Gum on My Shoe

By Roiben I write this, looking back over a lifetime of not fitting into boxes. I have a severe hearing loss. I am Type 1 Diabetic. I have a mental illness. I am bisexual. I am many things that do not fit the “norm”. Today though, I want to talk about the thing I probably spend the least time talking about. I am visually impaired. I had cataracts as a baby, which permanently damaged my vision. I am blind in my left eye. It notices change in light and movement — but it can’t tell what is moving. My right eye has some damage to the cones and rods which mean I find it hard to distinguish between certain colours and shades. I also have Astigmatism and, as the right eye is doing all the grunt work, it can get tired easily. I also, thanks to years of Diabetes, have Stage 1 Retinopathy. Ultimately, this means I lack stereoscopic vision — I am not able to judge distance or speed of objects and have no depth perception. I am one of those people who need markers on steps and curbs to get ...

I give myself permission to fully experience whatever comes up during this trip, knowing I am safe .—Martin Baker Fran has been in Mexico for a month, for dental treatment. I kept a journal throughout the trip, and compiled my day-by-day notes into a series of weekly blog posts. This fifth post covers Fran’s final week in the town of Ajijic in the State of Jalisco, on the north shore of Lake Chapala. Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five Our Mexican Adventure, Part Five: It’s What We Do Wednesday, February 14, 2018, 7:30 a.m. UK time Yesterday (Tuesday) was Shrove Tuesday here in the UK, and Mardi Gras Carnival in Mexico. Fran went out in Ajijic and found a great spot to watch the parade and festivities. She talked with local folk, including the children of one family who were sitting close by. It wasn’t a situation Fran feels comfortable in (“I hate parades. I hate crowds. But this is as close as I’ll get to Mardi Gras.”) but she wanted the experi...

I give myself permission to fully experience whatever comes up during this trip, knowing I am safe .—Martin Baker Fran is in Mexico right now for dental treatment. I am keeping a journal throughout the trip, and compiling my day-by-day notes into a series of weekly blog posts. This post covers Fran’s third week in the town of Ajijic in the State of Jalisco, on the north shore of Lake Chapala. Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five Our Mexican Adventure, Part Four: Far in Miles, Close in Heart and Care Wednesday, February 7, 2018, 7:30 a.m. UK time Fran still has a bandaid across her nose from the fall she took the other day, but her other injuries seem much healed. Mood-wise, she also appears less drained/down, which bodes well for today, when she has her first dental appointment. Fingers crossed that goes smoothly. We had two calls yesterday (Tuesday). The first was sitting on a bench down by the lake; the second as she packed for her move to ...

I give myself permission to fully experience whatever comes up during this trip, knowing I am safe. —Martin Baker Fran is in Mexico right now for dental treatment. I am keeping a journal throughout the trip, and compiling my day-by-day notes into a series of weekly blog posts. This post covers Fran’s second week in the town of Ajijic in the State of Jalisco, on the north shore of Lake Chapala. Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five Our Mexican Adventure, Part Three: “Did We Just Buy a Condo?” Wednesday, January 31, 7:30 a.m. UK time Fran and I had a brilliant Skype video call yesterday (Tuesday) at a café called Black and White in the Plaza. Fran propped her phone up on the table so I could see what was going on while we talked. It wasn’t too busy and no one took the slightest notice. We were careful not to have the volume up too high. After a while, Fran saw someone she knew and called her over: a lovely lady called Paula from “the other Portland”...

Check out our top posts for the past month. Posts are listed by number of page views, most popular first. Discussing Suicide, by Roiben Our Mexican Adventure, Part One: “I Got My Crew” Six Things I’d Have Quite Liked to Do in 2017—How Did I Get On? Two Poems by Kenneth J Cody Bombogenesis: Some Things You Just Can’t Plan For! OCD Makes My Life Hard Our Mexican Adventure, Part Two: “Well, the Good Thing Is…” Seven Things I'd Quite Like to Do in 2018 What If We Treated Problems with Our Bodies and Minds Like We Treat Our Tech? Informal Admission and Being Sectioned: Seeing Life in a Psychiatric Unit from Both Sides, by Soph Hopkins Our most visited pages were: Resources Contact Us News and Appearances Our book: High Tide Low Tide About Us Testimonials  

I give myself permission to fully experience whatever comes up during this trip, knowing I am safe. —Martin Baker As I described in part one of this series , Fran is in Mexico right now. I am keeping a journal throughout the trip, and compiling my day-by-day notes into a series of weekly blog posts. This post covers Fran’s first week in the town of Ajijic in the State of Jalisco, on the north shore of Lake Chapala. Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five Our Mexican Adventure, Part Two: “Well, the Good Thing Is…” Wednesday, January 24, 7:35 a.m. UK time I had a nice call with Fran yesterday (Tuesday). She’d slept better (the first night she’d woken freezing cold and had to put on extra layers) and sounded calm. She was glad she’d decided to stay in and rest the night before. The call set us both up for the day. Fran went out for brunch in Guadalajara yesterday, checked out from Hotel Frances at noon and then caught her ride to Ajijic (“Hola, Enri...

City of Sadness My life is sealed by two distinct black walls, An interstate of racing thoughts, Scattered throughout a city of morbid ruin. Suicidal cells circulating, Polluting the air of this decomposing surrounding, Tearing holes in each brain wave. There are many doors painting the walls, Each an opening to a hidden reality. On each door protrudes an industrial strength lock, Designed to protect oneself from eternal sadness. In a constant war with the one who holds the Key, Whose power so strong, Can open every door, Creating a lowness of absorbing disease. A growing desperation to be free, To cut all power, By destroying the one who holds the Key, Manic Depression. Whenever presented with an unlocked door, Shadowed memories of utter discomfort become visible. Revealing an empty bed maintained by a broken heart. Soon all other memories begin to surface, Like tiny thorns imbedded into my brain. A bottle of empty pills, Unprotected intercourse, An abort...