About Alexis Behrend
Mother, author, lover, poet, educator, escapee. Obsessed with finding ease in relationships, health, wellbeing, and the juggling of life.
Times are tough and getting tougher. I’ve been through hell and learned a lot about coping and managing to get through the day keeping relationships healthy and business bountiful. I’m going to share that with you.
Come into the garden, he says
Come into the garden!
Just don’t start talking bout clouds ’n shit!
You know I can’t ever stand for it!
You know nothing bout work ’n money you tit!
Life’s not all about play!
It’s the last of the summer sun, he says
It’s the last of the summer sun!
We sit in electric silence,
We sit with him stroking my thigh
I’m starting to feel a bit better.
Though there’s not
in the sky
You Left Something
I woke to see the last of your hell fury leave our bed,
Shroud telltales limp, your mast broke free and fire wired, seethe sore red
Hoved into view. It gathered crew strung out o’er far past land
The lost, the last, the straggling stung bound up in one last stand.
Bent in and up and over you I scoured the sheets for cover
From shrapnel scorching, pelted by the remnants of a ‘lover’?
Whose late mates fixed in terror reign, beat deaf and mute retreat
And slithering aft, slunk to the floor a mercenary fleet replete.
I woke to find my tethers cracked, raw nerves new frozen blind
My token freedom feels untracked, its cliff edge ill-defined.
Rude and blue this wonderment, it crackles, nay, its scars,
The tarred tossed out to outer space, our feathers fear the stars!
Flight or fall? The winched may stall when nearly reaching heaven
Paradise, a known disguise for the devil’s screeching brethren.
It’s faith you need, a fateful steed when you claim your toil and trouble,
To plough and sift for fertile seed, the blood-fed soil of rubble.
I’ll stroke myself back off to sleep, I’ll stoke alone my dream
My true course plot, freed from the rot of deviance extreme.
Soft comfort’s best that lets us rest and cool a skin wrong bloomed
In firelight, tall flames harsh bright, our budding spark consumed,
A firefly fooled, a heart o’er ruled, a white flag charred to cinders
Can soar refreshed from safe crow’s nest built to withstand such winters.
Lakshmi’s Love Shack
My ex-husband kept referring to him as a gardener during the divorce. I’ll have you know, he was so much more. A Landscape Visioneer he was, and he certainly changed mine! Lakshmi-Love, wherever you are now, I will always thank you for opening my eyes.
It all started one dreary Sunday in 2011. I was sat on our bed after a late morning shower examining my breasts…
This week is Maternal Mental Health Week in the UK and my thoughts were turned to the mental health of the children of narcissists and so I started a new series, Is Your Mother a Narcissist?
In Part 1 I cover patterns of behaviour you may recognise. By labelling them, (‘naming the devil’) we can still love and help her but we can start finding ways to release ourselves from the detrimental effects of her abuse and share the knowledge of the patterns with family members for mutual support, knowing that we are not alone. She is not all-powerful and always right, she is just a sad woman who misses out on the best things in life, that we can manage if we want to.
If you’re new to understanding narcissism you may want to try working the glossary we’re creating, starting with: