Partners in Learning

Wings of a Butterfly.

Partners in Learning

Wings of a Butterfly.

I wanted to say thank you, too. I have been told many times to think about sharing my work – Particularly thinking about the professions I may consider working in, in the future, and how this may be affected. However, it prompted me to research further into professionals who share their personal thoughts via various art mediums, and platforms such as books, television and social media, to break stigma, and show that mental health does not discriminate. It made me think about those who raise awareness on social media, and I questioned why I was being told to be careful with what I share. 

I recognise the importance of honesty, sharing what so many can relate to. Over the past few years, I began to open to others. I kept some distance for boundaries, but could explain the difficulties I have faced. Having people recognise the difficulties inspired them to find their voice, feel less alone and grateful for the honesty I brought to my social media, and the business I was running at the time. I now feel as though it is more socially acceptable for me to share my work, without the feelings of guilt and betrayal felt from those who had an alternative view on sharing my work. 

Thank you for being that person who inspired me to feel able to share, without the doubt that it will affect my prospective career choices. We are all human and if my work was to have an effect on a career opportunity, it mostly means the job was not right for me. To be able to connect with others on an honest, open and reflective way is, I would say the best way to help them. 

Thank you again for the opportunity to collaborate and I hope it is not too late, given the months which have now passed us by! 

All the best,

Erica 


We often feel inspired by those we can relate to – but often you find the best inspiration when you least expect. For example; When words connect with you in such a way it feels like they’ve crossed your path in another universe.

To be inspired is to feel. It is to be connected, engaged, transfixed.

All my life I have found myself gravitating to those who emit an energy I can’t quite explain. Feeling and seeing the auras around individuals who captivate me in a single moment, are those who make me feel empowered.

Those who inspire, are those who have a greater sense of gratitude. This energy felt from an individual can be so powerful and enlightening, allowing us to transcend our experiences, grasping onto the passion and belief from the inspirational individual. The possibilities feel endless and it creates a feeling of higher self-esteem. Suddenly, we find ourselves caught in a world of imagination, encapsulated by flurries of new information and new ideas. Inspiration is to excel motivation. It provides a boost needed to move forward and explore. There is a focus, leading to a sense of strength and optimism.

I have written for most of my life. Writing poetry and short stories from the early secondary school years, if not before. Throughout my teens, I wrote the thoughts and feelings which scarred my mind and bruised my heart. There was a darkness that was internally suffocating me, and with no idea what was going on, I began to write:

‘When I go mental again, please don’t stop and stare.

Hold me back from the pain inside, which isn’t really there.’

My heart pounded and beat heavily onto my chest cavity. I’d found a release to what lingered inside. With secretly hidden words, I captured each emotion, some often confronting, confusing and irrational. I found myself caught in a world of wonder, delving into the depths of my soul, and writing as if I were somebody else. Writing in a state of dissociation, I was connecting with the vulnerabilities from within, fighting the shadows alone.

Over the years I began to share my writing via artist platforms, as a means of reaching out. Even reading at a conference for Psychological Practice and Quality, back in 2015. This, in particular, provided me with the validation that my words can be heard – That I do have a voice, and mostly that I am real.

Poetry has enabled me to have a voice. When the shadows have me cornered, poetry is my go-to through dissociation and realism. It is a release. It is freedom.

It is a therapeutic tool for exploring difficult subjects or raising awareness of such. It provokes further thought and conversations between individuals. When I was caught unexpected by the Poetic Nursing Heart, I could see how poetry enables us to share what is deeply rooted within us. I found myself in awe of how Tom captivates the world through a different lens, and how his aura connected with my own pathway of creation, belief and hope evanesce within the soul. I felt as though I had been granted a light to ease my way through the darkness. I’m no longer hiding, and more eager to share my poetry because of Tom. Why? Honesty, support and breaking down stigma. We don’t have to fight the demons alone. I’ve just been waiting for the right moment to share my story and expose my shadows. That time is now.

Looking up through the trees
Tending to the chrysalis as the jewel of possibility,
Each thought a new butterfly,
There he is, sat in his meadow under the talking tree,
Opening a small ornate box, the hinges creaking,
Each chrysalis splits and the new form pushes into the new world,
First to emerge awareness, then existence,
Followed by consciousness and becoming,
Wing ink left and drying as the muscle and sinew is stretched out in preparation,
The farmer is simply there,
Looking on agape love and peace,
Watching as each jewel emerges and catches the warming morning sun,
The meadow fills with sweet heat, and summer possibility,
Organic, pure, real and owned,
The skies above the farmer fill with the soft sound of butterfly wings,
He falls back resting against the assurance of the talking tree,
knowing it's done,
Lungs full and heart happy.
This is what he always wanted,
A space of safety for his fragile, beautiful butterflies.