RhianCaroline

2 months later

 
 
i was taken by surprise. as the sun beat down and the lazy bumble bees awoke from their slumber i was taken by surprise.
spring has arrived. whilst i meticulously created resources and perfected my enthusiastic face the seasons changed outside my window.
i watched as ants clambered over one another and swallows swoop from the nest they had crafted in the roof of a neighbours house.
i thought about it all. all the mess and the noise and struggle of the term. i thought about the ease with which i have completed the teaching.
and of the determination i have used up to drag myself home each night.
i thought about driving away. about crickets chirping in the oppressive heat.
i thought about all the things that make up my life, of all the things that are bought to make up my world, of all the times i think, 'i want.'
i thought about how much energy it takes to be 2. about how much energy it takes to climb the rungs of forgiveness and settle down in the fort you have created for yourself.
in the sunshine. with the crickets chirping and the bumblebees softly roaming around.

it's funny how flying colours don't apply to the hollow valleys of life.

[belated] hello 2011

 

taken from a journal entry written last year:

my hope for you is that you live life, that you breath deep the humid fragrance of mundane chores and wild adventures,
that you gaze at the moon each night and journal about the sound of each rain drop as it carelessly tumbles to its inevitable death.

my hope is that you care more about your land,
about your history,
about the mark you are making,
and less about the hair you are sporting or what the next girl is wearing.

my hope, my deep seated gut wrenching desire, is that you life real life,
that you love real friends,
that you work for real change.
that you do not forget the bright lights and brighter still the stars.
that feeling of being somewhere that can be all of the above, with none of the pitfalls of technology and waste.

live offline.
create real life.
cultivate actual change.

chains

 

i am doing this.
i am waking up before the sun and sleep walking my way through the stretched out days.
i am dressing myself and feeding myself
and not being violently ill from the food.
i am listening to songs that are so beautiful they can't help but remind me of what i am doing
of the beauty i believe i can bring
of the voices each of us have.
i am drowning in subjective pronouns and curriculum targets
and sitting in classes taught by talented and brilliant teachers.
i am trying to figure out how to get my ideas on to the page
and how my ability to make things pretty
can make this stuff
pretty
and inspiring
and creative
and something that needs to be learnt.
i am missing dog walks and movie nights and chocolate on weekdays.
because i am certain i can do this.
i am determined to do this
well.
i am going to do this.

today

 

autumn breeze

 
my etsy faves have been mirroring the whole feel of this season, so i made my first treasurey.

this month i have mostly gone to bed early, and woke up earlier to a simulation sunrise; wore wolf jumpers and eaten home cooked food made by the boy. i have been listening to emmy the great, reading sylvia plath; wondering if i will actually be able to do this thing they call teaching. i have taken notes, posted doily clad packages and drank peppermint and fennel tea. i have dreamed about an army of brave hearts, created pages of words, accepted a seasons end. i have become acquainted with the meaning of the semicolon, been baffled by inappropriate behaviour, missed my zoe bloom. i have had my breath taken away by reminders of the depth of my loss, avoided rice puddings, and longed for more energy.  

on tuesday that feels like a wednesday

two stars and a wish. in the primary school i was in last week, the teacher had created an encouragement strategy that the children worked to for any kind of group work they did, and then presented to the class.
two stars and wish.
you had to find at least two good things about the work, and then a wish, which is a constructive piece of criticism.
i loved this idea. i find myself listing off two stars and wish now whenever i do anything that feels difficult/new.
 
you have a nice hair colour.
your diary is functional and organised.
work a little bit on your paperwork.

you have a creative eye.
you have more experience than most people.
maybe learn what a freakin' pronoun is.

you are a good reader.
the sheets on your bed are fresh and clean.
just remember to breathe in and out...

watch as the sunny day drifts by

 
 
 

I always have multiple journals on the go.
Like my thoughts can't be kept in one book. Like they are too big for two covers. Like they need to be compartmentalised into many many subjects.
Home and tiredness and memories and lists and time and grace and questions.
Always so many questions.

I've got more pages from a circle journals project I started years ago with some marvellous ladies. But I'll do that another day.

I've got a mini etsy update tomorrow. A goodbye summer inspired yarn affair. Including these.

 

truth

 

I remember Kim posting something to herfinal project blog about how her CFS was such a hidden illness. How you couldn't tell by looking at someone whether they had it or not.
And I remember thinking, 'Huh. I wish.'

Because this is the face of me with CFS. I don't know what others look like, whether they hide it well or just don't have photographic evidence of them selves when they look like this.
But more often than not. This is my face. This is my face after 10 hours of sleep. After days spent doing not much more than some design work and reading in bed.

It may well be that I inherited my dark eyes from my father. 
And you may not believe me when I say this is me not looking so bad. Had I not had 10 hours sleep or such a relaxed timetable, I would be looking much worse. Much more like I had done ten rounds with a award winning boxer.

When people say they wish they could go out without makeup, that they wish they weren't so dependent on it, that they wish they didn't get their self esteem from it, or use it as a mask. 
I immediately think to myself, well shucks. How nice you get the chance to think about that.

I don't use makeup as my crutch. As my self esteem. I try not to take any of my self esteem from outward appearance truth be known. 
But if I do not wear makeup. This is me. This is the truth of my condition. The truth of it's all encompassing, hold over my body. 
I would rather not be told all day long how tired I look. Some days it is impossible to hide. I have been passed on that lovely compliment whilst wearing full make up. But on the days I can pretend to be normal, on the days I would like to pass for your average 26 year old, make up is my only way to do that.

I don't judge myself anymore. It is a necessity. 

always remember

 
 
 

Whatever is unnamed, undepicted in images, whatever is omitted from biography, censored in collections of letters, whatever is misnamed as something else, made difficult-to-come-by, whatever is buried in the memory by the collapse of meaning under an inadequate or lying language - this will become, not merely unspoken, but unspeakable.

- Adrienne Rich

 

I'm feeling like maybe I am finally remembering why I photo, and document, and blog. It was a long 2009 of very little creativity, of a lot of questioning what on earth the point of any of it is; of all the journals stacked high with journal entries, and the hand made fabric art journals.
It was a year of coming out of a situation that left me worn out and amazed. Despite the lovely friends I had made through it. It was a year of denying and dismissing documenting things, because it had been made to feel so forced and compulsory.
It was a year of emotional exhaustions; of cancer and illness and lost friendships.

Yet it was also a year of secret things. Of getting back to the basics; crochet, and fabric, and the written word. And of sharing very little of it. Of keeping it all for myself, just like I used to, just like I started with.
Because it is mine, just for me, and I needed to learn that all over again.

But I know some wonderful artists, people who are free and caring and organic in their creations, and it's reminding me that there must surely be a community out there for me to be a part of. A community of sharing and not competing, a community making thoughtful creations not commercialised ideas.

There are big plans coming, these next two years are going to be the foundation of it all. Starting with a trip to Austin, where said plans may just come into fruition.

But, Rhian, you must start small. You must learn your voice again, you must remember to create with abandon, you must not be fearful to share some of those creations, and you must do it all for the therapy.

Remember this.

Because death is just so full & man so small

Some days and weeks all mix and merge together, where you can feel like life is okay.
Where you will look back on things and have a rememberance of the experience, but not be able to feel it anymore.

Then you will have these weeks.
Where it becomes overwhelming. Where the point and meaning to you being here is entirely lost, buried and forgotten with the dreams and hopes and eyelashes of his life.
These weeks the failure of my job is greater than the air I breathe. My instinct to protect has no where to go. 
The tears that shine bright beneath my eyes spill over and form pools of disbelief and hopelessness.

My little brother is gone. And I do not know what to do with myself.
My pain is too great for my body.
Too great for this pen and page. 
Too great for my house and my streets, it flows faster than the river and grows
higher than the trees.

Love remains but all is lost.

-April 2010