Patricia Parker
AUTHOR

Patricia Parker

Money & Finance
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AN ORDINARY WOMAN I am an ordinary woman. I have been married 43 years next February 2016, to Malcolm, my man. I have lived in the same residence that my husband built for 41 years. I safely delivered 3 children, 1 girl and 2 boys, now hopefully mature and have been presented with 5 grandsons. Because of Bipolar, a sufferer for 23 years. I have experienced the extremes of life with all its joys and sorrows and wrote my poetry accordingly. My wish is to give hope to people who suffer from illness of the heart and mind and body too. I have more than survived. I start my sentences with "I" because that's the way it is. I have been writing since 2004. Slowly at first but I am proud to say that I have published "An Orchid of the Sweetest kind" and have completed several other books, yet unpublished. This is just the beginning. THE CROSS When Christ walked the long last walk Simon of Cyrene helped him on his way. He shared the cross. He wasn't a volunteer. At some stage of our life we are asked to share that load. We can take it on unknowingly, for it can suddenly be there. There is no turning back. You cannot walk away. You have to follow the path. You accept the cross for what it is, mental illness, cancer, disfigurement, the myriad of illnesses and or the death of a loved one. All kinds of burdens lay on the cross. Fear is also a burden, for we are afraid of many things. I have had an illness for some 23 years and through the onset and progression of this, I went to hell and back. I had a light metal crucifix on my lounge room wall and at the height of my illness I ripped it off, tore the body off the cross and threw the body and the cross in the bin. The sight of a man suffering was too much to bear. My husband salvaged it and put it away. Sometime later I sat in my lounge room and looked at the wall where the cross had been. What did I see? The light behind the cross! The paint had faded around the cross. The image of the cross was there. In striving to overcome our burdens we can do one or two things. We can look at our problems in a positive way or we can weigh ourselves down with the labouring of our thoughts and dwell in darkness. I know that mental illness is hell on earth for all who suffer it. You have nowhere to go. Your thoughts are your prison. There are no instant fixes. Suicide comes when it is easier to die than to live. I was a failure at that. Thank goodness. So I extend my thoughts to you in your afflictions and hope that they may be of some value.
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