Friday, 8 March 2019


I hope you will all forgive me this post. I'm about to make an analogy, I'm aware that for some reading you make think "that's not right". However having had this image growing not just in my head but in my stomach for the last 24 hours I hope writting it out will bring peace comfort and encouragement.

I spent time with a lovely friend yesterday. They therapeutically parent and have done for many years. I love the family with all my heart, each one of them are incredibly beautiful. As I say though therapeutic parenting is a requirement, they face so many challenges.

I wanted to write as an observer. Someone witnessing the daily bravery and determination they have to not give up. The image that keeps haunting my stomach is of the First World War trenches.

I remeber learning of how the generals made the soldiers go ‘over the top’ of the trenches and walk into the fire of the enemies machine guns. 
They were not allowed to run. The mud their friends falling at thier sides, I imagine the fear must had been beyond fear.
 Disempowered, broken, accepting the inevitable slaughter. I also think that the ability to reason anything out would also feel pointless luxury.
Feeling your life ment nothing to anyone. That you just had to walk forwards relentlessly facing relentlessness.

With high insight we see how awful this situation was how unfair , how down right to beyond our imagination it was to even consider experiencing.

That’s  how I feel for this family, from the children who through no fault of their own are dealing with things they should never have had to. They hold guns loaded with mental ill health.
Then there’s  the parents who equally have to every day  selflessly leave their trench of battered safety to ‘go over the top’ and walk into the machine guns to not knowing if they will be slaughtered that day or reach the other side. Hoping their efforts will bring peace to the great vastness of the war they find themselves in.

It’s Rbbery it's all wrong, it's horrid, unpalatable!, UNFAIR!!!!!! It's awful no one in this senecio is to blame . Everyone is trying thier best!!!!!!!! As an observer it hurts!!!!! 
We have the luxury of only having to dip in and out of the war as we lead very different lives. 
My family reaches milestones I could only have dreamed of and I want to hide them, not talk about them, I want to give them to this brave brave family so they can experiance them but I can't. 

I hope you understand this is not a partroniseing judgemental situation. This is a sadness of love, if sadness of love can be a thing. 
I hope as we bumble on in this life you know I and mine stand next to you and yours in love. 
That me and mine are so protective of you all even if we have no idea how to express it.
 That we see the walking, the machine guns, the size of the unrenting war. We hurt deeply that we can't rescue you all and take you somewhere safe. 

We don’t want you to have hide anything from us or be silent. As the war against  the robbery goes on year after year, I imagine it becomes so "normal" or mind boggling that to speak of the struggles over and over again just adds to the sense of relentless unrest.

Our silence like yours sometimes is only because we see the depths of the situations exhausting you. So I write this blog for you because I want you and your brave brave family to know to the best that we are able we see you. We love you.
 I ask for times of peace,
I ask for times of joy,
I ask for times of breakout, breakthrough.
I ask that nourishment floods you and re energises you all every morning every nighttime.
I ask for peace.
I ask for an armistice day.
 May angels surround and hold each of you, and may you never feel alone, you  are a very brave brave beautiful family.

Sunday, 30 December 2018

Merry Christmas to the good the bad and the survivors

The Christmas session. It's the season of giving. It's the season for caring. Inside me something stirs. Anger. It creeps round rumbling like a smoking volcano. These years it's bearable. Well at least identifiable. I aware there are many kids out there who are not in the same place I am. I'm now 41. I write this on their behalf. I write this in the hope that possibly I can explain to you what they won't be able to for many years to come. I'm presumtious, arrogant but I don't care.

As an angry toddler, child, teenager, young adult etc etc, anger was my most common company. It could be relied apon, it was a feeling that never left. It was something ever present to be managed.

Anger made me "let myself down" anger made be "ruin things" and anger made me "hurt people".
I'm sure you are all aware from various angles of what I'm saying.

Then bloody Christmas come along with all its happy niceness. I was always aware that this holiday was not really for me. It was for nice kids, happy kids, kids who could be cuddled kids and kids who could sit still, kids who would like wearing posh cloths, kids who looked like they were part of a nauseating wholesome perfect family. They were a great threat to me as they exposed all my short comings with total unawareness.

So let me tell you not only did I despise those "nice kids" I would kick and want to hurt them. Make them pay for being so able to be loved and so able to be adored and so able to say the right fucking thing at the right bloody time.

Some times the rage in me when those nice kids arrived or we visited them was instant. Just the look of them and their stupid innocence would making me lunge in thier general direction before a word had even been spoken. Before they could show me up I'd sort them out. I wanted to be better than them, I wanted to show I had control over the situation because I knew Christmas was nice. I was not nice.

I am of corse now sorry for my behavior but back then they just represented everything I wanted but was to ugly and rubbish to have. They and Christmas just made me more aware of the the gulf between me and the rest of the world. They and Christmas just made me feel so lonely and disconnected.  My sadness was only bearable dressed up in anger.

So if you have a carwen I want you to know however bad the behaviour the letting down the side has been, we really just feel very exposed raw and vulnerable. I'm sorry anger may be the only thing we have to use that's safe. I promise you you are loved by your carwen and I ask yet again for you to still love us even though that's the last thing we deserve. I also say sorry to you on your Carwen's behalf because I'm sure that I they could they would want to say that to.

Merry Christmas everyone the good, the bad and the survivors.

Monday, 29 May 2017

Deep calls to deep.

Deep calls to deep they say. Right now I need to know deepness, I need to be seen. Not on a surface level, not even on a sub 10 levels below. I need the very pit of my soul to be comforted. 

Deep calls to deep they say. It's true. I stand and look around. The noises are to complicated to unravel, it's all to bright to see anything. Encouraging compliments mean nothing there well meaning intent do not even dent the heaviness of the day. Inside I'm shaking and lurching, doorways are to complicated to navigate. In response number nine just stops moving and we all sit frozen. Fireworks shoot and blast around our arms and legs battering us internally. Thoughts bombard and argue with each other. 1 to 8 try to help, try to care but in thier hast they just add to the confusion.

Carwen has that program down loaded?

To answer this requires an impossible amount of cross referancing

I can not explain 

I cannot fine words (I'm writting this to help me find them)

I realise that if I'm not going to ruin and waste today I need something to sooth my deep. I firstly put on my head phones and use music to soak in. Then I tidy and repack remake our room (we are on holiday). I make to beds line up all the patterns on the sheets, make neat piles of the cloths the kids will need for today.

Next I sit turn up my music in my ears drowning all my voices and start to type.

Logic appears as I type. Basically we are moving apartments, tomorrow we move from one part of the Island to another. I inform zippy I have left the planet for today. I haven found a deep yet that can match mine but at least I can understand its presents.

Saturday, 18 March 2017

Are you ok Carwen?

My brain whirls into gear. I start to try and cross reference a whole load of information to try and get the correct answer.

Firstly, what context is this question being asked? 

Is it a quick social meeting situation were I'm supposed to say, "yes I'm fine how are you?" 
Then comment on further meaningless statements such as the classic, "so enjoying the sunny weather" (statement followed by a smile). In this situation you are not being asked for anything greater than a positive memory of a 5 minute meeting that enhances your bond of care for the person involved. 

Then there's the mid level, "how are you?"
This is usually someone who knows you and is genuinely interested but only 20cms into your world not the full measure. You have to remember to give what I call 'topic titles' but don't unpack the topic.

Then there's the not equal "how are you?"
This is perhaps one of the easiest as the person usually always works in this pattern every time you see them you just have to identify it. They ask how are you?, I give a quick summary of a few bits of personal information and then ask "how are you?". That the rest of the meeting sorted and you spend a few hours identifying and solving problem patterns in the persons surrounding environment.

Then there's the echo.
This person works by echoing. It's almost a tit for tat "how are you?" "How are you?". How's work? How's your work. This only requires one piece of information replies, any expansion on a one sentence reply will be ignored and another question asked until the prescribed 'set' of questions have been asked and the person is fulfilled.

Then there's those who can get  nerdy, deep, and are what I call fellow pattern thinkers. 
Carwen how are u? Six hours later all subjects covered from both our lives it's 3am and everyone's in bed. You say goodbye knowing you have offloaded up loaded pondered and perceived and are fulfilled, with every topic unpacked repacked cross-referenced and logged. Sleep is deep and content.

Then theres double question bonanza.
"Carwen how are you? Did you see that program last night?"
Wrong wrong wrong, that's two questions, neither of which you are going to answer as by the time you have separated and categorised the information it is to late and the conversation had moved on so I'm left on the back foot trying to work out what is now being said.

Then there's the well intended but can't cope so get cut of with no resolution "how are you?"
Negative situation 
  •  " I'm worried about X"
  •  "Don't worry it will be alright this time next week?"
  • "You've been here before you'll be ok?"
These are the hardest and the quickest to learn not to be vulnerable with as they don't understand that it's really hard to ask for anything. 

Positive situation
  • "How are you?"
  • "I'm so excited about X"
  • "That's lovely"  
They change subject or look away or interrupt you mid sentence with there next observation or comment. In short no time has been given for your reply and you realise your going to have to transition with a cannon full of unexplained excited energy in the next period of time - sooooo hard. This will often result in shut down from me as I desperately try to filter and be interested in what's happening and fail. No closure....

These are just a few of the thoughts racing round my head as I'm asked  "how are you?"  
They are of course all thinking about the other person. There is of course where I'm at.

  • Am I busy?
  • Do I have time?
  • Do I want to risk getting the answer wrong?
  • Have I enough energy to get my words in the right order?
  • How are my voices behaving?
  • Are my voices shouting something different to what I want to say?
  • Can I be bothered to talk at all as I'm not alright but know it needs to wait till I see my therapist?
  • Should I put all mental stress to one side and blar blar blar????
And don't get me started on the complexity of group conversations!!!!!

"Carwen how are you?"
I stare blankly exhausted, "I'm ok". End of conversation 

Sunday, 5 February 2017


Not blogging for a while has been deliberate, we I, have wanted to give number nine room. (See previous post). What has been amazing to discover though, is just how unconnected things really are. Physically and emotionally.  It's been like trying to incorporate two complete unknowns that have always been together. I imagine it's what separated identical twins feel like meeting after years of being apart. Both knowing each other in such a deep way but at the same time not knowing.

It feels sad, overwhelming but also a right path to walk. We have had to work through 1-8 feeling abandoned and jealous of number9. Fights have broken out where 1-8 have flatly refused to cooperate in letting number9 be seen. It's taken a lot of care and reassurance to manage both parties. Number9 still doesn't speak, I'm not sure she ever will, instead given room she jerks and twitches our whole body. She hides and refuses to give 1-8 any word to say. On occasion 1-8 have begged for words (especially in public settings) but as I said I think we are coming to the conclusion that number nine may never speak. It's hard then to try and in corporate her on a daily level as she has so much physical control. We have also discovered that our kneck is no mans land, our kneck belongs to neither  number9 or 1-8, often if an argument is occurring we have found its best to make that space as wide as possible and stare at the ceiling. 

Thankfully I/we live in an accepting place. So weather number9 twitches and jolts us on or 1-8 logically try to plan swirl and articulate there is no sense of shame. Historically I suppose shame was everyone's enemy, but shame has been evicted in place of acceptance. All that is left is to give everyone a chance. You see number9 does hold some ace cards. She is what can move us physically, she is what can bring unshakeable hand eye coordination and space awareness. This has been a blessed relief after years of 1-8 knocking things over and being unable to get through door ways without bruising our arms. It's also been quite amazing her ability to save 1-8 from being stuck in chairs on the wrong sides of rooms or in bed.

Anyway I'm not sure how much sense this will make to many of you, it feels quite vulnerable making all our journeys public. However it also feels right.

Wednesday, 16 November 2016

number 9

So we the numbers one to eight have given up our place as focus of attention to number nine. Number nine, you may remember, is our body and numbers one to eight are the shadow voices. Shadows of long gone personalities.

For the last 4.5 years numbers one to eight have rightly had the focus. They have needed it. Talk therapy has been the required space for them all to unwind and have space. We have become friends and learn to respect each other for the different qualities everyone has.

About a year ago we came to a quiet dramatic realisation that there was another thing, not a voice but a sense of something being there. Over the months we all realised that we had killed number nine. As therapy went on we all reached out to number nine and we were utterly mortified that she had been eliminated by us.

So out of respect we all agreed to sit back and allow number nine to tell her story. We have started body psychotherapy. Body psychotherapy involves touch. It became apparent pretty quickly that number nine was no easy character.

You see number nine is probably not even the age of nine yet. She is so young she has very little understanding of anything, she is innocent and trusting. When she speaks its with such joy and hope. So why is it so hard. Imagine you had a young child who was all the above and you had to give her to the big and the bad. Imagine how it would feel to leave something so innocent with something that you knew was only going to cause pain and when that pain had passed there would only be more and more pain until there was nothing left. No shadow no nothing. Nine was going to die.

We the eight have been so angry this week and everyone is in upheaval. This being the third session in body therapy, number nine has been seen or at least is being seen but she's being seen before it all goes wrong before we have to abandon her. Its like watching a disaster in slow motion or a horror movie.

  • We want to change the script! 
  • We want her to live! 
  • We are doing this so she can live and feel! 
  • We want to not have to leave this time! 
  • We want to stay whole and protect her! 

It was impossible before. So starts this new journey. Number nine, we eight make you a promise we couldn't keep all those years ago. We know what is ahead but we will use all we have learnt to help you process. We are older now  and have older skills; and we are so so sorry we couldn't have done this sooner.

Thursday, 25 August 2016

Communication and Multi-tasking

As my two kids approach 10 and 12yrs of age it is becoming apparent that I need to learn some new coping skills. As I have discussed, in previous blogs, as babies and young children I communicated by using a language I had made up. It's been quite incredible to witness how much you can communicate by 'babbling' the emotional content and using hand / eye movements to direct a young child.

It has all worked very nicely, my oldest is fully fluent in understanding my language and my youngest can even speak it back to me breathing her emotions into the various sounds she creates.

As you can imagine it's all very simple to understand, it basic life. Often my children know our routines so well that we don't even have to speak to each other. We can just show our enjoyment of being with each other through silent practical ways that give each other joy Lining up and organising a bedrooms shelves, producing a still warm soft blanket out of the tumble dryer at TV time,  and counting out 'Snack a Jacks' in a pack even though we know it says 12 on the side. One of my favourites I like to do it is find a new plug in smell that makes the flat feel cuddly or change all their sheets and make the bed beautifully into 'nests' and you can't wait to jump in.

However as I have said this is all fairly basic calm life, it's not lives multi tasking over several levels; it's more of a being together rhythmic stream.

So whats wrong? It all works very well?Well it has done up until now, I acknowledge that now is the time my kids quite rightly want to become less dependent on me and my hubby. They over these next 10yrs will want to grow and grow into their own identities with their own plans and adventures.

In short our home is morphing from a singular to a multiple existence. As my kids voice and act upon their needs and wants our lives intertwine even further with friends staying over, going out, interactions and plan making with other parents etc. You know what I mean, the list goes on...

These other streams of life do not know my language and I in turn struggle to navigate in theirs. They don't 'get it' when I disappear to my room or put my headphones in and wander out into the garden. My kids know to look for the intent behind what I say, not literally interpret my words. 
  • That shiny pole = the hat stand
  • can you put your clobber in the brown tub = can you bring me ur washing from your room, and put it on the washing pile in the kitchen.
  • have you got your pots on = have you got your shoes on.

All my life what has come out of my mouth has never made literal picture sense (unless I'm working my way through a monologue on a subject that I'm passionate about) and the other poor person is just left listening.

Other streams of life they do not know:-
  • That,standing to close to me can make me panic
  • That, tapping my arm to get my attention is unbelievably hard to deal with for me.
  • My inability to unravel an argument over a game, as three 'streams' tell me their point of view at once.
  • I learn people don't do what they say eg "I come at 'about' 8pm" and then don't turn up till 9pm, leaving me working through possible solutions and scenarios whilst being frozen in the 'Unknown of what on earth 'about' might mean. 
  • Other streams arrive with, socks that are not pulled over their feet properly, causing them to flop around as a Wii game is conquered.  
  • They sit were I usually sit (not knowing that having people sit on both sides of my is just to overwhelming). 
  • They don't know that phones in our flat are never held to your ear they are only ever talked to on loud speaker, if answered at all.
  • Other streams I struggle to use a knife and fork so spoons are often used due to total lack of food to mouth co ordination.
  • Also 'other streams ' are often shocked as 'Carwen / mum' always has several micro naps throughout the day leaving the kids always have first dibs on the lounge.

I wish this blog was an amazing poem cause I'd want to end it like this.

against the 'other streams' I have nothing,
Except a want to work out how to love em,
For on this journey I'm bound
 to let my little ones identities be found
And as they swop and wobble
My freak outs I will nobble
Cause I want to stay in the pack
Even if I have a rainbow on my back.

Thank you to all who walk with us in all their beautifully stream uniqueness.