broken brained, From the heart, musings of pixie heart.

High cliffs.

I have a place that I go, in my mind when I become totally overwhelmed by life. Whether its

sadness, anger, pain, anxiety, or fear that send me, it’s the same place, a sort of high cliff

Inside my head. The emotions build gradually, I can see it happening, I try to stop it happening.

But as it grows, it builds faster and faster, till I can’t stop it.

Then I’m on my high cliff, all alone. It high steeply falling ledges, sharp, jagged rocks. On the

top of this high cliff, its open and the is no place to hide. the is either bright, harsh, hot

sunshine. Or Heavy rain and howling winds. Every part of my body hurts. Light and sounds

become physically painful. My tummy is in knots, I can hardly breath, with sweaty palms and

shacking from head to toe. It’s so high, I can’t see the ground or away down. The only way

down seems to be jumping.

So how do I/ we deal with this? Well maîtres would say that to heal and become whole again, is

to first break apart, and for me that is true. I need to shatter and then build myself up again.

But breaking apart is hard to do and can in its self be painful. It sometimes takes a therapy

spanking or kicking the crap out of a punch bag or someone pushing me mentally but sometimes

I need someone to talk me down. But it always ends with shattering and sobbing in whoever

saved me arms.

After breaking apart, I need to rebuild myself. Nobody can do it for me, it must come from me.

I need love, support and understanding If I need help I will ask for it. I need people in my life

that are consistent, open, and gentle. who will approach with care, but more than anything I need

people to stand by my side as I fight my way back up off the floor, and hold my hand while I do it.

broken brained, musings of pixie heart.

Stuck in a blogging funk, the is a meme for that!

So for a few weeks my head been in a funk, and I’ve not been able to blog. I’ve been writing , but not posted any of it as I’ve been really unhappy with everything. I written. But then by not posting I got cross with myself, and crosser I got the harder too write. A horrid vicious circle. So when maîtser left for his trip, he told me that I was to do the #storyin12 meme on twitter everyday . #storyin12 is a daily flash fiction meme run by wrigglykitty and Molly Moore on twitter. The is a daily one word prompt , that needs to be used In a 12 word story. I’ve been taking part this last week and loved it. So I ask sir beasty and maîtser if I could collect a weeks worth and do a little blog post to get back in the swing of posting. So that’s what I’ve done and here they are!

Her moral compass was way off; in the most wonderful way possible. #storyin12

The lease on her shop was up, her dream lay in tatters. #storyin12

kneeling he let her beg to taste his cock, increasing the thrill. #Storyin12 for Mr Joans for last night and this morning!

His facility with the ropes intrigued; How would they feel on her? #storyin12 #ropebunny

We had been close for years, I guess something changed between us. #StoryIn12

They checked in to the inn, hoping to rekindle their lost love. #storyin12

To love her was a privilege , that she allowed very rarely now. #storyin12

Hope you enjoyed,

Pixie x

broken brained, From the heart, musings of pixie heart.

Sunday morning.

I never thought motherhood was going to be easy or a free ride, no I knew it would be hard as hell at times. But for me it’s been great, for the most part. I love my little girls, they are one of the best things I’ve done with my life. But what nobody warned me about is just how exhausting they can be. It feels like I have been running on empty for years not days. It would seem they are both teething, so are grumpy and snarky in the day time. But at night , or should I say the early am they turn into insomniacs , who seem to think their feet are really funny and need to chat to mummy about it, and when they have told my about their toes, tiny, chubby ankles and how they can fit their sisters toes in their mouths, they doze off , with soft snores. But when I lay them in their cots to sleep and turn to leave them, one farts, waking themselves up, shrieking with fright, and waking their sister up. So it’s back to cuddles, chats and calming them down. Not the sort of all nighter I had in mind.

It’s after one of our early am chats that maîtser found me asleep on a bean bag this morning. I love the fact that I have rules to follow about everything, but if my daughters need me they can be over looked. But as well as that I love that maîtser and I have CNC in place, and not just the sexy kind. No I mean the loving kind. The kind that means I get woken up with a kiss, taken down stairs and made to eat what ever is but in front of me. Then hustled in to a hot shower, then a warm fluffy towel, then clean clothes and then tucked in to bed , with a stuffie and orders to sleep. And because I’m his good girl, and mildly exhausted , I have no problem with that at all.

But when the sexy side of our CNC decides I have slept and rested for long enough, and he gathers me up in to his arms, roughly foundling my breast, and biting down hard on my neck. Well not only do I know it’s time to wake up, but I’m going to get used in the most delightful way. When his hand travel down over my rib cage, the curve of my hip, dipping under the waist band of my yoga pants and roughly caressing them down my legs, with my panties, bunching at my knees. I tense and pretend to struggle a little , so his hand will go round my throat and he growls in my ear to behave, to hold still, that I’m his and he will do as he wants with me, it leaves my with no doubt he loves me.

When his other hand plunges in to My folds, and pulls my leg up and back over his, I know what’s coming, his marking me as his, making sure I know damned well that I’m his. Biting my neck, he pulls his hand from me, and I feel him unbuckle his belt and push open the fly. Then his hand is guiding his cock inside me, and he starts fucking me . It’s deliciously harsh, fast and hard. It’s not the beautiful love making, but it’s what I need. It is pure feeling, want and need.

Gently he flips me on to my tummy, pulling my bum and hips up, still fucking me. His hands move to the small of back and my neck, pushing it firmly in to pillow. He fucks me so fiercely , that it is nearly painful. Then his hand come round and under me, find my clit with his thumb , circling it with a determined ferocity that is startling. His close I can feel, and I know that if I struggle and whimper a little , he will love what he is doing to me even more, so I do. That is all it takes , and he looses his control , and so do I. Cumming so hard I think I must of blacked out a little.

Collapsing on top of me , he pulls himself from me , flopping on to his side, panting . Leaving me laying there , stunned and used. I get a hard swat to my arse and in commanding tone he says ‘up , I want feeding’ and with that he is up and off downstairs . I hurriedly collect myself , pulling my clothes back on and smoothing down my hair. Not bothering to clean myself up, loving the feeling of how utterly used and marked his made me feel. I run down stair to carry on taking care of his needs , the way he has done for me.

And why do I do this, cos I love, trust and adore him , as he does me.

Pixie x

broken brained, From the heart, musings of pixie heart.

Phobias I have and how they hold me back.

This is a post that maîtser asked me to write as part of my punishment and I have been dragging my feet on writing it. Not in a bratty way or cos I don’t want to. But phobias are something I hate, don’t understand and feel ashamed about having them. I mean I’m 37 for Christ sake, being frighten of stuff Is stupid, and still I have them! Now I’m also going to point out something here that pees me off a wee bit, and that is what is and isn’t a phobia. Or more like what Is a phobia and what Is a fear. Fears are things we are frightened of , that could hurt as or do us harm, such as snacks or pain. A phobia is something that frightens, but is totally irrational, like clowns or buttons. I have a lot of phobias , so Im going to keep it to the top 5, so here we go…..

Seagulls, pidgins and crows- first up I am going to say it used to be all birds , but I have done a fair bit of work on getting over this one. I guess it stems back to when I was a little kid and got pooped on by a bird on a school trip, and the entire class, teachers and all laughing at me. It kind of escalated from there, ending at me not being able to go to places with loads of birds. I would get paralysed with fear or freak out and have to run away. I got over this slowly with the help of my friend Scott, who was training as a therapist and wanted a willing victim to try dispensation therapy on. Little steps , often was the way we did It. I now love feeding the ducks, or going to bird world or watching the birds on my garden. I only really have a problem with seagulls and pidgins now, as they are big, dirty and fly over my head. (Fear of being pooped on) . Crow are entirely a different thing, I have nightmares about dying and crows picking at my dead body. I think that comes watching csi I when drunk. Now if any of these birds come in the garden I either let the dogs out to bark at them or draw the curtain.

Deep water – ok so this Is not like deep water in a swimming pool. No I mean like in an ocean or lake. Somewhere I can’t see the bottom. I think It’s the not knowing what is down there. I don’t like things that make me go ‘ewwww’ . It kind of led to a little bit of a fear of water for a while and I got fixated on the idea that I was going to drown. But maîtser has work super hard with me on this, by helping to be come more confident in water and teaching me how to swim stronger. But I don’t think I’ll be going on any cursises any time soon.

Being sick in public – again this used to be of being sick at all , but now if Is can get some place discrete I’m ok . Now it’s just the thought of puking In front of people that really freaks me out now. If I can shut a door and get it over and done , we’re good. I don’t know where this comes from or why I have it, but I have for as long as I remember.

Eating in public – I am and pretty much all my life been a plus size lass. But as a kid I was tiny , both In height and weight. I got picked on In nursery school , and one boy called me fat and ugly. I have hated my face for as long as I remember, but I could do nothing to change that. But I could control my weight and when and what I ate. So I refused to eat at nursery or when out with my family. I would only eat fruit and veggies at home, with an occasional yoghurt. This went on for 2 months, till my nana talked me in to eating a little more. But I still could not eat In public places or round people o did not know . It got worse as I got older and I would have to eat at home all the time. It was restrictive and damaging, but the only way I could eat without having a full on panic attack. It got so bad my nana made me speak to the GP about it and I got CBT and therapy for it. I started to get better with my eating. But still to this day I find It really hard. It led in to comfort eating in the safety of my room, to not being able to eat round people I have just met and all sorts of other things. Lol where I sit to eat in public takes me for ever and maîtser says if I do eat in front of you , well that’s how you know I like you. But having babies has strangle help. I don’t want them to have hang ups, so I’m really am working on this. One way round it and something I am super proud of is , that if I know I’m going to be out at lunch time, I pack a sandwich and then get a drink and fries from McDonald’s, sit down and eat lunch. It’s not much but it’s a start.

Germs / unclean places / bins / public toilets – this is by far my worst phobia . I have health problems and I get sick a lot. Germs can kill , and over the years it has got worse. It’s not just a feeling of yucky and blah! But more of a huge panic and freezing up, and freak out and I can’t cope, sort of feeling. I got so bad that being sat near a bin would freak me out, I could not go in the bus station or pee when out. I would have to shower if someone coughed on me and people spitting made me wrench. I would wash my hands all the time and I carried hand sanitiser all the time. But I knew I need to work on It, so I did. It was hard work, and I’m by no means over it, but it’s loads better. I also don’t want It to impact on my girls so Im still working on it. I will get past It.

Well that is a little bit of an Insight into an anxious brain and what happens if Its left unchecked.

Hugs,

Pixie x

broken brained, From the heart, musings of pixie heart.

Raw.

Raw.

I sit, numb and bleeding. I feel the tears rolling down my check , on to my t-shirt, but I make no noise. I don’t remember how I got here , or why I’m crying, or what is hurting the must. Is it cut arm my arm or the ache in my heart. I remember picking up the razor and pushing in tonmy skin, the burn I felt as if sliced in to the flesh, and the sense of calm that I felt as I saw the blood running out of me.

I remember the physical pain I felt with him. The pushing , that turned to shoves, that led to kicks, that led to me cowering on the floor. Him towering above me, anger burning in his eyes, fist clenched. I remember the slaps that turned to punches. Never leaving a mark on my face or any place people would guess how I got them. I remember the occasional slaps, turn to daily punches , that led to beatings so bad I could not move properly days.

I remember the mental pain he could inflict. The little put downs that turned to viscous name calling. How his words could maim and injury much more than a fist could any day. I remember the ways he controlled everything, losing friends, contact with my family. I remember the fear, pain and terror I felt, when he lashed out with those vile words. How it felt to believe them and the sense of total worthlessness. I remember the sobs that would rise up through my body , after he told my I was scum, stupid or disgusting.

I remember the fear and disgust I felt from the aggressive coercion to take part in or perform sexual acts that I did not want. I remember the deep feeling of shame , disgust at myself and the hopeless resignation I felt after the sexual violence. The searing pain and the loss of blood after fishing’s went wrong. The look of pure madness on his face when I told him no. The terror of being held down and raped, over and over again. The belief that I was not going to live till the morning. The look in my fathers eye when I had to tell him what he did to me, that will never, ever leave me till my dying breath.

And still , I rose again , to fight on , to live another day.

But some times, like now, all the memories come flooding back. Sitting in my mind and festering. Till they have to come out, some how. Yes they are less painful, not so bright, fading each day. But they are still there and on days like this the still feel raw, jagged and bright. They had to come out, and though I know the cutting is wrong, I chose that , over hurting those I love.

So as I sit, watching the blood and tears dripping to the floor. I remember it may feel raw for awhile. But with time it will fade to a faint scare, never truly leaving me, but becoming a scare, left to remind me, that I too, will rise again.

I wrote this after a meeting with my therapist a couple of years ago. I never thought I would ever think of , let alone hit the publish button on this. It is a real part of me and is as the title says, pixie laid raw at your feet.

Thank you for reading,

Hugs,

Pixie x

broken brained, From the heart, musings of pixie heart., social

From the heart – broken brain update

Hello, hi , hay! So I have not been posting that much or writing much. Normally when that happens , well it’s down to life is busy or I’m working or I have important stuff happening. But not this time people. This time it’s because I don’t or haven’t seen the point. My depression is back and my anxiety levels are through the roof. I’m not coping well, I’m angry, confused and tired. I feel invisible, unliked and ugly. I am hurting , sore and had started hating myself again.

I don’t hide that I have mental health problems, well illness. But I fight it , every bloody day and for the most part I’m winning. But over the last few weeks, not so much. This has largely been bought on by my mum being sick and her death. But the have been other thing at play to. My gp changing my meds with out consulting me or my physiatrist or me, has thrown me off balance. He changed my antidepressant to normal to modified release. Meaning that in the morning I would get a massive high, a huge kick of happy , that by 2.30 pm was leaving and by 5 pm was leaving me flat and on a downward spiral. He cut my main anxiety meds from 5mg 6 times a day, to 1mg 4 times a day. Meaning my anxiety level went from liveable, to through the roof and frightened to level the house. He increased my thyroid meds from 200 mg to 350mg straight away. Meaning I got even more anxious, slept less and felt every so slightly manic. Added to this he stop my anti inflammatory med and took out 2 levels of my pain medication plan. Leaving me trying to cope on less pain medication than I need , not wanting to jump to the really high levels.

Now normally I can cope with a depressive bleep, but I have been dealing with loss and grieve, for people I loved or had very mixed and complex feelings for. Not knowing how to feel or deal with, well it all started to get to much again. I was going through the motions each day, but not feeling anything. I was numb and confused. It’s when this happens that the anxiety and ocd side of my kicks in . I also start to get paranoid and start seeing things in other people’s behaviour towards me that makes me even more paranoid and sad. People not replying to msgs , cos they are busy and stressed , to me is them saying I hate you, get out my life, your a vile bitch and I hate you. It’s not the case , but in my head it was or is. It’s like the worse form of rejection and it hurts. Then the voices start to come back, telling me I’m worthless , hopeless , ugly, vile and a waist of oxygen. Trust me they frighten the fuck out of me.

I got to Thursday last week , and I was dragging my bum out of bed , and just going through the motion of being me. To an outsider I looked like I was doing good. That’s cos I have , over the years got good at putting on a front of being good. I had to, or thought I had too. I don’t like bringing people down or being a pain. I mean I’m the sad sack , why should I bring them down with me, right. I stop a sling things, or for help or for support . I but inside, every time I see someone happy , it twists the knife and kills me a little more.

By Friday , well the pain, hurt and yucky feelings got to much. They left me feeling so sad and anxious, it becomes like a physical pain. So strong it takes you breath away and brings tears to my eyes. I was hurting so bad I started to lash out at people. Not hitting or slapping , but with spiteful words and hurtful actions. I grumped at people on twitter, I thought ill of people and refused cuddles from my darling kitten. Things came to head when uncle Fred ask me how I was doing, and I just broke in to a thousand pieces. Thankfully or sadly , depending how you look at it, he and kitten knew I was not well. The called maîtser, who came home from work. Took all my. Tech away and made me take my meds for anxiety attacks . I was tucked in bed with little bear, I cried and feel asleep in her arms.

Maîtser knew what to do, he always does. He came home from work, checked my tech and meds . (I used to hide things that upset me and I have some times stopped taking my meds when I’m poorly). He phoned my cpn and got him to do a home visit. They looked and saw what had happened with my meds , and my cpn phoned and dealt with my gp and my meds. They got my an appointment to see my head doctor for Monday and agreed on a plan for the weekend. Basically I had to do as I was told, rest and let myself be looked after. I think not having to think about stuff and being looked after was really what so needed. I went to bed on Friday, took my sleep meds and slept for 13 hours straight. I spent Saturday playing with my dogs, watching Disney films and cuddling my babies. Sunday I wrote a little, went out for a roast dinner, played with my babies , cuddled kitten and wrote a little more.

Well Monday morning hot hear, and I was a terrified again. I still had in my head that I was having some sort of phycotic break or something worse and that oil was going to be made to stay in hospital. Aunty May came with me, even coming In with me (I seriously thank the nhs needs great aunties as a way to help look after people with mental Health problems) . After 20 mins of chatting and looking at things, the verdict was in. I’ve not gone mad, or lost the plot or need to stay in hospital. What is wrong with me then? My mother died, my dr changed my meds, triggering a depressive blip and I could not cope with it. Simple! We have made a plan on how to deal with this. It involves medication, therapy , hard work and time. But I have a plan, and when I have a plan , well it sort of makes me see I can and will get better.

But I have also had to realise some pretty hard truths, that really have hurt to come to. The are people who I have hurt, and they may not want me around for a while. That some people may not want me as a friend or in theief lives. That people sometimes only have time for the happy , funny and silly pixie. My behaviour has made me open to critasism and reproach . That some people say one thing and mean another. That I am only human and myself, and that even if they say not , that is not enough or what they want. That others are more their. Up of tea . And even though it should not matter , that my bad mental health, is not something they want to deal with or have in their world. I have to except this and move on but it hurts like hell and it is the thing I’m struggling to except, and will take a long time to deal with or get used to not being enough, but I’ll get their. It is hard to except , it hurts and is going to for a long time. But I guess the is worse things than losing people you thought were friends and liked you. It just hurts and makes me feel invisible.

Well that’s the end to this mental health ramble . Self pity and whining will be kept to a mom I promise and normal pixie is back soon, just not yet.

Hugs,

Pixie

broken brained, From the heart

Me and my mother, we have issues…

Well as you might have guessed this is not going to be a kink filled post, nor is it written by a happy little Pixie. A tired, tearful, and struggling pixie writes it, but it is something I need to sit and write about. If I don’t I may run mad or explode. It is written by a girl having to deal with feelings that she does know how to handle or know how to react to them. TI is coming off the back of one of the hardest days I have ever had to deal with.
So, what is it that has me so tied up in knots and left me reeling? Well this morning I got a phone call from my eldest sister, say that my mother had been taken in to hospital and that I needed to meet them at the hospital. Now this in its self is worrying and upsetting. But when you know how sick my mother is and that she is dying from cancer, well you get an idea of how frightened I was.
Getting to the hospital I was met my sisters, was lead trough to majors and confronted with my mother, looking tiny, lost and very sick. its then my sister dropped the bombshell, mother dearest is on her last legs, about to shuffle of this mortal coil. It hit me like a ton of breaks, but it also bounced right off me. I was in shock and numb. I have known for a long while how ill she is and that she was going to die, but I never thought she would do it! Please don’t think I’m being flippant or cruel or naive. As you will guess from the title, mother and I have problems, big, ugly problems.
We have never been close or ever got on. After I was born, she had to have a hysterectomy, meaning she could not have any more children. She desperately wanted a boy, and I put a stop to that. I have always felt that she held that against me or blamed me. She went back to work a mere 10 weeks after my birth and was never around as I grew up. I was lucky to have a great nana, who raised me, but I never really had my mum. My sisters are much more my mothers cup of tea. Both are whip smart, beautiful, and driven. I’ve always been timed, arty and a homebody, not something she liked, and made it very clear she did not like it.
As I got older she did things that hurt me very deeply. Almost continual verbal abuse and putting me down. She bullied me in to doing what she wanted and how she wanted. She also expected me to cheer my daddy up when he was low and left me with him in hospital after he tried to take his own life. She left me in his care when he was manic and ignored him hitting and punching me. when I found out I was pregnant a 16 she frogs marched me to the doctors for a termination. I went to university because she would not except me not going. But I dealt with it, with therapy, time, and love from people I trust and love.
However, the are things I won’t or can’t forgive. She knew my ex husband was beating me and knew how bad things were but chose to keep quiet about it. She blamed me for the break down of my marriage, when I tried so hard to fix the problems. She tried to turn my sister’s angst me when I tired to take my own life. But the biggest thing by far is her denying she had an alcohol problem. I should forgive and forget, but I just can’t. So, I have chosen to member and recover.
But now she is about to leave, I don’t know how to cope or deal with it all. After everything that has happened, after all that has been said and all the nasty things she has down, I still love her. I don’t like her, but I love her, she is my mum. Nobody told me how I should feel, or act or cope. So, I’m left trying to cope and come to terms with all that is going on.
I’m not looking for sympathy, well wishes or kind words. I just needed to get all this out, so I can start to deal with it. So, I will leave it there, and sleep on things or try to.
Pixie x

broken brained, family update, From the heart, musings of pixie heart., Poly life, social

Accident waiting to happen!

So, many people think they are the most accident-prone person in the world, right? Well I can without any doubt say that they are all wrong. I can even say I know who the clumsiest and most accident-prone person is, because it happens to be me! No really, it’s me.
I have been like it since I was a tiny kid. If I could fall off something, bump my head, brake, or drop things I did. I have no idea how I made it to adulthood. The first big and noteworthy accident happened when my sisters and I got sent to stay with my aunty Molly and uncle Stan on their farm in county Antrim. The was a loose slate on a roof of they barn, and me being, at the time the smallest and lightest of us, I got sent up to fix it. (don’t judge, this was in the 80’s and long before health and safety). well I got to the top of the ladder, shimmed along and just as I finished fixing the slate in place, I stupidly looked down and slipped. I throw out my hands to steady myself, throwing the hammer in my hand flying, and put my foot through the roof. I manged to get my foot out, and get back to the ladder, making my way down. Only to be greeted at the bottom by my aunty Molly looking cross and uncle Stan on the floor with broken glasses, a huge lump on his head and covered in blood. In my defence, who sends a child up a ladder to fix a roof?!

The was another time that I as on holiday on the south coast of England, in lovely little village called whittering. My daddy took me and my sister off to do a spot of crabbing. I was walking along a wall by the sea, lost in my own little world of fluffy unirons and rainbows, when my daddy yelled at me to look what I was doing. Slightly startled I turned to look at him but kept walking. Not looking where I was going, I came to the end of said wall and walked straight off the end of it. I don’t recall very much after that, apart from getting back to are tent, covered in very smell, sticky mud, and sore arm. Frog marched to the shower, by my hopping mad nana, and scrubbed clean, I remember saying my wrist hurt and felt funny. Nana when running to get my daddy and I was taken to A&E. after x-rays, a doctor said I had a displaced fracture and that it would need to be put back in place and then plastered. Daddy thought I would need to be asleep to have that done, but no, the doctor just pulled it there and then. Bloody hurt! My sister Sophie, still to this day takes the micky out of my over it by mocking the ‘Agrgh oww aghrrr’ that I apparently made when I fell off the wall!

I some how manged to get to the age of 16 without killing myself or anybody else. Then I got my first job working in McDonalds. (oh, the shame). Well I made through the first week ok. I was being trained on the grill and the manger was telling me about the ‘ansle system’ . it was, as I remember a fire extensor thing that you pushed if the grill court on fire. It would cover the grill and everything around it in a yellow powder. Well all was going so well when I stooped down to do up my shoe lace, getting up I sort of head butted the manager training me in the nuts, and stepping back in shock and horror, and bumped in to something with my bum. Next thing I knew the whole of the grill area, backroom and half the front counter were covered in yellow powder. Luck for me the manger saw the funny side to this and did not sack me. That’s not to say I did not have any more accidents, nope they still happened. I stumbled filing up the shake machine and poured 10 little of shake mix down my front, I got my hand stuck in the inside of a yellow wet floor sign and had to sit in the walk-in chiller till my hand cooed off and I could get it out. Oh, and I manged to knock myself out, by tripping and head butting a customer.

I decided to stop for the day with them after I sort of eltricuted a rather vile floor manager. I was putting the shake machine together one morning, when I need to get some more lube from the stoke room. So off I went to get it, but I only got half way before the was a big bang, a scream and the lights went out. Running back to the front counter to find said floor manger laying on the floor, looking dazed and confused, holding a burnt hand up. Turns out she thought I had finished, tried to pull a shake and something was exposed or stuck. She tried to push it back, but it decided to fiddle with it and got a shock, in every sense of the word.

As I moved on to university and things calmed down a little on the accident front. Sure, I set off the fire alarms in halls at least once a week and the were hundreds of times I got locked out of my room, but that happens to everyone right? I worked in shop in Camden market for a while and was asked to clean out the loft space with collige on Sunday. They went up first, followed by me. but I missed a rung of the ladder, slide down, hitting my chine on the loft opening, splitting it open. The ladder went flying, I fell flat on my face, knocking myself out and leaving said colleague stranded in the loft.

After university was done with and my working life started the accidents kept happening. I set fire to a bin in a workroom, I tripped, and head butted a window in a meeting room, and I dislocated a knee by kneeling on a very hard floor. When I made the move to working in the film industry, I took a lot more care, making sure I did not do a ‘Pixie’. I kept hurting myself to myself, I mean it’s not fair to inflict other people with unneeded booboos!

After my break up with my ex and the full out from that, well everyone wanted to wrap me in cotton wool, so I went through a good amount of time without hurting myself. But that was not for want of trying. I mean I was not allowed to use a razor without someone watching me, knives, and scissors where out of bounds and I was not allowed to shower with the bathroom door shut for a good 12 months. (If I sound flippant or blazed about this, I’m not, I promise. But the way I deal with trying to kill myself and the full out from it is by poking fun at it). But in spite of this I still dropped things, broke things, and got ouchies. My darling Maîtriser was one of the first people in my life to say “Pixie, you are just clumsy. You don’t mean it to happen, its just how you are built.”. He put rules to lessen the chances of my hurting myself, but also saw that being watch 24/7 was not helping me get better. So, he gave me free time and I was allowed a 20 min bath every day, with a closed bathroom door. I love him so much for trusting me and believing in me. (ok depressing part over)

Not to say I stop having accident altogether, but they are a lot less now. Well I did have a big one dusting. You see I was dusting the DVD unit thing in the living room. I was moving the sky box, thinning bob, tripped on the mat, knocked over the vase of flowers, and pulling the tv bizarre all at the same. Water went over the plugs and tv, the was a massive bang, smoke, and total loss of power. I still don’t know what or how ii did it put half my street was without and had to have generators for the weekend. I have also broken a dishwasher, 3 microwaves and a washing machine trying to fix things. So now if something is not working right I must tell Babe and let her fix it. I am also not allowed a posh phone like an iPhone as I have a habit of cracking screens or dropping them.
O you can see why some people say knowing pixie can be bad for your health. But the Boss Man says I’m just accident prone and he loves me for it. It just means he gets to look after me a little harder.

Well I hope that my Misfortune has made you at least smile,

Hugs,
Pixie x

broken brained, From the heart, musings of pixie heart., Uncategorized

Pixie’s Prompt – three questions, 300 words.

Pixie’s Prompt – three questions, 300 words.
Answer the 3 questions in 300 words or less, but giving reasoned answer.

1) An important person in your life: My Great Aunty May. Simply because she is an amazing woman. Strong minded, open, and clever. She has taught me some many things about being who I am. She is a feisty lady, who is farce and brave, even when she’s not. But the thing I love about her the most is the fact she has been there every step of the way of my recovery. From hospital, to coming home, to remarrying and becoming a mum, she ha been there. Oh, and she can tell the boss man what to do!

2) A thing your life has in excess: Love, my life is full of love. Whether that is giving love, being loved, or feeling love. Some many different types of love. For friends, lovers, family, or my babies. I never thought it was possible to feel this much love and I’m a very blessed lady to have this amount of love in my life.

 

3) How you procrastinate: Well I don’t really! No, I do, but I also must have a lot of structure in my days, or I feel very stressed and like I’m just waiting time. That would then make me panicky and anxious and no one wants that. I guess I do like Pinterest and twitter quite a lot. I also enjoy stripping down to my panties and a t-shirt, turning up the music and dancing round the kitchen. Also, a big fan of taking long baths and naps. But then I am also happy to spend the day writing or to clean for a few hours. For me life is about balance and priorities.

See i can write something in under 300 words!

Hugs,

Pixie

broken brained, From the heart, musings of pixie heart., Uncategorized

Anger is an energy…

Anger is an energy.
Right let me start by say, yep totally ripped of John Lydon book. Now moving on to what this blog post is about shall we?! Well in a nut shell it’s about anger, how people see and treat it, and how it affects me and how I deal with it.
Anger is kind of the elephant in the room for a lot of people or a sort of forbidden emotion. I mean pretty much every other emotion is accepted, if not welcome. But poor old anger is always seen as a negative emotion and something you’re not meant to show. But like all things we try to keep hidden, when it finally comes to the surface it can be messy, hurt people and really fuck you up if you don’t deal with it. The way I look at it is, that anger is not always a negative thing, it is a very strong emotion with a lot of energy behind it, needing careful handling, but should not be feared, as we all at some point feel anger.
For me anger was and is a big part of my life, that I work hard on controlling. I know that may sound shocking to some, as online pixie is sweet and innocent, cute and little. With maybe the odd rant or rude word here and there. For the most part you would be right, but the is another side that you don’t see and that is the angry Pixie, who rants rages and has been known to throw plate at the boss man. I know shocking right?! But I am only human, and it is only natural to get angry sometimes. But for me anger has or did for a long time have a negative impact on my life. I was not allowed to show anger at home growing up. My mother would never allow it and my daddy would turn his anger on me in the form of a beating or horrid word. when I hit my teens, I started to have angry outburst, that I now know were due to not dealing with abuse and with having Anxious ADD. But I was lucky that some one saw this and I got sent to an anger magnet therapist and learnt ways to deal with it
For my anger has a few different Face. The is Mrs grumpy face that people get when I’m tired, feel unwell or get woken up by the phone at 6 am. Then the Rage monster, this is when I get mad at people being treated unfairly, people hurting those I love or some numpty cutting me up oh the rounder bout. It is normally accompanied with a lot of swearing, shouting and hot air. Then we have anxious, broken brained angry Pixie. I don’t now when or what this looks like, not as my brain switches off and I can’t function. I have been told I become short, extremally critical and rude with people. Then the is to me the scariest type, the silent sighing type, that I turn in on myself. It’s the one I get when I feel I have fucked something up or not done enough. It is my self-critical side and it frightens the crap out of me. it has in the past led to self harm, anxiety attack, and a few times trying to take my life. It is spiteful, rude, and aggressive and it is always turn in on me. It led to me losing my friends, disliking myself and not try anything.
But with everything I need to do in my life, I say, I’m working on it. Its not gone, but I am living with it. I did this by meeting it head on, challenging it and fighting it. I won’t let it rule my life and I do not deserve to fell like it makes me feel.
I have ways to deal with it, that I have learnt in therapy and from maîtriser. They are:
• Breath – Ok so deep breathing works amazingly well for so many things. But I also have a little mantra I say while doing deep breathing, it is ‘Breath just breath. Keep moving forward, take baby steps if you have too. But keep moving and just breath.’ Saying this brings me back down to a normal level of meness.
• Time out – So yes, I give myself time outs. Simply as turning my phone off, iPod on calming music and I go sit and calm down for 20 mins, not talking or interacting with anyone.
• Walk it off – Again as simple as putting my shoes on and taking a dog for a walk. I come back, and I’m calm and not going to kill anyone.
• Scream about it – Ok so this is always as simply as screaming. It normally involves the boss man taking me to the gym, stick loud music on and making me spare with him. The is highly stress reliving about kicking the crap out of someone.
• Talk or write about it – I see a therapist every 2 weeks and blog as a way of keeping a lid on things.
• Hug it out – ok so this is pure and simply my nana’s idea! When I was a kid, if I got angry instead of telling me off or shouting at me and resulting in me getting angrier. She would make me hug someone. Normally my granddah, her or my great, great aunty win. It was her belief and now mine that you can’t stay mad if your hugging someone.
So that is my take on anger and how I deal with it. I know it must seem a little strange to some but for me it really does work!

Hugs,
Pixie x