“Here’s to the crazy ones, the misfits, the rebels, the troublemakers, the round pegs in the square holes… the ones who see things differently — they’re not fond of rules… You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them, but the only thing you can’t do is ignore them because they change things… they push the human race forward, and while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius, because the ones who are crazy enough to think that they can change the world, are the ones who do.” – Steve Jobs 1955 – 2011

Hi, I’m Tom Brown – a designer, photographer and compsci/business student at the university of Winchester (2013). I’ll be posing updates from my life every now and then. I’m going through a rough period at the moment with some anxiety issues; I’m going to use this as an outlet to try to share with the world what it’s like to be me. A diary of sorts.

Here are some starter facts about me:

• I’m 18
• In a relationship with a dude
• Like McFly, All American Rejects and Imagine Dragons
• Inspired by Steve Jobs, Jony Ive, Albert Einstein
• Have struggled with anxiety my entire life
• Self-conscious
• Passionate
• I like photography, design, programming, film, music, drama and appreciate art and architecture.

Most of my friends pointed out the same personality traits for me right away – honesty, trustworthiness and empathy that make it easy to establish contact with others. I have to admit that I had something else completely in my mind that usually up second with my friends – I think I possess strong organizational skills, an ability to manage members of a group and have a great sense of responsibility. I was really surprised when I realized which part of my personality has the greatest impact on others. I must admit, I had never thought about how others can see me. It was a great learning exercise.

I am glad that I had the opportunity to interview a few friends and learn something completely unexpected about myself. That old saying is totally true… A wise man learns his all life …

I’ve been away for a glorious week at St. Michael’s Conference Southwest. I don’t think I could ever commend it in a blog post, but if I had to… I would leave it at “Anglo-Catholic Defense against the Dark Arts”.

I will, however, commend to you what I learned.

I learned why Jacob fought with the angel of the Lord for a blessing, for a name. Because sometimes you have to kick, bite and claw in this life- or in my case scream bloody murder at God in the middle of the Great Silence following Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament.

Because life sucks. Because life hurts. Because the here and now is broken.

Sometimes you just have to vent on someone who understands. And no one understands how messed up things can get better than the murder victim God incarnate Himself. Talking things out works for the little stuff, but sometimes you hit a brick wall. Sometimes you are asked to plow through that brick wall with your head. And you feel that it is too much for you to do, so you despair. If you despair for very long, you get angry. Really angry. You also forget how to express emotion. Thankfully, God meets us not only spiritually but physically— so punch something. In the face. Hard. Kick, cry, spit, hiss, scream in the Great Silence, something.

I spat in the face of God— I told Him I didn’t want to be. 

It hurt.

It hurt when I couldn’t feel anything else. 

So I held onto that pain. The pain that told me that every bit of my being is made to worship God and nothing else. The pain that said I was alive.

So. Go scream at God. He can take it.

Photo credit: Wikipedia

I had a mother once.

It happened today in Safeway. I was there at the pharmacy picking up the latest pain remedy, and Trazadone for sleep. There was going to be a wait, so I cruised the miscellaneous aisle where they keep all the summer “grab-me” items. That’s where it happened. A large Raggedy Ann doll was lying sideways in a summer lawn chair, smiling at me with her eyes agape. The image transported me back, forty plus years ago. I had a doll just like that. I remember relishing its sweet smiling face. I’m pretty sure it was lovingly hand-made by my mother. I loved that doll fiercely.

I had the same feeling two days ago as I went through her jewelry box. It was the same one I remember pouring over as a young girl. The box was covered in gold fabric of some kind, and had darkened with age. A rush of old memories laced with her delicate perfume went up my nose as I opened it.  It used to sit on top of her dresser, with strings of beads and shiny things hanging out of it.  I eagerly anticipated the times when she would dress up to go dancing with my father and let me go through her jewelry. I delighted in the sparkle of the rhinestones and crystals, and how the dangly ones caught the light as she moved.

I feel her when the wind blows through my hair. I hear her in the tinkle of wind chimes and when it is quiet enough to hear the song of a solitary songbird. I feel her urging me to live, to take in, to capture, and to create. She reminds me that the most fulfilling time of her life began at about the age that I am now. I know that if she had my body and my mind, she would not waste them.

“The time is now,” she whispers.

“And from where in you, women, is so much melancholy taken? Why are you sad? (…) Be merry! Live until life lasts! Is it not possible (…) to hit this sorrow in the neck?”
“Fathernessness” by Anton Chekhov

A mask of beauty

So pure and simple

Without any scars

Of aging and worn

Is it a lie

To cover our fear

Avoiding the thought

That hearts will break

And love will fall

When we least expect it

Sudden and ugly

Without any hint

Of  a subtle warning

For the mask I wear

Will never leave

It simply reflects

The numbness within

Blind as a ghost

And deaf as the wind

Only to see

A shadow of moon

On the grounded earth

My heart is weak

With memories so flawed

And dreams are long lost

As my mask will then fall

To shatter in pieces

Broken and crumbled

Leaving behind

The face I then wear

Of bruises, cracks

And cobweb eyes

To see only what’s left

Of a joyous life

I believe in the happy,
The joys in the world,
I just find it hard,
Holding on to that in my own life.

It seems that no matter,
How much that I try,
It’s never enough,
Something more could be done.

I want to be happy,
Chase the endless rainbows,
Not letting the rain,
Come over me and wash away all hope.

I don’t know this person,
I see myself becoming,
She is someone so low,
She just makes me feel frustrated.

I just want to shake,
To tell her to wake up,
These things you are feeling,
Will one day be all gone.

Don’t listen to the lies,
That’s the easy way out,
You’re silencing yourself,
If you chose to go that route.

Choices they always,
Feel so black and white,
But some things you never know,
Like the pain someone is hiding inside.

For example, if someone shouts at you, treats you aggressively, offends you, and so on, this is a feedback from the person. What he or she actually saying is: I am vulnerable and I have to attack in order to protect my vulnerability.

We need to see it, understand it, and teach it forward, for others to see it also. It is reading between the lines.

It is just like when you have a fever, body is saying that: you have an infection, you need to do something about it.

This also happens in traffic, people giving feedback through their behavior about how weak they are. Well in traffic, the best thing is just to IGNORE it with a smile.

The rain pitter-patters

on the window,

as the smell of musk and earth

seeps into my dark room.

The smell creeps into every corner,

every shadow,

every fabric of my being.

The smell of rain becomes me,

rather,

encompasses me.

Until no longer is it raining outside;

instead,

it’s flooding inside.

–ER

You may have realised that the 2 poems I’ve posted have been, shall we say quite ‘deep’ and ‘meaningful’. Now I don’t know if I have explained this but I am not very good at opening up about things, I prefer to bottle things up which I believe I explained in my poems. I have never been a good one for talking about my problems, for some it’s natural, for others like myself it can pose a greater challenge. I’ve struggled for a long time and still am to this very day. Yes, I have spoken but for me personally, I feel I need to speak more regularly at length to feel more comfortable in opening up. I’ve had small chats with a certain person who has helped me tremendously. I’m extremely lucky to have met this person, it’s like a blessing. Select people are that to me, a blessing, someone you never thought you’d meet but now you have, you’re never going to let them out of your life.

I’m lucky I guess in many ways. The most dominant one being that I’ve been fortunate enough to have support in this kind of situation. Without this support, who knows what could of happened. I’m still the same but even I feel like I’m starting to make small progress, little baby steps. I have started to notice the little things a bit more, I mean I appreciate things a great deal, to the extent I over appreciate, I just do. The small things tend to make the big difference I find.

I know through managing to talk a few times that talking is good. Crying is good. I thought it was weak, but it shows strength. Even silence is good. A silence can allow you that little moment to appreciate it all, allow you to stop and think. Sometimes I sit and lay down just thinking about everything, putting everything into perspective, it’s amazing how much you can think of. I’m guilty of not opening up but if there are others like me out there, then although I’m not doing it so much but I’m trying, just open up. Opening up makes you feel a whole lot better, trust me.  

Alongside this whole wishy-washy post, I wanted to touch on something slightly more serious. This subject being depression. Depression can be a tough subject for many, it is hard to deal with and help with also.
My most recent post “Crying” was linked in a post written by “ladymelancholy” who stated they were suffering from depression. It’s important at the early stages you get help, as the earlier you get it, the easier it will be to manage. I’m not saying it will be easy, but making a decision about things earlier can help enormously. I just wanted to reach out to this person and let them know as a community you are surrounded by amazing people, whom are all here to help.

Well if you’ve read til the end, I do indeed give my utmost thanks for keeping on reading. I hope I’ve raised awareness of depression, it can be hard to deal with it and I just want more people to become known to that fact. Feel free to search it up on the old ‘tinternet’ and let me know what you find. I would love to hear your own stories and am more than happy to help. That’s one thing about me that makes dealing with my own problems harder, I care more about other people than myself. It is hard but I’m slowly dealing with my problems. So, hope this post has been useful, I’ll be posting again soon, maybe a poem, who knows!

Anyways, for now, “Goodnight and God bless to you all.”

It’s funny, this whole process reminds me of a conversation I was having with a friend recently when they were talking about their approach to their playing and their search for beauty. As this is my best friend, we are alike in quite a few ways and mulling over this conversation made me ask myself what my own focus was. Is it the same? The endless search for beauty in music? Well, no. The only job I want is to make people feel something. To go about it the Ian Curtis way – some music’s not meant to be beautiful. I just want people to feel something. That’s my goal. If that something is utter outrage (provided the song calls for it) then good! To this day Mr Brightside by The Killers makes me want to punch someone in the face really really hard. No one in particular, just someone. That’s the way that song should make you feel, given what it’s about.

Going into my side project, this will be my absolute focus. How to communicate what I want to – how to re-arrange some very beautiful songs so that they make sense in a whole new way. I was discussing this with my drum teacher last night, going over different ideas with him as to what I wanted to do, the approach I want to use for each song. I think we’re both looking forward to hearing the final versions.

Rip Clarence. I never got to see you play, but as part of the band that made me start this blog, I am forever in your debt for the solid playing you recorded with the E street band, the input you had into THAT sound and the way you changed music. Thank you for playing with soul.

If you are always alone and wondering why?  Maybe you’re the stick in the mud that everyone is trying to avoid?  Ouch, eh?  Sometimes truth hurts but it is necessary to hear so that you can choose to change it, if you want to that is . . . just know if you choose not to change and just BE happy then you do not have to waste any more of your precious time complaining and wondering why.

Think about it . . .

Love and Sunshine,
Tracy

It got me wondering, what do I miss the most?
Not the obvious stuff like breathing and walking, the relatively small things. The special moments that hold personal importance.

These are the things I look back on that, while I’m saddened I will never enjoy them again, I am all the more grateful for having the memories to cherish.

Playing with my nephews. Chasing them round the garden, wrestling, playing football, tickling them until they would squeal.

Showing affection. Gently stroking a beautiful face with the back of my hand while lying pressed together, sharing breath.

Physical exhaustion. Exercise is addictive, running until my legs won’t move, my lungs grasping for air, every muscle aching.

Holding a newborn baby. The responsibility for that life, so fragile. The innocence and the trust in those curious eyes.

Playing guitar. A way to close the door on the world, shut out the stress and get lost amongst the melodies.

Smell. I’ve now lost the sense of smell. Freshly baked bread, a baby’s head, a barbecue on a summer’s day.

Holding someone’s hand. My first girlfriend, my ex-fiance when I proposed, saying goodbye to my Gran.

Physical closeness. A close embrace with another warm body, the intimate connection of skin on skin.

For missing all of that, I am still me and I still know those feelings. I have those experiences locked away, they will always be mine. If I hadn’t been given my 25 years of living and loving I would always wonder.

Luckily, I only need to close my eyes and remember.

@Stevenceltic81

I am a wild rose

Blossoming in futility

You are the errant breeze

Laced with every emotion of desire

Just touch me once

A velvet kiss

And open up the gates of Heaven

With your breath

My petals are freed

Offering themselves

To the waiting breeze

Tearing through the vast avian vault

Somewhere they are there

Floating forever

In the wind

In the boundless limits of the sky

From shore to shore

Drifting softly and slowly

They fall down upon you

Gentle caresses laid to rest

With the softness

Of remembered touch

Sharing a secret

That is certain and felt

A collision of silent needs

And consequences

Rippling like waves

That flow through you

Like a gentle river

The four winds take us where they will

But there is always one heartbeat

And always one eternity

© Ann Bagnall and AnnieB222.wordpress.com, 2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Ann Bagnall and AnnieB222.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Image © Ann Bagnall and AnnieB222.wordpress.com, 2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.

Like other types of boundaries, emotional boundaries serve the purpose of defining where one person begins and another ends. This may seem obvious at first—I’m me, and you’re you. If you are talking about bodies, then yeah, that’s all there is to it. But when you are talking about relationships, it isn’t so clear cut. Think of that common expression, “He’s tied to his mother’s apron strings.” What does that bring to mind? Someone who lives with his mother well past young adulthood? Someone who has no other significant relationships? Who is putting his mother’s need above all of his own? In other words, it is hard to see the boundary between them, it is as if they are one.

When I explain the concept of boundaries to clients in my practice, many reply, “But I don’t want to be selfish!” Having healthy boundaries is the opposite of selfish. Thinking only of oneself is a sign of unhealthy boundaries because it is rigid. It does not let others in at all. Healthy boundaries are flexible so that you can take care of yourself, but still be responsive to others. The example I give is of backyard fences. If the fence between your neighbor’s yard and yours is a six-foot-high block wall, a rigid boundary, there is no relationship. You don’t see each other, speak with one another, or share anything. On the other hand, if the fence is a falling-down, chain link one, it is a weak boundary: there is too much “sharing.” You know everything about each other’s personal business, your dog is digging up their flowers, and their tools are in your backyard. The ideal is to have a flexible boundary, a sturdy, wood fence with a gate. One where you can chat over the fence, but still separate what is yours from what is theirs.  Where you can decide how much sharing goes on by opening and closing the gate.

When you have healthy emotional boundaries, you practice good self-care by making sure your own needs are getting met. You make conscious decisions about how and when to take care of others. This means you are not doing things out of guilt, or because you’ve been commanded to do so by others who expect you to be responsible for their needs. It means you are not pretending to do things willingly, but seething with resentment underneath. Healthy relationships are not built on guilt, resentment, and manipulation.

Again, I am not talking about only doing what is good for you; there are many times we choose to put others ahead of ourselves. Healthy relationships are about give and take. If your spouse is sick, their needs may have to come ahead of yours for a while. If you have small children, your mother or father may want to help out from time to time. That is what flexibility means.

One good way to evaluate your own boundaries is to examine your feelings and behaviors in regard to doing things for others. Are you always putting your needs last? Do you often feel resentful and bitter? Do you accept tasks from others, then mentally chew them out for being inconsiderate and demanding? If you find those things happening often, your boundaries probably need a little tightening up. (Parents of young children will, of course, have to put the wee ones first. But even parents need a night out once in a while.)

On the other hand, if you never have time for anyone else and don’t care; if you think you can handle your stuff and other people should handle theirs, then your boundaries are rigid. And you’re probably okay with that. Keep in mind, however, that humans are social animals and it is very hard—if not impossible—to get through life on one’s own.

Although the word “boundary” indicates a limit, having healthy emotional boundaries can actually be freeing, by allowing you to say “no” sometimes, by allowing you to do for yourself without guilt, and by empowering you to make conscious decisions in your life on how to spend your time.

One of my major influences with my style of music and the emotion I intend to put out when others hear my music.

Ben Webster- I Can’t Get Started (Live in Copenhagen, 1965) – YouTube.