She

I've written little pieces about four of my friends who also have M.E. and who inspire me every day:

She speaks with her brush, her hands steady though her heart is trembling. The pain behind those quiet eyes is intense, yet what she creates is beautiful. Every day is a day on the battlefield against her body, yet she fights every day with such grace. She is a tree-fairy, a girl of the forest; she steps lightly amongst her friends. They know what it is to stand like a stone, battling the elements, shading those weaker than themselves. She is the whisper in the wind, the colour in the sky, the laughter of children. Her soul pours onto canvas after canvas as it’s such a vast sea of radiance and love. She is full of love, but also full of sickness. Each hour is fought with bravery, each paralysis terrifying, each day a victory. She is a beautiful soul, who shares the beauty within herself with many with her brush.

She is a feather, dancing in the wind, clinging to the trees, laughing with the breeze. She is a brave knight who fights her dragons every day; she is fiercely courageous yet quietly gentle. She is the sun kissed hair of children; she is paw prints in the show. Her pain is indescribable, her loss immense, her suffering tragic. Yet her life consists of making others smile, showing those dear to her that she thinks of them often. Her imagination is another realm; it is exciting and full of adventure. Her dream world sometimes leaks through to this one, in glimpses of beauty and love. She is a beautiful soul, a child of the earth and the sky, and whenever you see a feather, she is with you in spirit.

She is a mad cat lady, she’s funny and kind and sends people cards, she gives away old possessions for free and likes to wear clothes from Nomads. She’s gentle and loving, but she’s still got the spark of her punk days twinkling in her eyes. She’s adventurous and inventive; she creates beautiful crafts, and heart tugging music. She isn’t afraid to be honest about what this illness has done to her, she’s brave and funny and an amazing friend. She’s down to earth and yet has her head in the clouds; she is loved deeply and widely. She’s not bitter, but accepting, she is nurturing and comforting. She always knows when to let someone know she’s thinking of them by sending them cat stickers.

She is beautiful, she’s brave and she doesn’t know it. She has a house full of creatures that live in the lap of luxury. She’s stronger than she knows and faces this illness daily with a quiet confidence that she will last another day. Although she struggles, like we all do, she always has time to look out for others, and sends happy mail to those she keeps in her thoughts. She’s intelligent and bright, she’s spirited and kind, and she loves all people, and is accepting of all she meets. She’s a joy to know and has the most beautiful smile.

Alley-Cat xx

© Alice Daley 2015

It's only a mug

The one problem I have with my depression is when the smallest thing can trigger me into a downwards spiral of feeling rubbish. Today it was a mug. I know, a mug. Let me begin with an anecdote from my time on a psychiatric ward in Gloucester…

The hospital in Gloucester had a very active occupational therapy department where patients could cook, go to the gym, and learn arts and crafts. One day I was invited to do mug painting and thought I would go along because I had nothing else to do. I decided to make a ‘The Fault in Our Stars’ themed mug and it turned out pretty good. It very quickly became my favourite mug and I used it a lot.

A few months back a friend accidentally dropped my TFiOS mug and broke the handle, he glued it back on but I’m too scared to use it as a mug again in case it breaks. So I decided to buy a couple of new mugs from my friend who makes them. I bought an M.E. mug and an Aspie (Asperger’s Syndrome) mug. The Aspie mug had my name on it and it very quickly became my favourite mug.

Today, whilst putting the washing up away, I noticed it was ruined. Whoever washed it up last must have been a little heavy handed with it and had scratched off most of the design. It wasn’t their fault; they weren’t to know that the design would come off so easily. I’m really gutted.

But the point is that something little like that can really throw me off, it’s put me in a really low mood this evening and that’s not okay. I don’t like the fact that these little things bother me, I don’t want them to, and I’m not consciously letting them bother me, they just do.

Still, it’s only a mug at the end of the day.
Alley-Cat

© Alice Daley 2015