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Gardening time / 19 April 2013

I'm feeling alive and no more on the shelf, not dealing with life, not aware of my health. I've stopped taking my meds and I've started to climb, and my mind has come back, it allows me to rhyme.

The voices are there but I learn to ignore, not getting involved or attempting to store. Distraction's the key, planting new seeds that grow, nurturing my health in my garden I sow.

Pulling weeds from the bed, adding water and sun, growing colour and life ... a small flower's begun. It's important I find as I focus on this, the small things important, the rest I don't miss.

I feel more at ease as I find my own mind, not sitting and twitching, angry voices unkind. When I now hear their whisper, the direction I change, in my garden the voices I hear are not strange. They say it's a demon that speaks in my head, the instructions all garbled as they fill me with dread. But I hear conversations, some are real, some are not, 'though I try not to listen, 'cause I then lose the plot. I tell myself stop, that it's all in the mind, but what's real and what's not start to get more entwined.

So it's back to my garden, with my family around, not listening to voices that can make me unsound. Dig out the anger and rake up the weeds, show the kids how to water and nourish the seeds. So I'm steady for now, and let's hope that it stays ...

I'll try writing some more in a couple of days.