Follow @stuckinscared Stuck In Scared: September 2015

Friday, 25 September 2015

If I Could...

Iv'e been tagged by the lovely Laura, who blogs at My Life as a Mummy to take part in the 'If I Could' tag. Thanks Laura.

The idea is to answer the preset questions, daydreams allowed, and then tag other bloggers to take part (If they want to).

So here goes...
Imagine a Town where no one goes hungry...
If I could live anywhere... Oh I'm so glad day dreams are allowed... If I could live anywhere, (anywhere, any time, any dream) I would choose 'Walnut Grove'... Except I'd have Pa build me a proper oven, cause I'm buggered if I could bake like Ma bakes in a tiny little hole to the side of the fire place. Oh, and I'd be needing an inside loo... how Ma manages to poo in that tiny little outhouse in THAT skirt, is beyond me.

A little house on the Prairie...where all the skies are blue (In my dreams they're always blue). Where all the people (with the exception of Mrs & Nelly Olsen) are kind and compassionate, peace loving, neighbourly.

Imagine washing in the creak, watching Pa (preferably topless, Pa should always be topless!) working the fields. walking through fields to get the kids to school. Kids that skip, and tag, and ring-a-rose.
Imagine a town where no one goes hungry, because as poor as they are they can always, always, stretch the stew to one more!

I do :)

If I could have any home ...This is a tough one because I love the house I'm in now, it's been home for a long time, I've always felt safe here, it's familiar, it's beautiful... it's home!
The trouble is, it's not my house, and as our Landlord has spent the past year attempting to sell it from under us (though currently it's off the market temporarily until neighbouring building work is completed) it's no longer safe! .

On that note, if I could have any home other than my current one (or 'The Little House on the Prairie')... it would be secure, safe, preferably owned.
It would have disability adaptions, (including wheelchair access) for Littlie... and a private, south facing garden, with a pretty little shabby-chic Lady-shed, to write in.
Actually, while I'm still day dreaming... I wouldn't mind one of those DIY-SOS jobbies...not least because then I'd get to meet Little-Leci-Billy- ;o)

If I could have any garden... That's easy...the garden I have now. I'd love to pick it all up, worms and all, and take it with me. As it is, since every plant in the garden attached to the-house-that's-not-mine was payed for and planted by me, I will be digging up anything remotely dig-up-able, and taking it with me.

If I could have any garden... That's easy...the garden I have now.

If I could be on holiday right now... The reality is, fear prevents me from flying, it also prevents me from travelling (other than locally) in a car, and even if I could travel my budget wouldn't stretch to a holiday.

The dream is, Spain... I went to Spain (Marbella), for a week when I was eighteen, and would love to revisit.
Actually, I say a week... I fell in love with a gorgeous Spaniard and stayed put. Three months later I (and my broken heart) came home... Turned out Gorgeous-Spaniard wasn't mine to love, he had a wife and child in Lanzarote!

Despite the heartache (not to mention the shame), I still have such beautiful, and incredibly vivid memories of the places I visited, and the things I experienced whilst there.
Oh, how I'd love to walk those streets again - paddle those seas again - visit those cafes again - dunk those doughnuts again... "Un chocolate con churros por favor" :)

If I could have any job... Illness prevents me from working these days, but if I could work I'd go back to what I used to do before (and after, once they were old enough) I had children... caring for the elderly.
When I was a teenager my best friends Mum owned, lived in, and ran a home for the elderly, my friend and I worked Weekends as teenagers and went on to work there full time after leaving school, and then periodically after we both married and had children.
I loved every single minute of it... I'll never forget my ladies!

If I could have any talent... I don't need to think about this one, I'm reminded of my lack of talent in this area every day. I would LOVE to be able to sing.
I often sing along to music (I use the term loosely!) if I'm at home, but always mime anywhere else, even in Church; because there are no words to describe the unholy noise that comes out of my mouth when I sing out loud!

I've always been aware of my (tone-death-doesn't-cover-it) singing voice... I remember being as young as seven-ish and miming during assembly so that the other kids couldn't hear me, silently mouthing each word dramatically so as to appear believable if a teacher looked my way.
Turned out one teacher was looking my way; he picked me for the school choir... because, he said... I opened my mouth so beautifully when I sang. o_O
For the rest of that school year (wishing I was invisible, and still miming) I was sat at the front of the hall during assembly...with the rest of the choir!

If I could live one day again... - it would be the last day I saw my Dad.
My Dad lived a long way from me, and, as mentioned above, mental illness/fear prevents me from travelling. In February of this year (3 months before he died) my Dad, my always-there-and-if-he-wasn't-there-he-was-getting-there, Dad, came to me. Riddled with Cancer, barely able to stand, and in unimaginable pain, he came to me... he came to say goodbye.

We hugged lots, loved lots, talked as much as he could manage... goodbyes were left unspoken, neither of us able to say the words.

When he left, knowing how hard the moment was for him, I hugged him brave...like a grown up. The child inside was bawling, I didn't let her out.
He released my hold on him, kissed my head, and said "keep smiling babe", then he turned and walked down the garden path.

When he reached the gate he turned and looked straight at me, he held my gaze for only a moment before turning away again... in that moment I read my life time in his eyes... and I read his breaking heart, his I love you... his goodbye".

I didn't want to be brave anymore. I wanted to run down the path with the child's tears pouring down my face, throw myself into his arms, beg him to stay.

I stayed dry-eye-brave in the doorway until he'd disappeared through the gate. Then went into the toilet, stamped my feet like a child, and cried.

If I could live that day again... I'd run down the path!


If I could have any super power... Ooh, now then... can I have two?
Time travel would get me to 'the Walnut Grove' of the Ingalls's, but I've always quite fancied being Mary Poppins. If I were Mary Poppins... I could click my fingers and put the whole world to rights.

David Cameron...click...gone. George Osborne...click...gone. Iain Dunken Smith...
click, click, Dunky!
World peace...click...done. New home...click. Housework...click... *clicks fingers hopefully*.

I'm think I'm gonna go with Mary-Poppins-Power...
If I can jump into pictures, travel by brolly, and have tea on a ceiling, I reckon time travel will be a breeze...
Walnut Grove here I come... Just as soon as I've outed the Tories ;o)
If I Could...
Thank you for allowing me to share

God bless you and all those you love

Kimmie x

I tag the following people

Dear tagged... Please feel free to ignore the prompt if you are busy, or if  blog tags are not something you usually take part in.

Dear reader... Please do visit the bloggers in the above list if you have time. They are all fabulous bloggers...well worth reading :o) 

 

Friday, 18 September 2015

Art for Anxiety, Finding the Self, and Finding each Other. A guest post, by Amy Oestreicher.


I love creating inchie art, and in dire medical circumstances, this was the best way to express my uneasiness in the midst of uncertainty. Each individual inchie expressed a fear, worry or concern I had about my future. I called this "Can't Distract" because I was unable to take my thoughts away from this anxiety. Rather than deny these thoughts, I made art from them. Suddenly they became less scary. 

Art Therapy for Finding the Self - I am Myself - Art and Mental Health. 



The pieces I have the most fun creating are the ones that I have no expectations for. This started by some random shredding and gluing of newspapers, magazines, coupons, plastic, wrap, gum papers, and whatever else I was about to throw out. Then, I spent hours just painting layers and layers of paint, trying to obscure some of the printed text. Eventually, this face emerged. For me, this symbolized the process of finding myself - hard to find at first, but with each layer, applied tediously and determinedly with meticulousness and great care, my face eventually surfaced. 

Art Therapy for Finding Each Other 


I created this for my mother at a time when it was hard for us to have hope. For me, yoga is centering for my body, and the poses are very grounding. I painted us both in the tree asana with the quote, "If we stand like trees, we can weather the storm". 

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Amy Oestreicher is a 28 year old actress, musician, teacher, composer, dancer, writer, artist, yogi, foodie, and general lover of life. Surviving and thriving through a coma, 27 surgeries and other trauma has inspired Amy to share her story with the world through her passionate desire to create and help others. Piecing her life together after her initial dreams of performing musical theatre took on a beautiful detour into broader horizons. Amy has written, directed and starred ia a one woman musical about her life, Gutless and Grateful, has flourished as a mixed media and acrylic artist, with her art in multiple galleries and mounting dozens of solo art shows, and continues to share her story through her art, music, theatre and writings. 
More information on her unique story, as well as her creative ventures can be found at amyoes.com, visit her blog for her newest art, music and INSPIRATIONAL musings. 

You can also visit Amy's Etsy shop HERE, and learn more about her show HERE 

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My thanks to Amy, for being my guest today, and as always, Thank YOU dear reader, for allowing me to share. 

God bless you and all those you love. 

Kimmie x 

Oooh, wait, I almost forgot... The poem! - Amy's beautiful, breathtaking, MUST READ, poem :) 

If (like me) you're a lover of poetry, you're gonna love this!... It's a long one, so I'll just give you a teaser here. Click on the 'read more' text under the excerpt if you want to read the poem in full. (I hope you do, it's one of the most beautiful poems I've ever read!) 

INTRUSION ~ By Amy Oestreicher. 

Whether I am the trespasser, alien 
The outcast, the tortoise turned on it's side 
I can see the stream from here 
and I long to dance with the source 

Can I fish for you, blue glimpse? 
A glimpse of the word as it was intended to be 
The realism thrills me 

In a world of perfect 
geometric-shapes, painted signs, bright-red-automobiles 
my hollow shell over flows with relief  


Copyright©2015AmyOestreicher

Thursday, 10 September 2015

Why I support #WOWpetition

Over the past 5+ years the Governments draconian cuts, cruel assessments, and relentless propaganda have pushed (many) sick, disabled, and mentally ill people worryingly close to the edge - pushed some (largely unreported by the media) 'too far!'

My daughter and I didn't choose disability, she certainly didn't; she was born disabled. There's not a lot we can do to change our 'scrounger' status, either we take the 'handouts' (social security) from the same pot my husband paid into for years I should add, or we starve!

Of course, my 'Littlie' (going on 10, with a mental age of 5) has no idea that (Thanks to Tory/media rhetoric) our family would be judged negatively (by some), she has no idea that Cameron and Co have attempted to create a Britain that may not welcome the disabled adult she will one day become.

I know though! I know, and I am afraid, afraid for myself, afraid for my disabled friends, afraid for all (reliant) disabled people living in Britain.... but above all else, afraid for my child!


Many disabled people have had their lives turned upside down over the past five years - some have not survived the onslaught.

Vulnerable people, who (and I should know) are desperately afraid - deeply affected by right-wing-scrounger-propaganda, and increasingly concerned about their future.

People who's symptoms of illness/disability (in many cases, including my own) have been greatly exacerbated by an overwhelming fear of the next WCA (Work capability Assessment).
An assessment interrogation that often ignores their own doctors opinion in a deliberate attempt to strip them of benefits.

Mentally ill people who are terrified by even the idea of having to expose themselves (face to face) at a ten minute (tick box) assessment (to a complete stranger) who is unlikely to be qualified to assess Mental Illness, and even less likely to empathise.

People who are despairingly aware, that even if they are lucky enough to pass the assessment, it won't be long before the process begins again.

Many are self-harming, some feel/or have felt that suicide may be a better option than continuing to battle both debilitating mental illness/disability, and the powers-that-be.


As most of you know (physical disabilities aside) my own symptoms of Mental Illness interfere with my ability to cope with many everyday activities without the support of my husband, and those things I do manage alone, are only doable if he's nearby.
I could give for instances but we'd be here all day; so I won't.

Most significantly, for the purpose of this post, is that my disabilities prevent me from working, and also from caring for my disabled child alone....and as I'm unable to function at home or outdoors without support, it also prevents my husband from working.

Although, given that I care for my disabled child (to the best of my abilities) with hubby's help, and he cares for us both (full time) with no help, I'd ask those who see fit to judge us (with all due respect, Mr Cameron) to define hard-working-people.

I'm terrified of the benefits system. I fear the dreaded brown envelope (DWP letter) every day - the sound of the post man fiddling with the letter box puts me on edge before anything hits the mat - the site of any brown envelope on the hall floor puts me in a state of panic, which continues to have a negative affect on me long after hubs has checked the contents and reassured me that today is not the day that I will have to begin AGAIN the process of proving how disabled I am!

It's a daily, often overwhelming fear; I have no idea when the next letter will come, but one thing is certain... It will come!

If, after that next assessment, the powers that be decide that we are no longer (in their opinion) entitled to support, I will STILL be disabled, my daughter will STILL be disabled, and my husband will STILL be a full time carer. The ONLY difference (other than making us sicker) such a decision would make; is that we would have nothing to live on!

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Thank you for allowing me to share

GOD bless you, and all those you love

Kimmie x                                                  

NB: The above thoughts, observations, opinions, are based on my own experiences, and those of disabled people I know, or who's experiences I have read about. I do not presume to speak for all disabled people.

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You'll find more details about the WOW-campaign HERE

The petition (should you wish to sign it) is HERE

You can follow/support the WOW-campaign on twitter HERE



Tuesday, 8 September 2015

Tuesday, 1 September 2015

My Daughter Writes

The following poems were written by my middle daughter. She shared them with me recently, and (with her permission) I'd like to share them with you.

The first was written for me, the second for her Grandad (my Dad), who passed away recently.

Both made me cry!



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Thank you for allowing me to share 

God bless you, and all those you love 

Kimmie x