damien rice

Cold water surrounds me now…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 4 Comments

I’m having one of those days when my emotions feel like they might sink me. It’s like all the feelings I usually keep in check have escaped & flooded the room. It’s hard to breathe or concentrate on anything other than keeping my head above water.

Luckily, I’m a strong swimmer. I know the worst thing one can do when in rough waters is panic. I need to take deep breaths whenever possible & focus on getting to dry land. All of which means sunday hit me a little harder than I expected. Mother’s Day always gives me pause, but this time last year I was pregnant. Now, here I am, still childless. Still trying not to lose hope. It does feel hopeless at times. When all the hurt & negativity bubbles up it is hard to see a point. What am I doing? Where is life taking me?

That is when I have to reach for reason. I must force myself to get sickeningly, happy clappy. In short, I count blessings. There are many & if it doesn’t make you cringe too much, I’m going to share a few.

Love. I have love in my life.

I have many beautiful little people.

Potatoes. Boiled, roasted, chipped, baked, in scones! A world with potatoes can not be all bad.

I have a very big & very comfortable bed.

And someone I like rolling around in it with.

I’m smart. I’m funny. I’m pretty fucking tough.

I was lucky enough to be born in a place that offers me safety.

I adopted the very best puss cat.

I have access to quality healthcare.

I got to be young in the 90’s.

I’ve seen the sunset on a beach in Corfu, cuddled a koala in Brisbane, watched fireworks from castle ramparts in St Malo, walked in The Beatles footsteps in Hamburg, ice skated in a snowing Central Park, got so wasted I lost one shoe in Amsterdam & so much more.

I have sung beloved babies to sleep.

Watched them take first steps & their personalities unfold.

I have a roof over my head.

Food in my belly.

Some really cool shoes.

And plenty to look forward to.

I don’t have everything, but what I do have adds up to enough. Life goes on. Life is good.

And so it is the colder water…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 6 Comments

It’s been around 8 weeks since I miscarried. I think all things considered, I am doing ok. I mean, I’ve not completely fallen apart. I haven’t turned to scalpels for comfort or absented myself from the world. I’m getting up & painting my face & taking part in life. I wish I could say it was easy, but on days like today, it feels like drowning. 

I am attending the recurrent miscarriage clinic to see if there are any issues I am not already aware of & the midwife I see has been wonderful. She had given me info on a ‘support group’, which I’m considering. I’m on some new meds to help with PCOS & tracking my periods etc to keep on eye on things from that side. I’m socialising & blogging & getting more politically active. I’m doing everything i can think of to keep moving forward. So why do I feel like I’m wedged in wet sand?

I think about what might have been every day. Not all day long, but it’s never far away. There are so many reminders. So many painful things that can’t be avoided. From appointments at the maternity hospital & other people’s babies to just the scent of something that made me nauseous when I was pregnant & doesn’t anymore. I don’t want the world to stop. I don’t want to rob anyone of their joyous moments; it’s just so hard. The happiness I feel for others comes with a stab of sorrow. It’s been this way for so long, but my recent loss has given that sadness renewed potency. I let all my hopes out of a place I kept tied up tight. Blueprints for a life that I hadn’t dared to examine sprang to life & folding up those plans is proving difficult. 
I have my period again & I know that impacts on my mood. All of the sensations of menstruating mirror miscarriage symptoms. The cramps & sensitive nipples are reminders I don’t want. The blood remains wrapped up in my trauma. Forever a trigger. And yet, I’m glad to have the period. Not so long ago I had practically none. It’s a relief to have this increasingly reliable sign that my ovaries are doing something. Like so many other things the positive is marred.


I think from the outside I probably look fine. I want to look well. No, I want to BE well. I’m really fighting not to let my life slide. The truth is I’m struggling. My creative output is vastly decreased. I lack the motivation & clarity to write. Not writing is not good for me. I process my experiences through words on the paper. The less I write the more anxious I become. Of course the more I stress about it, the less I am able to curate my thoughts. It’s a predictable cycle. There are obviously more practical concerns; my words keep a roof over my head. 


My physical health hasn’t been good. My sleep is appalling. I know that takes it’s toll. I attempt to rationalise myself out of days like this. My exhausted, pained, grieving & traumatised self will obviously have lows. I know this is to be expected. That knowledge doesn’t change the dread. It does nothing to chase away the fear when I awake to a complete inability to function. When nothing shifts the weight crushing me or the desire to disappear. 24 hours isn’t a long time except when your swamped in depression. I can get through the bad days. I’m just terrified of the days multiplying. 
That’s the crux of it. Mental illness feels a bit like being an alcoholic. I will never completely recover. The lows will always come. Life will always have ways to trip me up. The fear of everything unravelling sits quietly on my shoulder. It’s a bad day. I’m still grieving. I hope for better. 

This week I have been mostly….

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 1 Comment

Feeling sentimental. Sop has been oozing from my very pores. Who can tell what’s brought this on, but it’s certainly influenced my aural choices. 

I’m going to kick off with a tune brought to my attention by a decidedly unsoppy man. This must be the place is such a warm contented song that it always makes me feel a tad melty. Talking Heads’ grown up, understated love song is precisely the style of happily ever after that appeals to me. 

  
I stumbled upon an old Del Amitri cd last week & have been rediscovering their meloncholy magic since. One song in particular has been bringing a lump to throat ; Tell her this  brings to mind that rare moment when you feel ready to let your guard down. I’m careful with my heart and rather slow to trust. So reaching the point where I’m ready to jump is special. I love the sensation when you know you’re both really in it & ‘Tell her this’  embodies that. 

Next up is a singer who has infiltrated my dreams. Damien rice writes the most stunning lyrics. I relate to so many of his beautiful works, but one in particular keeps finding me in my sleep. Accidental Babies is about knowing with absolute certainty who you should be with despite the fact that you’re not together. It’s raw emotion & naked yearning are a punch in the gut. Rice’s description of love, both passionate & ordinary is so real. It’s strange, yet beautiful to discover that a complete stranger has captured your own experience. 

 
Gregory & the Hawk are  my penultimate purveyors of love. Boats and Birds is an ode to adoration. The classic romantic imagery of stars & seas are enchanting. As is the notion of caring for someone else’s happiness before your own. I challenge you to listen to this & not think about the most important person in your life. 
I shall leave you with a masterpiece. No one speaks my heart better than Joni Mitchell & A case of you is my soul in three verses. From the northern star to a partner flowing in your blood, it’s a work of genius. Joni has summed up the power & sadness & mystery of love. I first heard this song when I was 11years old & instantly longed for that strength of feeling. Now as an adult I know both the joys & sorrows of drenching myself in an intoxicating man. My heart remains unaltered, I am still on my feet.