Julie 的个人资料FAIRNY VIEW e-sc...照片日志列表更多 ![]() | 帮助 |
FAIRNY VIEW e-scapeThe personal life deeply lived always expands into truth beyond itself - Anais Nin |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|
2月10日 BECOMING PUPPETEERS
5月17日 THE GETTING OF WISDOMDiagnosed with Bipolar at 37 years made sense. It fitted perfectly. After a major depression, the experience of mania and psychosis catapulted me into hospital. Good advice from the nurse to focus on my own recovery and not anybody elses and my belief that creativity was the key to wellness was vital on that long road to recovery. Post-trauma I adapted to a life of medication blends and doses, intrinsically optimistic with faith in the process . Art and Science is my shield. I function well enough, though not enough to fit into the mainstream of society, but then, I never have. I learned about being a 'round peg in a square hole' reading The Getting of Wisdom by Henry Handel Richardson in Year Eleven.i The chaos of emotions and hormones of the adolescent girl culture remains relevant, not because I haven't grown up and none the wiser, but because like Laura I have to accept the view of others - of being a misfit, in a positive way. For Laura and I , whether it is class, personality type or living with Bi-Polar Mood Affective Disorder no matter how one tries to fit in there is something that others perceive as different - something about the self-possessed personality and the confidence to express our authentic selves; Laura with her histrionic and defiant piano playing and I through the keyboard of my laptop, pumping out those words with rhyme, disorder and gentle sonata. To quell the excesses of moodiness, depression and mania, part of the management plan usually lies with the exploration of our creative selves. Before I knew about mental illness I reveled in writing, painting, performing, and being a 'show-off'. As Dr. Kay Jamison has shown, the evidence is that many people with mood disorders are engaged in the arts.ii Unfortunately, it's hard to make a living with your artistic flair. I related to most sufferers of bipolar disorder in John McManamy's publications who said for all the creativity, they are unable to hold down a job. iiiMy family called me a 'job snob', because I was miserable working in 'normal' jobs like everyone else. That hurt, but I had the youthful exuberance to follow my bliss out of the suburbs, to inner-city Melbourne with fuscia colours in a punk hair cut and pixie boots from the op-shop. Pied Piper like, I called for other young artists to follow me, creating festivals, networking with audacity, and spilling my views naively to predatory media. Networking with other 'fringe' fellows, writing, performing poetry, falling for musicians and dragging them back to my lair was only brought to an abrupt halt by an excruciating diagnosis of genital herpes! Not all impulsive acts of the hypo manic are detrimental! Wisdom comes when one is laid up with self-pity! Acyclovir became my miracle drug and work, rest and play was tempered. The decision to have children and marry within a couple of weeks of meeting Roy at a Winter Solstice feast could be regarded as impulsive, but twenty three years later I can say my brilliant insight about Mr. Right was a winner. Motherhood meant being a good role-model to enable our children to grow up wise and well, and prevent passing on the psychological damage of my own family tragedies. A screenplay, theatre play, and novel nearly got published, funded, filmed, before their rejection. Off-campus university workload was reduced, then deferred because I was juggling with too many ideas and ambitions. Identifying with the Olympian who couldn't row anymore, I couldn't read or comprehend a word or sentence. This disease does a good job of defeating the ego. For females it is a double calamity dealing with the uncertainty of how the hormones will throw you every loony cycle. As I grow older the concept of the 'kindling effect' has become real and disabling.iv My skills and enthusiasm were guided towards Diversional Therapy, but even then, the pressure from management, co-workers and obsessive thinking about the clients and the job were too much to cope with. My limits to pursue paid employment are now reduced to four hours a day, three days a week. No more rushing, planning and organising like the hypo manic white rabbit from Alice In Wonderland. Forgetting to get my Webster Packs is a sure sign to take my Lithium, a few long deep breaths, and some solitude. When the passion and the politics are gathering too much momentum, I let go of saving the world with letters and petitions, turn off the radio and slow down with a swim. Relaxation with some soothing and gently inspiring music takes one to a simmer. You may think you are selfish and going against your fathers Protestant work ethic, but this is what you need. Maturity is a safety-catch. I have always been medication compliant. As much as I enjoy teasing myself with shamanic delusions I like to know what is real and be in control. Having a good relationship with the doctor can be a double-edged sword however. Working with your psychiatrist to keep from a state of chaos and confusion requires the patience of a saint as my irreligious mother would say, and also the chastity of one as far as I am concerned! Being hypo manic and at your peak sexually, it doesn't take much to fall madly in love with your caring, intelligent, knowledgeable doctor; “Insight “, as they keep reminding us Bi polars is a necessity to keep us on the straight and virtuous.....I'm cringing with embarrassment but the evidence suggests that being a “biological time machine” is a common calamity to deal with. Transference is very real and sadly, must be kept in the realm of fantasy as much as God must be kept to heel in the politics of our country. Michael Conner, Psy.D states, "Transference reactions are caused by unmet emotional needs, neglect, seductions and other abuses that transpired when you were a child. Recognising this pattern when it occurs and searching for the knowledge and counsel to prevent harm is a necessity.”v Diverting futile fantasies, maintaining control and equilibrium is no easy feat. Recognising the symptoms of hypo mania and the likelihood of developing into mania and/or psychosis requires expert and intuitive skill. Honesty with your medical and significant others takes courage so continually building self-esteem is necessary for when a crack shows or a brick falls out. Those little pills, especially the sedatives needed to slow those racing thoughts and brilliant metaphors can be taken to get some deep sleep therapy. It is so wonderful to be able to have the energy and seeming perceptiveness of a manic spectrum but sleep is a blessing for clarity of the mind. Getting the pills right to allow a decent descent in to the land of Nod is my favourite last thing on the plate. Without it, wisdom can't break through. To aid sleep and prevent from losing your mind in an exuberant excess, release the valve regularly with a swim, sexual activity, and dancing around the lounge room – whatever gives you pleasure so you'll do it often! Having a dog to be responsible for if you're not playing soccer with the kids is good motivation. My dog is very good at dragging me up the hill to work a multitude of muscles! We can avoid the extremes of Bipolar by loving who we are, keeping free from toxic relationships and environments, drugs, and fundamentalist ideologies. At a volunteer course for Youth Outreach work I discovered that my comrades were devout Christians who revealed they heard the voice of God. “It is a mystery that I also have experienced,” I said, “but for me it is a signal to go to the mental health unit as I have a tenuous grip on reality!.” I am strongly spiritual, yet the gospel truth is related again to brain chemistry. It helps to keep a broad perspective, with enough wisdom to forgive yourself when you know not what you do. For people like me ecstasy comes cheap(and apparently if you rub behind the ears that will induce a religious experience for those so disposed). It should be taught in re-hab!vi At this stage in my life I believe it is wiser to be a good secular citizen than a saint. The urge to jump on my broomstick and provoke the patriarchal doctrines may cause a stir and fly the flag of Germaine Greer, but the idea of being a round peg in a square hole is the discovery there may be a round one...somewhere out there. Always mindful that the energy and wit of hypo mania won't last forever one enjoys the moment and productivity of it, focusing on the discipline required to tap out these paragraphs in an orderly, sane manner.
i The Getting of Wisdom 1910, Henry Handel Richardson, Minerva Press 1993 iiTouched with Fire-Manic Depressive Illness & the Artistic Temperament, Paperback 1996 iiiLiving Well with Depression and Bipolar Disorder, Collins, 2006 www.mcmannweb.com ivThe 'kindling' model in Bipolar disorder, www.bipolar.about.com/cs/brainchemistry/a/0009/_kindling1.htm vTransference: Are you a biological time machine? Michael G. Conner, Psy.D 2006 www.crisiscounselling.com/Articles/Transference.htm viwww.bbc.co.uk/science/horizon/2003/godonbrain.shtml
Julie's blog at www.jewels42.spaces.live.com/ (c)copyright Julie McNeill, April 2007 all rights reserved 5月5日 Australian Labor Day Weekend 2007 in Ipswich, Qld.
She was a tiny Sheila, Mrs Miller, Yet fought her whole life for the Rights Of Man and of course the female folk too. Not shy to stand up for a womans sufferage To cast a vote, and live a life safe and secure Her humanism and solidarity to the Labor cause Against the greed and might of treacherous Capitalists remains true to this day.
Emma was firm in her mission of a better life For the battlers, the women and children who Were paupers on less than a minimum wage, Who could ill afford a loaf of bread After paying the rent in rat infested squalor On the flood-traps of the Brisbane river.
Her weapon was to use her intelligence, but When push came to shove, she drew out Her hat-pin and stuck it in the Commissioners horse Who barred her way to petition the Premier that day.
The powers that be took a fall, but not before They'd trounced on the right to march In city streets, shouting, Cop that! Swinging and swooping down on the masses With their batons.
1900 seems so long ago but the message of Emma Miller Is clear - Not to lay idle when there's people suffering The tyranny of bullies and bastards Who use their power and money to entrench inequality.
There was no way that the 'Grand Old Lady' was Inferior as she took on the hierachy! True and loyal to the cause, she was a giant amongst women And men, even though she was only 4ft 10inch tall!
She travelled and inspired from Toowoomba to Charleville In a carriage, organising campaigns and Events like no other, so we must remember and Honour the lady who led the struggle up the steps To Legislative chambers.
(C) copyright Julie McNeill 20064月24日 THE SONS OF BREDON (work-in-progress)A BREDON FAMILY EMIGRATES - 1853
Charles Higgins, aged 38, of Bredon, Worcestershire, an Agricultural Labourer like his father Richard Higgins(born, bred and buried in Bredon 1782 - 1865), said goodbye to his father, ready to set sail with his young family across the Atlantic Ocean for a new life of much better prospects and prosperity.
Angeline Higgins(nee Stratford)aged 34, also of Bredon, two young children to mind embarks on an adventure of a life-time. The couple had married in their thirties, and compared to most in the tiny hamlet were quite ambitious. They lived with Charles father, Richard, a widower, who lived(according to the 1851 Census), at Waterloo Cottage, Tewkesbury Rd. Bredon. Their first child was Samuel Charles Higgins, born in Bredon on 15 March 1848 and christened at Bredon Church on 21 January, 1849. His younger sister, Catharine Ann Higgins was born on 20 April 1850. Why would this young family say goodbye, to move so far away. “For good” is the only answer, and why to Iowa in the United States of America? Richards second son, Frederick Higgins, born in Bredon 1820 had moved up to Belbroughton, ready for anything and met a woman called Betty Davenport, maybe in the Nailers Arms, over a few ales. She led him a merry dance to a cottage in The Gutter -(a traditional name for an old track in the valley), where he ended up making Nails at her fathers forge out back of the cottage. It was a Marriage solemnized by Banns, on Christmas Day 1852. This was a legal requirement where a notice had to be read out to the congregation for three Sundays in a row to make sure there was no legal impediment to the marriage. It was also an alternative to getting a more expensive wedding licence. Couples who wanted a quickie wedding had to go to Gretna Green, over the border in Scotland, although travelling from Worcestershire would have taken as long! Richard had a third son, James born in 1826 at Bredon, but something had happened, he can't remember now, but he moved himself to the The Royal Oak Hotel in Front St. Bredon at 15yrs. Probably, by someone he met in the bar, he heard about how there was lots of gardening work around the fancy houses around Droitwich Spa. Anne had gone home to Bellbroughton, Bromsgrove for the birth, as she was worried about having her first child so late and wanted to be with her mother and female folk. After her lie-in, and the baby was Churched, she returned to Claines where her and James were in service. How proud his parents would have felt to get a little note in 1881 that he, Charles John Higgins had become Head Gardener for the Earl of Derby's Lancashire Estate, and had a son, who they had called after the father and grandfather, Charles James Higgins born St. Michaels on Wyre 1878. (copyright JM 2007-all rights reserved)
4月19日 SKELETONS 2SKELETONS
I DON'T TALK ABOUT RELIGION OR POLITICS said NAN, WHEN I TRIED TO MAKE CONVERSATION ABOUT HOW GREAT IT WAS NELSON MANDELA WAS FREE. EYES DOWN! OR YOU'LL MISS A NUMBER TO CALL OUT BINGO!
DAD said BABBY! DO YOU HAVE TO DRAG THE SKELETONS OUT OF THE WARDROBE? WISHING HE COULD STEP INTO A STATELY HOME THAT WAS HIS OWN, AS A GENTLEMAN IN 'PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.'
THEY ALL SPOKE POLITELY, NO SHOUTING AND SWEARING, AND DIDN'T DISCUSSILLIGITIMACY WITH THEIR DAUGHTERS, HE STATEDWHILE DRIVING MY SISTER AND I TO A SHAKESPEARE PLAY, WHERE KIND WORDS OFT' SPOKE BETRAYAL AND TRAJEDY.
WE LAUGHED AT DEAR DELUSIONAL ROMANTIC DAD AND YELLED - YEAH! AS LONG AS YOU WEREN'T A WOMAN, BLACK OR POOR ! AND HE TOLD US WE WATCHED TOOMUCH 'CHANNEL 4!'
THEY'VE A LOT TO ANSWER FOR, SAID OUR FATHER, BEING PART TO BLAME FOR WHY BRITAIN WASN'T GREAT NO MORE!
I AM SPEECHLESS IN THE CUSHY BACK SEAT OF HIS LATEST CAR, BUT WRITE A POEM LATER CALLED, NAN IS A SKELETON NOW:
HER BONES ARE ASH, HER NUMBER IS UP AND POLITICS AND RELIGION COUNT FOR NO WOMAN WHO HAD TO RUN FROM THE BLACK COUNTRY WITH A BABY INSIDE.
NANS PARENTS STOOD BY AND COVERED HER SHAME IN BRUM, 1931, SO NO FOLK KNEW THE CHILD WAS CURSED BY DEUTERONOMY.
THEREFORE, I MUST TAKE AFTER MUM WHO THREW HER BIRTH DEED IN THE AIR FOR EVERYONE TO STARE AT THE EMPTY SPACE OF HER FATHERS NAME PRONOUNCING HE MUST HAVE BEEN A RED HAIRED CHINA MAN!
NO SHAME, BUT HER FACE TURNED RED WHEN THE LOCAL PRIEST EASILY GUESSED HER CATHOLIC ROOTS AND PURSUED HER UP HEELEY RD ASKING WHY, FOR THE LOVE OF MARY SHE HADN'T BEEN SEEN IN CHURCH?
THE REBELLIOUS BLOOD OF A CELTISH LASS BOILED, REPLIED THAT SHE'D MARRIED A PRODDY - MADE HER ESCAPE INTO THE BINGO HALL.
LEFT WITH THE LEGACY OF BASTARD SECRETS, SIBLINGS GET ON WITH THEIR OWN LIVES, KEEPING MUM, AND OCCUPY SPANISH LANDSCAPES, WHILE THIS GRAND-DAUGHTER KEEPS DIGGING TILL ANOTHER BONE STICKS OUT OF THE EARTH, AND WITH THE ENERGY IT TOOK HER FOREFATHERS TO REACH FOR COAL -
WITH DADS PROUD PROTESTANT WORK ETHIC , I CONNECT HIM TO THE IRISH BRANCH SO CLOSE TO THE BONE; PAY - BACK FOR SNIPING AT MY SYMPATHY OF THE BIRMINGHAM SIX - ITS CHILDISH, I KNOW, THIS SPITTLE OF WORDS I DARE TO CONJURE FROM A RICH DEPOSIT, BUT LET US BE TRUE AND NOT DENY.
REALLY FATHER, YOU DON'T HAVE TO WINCE EACH TIME I SEND ANOTHER POEM; I SAY GET THEM SKELETONS LOOSE AND DANCE THE DIRT AND MUCKY SOD OFF SO WE CAN SIT AROUND THE HEARTH AND RELATE A GOOD STORY WE CAN ALL REFLECT ON, AND DRINK TO THAT, ME OLD DAD; THE LOVE THAT MAKES ME BURST THE BUBBLE AND SING FOR ME SUPPER AND WATCH YOUR EYES ROLL OVER!
Julie McNeill (c)copyright Sept.2006
POST-SCRIPT: SORRY DAD, SPOKE TOO SOON, AGAIN. GENEOLOGY FACTS FOUND IN CYBER-SPACE SAY YOU ARE A SON OF BAPTISED AND BURIED AS HARDWORKING PEASANTRY FOR THE PARISH.
NO SIGN OF THE IRISH OR THE GENTRY EITHER, AS IN JANE AUSTIN TIMES OUR GRAND PARENTS WERE HOWING AND SCYTHING, BAILING, MAYBE ROLLING IN THE HAY AT HARVEST FESTIVAL BECAUSE THERE ARE A FEW BABES BEING BLESSED IN THE CHAPEL NINE MONTHS LATER!
THE CYCLES OF LIFE CONTINUE - AND DAUGHTERS STANDING AT THE TREE OF KNOWLEDGE DIG AT THE CONSCIENCE OF THEIR FATHERS, BECAUSE THEY CAN, WHEN IT IS THEIR ONLY RECOURSE FOR THE SILENCE - THE ABSENCE OF CONVERSATION, WHEN ALL THERE IS, ARE SKELETONS.
(copyright) julie mcneill April 2007 all rights reserved
other cyberspaces where I contribute to the chat of the planet
In the Global Village
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|