Life’s heading – somewhere? #174

After writing this post I feel like it’s a reason. Life has always been about holding on. I’m grateful. That it begins to feel different. It begins to feel as though maybe there’s something more to life and this world. Maybe life can be, will be, about where life is heading. It’s heading – somewhere. I’ve no clue where that somewhere is. But it feels like it’s heading somewhere. Like it can head somewhere.

The past couple of weeks is the first time in my life that I’m beginning to see that there could be a life. It was/has always been about the opposite. First it was suicidality with no awareness of it. Before that, I never really lived in the world. I used to wonder if I was living in a dream and would one day wake up. I used to wonder if I was really real or a figment of my imagination – I know, where’s ‘my’ imagination coming from, or someone’s imagination. After I chose to give life a go 2.5 years ago, it’s always been, just hang on, coz’ it’s worth it, for there has to be something more. What’s the something? Who knows. Just believe. Believe in those who have done it before. Believe in the impossibility. Life’s been all about hanging on.

via Life’s heading – somewhere? — Journey to life

 

One Hundred and Fifty Eight: Broken phones

Broken phones. One Hundred and Fifty Eight. I broke my phone the other day. I know, it seems like a strange enough reason – breaking a phone. But yet there it is. Or here it is. Whichever you may. I dropped my phone on the road and I’m pretty certain it was driven over by cars. A really nice guy on a bike rang my phone for me and delayed himself by a few minutes whilst waiting for me to find my phone. Continue reading “One Hundred and Fifty Eight: Broken phones”

One Hundred and Fifty Four: You can find love, yes, you (reblog)

Love, hope, dreams. Sometimes I wonder if we’re all dreaming and hoping for the impossible. Sometimes I feel like we’re casting the fishing lines into the sea, when the fish will bite the lines and tug so strongly that they’ll tug us over the cliff and land us on the rocks in the sea below. I often wonder ‘is it possible‘. Sometimes I believe. Sometimes I keep on believing in hope, in love, in laughter, in light. In living a life beyond your/my wildest imaginations. One hundred and fifty four. You can find love. With others. With yourself. With the world. Continue reading “One Hundred and Fifty Four: You can find love, yes, you (reblog)”

Why do I feel nothing? (reblog)

Another post copied from eggshell therapy. Thank you Imy for allowing me to post your work here!

This post brought me to tears. It describes me and my life way too much. One of the reasons I love Imy’s posts is that they’re so accurate, and yet so positive and filled with possibility and hope. They describe why/how in positive and realistic ways. Explaining why we’re normal, and why no one is at fault for what they did to survive. Rather, the fact that you’re here today is amazing. You are amazing!!! As a friend of mine always responded when I was upset about wanting to go back to using painkillers, it was and is me trying to look after myself the ways I knew best how. Continue reading “Why do I feel nothing? (reblog)”

One Hundred and Fifty Two: Masca Cliffs

One Hundred and Fifty Two. I tried to write a 152nd reason. My original reason – the pictures of Masca which I can’t upload –  can be viewed here (please do check it out and make the hour I spent making it look presentable worth it). 152. Keep trying. If at first you don’t succeed, blast off! The cliffs are, the cliffs. At a distance it’s difficult to see  just how awesome and amazing they are. Especially because they look so small. When you come near you see how impossible it is to take a picture as they tower above you. There were a load of boats sailing (rowing/motoring?) along as we came near. A couple were pulled into the harbour. I wonder if there’s any way of seeing the beauty other than from sea.

So long as there’s life, there’s hope.

Eliza

 

Proudly powered by WordPress | Theme: Baskerville 2 by Anders Noren.

Up ↑