AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: DATE: 11:34 AM ----- BODY:

Pushing an Elephant up the Stairs can now be found at http://francesca_gray.blogs.com/pushing_an_elephant_up_th/

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: Pushing an Elephant up the Stairs DATE: 8:10 AM ----- BODY:

Pushing an Elephant... has a new home here After a lengthy break followed by intermittant blogging I'm back!

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: DATE: 1:34 PM ----- BODY:

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: DATE: 8:27 AM ----- BODY:

'Touch' Acrylics on box canvas, 14"x10" - I have been following the Make Poverty History campaign with interest and admiration. Wishing that I could take part in the planned demonstration in Edinburgh, but I can't afford to get there and even if I did, my ability to walk any distance or to stand for any length of time is compromised. So as I watched Live8 on the tv yesterday, I got out my paints and made my own personal response.

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: Scrubbing shit off a carpet DATE: 12:17 PM ----- BODY:

Neither bright not dull. Neither warm nor cold. One of those days that are stuck in a nothing kind of weather. Like me. One of those days when I seem not to exist other than as a kind of cut and paste version of someone I imagin I am supposed to be. Sharp, torn edges nick the fingers of anyone who comes too close. Words are heavy lumps of iron that drop on my body crushing remnants of resistance into acceptance.Real people have friends and relationships that fit smoothly and comfortably like well worn shoes. Real people go out, have fun and are not betrayed by their own minds. Real people have voices that say something heard.Real people have something better to do on a Sunday afternoon than scrub shit off a carpet

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: Sanity Fayre DATE: 9:18 AM ----- BODY:

My head aches and exhaustion is a heavy blanket stifling the day. Every day pain spreads like a slow burning coal; drawing hips, knees, wrists and even fingers into the fire. Breathing is merely the remnant of an almost forgotten habit. Sleep hovers with monstrous mouth wide open waiting to devour when last struggles cease. The day already swallowed it waits for more. I awoke this morning with a headache and fear lurking around the edges of my lungs. I chose to ignore the whispered warnings and to build defences of careful make-up and favourite clothes. A bus ride that seemed hours long and I was there. Town on a busy, sunny Saturday. Lond planned and anticipated. Too many people. Too much noise. I circled my destination, wary as an animan who senses danger. Retreat to familiar territory and £30 disappears in exchange for a skirt and a pretty shrug. Then back to where I want to be. Stalls and music and scarily over-sized creatures that make children smile. I walk a little. Look a little. Read information leaflets. Exchange a few words. Fear moves closer, spreads, infects my breathing and pounds my heart. I know this. Know how to deal with it. Slow. Calm. Keep walking. My hands shake and I fear I may faint. Humiliated in a crowd. As though under water, I hear her ask if I am alright and answer yes. No. Then gratefully accept a seat away from painful brushing bodies and assaulting sounds. Suffocation that only exists in my head and embaressment at my foolishness, spit self-mocking tears. I say too much. Unable to grasp the threads of control and my mind focuses only on escape. So much kindness. A wasted day mugged by weakness. What hope is there for a future?

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: DATE: 8:59 AM ----- BODY:

A more recent attempt

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: DATE: 8:58 AM ----- BODY:

My first attempt at life drawing - Sept 2004

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: DATE: 8:55 AM ----- BODY:

'Do You See What I See?' Exam Piece

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: From then until now... DATE: 8:24 AM ----- BODY:

I have not had much time to write. My journals, both on-line and hand written have been much neglected. Perhaps the need to write is cyclical, something that comes and goes according to some mysterious rhythm of its own. Perhaps I was simply fed up of complaining about life. The months of my absence have been both wonderful and difficult in turn. Often both at once. Family problems have at times left me suffocating beneath the fear of what could possibly happen next. Depression has at times locked me within my house, once for a period of six weeks. To those of you who left messages or emailed, I apologise for not replying and thank you for providing light in the dark. The one consistent thing through out it all has been college. Thanks to the support of my tutors I am still there and in imminent danger of actually completing the course. Exams have been completed, most of my course work has been handed in and there is only two more projects to complete before the end of the academic year. One for art history and the other a landscape project. Art has taken over my life. It is as if I have finally found the place I was meant to be. The future is a challenge that both excites and terrifies me. I have applied for a place on a fine art degree course, something that twelve months ago would never have occurred to me as a possibility. Waiting to hear the university's decision is like waiting at the dentists. Never wracking. But whatever they decide, I will not leave this path. I will just have to look for another route.

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: DATE: 1:34 PM ----- BODY:

Some times Christmas turns out better than one expects...

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: of mice and men.... DATE: 10:32 PM ----- BODY:

former and as for the later, my son will be home when ever Christmas Eve parties end and my ex will be arrive with his mother tomorrow. However of plans there are plenty, none of which have quite turned out the way they were supposed to. Today was to be a lazy day. Once I had prepared those things that could be prepared ahead of time I planned to sip a champagne cocktail, listen to some music and then spend as long as possible in the bath. The room lit by candles. An indulgent, slightly inebriated evening. Instead I have only just sat down having been on my feet since 8am. The cocktails were sipped as I hoovered, the Baileys came out around about the same time as the bacon rolls and the stuffing. The vegetables will have to wait until tomorrow. It looks like I will have to make another early start. At least the presents are wrapped and ready to be pounced on at whatever time the teenagers emerge. Christmas is beginning to fray around the edges already. My ex mother in law has suddenly announced that she doesn't want to come here after all. She was the main reason I made the effort. I really do not want to spend the day thinking of her on her own in front of the tv with a boiled potato and a slice of processed turkey breast. I had looked forward to spending some time with my youngest. I see so little of her we are becoming strangers. My ex tells me that it would be better to eat early as she is making plans to go to her friends house after lunch. I remember last year and wonder when I will stop believing that this time, this year, it will be different

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: Its Christmas Eve! DATE: 1:31 PM ----- BODY:

Ho Ho bloody Ho.

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: Eight sleeps to go.... DATE: 2:33 PM ----- BODY:

and then it will be all over bar the shouting. That is the thought that keeps me going. Christmas only seems to last for ever. it does come to an end, eventually. The tree is decorated, colour fading, changing then bursting into life once more to some secret rhythm of its own. Presents, shiny with wrapping paper, are scattered beneath, waiting for December 25th to dawn. Although the only way anyone in this household will be awake in the early hours is if they have not yet found their way to bed from the night before! That is one of the differences between a house full of teenagers and a house full of children. With Teenagers Christmas day is another excuse to lie in. I have cleaned and polished and dusted and scrubbed. Struggled home with bags of shopping, filled the freezer and made endless lists. For the first time ever I am ahead of the game. No need to bake pies or cakes or puddings. No one likes them except me and no visitors other than my ex husband and his mother are expected. No need to leave a glass of something warming, a mince pie and a carrot for Santa Clause and Rudolph. There is no one to anxiously listen for their arrival. This is a grown up Christmas. Still there is plenty that needs to be re-done. As I sit here typing, dishes lie piled up in the sink. The bin over flows with rubbish, the lounge needs to be tidied, hoovered, restored to itself once more. I did ask if the teenagers would do something, anything, to help while I was out. How come I was not surprised to discover on my return at 1.30pm that they were still in bed? My son has a job now (today is his day off), which apparently negates any responsibility towards household duties. I asked him once again, a little while ago, to take out the rubbish, empty the bins. A request that was met with silence and a door closed to shut me out. My daughter? She has gone off to an interview that she had forgotten to tell me about. She does help out sometimes. They both do, sometimes. But some how it feels like in the end, it all comes down to me. I did complain that I appeared to be the only one doing anything towards making Christmas a good time for all of us. The reply? That I do it because I want to. Because I love doing it. That gave me pause for thought. Is everything my responsibility because I want to do it? Sitting here thinking I find myself asking if there is any truth in that? And the answer is no. Not any more. I come home from college exhausted. Ill health has meant that I am behind in some of my work so I have plenty to keep me occupied in my 'free time'. My back hurts constantly, made worse by carrying and hoovering and standing. I do all these 'family' things because it is expected of me. Or should that be 'I expect it of me?' What would happen if I did not buy presents, dress Christmas trees, do all that extra shopping? Would the world come to an end if Christmas were not to happen in this household? I do not like Christmas. Or birthdays come to that. No, that is not right, I love the illusion of such celebrations. The illusion of special days of happiness and closeness and wonderful surprises. Sadly, that is all that they are. Illusions. And illusions leave disappointment behind when they evaporate. Roll on January 1st.

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: DATE: 3:03 PM ----- BODY:

Ok this is weird, I think. The sleepiness has passed which is great. Trouble is now I am so wired I can't sit still...lol!

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: DATE: 4:06 PM ----- BODY:

I think this post belongs in 'Diet Coke', however having opened this blog up I don't have the energy to go back and change it. I have been reading blogs rather than writing them recently. Lurking without comment in the background, my favourite place. At least this time I was aware of the darkness creeping up on me and have tried to do something about it. Tuesday was my appointment at the clinic. I explained why I had stopped taking the medication and why I would rather not take it any more. That done, I found myself agreeing that I needed something, so, here we go again with yet another drug. This time it is Mirtazapine. Something I have never heard of. If this doesn't work, the doctor says there are still others I can try. She warned me that there would probably be a few days when I felt too sleepy to do anything much and I said that I could take time of college while I adjusted to the medication. I did not expect to feel the way I do. Dreadful. My complaint about antidepressants has been that they do not significantly lift my mood but do supress my creativity. I would rather fight the darkness than lose the very thing that makes everything worth while. Three days into taking Mirtazapine, I am so tired I can hardly keep my eyes open, have no energy to do anything and can't think straight. I hope it is temporary. I'm sinking further into the dark instead of finding my way out.

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: Its better to be untidy because.... DATE: 10:57 AM ----- BODY:

I'm back, again. I think I should make a macro that types those two words each time I log on. This time my absence has been my computer's fault. I series of intermittent problems with the keyboard, printer and mouse/pen grew increasingly worse until computer became near enough unusable. I tried all sorts of things, removing peripherals and reloading software, rewinding to earlier 'save points' and so on and so on to no avail. I had just got to the point where I was beginning to worry that fixing things was going to cost me money when a chance remark by the guy I buy my computer consumables from gave me an idea. A couple of months ago I had one of my 're-arrange the furniture' fits. A big one as it involved turning my dining room into a lounge and visa versa. Of course this meant moving the computer too and I thought I would take the opportunity to tidy up the birds nest of cables that clutters up the rear of my desk. My ex husband set up the computer for me in its new home and set to work with a packet of cable ties to make things more organised. This is where the stray comment comes in. The ink cartridge guy asked me if I had changed anything in the last few weeks. Bingo! The tidying up of course! After a few minutes of pushing all the connections to make sure they were all secure and then setting to work on the cable ties with a pair of scissors everything is back to normal. It appears that my computer and I have a similar out look on life and tidiness is not part of it!

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: Word drain DATE: 1:23 AM ----- BODY:

My novel is underway for National Novel Writing Month (check the sidebar for links) and I am in good company with lots of other Nanoblogmo writers. I think we must all share a common form of obsession with words to get involved with this ~laughs~ I intend to keep this blog as well as A Novel Idea up to date and of course plough on with 'The Shadowed Path'. Then there is college and all those projects. Could someone please add some more hours to each day? Just for November?

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: Help with template wanted DATE: 11:32 PM ----- BODY:

Could some kind soul explain to me how to make my haloscan comments visible on the archived posts? Please? Pretty please?

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: Samhain DATE: 6:56 PM ----- BODY:

For the first time in a few years I have no celebration to go to. But my heart is with all those whose celebrate this evening. Blessings on you all as the year turns.

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: Not my rubber duckie... DATE: 1:57 PM ----- BODY:

I watched a cringe worthy programme on the television last night. A double episode, saints preserves us, of 'Girls on the Settee' on Channel 5. Now I am not an easily embaressed type of person who blushes at anything more than an oblique reference to sensual fun, nor am I by any means disapproving of the open discussion of sexual matters. But (isn't there always a butt? if you excuse the pun), but, the bright and breezy attitude of the presenter as she waved varies sex toys around and asked breathless questions about her guests best suggestions for spicing up a stale sex life drew nothing but groans from this household, and not of the pleasurable kind. These were woman working far to hard to be relaxed and at ease with the subject. Sophisticated, cool, women of the world at home with sex and their bodies, the image was punctured regularly by phrases such as ' my lady parts'. 'Lady parts'???? for gods sake! Sorry channel 5, nice try but no cigar. Besides, I was tramautised by the inclusion of a yellow, rubber, vibrating bath time duck. Yes , thats right, a vibrating duck. I mean, which is the err business end? Tail or beak? Why was my mind suddenly filled with punch lines from jokes that include sheep? How come the little rubber duck who sits on the edge of my bath has suddenly developed a lear over night?

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: Let the train take the stain... DATE: 11:55 AM ----- BODY:

I'm back, tired and without much sleep last night because of back pain. Why is travelling by train never simple? Thanks to cancellations and delays I arrived in Bristol about an hour late, which is not to bad I suppose, but the journey home! I left my friends flat at 11.30 am and finally sat down in my own home at around 6.30 pm. Most of the day was spent in Birmingham station. Two cancelled connections, two missed trains. Lifts that took over 5 minutes to arrive and escalators that did not work. A helpful member of staff who informed me that my train was standing at the other end of the platform and that I needed to 'run'. Arriving just as the doors closed to be told that I had 'missed' the train and watching as the 'gentleman' in question turned his back on me to continue his conversation with a colleague. Spending the day becoming less and less able to walk with any speed as the pain in my back and leg increased. Some members of Virgin Rail staff were very helpful, kind and polite and eventually did get me on a train home, even though by that time I had to use a wheelchair to get to the platform. 'Let the train take the strain' they advert used to say. I don't think so. How about 'Let the train cause the strain'?

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: Dating for beginners and life with a sex crazed cat... DATE: 8:15 AM ----- BODY:

The two subjects are not connected, honest! Beginning with the sex crazed cat, its Pru. She has come into her first season and like all female cats of the oriental persuasion, she is busy letting everyone know about it. It is described as 'calling'. Calling? Its more like listening to a toddler having the mother of all tantrums. Her wide vocabularly of sounds is being put to imaginative use as she attempts to tell any tomcats in the vicinity that she would really like to get to know them. Some times it sounds as though she were in terrible pain. Most times it sounds like she is demanding, err, something, right now. Merlin and Harry Potter (both neutered), watch her performance with puzzled anxiety. Now and again, Pru attempts to inform them of her needs. Merlin obliges by knocking her to the ground, gently biting her neck, then flees for his life. Harry has decided that discretion is the better part of valour and flees the moment she looks at him. Ear plugs anyone? As for dating for beginners, I suppose a better phrase would be 'dating for the seriously out of practice'. After all, I have actually done the dating thing before, just not for a long time. In an effort to, well make an effort, I have joined an on-line dating web site. So far it has proved to be an...interesting...experiment, lol! Top of my first list of 'ideal matches' was my ex-husband! LOL! It would seem that the most important criteria to whatever programme comes up with these things is proximity. Just as in 'real life' the people one 'meets' are a mixed bunch. So far my contacts have included: Desperate Man - thats the one who seems to think that a couple of emails forshadows a life long relationship. Tomcat Man - Witty, urbane, pleasant and apparantly intent on creating a modern version of 'a woman in every port'. (In his favour he was at least honest about what he wanted!) Dressingown Man - Again witty, urbane and pleasant but apparantly seriously short of clothes. (He has a cam) I cannot help thinking that if these gentlemen use the same tactics in real life when they meet women, it is hardly surprising that they are single. There have been more succesful introductions. I have exchanged emails with a couple of apparantly nice, interesting people and had one date. The date was fun. A nice man, who lives quite close to me and who told me to ring anytime if I fancy another night out. I just might do that, although putting the onus on me does not exactly make me tingle. I'm going away later on today, to spend a couple of days with a friend. Thursday I am meeting someone new for lunch. If I am not careful, I may find myself with a social life.

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: DATE: 5:03 PM ----- BODY:

Although I will be adding this to my portfolio, I could not resist adding it here to. My very first painting! I'm not particularly thrilled with it and I am really fed up of drawing flowers (lol), but never the less, it came out better than I expected.

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: DATE: 5:48 AM ----- BODY:

After three, maybe four hours of sleep I woke with a start from some unremembered dream. 5.48 is a silly time to be awake on a Sunday morning unless one has places to go and things to do which I do not. With a little luck, that illusive occupation will return and I will have a 'lie-in' (disrupted though it may be) after all. My sofa sleeping habit appears to have made a hopefully temporary, come back. There is no obvious reason, no cyclical pattern that can be discerned for these ups and downs. They happen. They pass and life goes on. How nice it would be if I could walk along a shore somewhere right now. Wrapped warmly against the cold, my footsteps silent on sand damp from the assault of the tide. I could watch the last star fade as the sky lightened and birds began to chatter amongst themselves about the coming day. From my seat at the computer I can hear the the sound of birds. The small, patch of sky that I can see from through the window is that odd, deep mauve colour that speaks of light that is coming and of retreating darkness. Walls and fences loom out of the shadows. The shutters on the convenience store across the road screech and protest as they are taken down. My thoughts circle then pounce on words, dragging them to my fingertips to tap, tap, tap on the keyboard. My still tired body glares tight lipped at the mind that hunts and circles and leaps, keeping it from longed for sleep. Another day begins with all its possibilities laid out like a breakfast table. I will not look over my shoulder into the dark however insistently it whispers in my ear.

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: I must be mad (was it ever in doubt?) DATE: 10:22 AM ----- BODY:

Logging into Blogger to write a new post, my eye was caught by the article on NaNoWriMo and the challege to write a novel in a month. The month in question being November. Madness overtook me and I signed up. That of course means another blog to chronicle the insanity. So how many is that? btw I have added more 'stuff' to my portfolio of art work. Maybe I should give up sleeping altogether.....

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: DATE: 1:50 PM ----- BODY:

I have begun a portfolio of my work (no drawings or paintings yet - laughs) here Look in the catagory called 2004.

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: Flumped on the sofa..... DATE: 10:29 AM ----- BODY:

One more week of college and it will be half term. Where has the time gone? I had thought that by now I would be organised, have a regular time set aside for blogging and the house running like clockwork (a girl can dream, can't she?). Instead, I arrive home exhausted each afternoon, flump out on the sofa and sleep like a child after her first day at school. Housework has been relegated to an occasional frenzied panic in between working on my projects and my beloved blog gets written mostly in my head. It is years since I spent so much time in the 'real world' and so little in the 'virtual'. Am I happy? Yes. Although I will be happier still when I am less tired and when I can find the time to write regularly. Art and writing are so closely entwined that I need to do both. Besides, this is the one place where I can be myself, without a need to disguise the dark. One day, I might learn to be less obesessive. Because that, of course, is the reason I am so tired. I feel as though I have plunged into another world, one that is so different from the norm that I must grasp each new thing less it disappear, drown in new experience. I am breathing water instead of air and do not want to surface. Time has little meaning. I walk into a room, pick up a piece of charcoal and look at the model posing against a sofa draped in blue. Thought stops. There is only line and shade, the struggle to transfer what my eyes see onto paper. Pain, neither physical nor mental, has to power to invade this space. Time is meaningless. Two hours, three hours. How can that be? Expanded to contain all those sketches, or photographs or paintings, whatever that particular lesson contained. It seems like only a few minutes have passed. I pay for my absorbtion. Standing, sitting for such lengths of time often means I need to take more pain killers or use a tens machine for longer later on. Some times my disgust, frustration with the work I produce releases the dark and I know, with absolute certainty that I am fooling myself. That I am a stranger, an interloper, who does not belong in this amazing, fantastical world. Then comes the urgent need to destroy. To rip paper and reduce photographs to ashes. But I don't. Because tomorrow I will once again be submerged in the now. Forcing myself beyond what I believe I can do. And sometimes, just sometimes I find in my hands evidence that I am moving forward.

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: Errrrrrr DATE: 11:47 PM ----- BODY:

TD1 is a very intelligent young woman. Unfortunately, although she was towards the front of the queue when brains were handed out, she forgot to collect her common sense before venturing into the world. Her episodes of what I can only call 'ditsiness' are the stuff of family legends and tonight she surpassed herself. How else can I explain the presence of a small electric whisk, complete with batteries, left to soak with the dishes from our evening meal in the washing up bowl?

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: So What's all this about college? DATE: 1:45 PM ----- BODY:

I dithered. I'm good at that. If procrastination was an Olympic sport the gold medal would be mine. The question sat there like a rock in the middle of my life. 'Should I go back to college?' A montage of complex questions masquerading as a simple decision. Time was running out. Time would provide an answer of its own if I did nothing. The phone rang. A conversation cut short by me before yes or no could be voiced. The phone rang. This time I had made the call. To B. a member of staff, but not the teaching staff. Supportive and understanding, she listened to what I did not say. Eventually, laughing at myself for having such ambitions, I told her how much I wanted to do fine art and why I thought I should not, could not. A few days later I was showing my portfolio to the course leader for the foundation programme. Within a week I was sitting in a room, discussing time tables and projects for the next few months. I am an art student. Isn't that amazing? Unbelievable. True. I stand in a dark room and produce photograms, watching images appear as if by magic. From behind an easel, pencil in hand, I try to capture the shapes and shadows of the life model who sits relaxed and patient on a blue covered sofa. Afternoons disappear in absorbed concentration. Fingers coloured with paint, paper covered with pencil sketches of a lily that slowly begin to suggest something ... lily like. The infectious enthusiasm of an art history lecturer manufactures a key to understanding and opens doors to places I thought beyond my ability to appreciate. It is not easy. I have to force myself to get up, get dressed, catch a bus. Four days a week, I pause outside the gates of the college, taking deep breathes before steeling myself to plunge into the noise and chaos beyond them. Some afternoons I return home shaking with exhaustion. Sleeping for most of the evening, too tired even to eat. Frustration at the quality of my work feeds the mocking voices in my head. Even so I am determined to continue. Because there are hours when time is suspended. When there are no thoughts, no surroundings, nothing except the pencil, the paint, the camera. Nothing but the immediate. My hands and the media. I'm not sure it matters whether I have talent or not. What matters is those perfect moments.

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: Starting again... DATE: 10:23 AM ----- BODY:

Shadows crept from their hiding places and swallowed the light. Once more there was only darkness and all I could do was concentrate on getting through each day. My energy sapped by the need to pretend. To smile. To be 'fine'. New stripes kept me grounded. Red reminding me that I was still alive, that there was still something beyond. Emails, comments, messages, points of light that showed I was not alone. Thank you. Shame that I have been unable to respond, I could not allow the dark a way out. It had to be contained, fought, resisted within the tightly wrapped cocoon that is me. Afraid that if I reached out I would fracture. That control so fiercely clung to would disintergrate. There are not enough ways to say thank you. Knowing that there were people who cared, who noted my absence and wanted to help gave me strength. Your words tiny life lines to hold on to. Now I am standing once more. Looking forward instead of inwards. I have made changes in my life. Returning to college being one of them. I'm tired all the time. Maintaining the mask drains me. But one day, it will no longer be a mask but reality. However difficult, I am making the right decisions, I am sure of that. There are whole hours of sunlight, even the occasional day when the dark is no more than a memory. And now I am back here. Because I miss my friends and because I want to thank them, you, for being there.

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: DATE: 10:38 PM ----- BODY:

I'm tired of fighting. Tired of trying to make things work out and continuously failing. For a moment I thought the future might be worth looking forward to. Things seemed to be coming together, working out well. Only to crumble and vanish as I reached out. Nothing is worth the effort. I'm not worth the effort.

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: Big Smile DATE: 1:25 PM ----- BODY:

The boy's GCSE results are terrific! I am so proud of him!

Drama B
English B
Lit B
History B
Maths B
Frency C
Science C and C
RE A

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: DATE: 9:55 AM ----- BODY:

"Godazzlem Ebonii" otherwise known as Pru.

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: Why don't... DATE: 9:40 AM ----- BODY:

printers print out what you want them to print? I have spent hours over the last couple of weeks or so working on the image below. Finally I got a version that I was really pleased with. The hard copy version isn't bad, but some how it has lost the 'subtly' of the original. Obviously, my technical skills re printing are not up to the job. grrr. (btw I have only just realised that if you click on the small pic that Hello displays in the blog, you get to see the larger version - Have I said this before?) As you will probably have figured out for yourselves, the elephant has been very heavy just recently. Perhaps the staircase had a turn in it where it stuck. My demanding, naughty, sweet little Pru, has as usual, been a God send. Pru hanging upside down from the back of a dining room chair, attempting to catch her tail through the bars would bring a smile to anyones face. Pru throwing herself on her back at my feet and laudly demanding attention is very difficult to ignore. And Pru, curled up in my arms, alternately chatting and purring loudly is a moment of pleasure in a dark world. Son gets his GCSE results today. The ceremony of going into school to discover how well or badly one has done, is not possible for him as it would involve a four hour drive each way. So I am to phone at 11am. He has asked me not to wake him up until I have done so.

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: DATE: 9:39 AM ----- BODY:

Shades

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: WOW! DATE: 8:22 PM ----- BODY:

NTL is running a photographic competition on their website with the theme of 'community'. Some of the entries are displayed in an on line gallery. On a whim I took a photograph and entered. Drifting about the web this evening I decieded to go have a look what was new in the competiton. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that my entry was in the gallery!!!!! I'm gobsmacked! lol! Although maybe they put all the entries there... (To see the gallery of entries, go to 'get involved' and then gallery. Mine is in week 6 and I bet you can guess which one it is....grin)

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: Decision made...sort of DATE: 1:04 PM ----- BODY:

I have emailed my tutor telling him that I want to return to college next month so.... Lets wait and see what happens next. I had hoped that by the time the new academic year came around I would be feeling fit and well. That the dark would have departed, pehaps not for good, but at least out of sight for a while. Its slow descent over the last few weeks makes the future seem like an frightening monster to be battled with rather than an exciting challange to welcome. (Thank you, my friends, for your comments. I will reply later when I can get on the computer again.)

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: Still thinking... DATE: 9:03 PM ----- BODY:

I want to go back to college. I want to do a fine art course rather than crafts. Both ideas scare me, particularly in the context of my current frame of mind. I am going to email my tutor asking about part time and the possibility of changing courses. He could well say no, or whoever is in charge of fine art probably will. I've been looking through my 'portfolio' (the stuff I have posted here and more recently in Diet Coke) and I am not impressed.

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: Thinking it through... DATE: 11:17 AM ----- BODY:

I am not very good at decisions. My usual method is to think, consider, analyse until I am over taken by events and a choice is made without my active intervention. I am wandering along that particular path now, admiring the scenery and worrying endlessly about the destination. Last year I was accepted onto a HND art and design (craft) course. For four months I played with ceramics, silver smithing, textiles and was the only student on the course to enjoy, be excited by, the art history component. It was as if someone had given me a key. A key to the world of art, that although previously loved and enjoyed, had often been difficult to understand. My tutors and fellow students also gave me something else. Confidence to explore. I began to experiment with drawing and painting, things that were not part of the course but which I longed to try. I discovered that ceramics, which I had dreaded at the beginning, was an activity in which I could lose myself for hours at a time. The feel of the clay beneath my hands drew me into a world where I did not need to think, but simply be. I quickly realised that I had little interest in designing or making functional items. Some thing I had know already, from before the start of the course. Something I was afraid to admit to or follow. 'Art' with a capital 'A' was something other people did. People with talent. Creative people. People who could draw an apple that looked like a real apple. Not for me with my childish drawing skills. Crafts seemed like a parallel experience. Something that would allow me to be close to the things I could do in my imagination. Student life did not last very long. My mental health began to deteriorate and by January I was in hospital after an overdose. The college staff were incredibly supportive and sympathetic. Far more so than the mental health services. I tried to go back but eventually chose to take time out and to leave any decisions about returning until this September. Now the time to make that decision has arrived and becomes more urgent with each day and my mind is paralysed with confusion, uncertainty and fear. Fear of adding yet another failure to the mountain. If I do not go back, I will have failed. If I return and find I am unable to cope, I will have failed. I am fairly certain that full time would not be a good idea. Judging by my current state of mind, the pressure would be too much. This part of the choosing does not present too many difficulties. I already know that my tutor would be happy for me to study part time with the hours and commitment flexible to accommodate my health. Trying to cut away the unnecessary and look only at the basic decisions that I need to make, there are two: Should I go back to college and try again? The second, a complication that my own erratic mind has created. Should I ask to transfer to a Fine Arts program? This is what I wanted to do from the beginning but was too afraid to even consider. Those four months on the craft course served to increase my desire to study fine art without reducing my fear of making a fool of myself. It feels like reaching for something far above my abilities. Ceramics would still be part of the course so I would not loose that. I have spent a lot of time recently drawing, painting and producing digital art (some of which I have posted on Diet Coke), the results sap my confidence instead of bolstering it. The more I think, the more confused I become. I have to decide what to do soon.

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: Decisions DATE: 11:34 PM ----- BODY:

I have decisions to make about the future and I am not finding it easy. Do I restart college in September or not? Not as simple as it sounds as it means making my mind up about several things. I need to think some more and then I will write about my thoughts tomorrow.

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: DATE: 5:55 PM ----- BODY:

Receipt from Depression Alliance

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: First things First DATE: 5:33 PM ----- BODY:

Below is a copy of a receipt for the £85 you donated to Depression alliance, I'm sorry if it isn't very clear. If any of my sponsors would like copy, please let me know and I will email a copy to you. (Now all I have to do is write a piece about Project Blog for their newsletter.) I seem be saying 'thank you' quite a lot. That is because there are so many good, kind people out there who drop by to visit. To everyone who left a comment wishing me a happy birthday, thank you! and please accept a big hug from me to each of you. Although I have not had much chance to come on line, I did take a peep now and again and finding those greetings made a big difference to me and to my day. :) xx How did the day go, I can hear you wondering ... or maybe not... lol! To be honest it was a bit like the curates egg, good in parts. TD1 gave had made me a beautiful card that I will treasure always. And of course I had already received my present from her, Pru. My son gave me a very thoughtful gift, a brand new fountain pen and a lovely ball pen, for jotting, he said. Its a long time since I had a half way decent pen and I love to write with ink so they have both been well used already. I did not get to see my youngest daughter. I wonder why I was surprised or why I allowed it to upset me? I should know better by now. Her father is on holiday and she is staying with her friend. Earlier in the week she had phoned to say she would call in as she had a present for me that her father had bought her to give me (!). But on the day TD2 called again to say she had no money for bus fare (something that surprised her dad when I told him). She did say she had a doctors appointment for the following day, and as I would have to go with her, she would see me then. However, on Friday morning she phoned again to ask me to cancel the appointment as she was baby sitting with her friend all day. It doesn't matter. No. Thats wrong. It does matter. I was hurt and upset. Angry, if I am honest. First Mothers Day and now my birthday. It really hurts. I had to make an effort for the other two. They were there, they wanted me to have a good day and I wanted them to know how much I appreciate them. So I took us all out to lunch at Pizza Hut. Not very exciting, pehaps, but we enjoyed it. Afterwards we did a little shopping, I bought myself a new CD (Sarah McLachlan) and a new pad of water colour paper. Then Son went out with his friends and TD1 came home with me. That was that. Another birthday over and done with, another year begun.

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: After midnight DATE: 12:41 AM ----- BODY:

The Glorious 12th has begun. When I was a little girl I thought I was special, because my birthday was printed in diaries as The Glorious 12th. Poor grouse. Do they know that today their purpose becomes to provide sport for people with guns? Poor little girl. She thought the 12th glorious for such a short time. Each year, on this day, I write of disappointment. Of my dislike of birthdays. Perhaps I should simply write 'ditto last year'. It isn't age that weighs on me. I am 47. So what? It is just another number. Handy for officialdom but little else. Its that little girls fault. She still wants to feel special. To wake up to mysterious parcels, envelopes stuffed with rhymes, birthday cake and parties. It won't happen. It never has. It will be a day like all the others. There will be cards and perhaps gifts from the children. TD2 is coming over. She rang to tell me that her father had bought something for her to give me and she hoped I would like it. She did not choose it. Maybe MJ will phone. It's several days since he has. Perhaps he will remember. I got drunk last night. A rare and unusual event. I should have saved it for tonight.

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: Why? DATE: 3:02 PM ----- BODY:

Because words fill me, follow me, flow constantly through my mind. Because I have to. Because I want to be heard. Because I don't know who?

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: When? DATE: 2:58 PM ----- BODY:

When I first wake up. When I am eating. When I am on a bus or a train. When I am watching tv. When I am listening to music. When I am lying in bed awake when I should be sleeping.

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: Where DATE: 2:56 PM ----- BODY:

In my blog. In my other blog. On my web site. On envelopes. On scraps of paper. On the margins of books. On clean, white sheets of paper. On lined paper. On pads of paper. On the computer. On my drawings and paintings.

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: What? DATE: 2:48 PM ----- BODY:

What? Lists. Things to be done. Things completed. Things remembered. Things to buy. Things wanted. Things to dream of. Things to forget. Things that are made up. Things that rhyme and Things that don't. Things that grow into stories. Things that shrink into frustration.

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: Dark Days DATE: 12:36 PM ----- BODY:

It has been a bad few days for no particularly good reason. The standard arguments that every mother has with teenage children. Appointments to be kept with people trying to help my youngest daughter. The embaressment of sitting in one which she refused to attend and that her father had forgotten about. Worry about Pru, who has developed a rash and had to go to the vet and has to go again as it still has not healed. The pain in my back bad enough at one point to cause me to faint. I have drawn and painted, but not written. Some how there were not any words to spare. They were all trapped in my head, running around and around, faster and faster. Keeping me awake or sending nightmares that left me shaken and covered in sweat. A bad few days. ==================================================== We raised a total of £85 for the Depression Alliance and I will be posting a copy of the receipt here asap. The Alliance has also asked me to write a piece about my involvement in Project Blog for their newsletter.

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: 5 Questions... DATE: 8:49 AM ----- BODY:

Two people agreed to allow me to ask them 5 questions, you can find the answers to those I asked Pogo here and Menina's answers here. The questions that Black Rat asked me and my answers. Any one else want to play?

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: Project Blog update DATE: 8:27 AM ----- BODY:

When I checked the account this morning, I could hardly believe what I saw. The total donated to date for the Depression Alliance is £85! What amazing and generous people you all are, I cannot say thank you enough times or show how deeply I appreciate your kindness.

<>There are still a couple of donations to come, so I will leave the paypal account open for a few more days.

Project Blog has generated so much more than money and despite the fact that it has taken me until now to recover, I am so glad that I took part. I have a sense of achievement, of pride that I succeeded in something I set out to do and actually exeeded my target. I have a sense of community, a feeling that perhaps the project has helped to cement some friendships and perhaps created more. I hope so.

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: DATE: 9:32 AM ----- BODY:

TD1 as she is now (well 18 months ago). My favourite photograph of us together. (Hope this makes up for posting the baby pic!)

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: A quick blog... DATE: 9:08 AM ----- BODY:

When it was all over and time to finally log out and go to sleep, guess what happened? I couldn't. Sleep that is. I went to bed. Tossed and turned. Starred at the ceiling. Starred out of the window. Read for awhile. Got up again, had something to eat. Made a drink. Went back to bed. Tried to sleep again. Nothing worked. Wound up like a top, I could not stop the jumbled train of thoughts that was running through my head like an inter-city express. Why had I fallen asleep during Project Blog? Bad me. What had I written? Review each entry mentally looking for things I should not have said or people I had forgotten to thank. Was the PayPal button the right thing to do? How else could I collect donations? Had I offended anyone? Over looked a comment or an email? Wide awake and in the kind of 'high' mood that can be almost as bad as a 'down'. Finally, I slept for a couple of hours. I spent the evening watching a film with The Teenagers, eating Chinese and laughing and talking too much. I am still tired, but feeling better, more relaxed. When I have done my chores I will come back and blog again. I have people to thank and a review of those 24 hours to write, an update on donations so far and my favourite blogs to read. Till then, have a good day, my friends.

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: My last post DATE: 1:00 PM ----- BODY:

for Project Blog 2004. I have set up a PayPal account specifically for donations and pledges. (The link is in the post below) The button will be deleted after 48 hours. I will of course, post proof in my blog that all monies have been paid over to the Depression Alliance. Total pledged to date £59 What more is there to say other than thank you once again and goodnight. x

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: DATE: 12:50 PM ----- BODY:

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: DATE: 12:27 PM ----- BODY:

Its very nearly the end of what has been a very special 24 hours for me. To all those kind souls who have sponsored me, thank you. Your generosity has touched me. For everyone who has supported me with pledges, conversation, company, emails and comments, friends old and friends new, thank you. And thank you to my guest blogger, my eldest daughter whose picture you will find below. (Someone will also find my dead body if she finds out I posted that)! To date we have raised £59 for the Depression Alliance.

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: DATE: 12:26 PM ----- BODY:

TD1

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: DATE: 11:57 AM ----- BODY:

A baby Harry Potter hiding behind a couple of candles

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: DATE: 11:55 AM ----- BODY:

Wanna play?

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: DATE: 11:55 AM ----- BODY:

Helping out. This is Magic. The ex got custody.

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: DATE: 11:27 AM ----- BODY:

One and a half hours to go and I am dead tired and wide awake. The cats are sleeping in a heap on the sofa and the kids are snoring upstairs. Although they have both assured me that they are about to leap from their beds any second now, somehow I find it unlikely. I'm having a look for some more pet pics. I have a funny feeling that if I were to read back over some of the posts I have made during this 24 hours, I would be horrified at the quality of the writing and reaching for the delete button. So I'm not going to read them, lol.

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: daddys_girl DATE: 10:59 AM ----- BODY:

You could always walk away. Home, family, friends, had no more meaning for you than library books disgarded on a park bench. I went looking for you once, concerned about my daddy alone with someone else's belongings. Nothing of your own, except a few clothes packed in an old suitcase. I brought you photographs. I did not understand. Sometimes, I imagin strangers wondering how they came to be left in the dust of an rented room.

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: DATE: 10:29 AM ----- BODY:

Charcoal sketch

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: LOL! DATE: 10:16 AM ----- BODY:

francesca_gray may explode without warning

M EXPLOSIVE

From Go-Quiz.com (link pinched from SB)

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: DATE: 10:04 AM ----- BODY:

Gemma left the following comment a little earlier: "Your descriptions of depression are very astute and moving, some of us know those feelings only too well but most of us can't articulate them as you can :o)" Her words came at just the right time. More than anything I want to make a difference, even in a small way. I write in the hope of giving a voice to some one else who cannot find the words. Or to demonstrate to another person that they are not alone in their experience. If I can do that, then some good has come out of the years of my own depression. The time was not wasted. Thank you, Gemma.

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: DATE: 9:25 AM ----- BODY:

Not too long to go now. But there is still time to help me raise more money for the Depression Alliance. You could: Sponsor me through the Project Blog website or make a pledge by email or here. Buy a Gmail invitation for £10 Post a bid for this beautiful necklance (designed and hand made by moi) either by email or through the comments section of my blog. All pledges/donations may be made either directly to Depression Alliance or to me through PayPal. Details to follow at the end of Project Blog.

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: DATE: 9:02 AM ----- BODY:

Pastel sketch by Francesca

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: DATE: 8:20 AM ----- BODY:

Depression has many disguises. The ones of absence and paralysis I have already attempted to describe. There is also the face of anger and frustration. The times when merely the sound of conversation drives your to distraction. When you lash out with your tongue at those closest to you. Tension stretches you like an elastic band until you quiver at the slightest thing. Then there are the tearful days. The days when an affectionate touch, and advert, a news item swamps you with despair. Or for no reason at all, tears overwhelm as if they will never stop. Of times of crisis, I have written in Diet Coke and will not repeat myself here. Not everyone will experience depression in all of these ways. Other people would describe shades of darknes I have never felt. Sometimes it will be a shadow that darkens life for a few hours, a few days, a few weeks. Sometimes it will last so long, that if there is a light at the end of the tunnel, you no longer remember its excistance. Individual. Sharing common symptoms but as unique as each human being.

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: DATE: 8:02 AM ----- BODY:

Original Photograph (digitally manipulated) by Francesca

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: DATE: 7:51 AM ----- BODY:

Original artwork by Francesca

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: DATE: 7:24 AM ----- BODY:

The irony is that you believe every word that is said. You have said the same to yourself and worse a thousand times a day. You have no excuses. No explanation. No more understanding of why than anyone else. Some days the simple task of getting out of bed is too much. You lie there, cocooned in the covers, making mental lists of all you should do that day, must do. Have to do. Beginning with getting up. You bend your will, order your body to obey, but your heart isn't in it. As if it were the 'surface' you demanding action, but the real you, lies dormant, hiding some where deep and dark. You berate yourself some more. Or you do get up, get dressed, follow the usual routine. Without actually being present. Memory is full of holes, like a worn out, moth eaten jumper. Words slide away. Attention falters. Depression and sadness are not necessarily similar. There are times when emotion, any emotion, even the most painful would be welcome. It is the 'absence' that wears away your will.

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: DATE: 7:01 AM ----- BODY:

Depression is a life altering condition. It can turn every day activities into insurmountable obstacles. It can destroy relationships and drive friends and relatives away. At first there is sympathy and support, often given with a flavouring of puzzlement and uncertainty. Helpful advice is offered, a cheerful chivying tone adopted. 'Nothing is ever as bad as it seems.' 'You just have to look at the positive side of things.' 'Count your blessings, there are many people far worse off than you.' 'Feeling sorry for yourself achieves nothing.' 'Just pull yourself together and smile.' Besides, there is a pill for everything these days. Fill the perscription, swallow the tablet and you are cured. Gradually, impatience, irritation, begins to replace the sympathy. Weeks have gone by, perhaps months and even those closest to you are tired of making allowances. Phrases like 'self indulgent', 'self absorbed' and 'attention seeking' are heard more and more often. A depressed person is not appealing company. There is no visible wound or injury that can account for the symptoms. People begin to drift away. Quietly, imperceptably. Or with slammed doors and harsh words. Isolation snaps shut around you like a trap.

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: DATE: 6:34 AM ----- BODY:

I have almost made my target of £50. There is still plenty of time but I can't help thinking that perhaps if I had not fallen asleep I would have done better. So I am pledging £10 myself. That is £5 for each hour that I slept instead of blogging.

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: Oh the embaressment! DATE: 6:21 AM ----- BODY:

The shame! How could I? I fell asleep. There I have admitted it. Seriously, though, I am mortified, so embaressed. I fell asleep sitting at the computer and only woke up when I fell off the chair. That hurt. My punishment for letting the Project down. Sighs, luckily I have a new tens unit, which I am now going to use and then I will post properly. Heck! Trust me, cant even stay awake for a few hours.

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: DATE: 4:30 AM ----- BODY:

watching over you

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: DATE: 4:01 AM ----- BODY:

Cuddling up

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: DATE: 3:34 AM ----- BODY:

The baby of the family, Pru, a smoke Egyptian Mau. Living with Pru is like living with an extremely mischievous toddler. She may look sweet and innocent, but belive me that little girl is trouble on four legs. Whatever you are doing, she wants to be part of. Have you ever tried mopping a floor while a kitten hitches a ride on the mop? She chatters away and loves to put her face close to yours and stare. The humans in this household are not the only ones to be besotted by Pru, she has Harry and Merlin under her spell too.

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: DATE: 3:08 AM ----- BODY:

See what I mean?

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: DATE: 2:59 AM ----- BODY:

The eldest of the three by a year or two, this is Merlin, a chocolate Tonkinese. Beautiful isn't he? With his dense velvet fur and gooseberry green eyes. Don't be misled by his apparant elegance and sophistication, Merlin is a tart! This is one cat who is always ready for a cuddle from anyone willing to offer one. He is such a baby, purring and nuzzling and he just has to sleep curled up next to some one.

-------- AUTHOR: Francesca Gray TITLE: DATE: 2:34 AM ----- BODY:

Meet Harry Potter. Although he is not the eldest of my three cats, he does seem to rther like the 'father' role. Much of the time he can be found watching the other two with a kind of patient tolerance or and expression that says 'do you see what I have to put up with?' He has the sweetest, most gentle nature of any creature I have ever owned and has never been known to scratch anyone, even accidently. His secret is that Harry is a big softie. When he decides he wants a love, his chosen victim has no choice but to give in. He nibbles your fingers gently, licks, treads, digs you out from beneath the duvet and head buts so hard you have to check you still have all your teeth! Oh and he doesn't miaow. Only squeaks when he lands.

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