The Birds, the Bees, The Butterflies

I closed my eyes, glass of wine in hand. I've maybe had a little too much and I don't mind.

I'm lying on a bed upside down and there's a boy sitting cross-legged on the floor playing with the ends of my hair. We're talking shit. You know that gorgeous pointless conversation when you're falling inside something. We got Nag Champa in the burner and it's gooood... we got some random track playing in the background, don't ask me what, I'm listening to him talk crap :)

He's wearing this white long sleeved shirt (the crinkled cool type) and some religious beads neither of us believe in but he looks sharp, new jeans and he smells good. Jeans over chunky shoes makes him look like a cartoon from the ankles down. Anime feet...

Not like this when we met. I can't speak to boys dude, I can't speak to HIM. Bouncing words off pub walls hoping some might meet in the middle and make some kind of sense. I directed him to my friend (cos she's like um hot and interesting and I'm um well...me). Ridiculousness inside shyness inside a little touch of crazy. Courage of the Dutch effect, slamming tequila and asking for a cigarette, he smoked too, so we kissed...a lot...and got kicked out of the pub for kissing a lot. Meandering "home" hiding in doorways, him stealing my breath every few steps and me letting him because he was slightly weird and I dug it...

...and he was sitting there, the top of my upside down head touching his right way up browline, hair to eyebrow, and he has my hair in his fingers, turning it over and over fashioning dreds talking to me about his dreams. He's going to be an artist, do graphic design, be successful and smile a lot. I grin because dreams are what make me spin constantly. Dreaming then forging, laying the plans and finally realising, getting, doing,, pinnacle, height...'cept I'll find out in a couple o' years that every moment is actually part of the dream and not the lead up to it x

Criss-cross sunstreams through our doorway shaping a design on our wall and sunkissed snoring creatures lay sublimely around. Newtown cafe mocha sits steaming by the TV (mine, he got it) and etchings on the side of the couch (his, I love them). The microwave beeps and I jump up to retrieve some croissants. I bought butter and strawberry jam because mum and me had special moments over one and the same when I was 11 and confused...now I'm eating the same food and nonethewiser about life. "cept it's a bit blissful right now...

We have a terrible house, a non existent kitchen and an outhouse for a bathroom but honey we have one hell of a Jacaranda tree at the bottom of our long cottage garden, one which should have a swing in it and sheds purple blankets in Autumn. We got fairy lights all around, best hippies on the block and we believe in "faeries" (he says he likes how I spell that). And we LOVE intensely...

We LOVE because life is hard and without the hair spinning and the heart racing and the cross legged longing stares 'twouldn't be as magical....

then how come it is...

I said to you hey I'm sitting with a glass of wine and I may have had a little too much...memories come melting back...and I don't mind...

I dream of love in it's infancy, I had it, 'twas sublime and imperfect and poor but perfect all at the same time x

Cider & Cats, Beverley Kills

I got knocked out by a soay sheep once, they have horns...here's a pic

I fell backwards into the arms of one of the other crazy "bitches" (in 'the hood' sense ladies, don't take it the wrong way) who ran around all day after rather medium to large animals. Sheep, pigs, horses, goats, you name it, we catapulted over fencing and got hurt allll the time :) 'twas a right of passage.
To be one of the four of us was an honour, this was no ordinary job and I LOVED it.
We worked at an animal shelter on the "Field Section".

For me "Field Section" is almost like a famous phrase in my mind. I expect people when I tell them to nod in recognition, "oh the FIELD SECTION, wow...amazing! So you're the girls who did five bar gate flips and restled with llamas? I know you!" chortle chortle, seriously, best job in the whole world.

So I was laying on the floor, a football sized bump on my noggin and my  nearest amigo peers at it, reels back in horror, hand clasped over her mouth and then calmly says "it' not that bad". Oh you jest lady! I could make another head if I had a marker pen!

Hospital was rather laughable, my boss (also my bestie) came with and we were attended to by a bit of a dish if you will. Upon being asked by the dishy doctor what happened I very much enjoyed saying "I got hit in the head by a sheep", he asked three times (obviously, having severe concussion makes one delirious enough to conjure a sheep up), we left with "is the sheep ok?" pahahaha, haven't heard that one before...ringing in my broken head. The sheep was ok.

It's a time in my life I'll never forget. I had three amazing girls to work with and we are all still in touch ten years on. That kind of environment where you're together all day long going through animal welfare triumphs and losses, hugging when it goes well, crying together when there's nothing to be done, well it makes for incomparable bonds. I am a lucky lucky girl to have had that in my life, it really has affected all the rest of what makes me "Carla Bird", one of the amigos even gave me the nickname "Bird" and I use it for everything. Hats off Nikki Bird, Leanne Bird and Sarah Bird x

One such person who I know "gets" this nimal welfare thing is a girl called Juliette (Jules) and she still works in the "Cat Section". I don't know her very well but we used to chat randomly and she's a gorgeous soul with a huge heart. She recently signed up for Twitter and ever so shakily ( a bit Bambi-esque) is tweeting under her band's drumming name. She's the drummer for Beverley Kills, a four piece punk band, all chicks and all "rockin' out" quite nicely thank you! You'll find their album cover artwork in "Polaroids" and their video in "Music Box". I especially like the way they began, two gals drunk on cider talking about their "dream" of starting a punk rock band, then quite quickly graduating to three cider drunk gals putting the ideas down on paper (man I wish I coulda been a fly ont wall in that room, I can imagine raucous cider ramblings and arm wrestling) and then finally just  going ahead and making it happen, well dudes you did it!

If anyone is sitting on their jacks "thinking" about it, what the hell are you waiting for? Take some inspiration from these four and do what makes you punkhappy.

Let's face it, cider has to be the drink of choice if you're gonna be punking out. A good mate of mine used to drink cider and black (blackcurrant cordial), classy Tabby, real classy. There will be a blog about her one day, gothic punky  17 year old I used to watch "The Crow" with on loop :-) ...another story...


Miss J, thanks for making me recall a magical time in my life. You're a dedicated lady both inside animal welfare and musically and I know you girls have got quite a following over there in Cambridge. I tip my cap and raise my double chocolate stout to you:

Jules, Georgie, Elisa and Kate who together make up BEVERLEY KILLS, and of course...CIDER AND CATS x

"Need you all the time" - Beverley Kills

LOVEbird xxx 

Love is beautiful even at the end

There was a glass in the sink, it was a shabby kitchen and my dogs were unhappy. There was this unsettled air about this place. We lived right under the flight path and when planes went overhead it knocked the TV signal out and made my windows rattle...

He was out again....up the pub...it was hurting all the time..."Please God make me a bird so I can fly far far far away from here".

It wasn't always like this. We had a fairytale, we lounged on the floor collapsed in heaps kissing til we couldn't breathe, stared at each other like no one else was alive in the world, amazingly I kept breathing when it went away. From a time where we sprinted home from all corners of the beautiful city to be inside each others arms to now....we barely met in the hall.

I left one day. I slashed my finger (my left index) open on the glass in the sink, the unhappy dogs attending to me and otherwise alone in the cold house, I should say coldhouse (like poorhouse, one word). I rang him and he was concerned through his haze of not loving me anymore but he didn't come, then I left because if someone doesn't come when you need stitches it's time to go isn't it...

So I left the coldhouse, took my three doting creatures, they need recognition now hey :) This is them:

I flew directly into the sun and I have this rising feeling in my tummy, it goes up through my chest and rib cage, makes my arms warm, into my neck, turns my ears a cherry colour and reaches my mouth where I can feel a smile happen involuntarily (aren't they the best most  happy smiles?) when I go back and think about the day I flew away.

Then most sensationally and most importantly the creatures were sublimely happy, flight, light and peace.

There's a soundtrack to everyone's lives, we go from A to B listening to track after track, walking through Coles to Carly Rae Jepson or dancing unco to One Direction pumping from a 7/11 at 2am in the city ( I think she may have had too much Vino la').

Many songs get me and I get them, when that happens there's like this chemical explosion in my inner workings, I attach meaning and I shout along to chorus's in my car with my window fully open, blind exhibitionist I really truly am. Painful memories but triumphant outcomes. Wondering why someone isn't hurting in their heart as much as you are. You can lie in a bed 20 miles away but your arm is on their pillow and you can hear their breathing in your dreams.

The first night time of my flight to the calm that is now my world I lay in the dark watching him breathing, his chest moving up and down and I stroked his head when he had yet another nightmare...I talked to him as usual telling him everything was peachy and he was safe and loved....and then I woke up alone with my three creatures snoring at my feet.

My many songs in my life soundtrack are entirely necessary to my happiness and brain balance. I hope nobody ever takes my ears away...

I will be listening to songs in my treehouse between or whilst blogging, I'll dance around the kitchen making chai and honey and hearty vege soup and I'll remember where I came from and what has led me to the stunning place I'm at now - Proud, loved, emotionally aware, sensitive and full of heart. Songs I love bring all of those things in and makes it easy to sway in the sunshine.

There's so much life to gain from going through pain in your heart. If you can bear it you can see the soul attached to that almost breaking feeling.

Because love is beautiful even at the end.

the devil and the Angel, my OCD by Birdly xxx

I read an article prompted by a nice gent on Twitter. Predominantly about depression it briefly sighted sufferance of OCD. I loved the article. For just one second I felt mortified that I hadn't put words to the horror story in MY head.

It's been named "The Secret Illness" because oftentimes people who suffer  with it are ashamed. The version which will be utmost in your mind right now is the physical washing of hands, the turning light switches on and off, the "don't step on a crack" version.

I look at this in three stages:
1. Obsessive thought - My hands are dirty
2. Compulsion  to relieve obsession - Washing of hands a monitored number of times
3. Relief

However, my OCD works like this:
1. Obsessive thought which is so entirely repugnant I cannot go to 2.
2. the Compulsion is out of the question
3. No relief, I have to work through the high level anxiety until it subsides, this can take hours, days or weeks.

Doctors say that serotonin which gives us rationale is low in OCD patients, therefore the irrational suddenly becomes plausible. You KNOW it isn't real but your little devil on the shoulder in your mind is jumping up and down playing trampoline with your poor head. This is entirely exhausting.

I remember the exact moment when I first met the devil. I will not be giving devil a capital letter, he is unworthy, unloved and I like to poke and laugh at him wherever possible. I was sitting at my desk at work and a colleague had brought his children in to say hello. I was chatting and smiling at the kids, laughing at the cute-ness feeling like me, feeling normal, ha "normal", when a fleeting thought passed through my brain and got entirely stuck.

Stuck stuck, huh why is it not passing through?
It's not going anywhere, no it's not real tho, is it? It's not, is it??
Oh God is it??....repeat repeat repeat repeat repeat repeat repeat......
oh god I can't let it go, oh god oh god oh god,
what's happening to me? What's WRONG with me? Please stop , just stop, PLEASE.

I ran outside and leaned over a railing breathing in panicked gasps trying to get some air, gulping and pleading with my own head to stop, stop, I'll do anything if you just go away...but the little devil was just getting started...jumping up and down playing with my head, twanging all the unwelcome chords. Creating darkness so entirely absolute that I very quickly got shrowded in a heavy blanket of nausea which had no conclusion to it. No end in sight. Blind panic in the dark.

You can't run from yourself little Carla, you're a HORRIBLE PERSON. A silent scream from deep inside me as my worst fears were confirmed : You are not worthy of anything ever.

10 years ago this month of May was the most terrifying day of my life and whilst writing right now I still dissolve into frightened tears.

The reason it was so entirely terrifying is because I did not understand it, I had not heard of it and emotionally I liken it now to being punched in the face over and over. You try and reason with the bully but get nowhere and every time you manage to get on your feet, you get smashed again.

I was admitted to a psyche ward. I was 23. I hadn't slept for days, waves of anxiety causing me to shake intermittently. I sat peering through tired red eyes and unbrushed long blonde hair at the receptionist. A totally unwilling patient more frightened of herself than the unfamilar surroundings.  An Angel (capital letter) sat by my side and didn't waver, my fiance at the time. I kept telling him to leave me there as he should find someone more worthy of his pureness of heart, I wasn't the 'good one' we both thought, I had discovered the real me and she wasn't good. He never listened once.

They gave me anti-psychotics then, moreso to give me a rest from my own head. I was an in-patient for 3 weeks and in that time I began to learn about my illness, the more I learned, the more I understood and the more I understood the less I panicked. I have a beautiful story about the first time I went back out into the "real world". My brother flew into Sydney from Melbourne so he could cuddle his "ickle sis" and reassure my mum and dad and my other brother in the UK that I was fighting the good fight. He walked into my room and I absolutely broke my heart because he immediately triggered my OCD and it was like someone stuck a knife in my stomach. The pain of a loved one having that effect on you is excruciating. I learnt that day to LET IT BE, you have to let it wash over you because trying to control or stop it will take you to a whole other level of panic. "Let it be", the Beatles song helps too :)

Well my beautiful story takes place in a restaurant not far from the hospital. Me and my brother and fiance went for dinner. As I was tea total I was ordered an apple and mint juice, absolutely delicious and still my R & R drink of choice. We ordered food and my brother declared we should celebrate the fact that I wasn't completely mad, just slightly. He ordered a pitcher of water and three glasses and there at the long table, with our noodles, juice and beer for the boys, we three, directed by my gorgeous brother, did celebratory "water shots", I laughed my lil arse off for the first time in weeks :-D. I want to thank you Simon for giving me a memory which serves me well whenever I go through bad spells. You will never fully comprehend how much I love and look up to you. I think I only began true recovery after that meal.
Whilst hospitalised briefly and on meds also briefly, I think the understanding of this "anxiety disorder" is key to living with it. I say living with it as I have it every single day but am able to let the thoughts be there without having a panic attack ( I am medication free). The way I do this is to depict these thoughts as a small gremlin (devil) sitting on my shoulder trying to trick me and i sometimes even tell him to Fuck off. Hey if it helps, do it.
I also remember that all of these thoughts which I find so abhorent are abhorent to me because I am GOOD, I'm a fabulous person, I LOVE LAUGH, LIVE every day and I will not apologise to anyone for who I am. Slowly does it, if you have the "secret illness" you may not believe this now but you will x

For the Joe Bloggs on the street reading this and asking what I'm on about, what thoughts? Why isn't she explaining? I won't be typing up the thought topics, they are dark and disturbing and no one needs them in their heads. They are simply a product of low serotonin and lack of self confidence and in my case have been there since childhood,( I believe I was 3 when I first showed symptoms but the shit didn't hit the fan until 20 years later). However, to give you an idea, think of the worst thing you can think of yourself...then make it seem plausible and start believing it.

So to help all those who suffer silently,those who walk calmly out of offices to gasp and panic alone in the ladies loo, sit on buses wanting to scream but remain composed until home, then dissolve onto the kitchen floor in tears, those who don't go to work for fear of triggering symptoms and those who cannot read, watch TV or listen to the lyrics of a song in case their devil grasps a word and won't let it go. Vice like grip innit...

-If you have not sought medical advice please do so
- Don't run from your own head, it's attached to your neck and therefore always with you
- Don't believe the devil, he's fucking with you
- Go jogging, swimming, cycling, exercise is the best medicine and if you don't "feel like it", suck it up and go anyway
- You are what you eat - I know it is a cliche but this is true. If you eat greasy foods, you will feel yuck and that will directly transfer to your self-esteem and give the devil strength he doesn't deserve
-SEPARATE YOURSELF FROM THE DEVIL, HE IS NOT YOU!
- Read your symptoms in PRINT, get an OCD book, seeing it there on paper is such a relief! You are most certainly not nasty, you are good which is why you feel so ill.
- Maintain your moral code. Don't dissuade from it if you can because your ethics will keep the OCD in check. if you believe you are a forthright person your OCD has nothing to work with
- Alcohol is a depressant, yes Carla we know! Well just sayin...use yer noodle...if you feel less than ordinary you probably need to be stayin' away from the bar...x

LOVEbird xxx
p.s. You are IN and ARE the light, the darkness is jus tryin' to get all up in yo' face and steal your MOJO :)