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Bin / 14 June 2013

Beautiful day outside but today I'm unsettled and irritated. It's half term “hurrah!” It seems everyone is saying but working in early years is only some of the work I do. There's about a million other things I should be doing, that I don't really feel like, the sunshine is  beckoning... my angst and irritation is directed at the heavy broken bin that blocks the gate to the beautiful garden.

The bin has been there for weeks uncollected by the council. It is put in front of the garden gate for ease of parking for support workers and others who don't even live here.

Feelings of anger and frustration whirl up, swirling into a tornado, carried along with my BPD. Everything about the bin is personalised. “Don't these people know they are hurting me, when they put the bin in front of the garden door? Why do they assume  no one here ever uses the garden? These people are HURTING ME!"

Hours later I've moved the bin again and allow my cello to fall in with sounds recorded in the garden. As I play I warmly remember my lovely neighbour and feel sad at her recent news. “Boss told me to go.”  “Boss says I've been here too long”  “Where?” (will I go) she signs. I know from experience perhaps boss is right, perhaps boss is rewriting her tenancy agreement as he speaks, manipulating the facts to fit in with the latest policy.

Despite the sadness I like my little recording. Nothing rehearsed just thinking out loud on the cello. Several times since, when BPD thoughts are dragging me down, I think the thoughts  ARE the bin that blocks the way to the garden and I think how to get past.

Audio Description of sound clip: Slow contemplative electric cello, with sounds recorded from my garden, birds singing and passing cars.