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    – my point was not that we were born corrupt. But that we are born into a corrupt world, and we end up- eventually- with some corruption in us, and passing it on. At least at times, to one extent or another. And it is every person’s personal responsibility to identify those corruptions/ mud and remove it from our words, expressions and behaviors. I am still working on it.

    This is beautiful. I don’t disagree with the mud thoughts either, just don’t want it to be true, and there needs to be the perfect cheeky emoji face so you can see what I’m thinking when I’m being cheeky. But it is beautiful what you’ve said there and the mud is sad. And no one deserves the childhood they get. I never looked at it like that. I Only thought abused children don’t deserve the childhood they get. But neither do the lucky ones, they just were lucky. This too is sad. People with nice childhoods do not seem to be able to comprehend how we are. But why would they? If you never got broken you can’t understand the scars that hold another together, how there are still places under the scars that the healing isn’t complete, severed spirits that found found ways to reunite the cells of themselves, but not in the way an unbroken heart gets to beat its happy song.

    No! No skydiving 😂 a much more practical chore that I usually have to pay someone to do. It’s very hard work physically and requires some expertise. I think I’ll get my expert fellow to do the next go though, just to ensure I’m on the right track. Plus I don’t have all the tools so it may require his excellent work if it gets out of hand. Ha. Very secret squirrel 😂 oooh I’m in pain today though, so many muscles I didn’t know I have.

    I went abseiling once. I felt so empowered but the feeling didn’t last, my fear of heights returned the same day, so this ate away at my ideas of going skydiving. I used to think I’d do that after I’d filled my duties to my children, just in case I died, but I realise that although doing something scary helps you in the moment it can be short lived, and also what’s the point of shortlivingly facing my fears at the end of my life anyway? 😂

    One day I’m sure we’ll converse and share ourselves. But for now the internet doesn’t need to have that much info on me.

    I quit smoking a lifetime ago. The friend that was there for everything. That’s what it felt like. I lost the thing (friend) who say with me in the good, the bad, the normal. Oh well, cancer sites with you through all those things too!

    It is raining cats and dogs here. The weather is telling me to be still! I love it. My linen is getting soaked though. Oh well.

    Well, dear Anita, I’m about to make a pot. There’s no lemon tea or poppy seed cake – although we’re lucky there’s none of that after the last one – so let’s put our feet up and enjoy the rain that is falling in bucket loads.


    Loll I don’t mind if you reply to it. I’m struggling not to reply to you in it, but you’re doing amazing.
    <p style=”text-align: left;”>You’re doing a good job with your mud. I never used to think anything like that, I used to think everyone was well intentioned and lovely, and I couldn’t understand why they did horrible things. I’ve become a bit cynical since so much has come my way these last years. My younger self stepped in a bit just now to say, ‘No! We’re not born with mud on us! Every one is born perfect! And beautiful. Lovely and deserving. Not everyone deserves the crappy life they get though. We owe it to our loved ones to do our best to be love to them though, no matter how crappy a life we got.’ I’m not arguing your point just totally contradicting it 😂 I miss the young me that thought everything was beautiful even though it was not. It protected me from lots of hurt. Old me doesn’t want mud to be all there is 😢</p>
    I did an amazing thing today, it took some skill and amazing amounts of courage, strength, perseverance, and patience. I’m in pain now 😂 I’m not all that strong or fit. But I did it and it wasn’t a failure!

    I quit smoking a very long time ago. Ha. 15 a day. I was more like 50. If I get cancer I deserve it. I also quit red wine at the same time. Unintentionally, just because the next couple of times I tried it, it tasted awful, and I couldn’t have a ciggie to fix the problem. There were many false starts with quitting, resulting in allowing myself to smoke with a glass of red, ending up drinking a few glasses of red every night so I could smoke 😂 ended up thinking I had two vices to deal with 😂


    You just inspired me to look at the news, something I avoid, and I’m hoping what I read is a development since you last posted and the reports were actually mistaken. I read Iranian officials were saying it wasn’t a missile.

    If you don’t have a dog, a neighbour’s dog is the next best thing. My neighbours have a lovely little dog.

    Occasionally I wonder if having children was a mistake. If I’ve passed on the cycle of abuse somehow. I’ve read that a mother’s emotional state affects the foetus. I’ve read abuse affects DNA in bad ways. That is true the sins of the parents being passed onto however many. generations, although it’s genetically, not biblical. But maybe they feel abused. I’ve read lots of people who have issues with their parents for things I would have loved to have from mine, so I guess it’s relative, not just something that can be classified by one for another. Hmmm. I might have done them the biggest disservice ever having them. But oh how I love them.

    Red wine goes with nothing other than cigarettes and I don’t smoke anymore so I don’t drink red wine anymore 😂


    I can’t seem to relax, it’s been a thing since 2015, but also I suppose I had the groundwork before then. I am never happy with myself unless I’m working hard, doing something, being busy or productive. I’m really struggling right now with guilt and anxiety. My stomach is churning from it.

    I’ve been unwell for a week but soldiered on through everything I must do, work and other things. Any quiet time I’ve felt so guilty and anxious. I’m exhausted and sick and when I stop at the end of each day the guilt takes over.

    My ex used to make a big thing of always working hard. He shouted it to the tree tops how hard he worked. And I believed all the loud words, I failed to see the physical truth, that he did not work hard at all. Sure, he played hard at the things he enjoyed doing, sports mainly. But he did not work hard. I’d get home from work and he’d have a push mower, the old fashioned non petrol type, out on the lawn. He’d say, ‘you’ve been sitting all day, while I’ve been out working hard, it would be good for your physical fitness to do some work.’ I’d nearly break down, exhausted from a 10 hour day, feeling fat and ugly because he said I needed exercise, and I’d mow the lawn with self loathing in my heart. He’d make comments about how hard he worked and how fit he was, and how I wasn’t fit because of my job. He was always doing big  things like skydiving, rafting, always doing things and making comments about my not doing things. But. The big but. When he wasn’t doing these things he was eating out, taking naps, visiting his friends, having coffee, swimming, doing enjoyable downtime things. Which was most of his life.

    I failed to recognise that it’s hard for me to do things when I started work at 7.30 to 8 and often didn’t finish till 7. That I physically was unable to be at work and skiing, or doing whatever big thing he wanted to do. That I couldn’t take months and months off every year to join him on his big holidays and trips. That when I wasn’t at work I needed to sleep and look after the home because he did not do that. That I needed to be a mother to and it was the most important thing to me to be one, I did not want to be at work all the time, I wanted to be at home baking biscuits and roasts and being a mum.

    My mother also made me feel totally inadequate, nasty comments about how easy it is to do this or that, she just does it while she’s putting the kettle on or waiting for the porridge to cook. It didn’t even factor that I was getting up, getting a family up, doing washing, feeding animals, making sure we were all out the door. Just, ‘it’s easy, you just do it while the kettle is boiling.’ except I was doing the other things while the kettle was boiling.

    I’m struggling. Really struggling with guilt. My head hurts. I’m so tired. Sorry, I’m complaining, but I’m going to read this again and hopefully the saying of it will help me let some go.

    I read it and I feel worse. Hmmm.


    I saw your one in your thread.  You’re letting go of so many hurt emotions you never should have had to shoulder.  I’m proud of your achievements!  I’m having some moments catching up on the internet and emails because I can’t put one foot in front of the other just now.  There’s so much I need to do in my short hours I’m not at work but instead I’m falling apart.  But I think maybe in a putting together kind of way.  Thank you for being on the other side of this conversation.

    It’s so, I can’t find the words, so something that I feel such a connection to your words.  I’m here for you too, close with only an ocean or two separating, but literally a heartbeat of internet speed.

    Did you have children?  I find myself wanting to know the life you.  How you spend your days, because for now, I just imagine you walking down rarely travelled dusty roads, foxes and wolves and eagles living their lives around your wanders, golden sunset light stretching your shadow ahead of you.  I wonder if you have a dog who walks with you, or a cat who welcomes you home when you return, and I wonder if you’re a tea drinker because tea doesn’t got with chocolate cake!


    You are allowed to have feelings!  The good, the bad, the ugly.  Don’t feel bad about having them.  They kept you alive.  Feeling the things you thought your mother would approve of and bring connection, well, maybe they did because, although you could not see it, maybe she actually approved of you being like her in her own weird way – a way that showed the opposite of approval.  Imagine how much worse if you’d felt and behaved the opposite ways to your mother’s examples.  Some people cannot show approval to their children.  They think it weakens them.  One day your mother will have to reconcile her life in this world.  Whether it be with God, or whatever comes at the end, I believe we all have a reckoning.  I don’t look forward to mine; mainly because I am so worried about my pride getting in the way of my accepting my failings.  I’ll say it again, your mother should be ashamed of herself, much more than ashamed, she should be beside herself with remorse.

    “all this gratitude and emotion for a moment of me acknowledging your hurt…”

    I started weeping again.  I’ve been so caught up in things lately I’ve forgotten to sit with an emotion and let it flow through me.  I took time this time, time to allow myself the deep hurt I feel over your kindness and understanding.  You’ve given me a gift, one that hurts and heals, I think.  It’s not your fault it hurts, it’s my hurt, and it’s being allowed by not expecting me to get over it.

    “I am motivated to try and write you another poem sometime in the next few days, would it be okay with you?”

    That is so thoughtful.  Thank you.

    Isn’t the world a smaller place when we can be friends across oceans?  Back in the olden days, when I was a child and an adult, we wrote letters.  They took weeks to get there, sometimes months if the postal service stuffed up and sent them surface mail, or they got lost.  I used to write to my mother, letters full of the things I thought were important, letters full of words and thoughts my friend had because I thought she was amazing.  My mother showed them to me a few years ago, with a snide comment about their content, and I read them quite in amazement.  They were exactly how my friend spoke.  But I was in them too, a boy I liked, my shock at a girl in my class having sex…

    “Sad Soul’s Son, tell mom why, tell her just as it is.
    If you can, please tell her.
    She bought orange and poppy seed cake yesterday, tasted like casserole.
    I bet she she’ll bake the best cake ever for you, mother’s love seeds in cake, if you come over for a talk
    Separate truth from lies, Sad Soul’s Son; see your mother as she is, see your father, your friend as they are
    See yourself
    Tell mom what’s in your mind and heart, tell her, she’ll listen, she will not argue
    She wants to know, she needs to know, Please talk to her. Tell her your truth.”

    I finally read these lines slowly and surely.  They are so precious to me.

    My love for my children has evolved for each one of them as they grow up.  I love the older ones in a more .. separated? .. way.  I love this one that has left in a different way to how I loved little boy him, or baby him.  I loved him in a more little boy way just before him leaving.  He’s not a boy anymore, and I missed all that happening, he’s a young man now.  I’d been preparing and evolving emotionally as he’d been moving into his adult self, more conscientiously than with the others as he was the last one left, but I did not expect it to all be ripped away.  I thought he’d start walking his adult life in stages and I’d get to walk beside him when he needed me.  We’d be friends / mother and son, as he matured.  He used to say he was never going to leave home, never leave me, that I had to go with him wherever he went.  I knew that was a little boy talking, but it made him all the more precious.  Instead it’s totally different.  I think I am mourning the loss of him as I knew him too.  I’m just sprouting forth words and words and words and my sore heart.  Sorry.


    I loved my mother for who I wished she was – actually somehow managed to look at her and see my dreams, not who she is.  I made so many excuses for her.  Good bye to my mother also.


    Sad Soul, Special Soul, is it a tear in your eye that I see? Wasted time, wasted efforts, starting Alone, ending Alone, is this your story? Is this my story? Is this the story of all humanity? Four questions above, I don’t get to ask anymore (so says the critic in my mind) Sad Soul, Special Soul, see my soul see your soul You are not alone; I am not alone Son left unexpectedly, so sorry, Mother Sad Soul Sad Soul’s Son, tell mom why, tell her just as it is. If you can, please tell her. She bought orange and poppy seed cake yesterday, tasted like casserole. I bet she she’ll bake the best cake ever for you, mother’s love seeds in cake, if you come over for a talk Separate truth from lies, Sad Soul’s Son; see your mother as she is, see your father, your friend as they are See yourself Tell mom what’s in your mind and heart, tell her, she’ll listen, she will not argue She wants to know, she needs to know, Please talk to her. Tell her your truth

    No one has ever written me a poem.  I cried again.  You’ve given me somethings in these writings that I’ve never had.

    And now for a thought for you:  you are kind and generous.  I hope there are other kind generous people in your life to appreciate you.  I’m very glad we have made contact on this forum.  I look forward to reading at the beginning / middle / end of each day 🙂


    But people think you should heal and be over a thing in a nice set length of time, let’s say a couple of months at most

    – when I posted yesterday in my own thread, about that person (my mother) yet again, I heard a shaming voice in my mind’s ear, saying: you should be over her by now, you are a grown woman, how many years will you be stuck in what happened so long ago..?!! This is why I started the post with “I keep posting here because it is working for me“, as an answer to the criticism I imagined, letting readers know that there is a positive value now, to posting about then.

    Don’t be ashamed of having feelings.  I don’t think it’s easy to let go of unjustly metered out pain given by the ones who should love and protect.  Your mother should be ashamed, not you.

    “It would be so amazing if someone acknowledged my deep hurt… .. I had no one say it’s okay, you’re allowed to be hurt and fall apart

    – I am taking a meditative moment here.. I acknowledge your deep hurt, SadSoul, deeply hurt SadSoul, deeply hurt. I feel some of it.. yes.

    Thank you.  I actually had to stop reading when I got to this as my heart – my chest – well, it hurt so much.  I wept.  I’m starting again and I have given myself a few hours to compose myself.  Thank you so much.


    – I know how it feels to be used by a man, dehumanizing and enraging, and they get away with it.. for a while (eventually everyone gets sick and/ or dies). I am sorry that this was your experience. The inhumane ways people treat each other.. It makes me want even more to be and become a better and better person.

    Five years of worshiping him and thinking I didn’t deserve him.  I’m sorry you’ve had this too.  I haven’t got angry, but I do not like him at all.  Actually, I wouldn’t mind punching him somewhere lolllll.

    – someone out there is eating a casserole that tastes like it was baked alongside a poppy seed cake… 

    Hahahahahaha I so laughed at this.  Thank you 🙂


    You’re not totally alone, although an online friendship definitely doesn’t offer what one in real life does, but I’m here. I hope you get this close enough to when you wrote the above for it to help.


    I would use bolded quotes, etc, except I’m usually on my phone and it’s not the easiest thing to be using to reply. I notice lots of my replies have all the coding around them so sorry about that! Feel free to quote, it makes it make sense, which my replies probably lack.

    Loneliness is all those things. I had lots of friends thoughout life but they were around when they needed me for things. I loved being needed, it was something I craved. I suppose because I was not wanted as a kid.

    I was thinking about something really odd the other day, that when I was younger I discovered I could act in ways that turned my partner on, and I liked that because it made me feel important to him, special, needed, wanted, desired. Now I never want to sleep with anyone ever again. Being desired sexually and thinking I meant something special, well, I wasn’t special to him I was just sex to him, and free board.

    Yup, I’m lonely and I’m caught in it, but I’m also very busy so I suppose there’s lots less lonely hours in the week than there could be. I don’t think I could be myself with anyone, I’m quite caught up in my hurts, and people don’t want to know about that. Like I’m so hurt and confused about my son. I don’t need to talk about it lots but I do want it acknowledged. It would be… It would be so amazing if someone acknowledged my deep hurt. But people think you should heal and be over a thing in a nice set length of time, let’s say a couple of months at most.

    My ex leaving, it was years ago, but he screwed me up so badly in the relationship and then did a runner when I started to say no. I had no one say it’s okay, you’re allowed to be hurt and fall apart. Instead I got told how stupid I’d be if I considered going back to him or that he was an *rsehole and I should be glad I’m better off without him. I spent the first year after he left going further into misery because I felt so bad about myself because I didn’t live up to anyone’s expectations of me. Also I had no intentions of going back to him, I didn’t trust him after he sneaked out and sent me a text message while I was at work. I’d begun seeing him more clearly in the last year or so together so, as hurt as I was, I wasn’t sure he was the great wonderful person he kept saying he was. I knew I couldn’t keep living the life we had together. But mostly I didn’t trust him at all, leaving the way he did, right after I insisted he start paying his share of bills and things. Right after I started to make myself valuable enough that I could see he was using me and manipulating me. When I realised I deserved to be more than working 46 hours a week to pay the bills, doing the housework and yard work, while he lived a high life with his money and his free time.

    At least being alone is gentler than the people I used to have around me. And I don’t feel guilty and scared of feeling how I feel.

    I am going to hush now. That was a lot of things I’ve never put into words before. I will have to digest them now. Alongside the orange and poppy seed cake I bought today that tastes like it was baked alongside a casserole. It’s awful!


    I was thinking lemon tea cake, with lemony goodness drizzled over it, but if that doesn’t float your boat I have chocolate cake and ginger slice.  There you go, a real little party.

    Oh how tired I am.  I want to sleep for days.

    My mother came up in conversation today, I couldn’t help myself, the women at work were complaining about their mothers texting them Happy Morning with smilie emojis.  I told them once they’ve had a mother who says xxx xxx xxx like mine they will have some perspective on getting nice text messages from theirs.  Oh how people can be so horrid.  But then, I suppose it all depends on your perspective:  if you’ve had an evil mother you desperately want one to text you nice messages and get a bit upset when you don’t reply for days; if you had a nice one I suppose it’s annoying to have to keep a track of.

    Which brings me to my children who are so busy with their lives and events I feel like I’m the mother texting hello and they don’t reply for weeks.  I try very hard to be happy they’re so whole in themselves and their lives they don’t cling to me.  Because I’m alone and there’s nothing much filling my life.

    Regarding the aloneness you were talking about it your topic.  I used to be terrified of being alone, literally my heart pounded, sweating, shaking, utter fear, the whole night long when I first lived alone.  I had every light on in the house and I was terrified.  Till one night a few years on, desperately exhausted from not being able to sleep, I closed my eyes and prayed if someone came to murder me it was quick and I didn’t hear it coming.

    That fear evolved into loneliness rather than fear, and a few other emotions in between, till these days I’m not afraid of being alone.  I don’t feel too lonely and mostly when I do I recognise I don’t have the energy to do anything about it.  I’m also a square peg in a round hole so I don’t make friends all that easily.  I think I’m too serious and probably a bunch of other things, but I struggle with fluff.

    Oh well, best get on with things.  Something waits for no man, can’t remember what it is that doesn’t wait, but that saying sprang to mind lol.


    That sounds lovely. I’ll pull up at yours with a tea cake and you put the kettle on.

    I’m tired today. But life goes on and so must I.

    Did you have any siblings? At least I had some so the pain was shared.


    I started reading the bible a few months ago. I’m really upset that so much of it seems to be so wrong. When I google the meaning of passages, because I’m so horrified they’re so awful, the explanations seem to just be people trying to fit their ideas into justifying the wrongness of it, not actual educated logical explanations. Occasionally there’s some educated person who makes an explanation on the nuance of the translation that could have been incorrectly made, but mostly it’s just people trying to make wrong into right. I’m so confused because I was hoping to find solace and peace in the bible. Instead I’m finding my faith is shaking, finding myself praying that one day the real meaning is revealed when the end comes.

    Today I woke up sick and I’ve slowly slid into a pool of misery. I’ve really struggled this week, really really really.

    I read your other topic. I sometimes wonder if we found someone to love and accept us as completely as our mothers would it help. A surrogate mother. Except I’m so old now and I don’t think another human should have to try to take on my hurts.


    <p style=”text-align: left;”>a fry pan</p>

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