive the prudent of their senses.' And then Myrddin asked Gwenddydd what kind of drink was in the white jug. To which she answered saying, 'This drink is made from the produce of animals and is called milk.' Then Myrddin said thus: 'Verily this drink is good for me and my people, for this is natural to nurture the weak and to help the feeble and to strengthen the wretched and to increase energy for the strong.' And after this he asked what kind of drink stood in the earthen vessel. To which Gwenddydd answered saying, 'This is one of the four elements and it is called water, which God from Heaven has sent for the benefit of mankind.' Then Myrddin said thus, 'All thou hast said is true, and verily this is the one best drink till the Day of judgement. Of this I will drink my fill to slake my thirst.'
And after this she begged of him to listen to her relating to him certain dreams which she had seen certain times previously, begging him to interpret them and to show clearly to her what they represented. Upon which Myrddin asked her to them, and she spoke as follows written in this work.

The First Dream'My true brother and friend, of a night in my sleep I thought for certain within myself that I was standing on a great wide field which I saw full of stone cairns small in and a few big cairns amongst the small ones. And I could see great numbers of pee" gathering the stones from the small cairns and casting them into the big ones with a pause. And yet in spite of this I could not see either the small cairns becoming smaller, however much I could see the peoples gathering from them, or the big one becoming bigger, however great the assiduity with which I could see the peoples collecting the stones from the small cairns and casting them into the big cairns. And the marvel of the dream I awoke; but verily I cannot let the marvel of the dream out of my memory.

How Myrddin interpreted the dream to his sister'Gwenddydd and my dearest sister, do not marvel too much at thy vision, for no harm will come to thee from it. And be it known to thee that the field thou sawest represents this island. And the small cairns represent the husbandmen of the kingdom and it's labourers of each and every grade who live lawfully and win their livelihood by labour of their bodies, and who place their trust in God alone. And the big cairns represent the chiefs of the kingdom of each and every grade. And the peoples whom thou sawest gathering the stones from the small cairns and casting them into the big ones represent the servants of noblemen who are and always will be ready to keep their servants to take the wealth of the labourers and the husbandmen without ceasing for ever, sometimes under pretence or semblance of the offices of the law, sometimes by force sometimes by stealth. And in as much as thou sawest not the big cairns increasing however much the load thou sawest the peoples carrying from the small cairns to the big ones, that shows God's wrath and displeasure, for God does not allow the wealth that is wrongfully amassed to multiply with the gatherers and their descendants. And in as much as thou sawest not the small cairns smaller however much thou sawest people taking away from them, that represents the grace of God, for it is certain the noblemen of each and every grade oppress the common husbanding people their worldly goods. And yet in spite of this, however much goods the noblemen; their peoples take from the husbandmen by oppression, the latter will not be the worse or the poorer; for as much as they may lose the one way God will send them twice as much another way, especially if they will take such oppression forbearingly with patience and restraint and by entrusting the punishment and vengeance to the Fat of Heaven to Whom it is meet and rightful to punish all iniquity; for He ordained weak and the strong. And verily, however much an innocent man may lose in world, God will not allow him to want any wordly thing in this world, and an abundance of all goodness in the world that is to come. And verily this is what thy dream represents.'

And after this she showed him the second dream, beginning in this wise:'Myrddin the wise and my true brother, I saw the second dream, that is, in my sleep thought that I was standing in an alder grove of the straightest and fairest trees which the heart of man could think of or imagine. Whither I saw great hosts of men coming with axes in their hands, and with these they were cutting the alder grove and felling them all to the ground from their trunks. And forthwith I saw the straightest and fairest yew trees which man could imagine, growing on the trunks of the alders. And with the marvel of the vision I awoke from my sleep, and from that to this day I cannot let it out of my memory.'

How Myrddin interpreted the second dream, speaking thus:'Gwenddydd, my counsel to thee is that thou marvel not at the dream, for no harm or hurt will come to thee from it, for the alder grove thou sawest represents this island and its ancestral peoples, which [island] will be greatly impoverished, especially of its noblemen, whom the alder trees represent. All of them will be destroyed even as thou sawest the alders destroyed. Yet in spite of this, in the same way as thou sawest the yews growing forthwith on the trunks of the alders, so noblemen will again grow from the remnants of their lineage. At which time no wealth will remain in the hands of the noblemen, who will betroth their children to men of low rank, from whom there will grow mighty noblemen who will continue in that mode and state for a long time thereafter. And verily this is what thy dream represents.'

After this she showed him the third dream, speaking thus:My true brother, I saw the third dream, for as I was sound asleep I could see myself standing on a level circular strand upon which I could see a great number of high green hills or mounds. And to my mind and thought I could see the earth quaking so that the mounds subsided into level land. In place of these, to my mind and thought, there forthwith arose heaps of dung. And on these dunghills I could see various kinds of flowering scented herbs growing. There is a great marvel in my heart at the- dream from that to this day.'

How Myrddin interpreted the third dream, speaking thus:Fair Gwenddydd, feel no worry in the matter, for the vision will do thee no harm; for the strand represents this island, and the mounds represent the chiefs of the island. And the quaking of the earth denotes that there will come war by which all the nobles will be destroyed in the same way as thou sawest the mounds destroyed. And the heaps thou sawest arising forthwith in their place denote that their dominions will be given to ignoble men. And the flowers denote that from these churls there will grow mighty noblemen. And yet it will be rare for the fifth descendant from the stock of these to possess the hearth of his father and grandfather and great-grandfather, for they will disappear like dung shoots. And this is the meaning of this dream.

And after this she declared to him how she saw the fourth dream, speaking in this wise:'Myrddin my brother, I thought at night in my sleep that I was standing in a park of the fairest wheat which a man could see with the sight of his eyes. The ears of the wheat I could see drily ripe and the stalks quite green. And I could see a mighty plague of swine coming and breaking down the hedge and coming into the park, where they caused grievous damage and destruction to the wheat so that the corn was level with the ground. At which time I saw coming into the wheat field a troop of white greyhounds, which forthwith ran at the swine and killed them nearly all. Because of the sight there is still a great marvel in my heart.'

How Myrddin interpreted the fourth dream, saying:'Fair Gwenddydd, feel no worry in the matter, for the wheat field represents this kingdom, and the wheat represents the people. And the ripe ears and the sappy stalks denote that men young in age will be whiteheaded at this time, which verily will h rare a sight as seeing an ear of wheat quite ripe and the stalk quite green. And the swine thou sawest breaking into the wheat field denote that there will come to this kingdom a plague of foreigners who will destroy the people in the same way as sawest the swine destroying the wheat. And the greyhounds denote that then come men who will avenge the whiteheaded people upon the swine; such of these as will have been left their lives the greyhounds will drive to flight out of the kingdom. And this is thy dream in full.'

And after this she declared to him the fifth dream, saying:My brother, I saw the fifth dream, that is, I thought that I was standing in the middle of a grave-yard of exceeding size, which I could see full of girls or maidens of the age. All these I could see pregnant and near the time of their delivery. And I though myself that the children were conversing with one another from their mothers' won which is a great marvel in my heart when I think of this vision.'

Then Myrddin said:'Let there be no worry upon thee because of the dream. For this graveyard represents this island. And the girls or maidens denote that there will come a world and time when betrothals and marriage will be made between children under their snoods. Aye, and verily almost everyone of that age and generation will be married very young; the children and offspring which will be begotten between them will be full of evil cunning. And inasmuch as thou wert imagining that the children were speaking from their mothers' wombs, that denotes that a fifteen years old youth of this age will wiser in that age than a man of sixty years at this time.'

Thus end the dreams.

SOURCE:
Gruffudd, Elis. The Chronicle of Elis Gruffudd, National Library of Wales MS 5276D. Edited and translated by Thomas Jones in Etude Celtique, 1947.

The Greatest Gift

I was asked on Christmas day if I wrote poetry when I was angry.. I was also asked how I could bare my soul so easily.....

Anger is a wasteful emotion. It eats way at you. Yes, I was angry for a very long time, and yes, I have written when I was angry. Did it help me? Yes. The biggest lesson I have learnt though is to put that anger where it belongs. In the past.

When I write, I do so from my inner core. My "soul" if you like. I am what you read of me. There are no tricks, no disguises, no surprises.

My writing gives me a release, a way to let the emotions that have built up inside have a voice.
In my youth,  my life and my soul were ripped apart. Violated and soiled by those vile creatures of which I have spoken before. I rebuilt the man I am today from a shambles, a mess of emotions and expectations.  I did so alone. This was through choice as I trusted no one. In this process I chose to leave a window open, a window to my soul, my heart, my life. I guard that window well....

I share this with you. I ask nothing in return, other than that you listen and hopefully learn something from what I write.

I have made many friends these last few months, connections that I hope will stay with me through my life's journey. Where my life leads I do not know. What I do know is that for the first time in my life I feel it is ok to be me. Thank you.

One of the greatest of gifts is that of friendship. The other, the greatest gift of all, is love.

I am grateful for the connections I have made through my blog, I am grateful for my life.

May your holiday be full of glad tidings, may your new year be filled with the gift of love.

Live life, don't just exist, don't just survive. Live, set yourselves free. Anything is possible, you just have to believe. My road ahead is uncertain, probably rocky, but I have put the pain, the abuse and humiliation where it belongs... In the past.

Survive and then Thrive. If you want to know me better then join the Survivors and Thrivers Tribe on Triberr. Message me and I will send you an invite.

I think 2012 is going to be a very difficult year for many of us. Economic and political gloom. Poverty, and uprisings. Stand together, stand proud and strong.

Together we can be a voice to be reckoned with.

Wishing you all a magical, prosperous and above all HAPPY New Year.

Jan

Always In My Heart

Everyday I think of how we're so very far apart
No matter how far, you'll always be in my heart

My love for you can not be explained
But your love I finally gained

A day without hearing your thoughts seems like forever
Don't worry, I'll never leave you, not now, not ever

Have you ever had a deep feeling of dread??
With you around no such thought pops in my head

Although you're so very, very far away
I can't help thinking about you each second of the day

I never ever want you to forget
I'll always be there in spirit

Everytime you see a falling star
That's me, sending my love from afar

I love you too much to stay away
You'll be in my heart each day

The only thing I want, in the entire universe
Is to be with you forever, for better or worse

I've never felt this way about anyone before
And with you, I could ask for no more

Without you close to me I feel like I will go insane
I need to be in your arms so there will be no more pain

To Dream That Dream

A new peace has settled upon me lately. Despite all that life has thrown at me in the past, the pain of remembering, and now the threat of financial meltdown, I am mostly calm.

So many of us strive for financial success, to attain materialistic things. I had so little growing up, and even later in life. It became almost an obsession to be a success, to have lots of possesions. To be rich.

Money is a requirement for living. We cannot survive without it. How much do we really need though? Is the man or woman sat in their multi million pound house happier than someone in something a great deal more modest? Do designer clothes make the man? Do diamonds and gold make you a better person? Does driving a Porsche mean you are a better driver then someone driving a Ford? When we die we are all equal. No money in the world can stop us dying. Poverty has its own problems, starvation, cold, health problems. Why don't we just take ALL the money and wealth in the world and share it out equally.

I have always shared, whatever I have, with those that don't. I am happier giving than receiving.

I have been given recently what I consider a great gift. Understanding.

I have been having very lucid, surreal dreams of late. I chanced upon a stranger was based on one dream.

http://whatislove-2010.blogspot.com/2011/09/i-chanced-upon-stranger.html
This next piece is based on another.

I walked along a riverbank. My gait was unsteady and my back was bent. My head twitched and I couldn't see or hear clearly. It was a slow, painful walk. The sun burnt and peeled my skin, the insects swarmed around me, feeding. My feet bled from ill fitting sandals.

As I walked I could not hep but be in awe of the beauty of the river. It flowed gently, only occasionally breaking white over boulders that lay in its path. On the far side of the river fish jumped catching flies, and a lone man sat watching them from under the branching arms of a twisted old apple tree full of fruit. Near him I saw the smoke from what must be a small camp fire. He looked familiar, but he was a long way off and my eyes were poor.

Ahead of me was a ricketty bridge that crossed over the river. The further it stretched, the more dangerous it looked. Though the river flowed gently, it seemed very deep and I was not a strong swimmer even when in good health.

On the side of the river nearest me no fish jumped and no fruit grews on its banks. I was hungry and thirsty.

I decided to cross the river using the old bridge. Even if the lone man wouldn't share with me, perhaps I could catch my own fish or pick my own fruit. It took me some time to get to the base of the river bridge. My body ached, bent down with the weigth of the disease and pain I was carrying.

I looked across the expanse and thought that if I was very careful I could cross that bridge. I glanced towards the man and saw that he was now watching me.

I took my first step onto the bridge. My concentration was totally set on my destination. My body,  though old and diseased, pushing itself forward. I walked about 20 steps without looking up. When I did I saw that the distance to the far side seemed further than it had when I started. I should by now be about a third way across. I looked behind me and to my horror discovered that the distance back appeared almost as far as I had yet to go forward.  I stood there and cursed. What to do? Go back the slightly shorter distance or continue forward in the hope that the extended distance was a play on my eyes.

I glanced down at the river and froze to the spot. What had appeared calm and gentle from the riverbank now was a crashing, whitewater strewn with craggy rocks and fallen trees.

What had I got myself into!? Why had I decided that the far river bank held greater promise. If I had continued on my own side then I might have come across fruit and clean water, I might have found someone to share them with. I cursed again.

Suddenly a section of the bridge that I had just crossed over broke away. I was left with no choice but to go on. My heart was in my mouth as I took small steps forward. Where my hands had once grabbed onto old rope, now vines grew. Were my eyes deceiving me? Was I losing my mind? I hastened my step lest the vines grew to block my way forward... The vines became thorny, my hands began to bleed. I stopped where I was and bagan to cry, gently, without sound. The tears poured forth and washed down over me.

I heard a voice calling out, telling me to stay where I was. I looked up through wet eyes and saw the lone man was now standing at the far end of the bridge.

I tried to wipe the tears from my eyes, but only irratated them with the blood and grime from my hands. I felt my body sag, my heart thumped in my chest, my head pounded. I wept openly and loudly, I could take no more. I thought to throw myself into the raging river beneath me.

Again I heard his voice. He said to me to wait where I was. I was so lost in my own world of sorrow and pain that though I heard his voice, I didn't believe him or trust him. I stood up, and held onto the thorny vines. The pain I expected was not there though I bled more and more. I thought to myself that though life had all but defeated me, I refused to meet death with anything but head held high and standing on my own two feet.

I closed my eyes and prepared to step off the bridge.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. Startled, I opened my eyes. The man stood before me, but through my swollen, bloodshot eyes I could still not make out his features. His eyes bore into mine, and though intense, there was no menace in them. His hand on my shoulder was firm, yet soft and felt warm. He made no comment to what my more than obvious intentions had been, instead he asked me to keep looking him in the eyes and to just walk towards him. I felt no option but to trust and do what was asked of me.

We walked perhaps ten steps when he said to me that I was now safely across. I was astounded as surely there must have been forty or fifty steps to go before reaching the river bank. He read the confusion in my expression and told me to look around. I did and indeed we were on the riverbank.

My legs gave way at that point. I collapsed into a sobbing heap at his feet. I thought it must be raining for suddenlt I felt water drops landing on me. I looked up but the water came from the man, he was crying, silently, and his tears were landing on me.

As they ran down my face and across my body I felt a warm glow. I felt years of pain and suffering leave me. I stood up to embrace this man, this fellow traveller whose actions had saved me.He looked at me through his own teary eyes and accepted my embrace. I held him tight, I wept on his shoulder and he wept on mine. 

I opened my eyes again to look at him. I could see clearly now. I was astonished, I almost fell backwards. The man looked just like me, but healthier and much cleaner. Again he read my expression but this time he threw his head back and laughed. Confused I turned to walk away, he caught my hand and as he did a bright light flashed around us. I heard a loud noise and suddenly he was gone. I blacked out.

I awoke, looked around me and then down at my body. The scars were gone, the twisted limbs were now straight, the dirty, blooded, burnt skin now clean and healthy. I looked 20 years younger!  I heard birds singing, I saw through new eyes.

Stunned I walked over to where his fire was still burning, I sat down and looked across the river. Fish jumped in the shallows near my feet, I looked around and saw a neat pile of fresh apples. I bit into one, it tasted fresh, sweet and crisp. A noise distracted me...

I looked across the river and saw an old man, bent and twisted walking along the path that I too had travelled along. I paused a moment and thoughts played across my mind.

I smiled to myself. I understood....