Hoping with the green branch from the dead wood...

It used to be a flourishing bougainvillea with deep purple flowers until it gradually died due to the attentions of the hands which could not grow anything.

The tree died, no flowers in the dry season, no leaves.
Three years or so. The pot still there though because no energy to fix the external things which are not in my control.

Week has been rough. Deep shame after crying when I should not have been crying and sending messages to people I should not have been sending messages to. Nothing can be undone but unmasking and breaking down happen sometimes when fatigue sets in and coping strategies no longer work.

Plans have changed. The break which was meant to rejunvenate is not working out like that instead it is a constant struggle against struggling and trying to be useful .  The tears do not bring release. Body does not stretch as it should.
Shouting at the person who does not need to hear shouting.

I wonder if I have lost it and I wonder whether I could lose it some more but there is more anger at being weak and not working out things logically and one at a time. 

Sleep is good to help heal, but sleep is not always there. Fortunately, another night without sleep does not result in me sending any messages to people I should not message. It is difficult to listen to cures and what I should or should not do or similar experiences with mental health issues , I know that the intention is well.

I keep grasping at the past when things were easier to do, when words connected and ideas and actions flowed and I was in control even as I dealt with dark clouds

I did not anticipate though that not all struggles are strengthening and at some point, things do break down and that there is no way to speed it up, or to prevent but just wait.

I am not planning on recovery as yet as there might be more breaking down. Shame has to go out of the window. I keep thinking that my healthy self would find ways of communicating and adjusting to change and creating.


Elderly Woman writes 'why no woman marched in Guyana' and I don't know what to say but I see some glimmer of a story as she says she is knitting pink hats for the next protests.  

The glimmers of ideas for work and other things have to be suppressed for now because they will not be done properly and will only lead to more problems.

The pot with the dead wood and the green branch needs attention. The hands which has killed more plants than nurtured any have to find ways of creating an environment. Maybe the purple flowers will come back. Maybe not.

But the green leaves at least that it is possible to be temporarily unproductive and not be dead. Dead wood though can be used as fire wood.