Tired

These are just a few short observations/ poems from 2001, as featured in Hatched Re-Hatched.
However, I still moments in the present time in which I can relate to them, ...  more than I wish to acknowledge. However, the emotion and the wisdom surrounding this has changed. The experience remains raw.
I know I am not alone in this...

Be well my heroes.
Hang in there.
There will be better days.
I promise.

HEAVY WEIGHT 25 January 2001

Confrontations 
with my tired body
Lowering my head
just above
the bowl of porridge
my hand
and spoon
thereby
greatly reducing 
the distance
have to travel 
to my mouth

page from Hatched (re-hatched) by Corina Duyn 2006

WATERSHED
15 March 2001

Nearly in tears  
deciding
if taking a shower 
would be 
a good use
of energy 



DUCK OUT OF WATER 
23 September 2001

Negotiating 
door saddle 
kind of 
tired

Who is pulling the strings?

Yesterday I started working on an abstract for a talk I have been asked to give at the upcoming event: 

 The Broken Puppet:  A Symposium on Puppetry, Disability, and Health.

While writing about puppetry in my life I remembered my first ever puppet, made at the age of 15. And how, while working as a Doll Artist during the 90's, animator Jimmy Murikami approached me to create a series of puppets for an animation film called Ballycardool. Unfortunately this project did not receive the necessary funding and around that time I became seriously ill with M.E.

I remembered making a drawing of a puppet early on in the illness (3 years in) and wondered: Who is the hand that keeps me upright, or leaves my arms hang like useless objects…

Who its pulling the strings? (Corina Duyn 2001)
text in drawing :
A puppet, not a great drawing, but...
the puppets is me with M.E., I have little or no
control over my body. WHO is the hand who
keeps me upright, make me walk, make me
move gracefully, or let me stumble at times,
makes me stand my full length or let me buggle at the
knees, makes the arms move or leave them hang like
useless objects. Who is the hand that has control.
What is the hand that holds the cross and moves 
'my' strings at its will. Can I become the hand
over M.E., have control over me?
Hand, whatever you do, don't drop me
altogether, hold on, but stop
playing tricks...

This drawing- not the greatest ever made, but I can still feel the emotion surrounding it. I felt NOT in control of my body any more. I could stand up one minute, the next I'd be like a dropped bag of potatoes. slumped on the floor or couch and not able to move my limbs. As if the strings were cut. Or the hand that holds the cross of the puppet just let go. 

The hand is the hand of M.E.

Maybe in light of the brilliant movement of the Millions Missing campaign, maybe this hand who holds the cross of those with M.E. is that of the HSE and our Government. They can either hold us up, or leave us slumped on the floor...

Further reading and links

• This puppet drawing is also in Hatched- now available as digital download for €3.99

• Puppets remained a feature in my life and art... Life Outside the Box Puppetery Project

Brian Brain

While tidying my 'office' I found my ZIP drive - a storage device of days gone by - and a few days ago I plugged it into my computer to see if I can retreive the files which are on it. 

A bit of a challnege, but I was able to find a very roundabout way to bring some stories back to life. This is one of them.

Although this account of Brian Brain was written in 2001, I still experience a lot of the same issues…

Saturday 17 nov. 2001 10.40 am

... A thought that came up when I picked up my journal was something R. had said a long time ago.  “I am sabotaging my recovery if I keep going over my limits.”

Very true but what I would like to know is, where does this thought suddenly sprung from? 

Maybe something to do with today's page of Simple Abundance by Sarah Ban Breathnach?

Fair enough the word sabotage is mentioned. There you go, that is how my brain seems to work, it picks up on a word, opens up the drawer containing sabotage and a thought flows out.

I envisage my brain to be like a filing system, full of drawers, containing thoughts, feelings, emotions, memories, whatever.

My system is made of beautiful small old pine drawers, with tiny wooden knobs. The drawers full of index cards. Off course of artistic design.

A little fellow called Brian, is in charge of this amazing library of memories, although he is not always very efficient. Early memories were badly filed and many lost, maybe deliberately? Or perhaps put on the pile to be sorted later.

Unfortunately this little fellow has been badly effected by M.E. too. The heap of ‘to be sorted later ever increasing.

Occasionally some memory is retrieved from the pile by Brian, and I wonder if he is playing tricks with me or if there is something in this specific picture that I need today. I have my doubts...

The big pile of unsorted memories and the disarray of the overall system has left me in pretty embarrassing situations.

The drawers with peoples faces and appropriate names and valuable information is poor, to say the least.

I see a face and Brian starts to run a round like a lunatic opening several drawers, the face says hello. Which means we have met before... more drawers opened.

As I know the difficulty Brian is going through I acknowledge the smile and tell the face, embarrassed, that I see recognition but that is as far as I get.

I get a name. More specific drawers opened, other kicked shut. So bit by bit, with the help from Brian and the face and my acknowledgment of incompetence we arrive at a final conclusion.

Me relieved and a conversation can begin at a reasonable level. Brian sitting down sweats poring of his tiny eyebrows. All of this probably leaves the system in a bigger state of chaos, but for this time I am saved.

I wonder if actions are also part of his department?

During the time my brain was severely affected by this illness I made many funny mistakes, laundry made it several times almost into the fire or the fridge.

Running a bath could have me put the plug in the sink instead of the bath, most of the water run away down the plughole.

Ringing the bell instead of turning on the light.

Fun, thankfully I can see it as fun.

Numbers were very confusing too, I remember reading out my newly acquired phone number to a friend and it was completely different. No reverence what so ever to the actual number.

Word were also a major struggle for about one year. Lists were a vital item as memory failed me all the time. But the word on a shopping or to do list were of a new language: Letters from the second word would appear in the first: windox bowes (window boxes) , or half appeared in Dutch: cauliflower (bloemkool) would appear on paper as bloemflower.

Obviously I only became aware of it when I viewed my list.

Two letters might become one. This still happens when tired. The letter i would also function as the leg of the letter n.

So if Brian is responsible for all of this he is a pretty mixed up sort of fellow, but doing its best to get through the pile of unsorted data, putting everything where it belongs, not a mean task!

Not always comfortable to have this lousy brain but fun all the same.

Lately I found myself in the bathroom, well actually trying to get out of it. The door opening inwards, I opened it with my left hand, but couldn't get out. It took me a considerable amount of time to realize and the to actually act out my thoughts, that I had to move my feet back to open the door a bit further, so I could get out...

Further reading and links

• This story made it into poem form: 'Bird's Nest Soup, page 76, in Hatched- now available as digital download for €3.99

Identity

page from 'Hatched' (re-hatched)

In my book Hatched, which spans the first eight years of living with ME through images and very shorts thoughts- poems- I queried in May 2001, if I was still me?
I am
am I 
still me

Being so ill. Was I still me? What does illness to do your identity.

All these years later I think I can safely say that I am MORE me than I ever was before illness.

An ailing body and all. I am more authentically me.

A broken spirit level

Page from HATCHED re-hatched

This kind of sums up how I feel this morning.
After a few disappointing, bewildering, frustrating emails yesterday.
I spend way too much energy on trying to find my way within it all.
I will find my way in it all.

For today I will focus on finding my balance -
my spirit level
again.

Be well everyone!

(Will most likely tell you about what brought my spirit and energy down, as I think it is an important standpoint - but need to sort it out first with the organization in question)

A treasured letter about my book 'Hatched'

HATCHED is one of the most energetic, generous-hearted, sharp-minded and inspiring books of poems I’ve read for quite a while. No matter what page you open the book I find love of life, an appreciation of life, a vibrant sense of privilege and gratitude...”

From letter by Poet Brendan Kennelly

(... for today a post I had in my 'draft' folder.  I hope to get back to writing later today, or tomorrow morning, after I feel some bit more human after the hospital-birthday gift...)

This is one of those treasured letters I have received about my work.

For years I had been encouraged by librarian Evelyn Cody to write a book about my life with ME. 

I did. 

Hatched was published in 2006.

Evelyn posted a copy to Irish Poet Brendan Kennelly.

This is what she received back.

Brendan has given me permission to use the beautiful words in this letter for the promotion of my book. 

Here it is in full for the first time.
Also in this post, the video that was made about the making of Hatched

Further reading and links

• A few copies of Hatched left, contact me if you would like to buy it €20 
•  Also available as digital download HATCHED Re-Hatched E-Book €3.99

The Artist Way was my greatest tool in learning to live with ME/CFS

I write myself into wellbeing

Nancy Mairs

About four months before I became ill, a friend I told me about this book called The Artist Way by Julia Cameron (1997). I was working as an artist at the time, so didn't really needed to the book to rekindle my creative being. Or to find self-confidence in harnessing my creative talents, or artistic recovery.
But I was intrigued.

The book consists of a twelve week program. There is a introduction each week with thought provoking ideas and brilliant quotes. There are exercises to do at the end of the week. And you have to write Morning Pages (3 pages of longhand in an A4 journal, first thing in the morning), and have Artist Dates with just your good self.

I loved it!
And it helped me immensely with figuring out where I was at in terms of my then relationship. Something I had not expected from an artist book. I can't quite remember if I finished the twelve week course before I became ill. That time is a bit of a blur.

What I DO remember is that when I became able to write again, a year or so into the illness, I picked up this book again.
I was not able to write these long pages every day, but wrote on days when I could, as long as I could. I could not do a lot of the suggestions in the book, but I adapted the course to my ability.
It took me a year or more to do this three month course.
But what harm.
Nobody, but me, was checking in on my progress.

One of the saved diary pages
with 'things' that bring me joy

This book became a Hugely Important Tool to help me figure out not just where I was heading creatively within my new existence - but also where I was heading in this life with illness.

I learned

• How I could make the most of my days
• Who was important in my life
• Who was draining
• Remembered what my interests were as a child: colouring- sitting on a swing..., and how I could do them now?
• What brings joy in my life: watching the birds-  strawberries on my plant- cup of tea in bed - phonecall from a friend - messing with paint- fresh air ... 
• What my strengths were
• What my weaknesses were
• How good I had it. I learn to be grateful for the little things, like a hot water bottle, a roof over my head, support, lovely pottery to have my food on while bed bound ...
• I explored who I was becoming
• I learned to trust who I was becoming- illness and all
• I learned how I loved the act of writing
• I became a writer
• I wrote pages when so ill that all I could do was lie down in bed and write, and write, about what was going on in my body. The writing always ended up about the good things- the birds on the feeder- a friend who might have told me a funny story...
• I filled piles of notebooks. Mountain piles of notebooks (which I burned (most of it) when I moved house in 2008, in the hope that I left ME in my old house and could start life afresh... didn't quite work, but was an interesting excises all the same)
• Some of the writings ended up in a Very Distilled way in my book Hatched
• I became a published author
• I explored my life in a creative way
• I found ways to share my experiences with others through exhibitions, to sharing my story.
• I FOUND ME

The Artist Way by Julia Cameron

This book I think was the most important tool in my healing.
A most unusual source perhaps.
But I will for ever be Grateful to have been handed this book by my friend.

Thank you Julia for writing it. Thank you Elaine for handing it to me. Thank you to all who joined me on this creative journey since those early years.


Further reading and links

• The Artist Way
• Fantasy Folk Artist Dolls I was creating at the time
• Hatched -a creative journey through ME (few copies remaining -contact me or available as digital download HATCHED re-hatched

Resilience of the birds

In light of the storm and heavy rain during the night, 

just a few words today:

an observation from 2004...

SINGING LESSON 3 July 2004

Birds singing 

while hailstones 

are belting down 

on top of them

There must be 

a lesson

in this 

Corina Duyn.  Hatched  2006

goldfinches in my garden © Corina Duyn

Further reading and links

• A few hard copies of Hatched remaining, €20 including postage, contact me if interested
• also available as digital download  as HATCHED re-hatched €3.99
• Tiny book with other wisdom by the birds Flying on Little Wings €5 including postage

Seaside memories

"great day for a walk"

A short blog today
with a memory from Hatched 
now available here as digital download 

The challenges of walking,
I briefly wrote about yesterday,
is of course nothing new.

Life is full of challenges
But also full of beauty.

I am on my way 
to experience a seaweed bath today.
A challenge. But fun.
Part of a ladies day out with the IWA.

Hopefully 
I will be able to climber 
out of the bath again
Needs be 
(most likely) 
with help!

Creativity and me. 2: Egg - the capability of developing into a new individual

EGG: spheroidal reproductive body enclosed in a protective layer,  capable of developing into a new individual

quote from Hatched re-hatched

As I wrote yesterday, Eggs were my theme during the first number of years of illness.

About a year into the illness I woke up one morning and made a drawing of an egg.
I can asure you, l was not in the habit of drawing. And certainly not in the habit of drawing eggs... first thing in the morning.

First Egg. © Corina Duyn 1999

There must have been some notepad beside my bed. Most likely because I had such a bad memory (ME/CFS brain) that I had to write everything down. Every question I might need to ask my home help, or something I might like to eat, or need. Anything. No thought stayed long enough in my brain to make it to the rightful person who could help me.

Anyway. I found myself with a drawing of a cracked egg. The broken piece of shell held by a hand reaching out from the inside.

I had not the foggiest idea why I made this.

So, I decided to look in the dictionary. 

EGG: spheroidal reproductive body enclosed in a protective layer,  

capable of developing into a new individual.

Now THAT I could relate to.
I was stuck in an egg. I needed the protective layer as if anyone sneezed at the end of the street, I would end up in hospital. The protective layer was also my enclosed life. I spend most of my time in bed, or on the couch. I needed, and as given, protection from kind home helps, friends and family. My home and care were my protective layer.
But what I related to most of all was the capable of developing into a new individual.

My life, my existence, was so stripped back to it's absolute minimum that I had the feeling I was starting life all over again. And with that, I had capability to developing into a new individual. A challenge. A possiblity.

Every day I would start afresh again.

Every day I tried to see beyond the fear, the pain, the wish to let me sink into the mattress into oblivion and not have a new day start. But when a new day presented itself to me, I would remind myself that I was given a chance to develop into this, as yet unknown - even to myself, individual.
I presevered.
And grew into what I have become today.
A long journey of eggs, becoming the bird, finding my ground, and now looking to re-emerge to dance in nature.

A footnote for my friends recently diagnosed with ME/CFS 

Off Balance- drawing by Corina Duyn 1999

There were many days where I was completely off balance. 

Like the hardship experienced by friends recently diagnosed with ME/CFS. 

You are in my thoughts 

I am holding you gently.

Stay in your Egg for a little while.
Rest. Rest. Rest. 

Be minded.

Be cared for.

And grow into a beautiful bird.

Corina

links and further reading:

• First chapter: illness and the touchy subject of creativity
• Hatched -a creative journey through ME is now available as digital download for €3.99
• A gallery of my Fantasy Folk Artist Dolls and early work, of which many appear in Hatched, please see HERE
• My book and art shop

Creativity and me. Chapter one: illness and the touchy subject of creativity

Creative Egg ... A Touchy Subject

Making drawings about not wanting to be creative.

'Opa', Artist Doll by Corina Duyn 1997

Many have asked me about my creativity: the background to it all, if I studied art and how it became a tool to explore life with illness. Over the next few weeks, or however long it takes, I will share with you some of the creative moments in my life, which have brought me to where I am today. I doubt that they will be in chronological order... my brain doesn't work like that. 

The thought that came to me this morning was about the Creative Egg, A Touchy Subject.

Before becoming ill in 1998, I was a busy Doll Artist. I supplied shops with small figurative sculptures (see some here). My company was called Fantasy Folk. My work made its way to several countries. I worked on corporate and private commissions, had solo exhibitions, visited trade and other craft fairs. I was busy!

I worked in my studio during the day, as well as running a household, you know, the stuff we all have to do. At night I sit by the fire and do the hand sewing. 

When I first became ill I thought, fair enough, I have been busy, I need some time out. And tried to accept that life had brought me to this Full Stop.  However, during the early weeks or months I did put clay on the table, or set up my sewing machine. But every day My Body won before I could even get started. 

I wrote letters to the people and galleries and shops who were expecting my work and told them I needed a little time off and will get back to them when ready to work again. 

That gave a sense of relief.

I could now focus on getting better.

Quick.

I didn't get better.

I got more, and more ill.

Later in 1998, and early 1999, I started to blame my Art practice- but work I absolutely LOVED - for the reason I had become ill. 

So, any reference made to creativity became a very touchy subject. "When I get better I'd rather work at a butchers (my worst nightmare) than EVER make a living out of being creative again" were my words ...

Creative Egg, a touchy subject

© Corina Duyn, pencil drawing 1999

But my hands made drawings, initially of eggs ...

Egg were my symbol of new life.

And this drawing of an egg with spikes, as in not safe to touch, but with a tap to collect the creative juices for another day, became the turning point. 

Not because I wanted to be creative again, or even accept my creative being. But simply because a dear friend Mary Lincoln, was brave enough to bring to my attention that

 I was making drawings 

about not wanting to be creative...

Point taken.

Case Closed.

Links and further reading:

• Hatched -a creative journey through ME is now available as digital download for €3.99 
• A gallery of my Fantasy Folk Artist Dolls and early work, of which many appear in Hatched, please see HERE
• My book and art shop
• My very last dolls made before becoming ill were for Waterford Crystal