Josie’s poetry persona is “Satellite Head”, which is so suitable because floating in her orbit is a celestial, mindful place to be. Josie wears her soul on her sleeve. Always sharing poetry that is as equally introspective as it is universally understandable. We both have connections to Cornwall, however without the luxury of traveling there for the portrait shoot we settled on the beach on the Thames!
Stepping down onto the pebbles provides a whole new perspective of London. We whiled away our time together chatting about life and how making art is so important in the rise of the robots - Josie recently trained a chatbot that subsequently stole her job. Though I know she’ll be ok because she deeply understands what it means to be human, to create and to care. Traits that AI can never replace.
Her generous gravity pulls you in to listen and to learn. Over to her to share her story, enjoy - Tim Foley, Founder, Write Speak Recover
Please be mindful WSR content can be thematically sensitive.
Josie
I have not always been the confident person those who know me would describe me to be today. There was once a time when words lodged in my throat and caused me to choke on my emotions. Poetry was the only way I knew to process how I was feeling as the world hurtled at me.
The biggest thing I endured was being diagnosed with Perthes disease at the age of five. This where the blood flow to one’s femoral head depletes and the bone breaks down. Perthes disease is so rare that they are still unaware of what causes it. It did pass after about a year, but it left me with oddly shaped bones and arthritis.
Not long after that my parents split up and it was hard not to feel like I'd played some part in it. Life was not so peachy. However, for all the hard times, I’m fortunate enough to have never doubted whether I was loved (even if it’s in their own way that I’ve had to learn to appreciate).
Pile on growing up through the rise of social media and the disgusting standards pushed upon young people and battling a physical disability along with all the side effects that it brings (such as weight gain due to not being active enough) while already battling my brain meant it was so hard to remain positive.
There were a lot of good things that came from the NHS, but also not a lot of actually helpful suggestions. For a long time, I was prescribed a detrimental amount of medication for someone so young. It continuously increased in either amounts or strength every couple of years as my body got used to it. I quickly learnt how to abuse them, either to numb or stockpile to attempt the unthinkable. Simply put, it was hard to see a way out of the prison that was my bed or a way to enjoy life that didn’t lead to painful consequences. During my teenage years I had a lot of therapy; a huge shout out to Great Ormond Street Hospital and CAMHs who both explored alternative remedies and were real lights in the dark.
All this time, however, all that was really talked about was this physical problem I was enduring. Not until I was an adult were my additional mental health concerns considered. Then I realised that I had only used my creativity to express the things I felt were being overlooked. Now, finally, when my hip isn't the main and sometimes, only talking point, I can write about it.
Femoral Head
I wasn’t just a degenerate, see,
My femoral head was degenerated.
The cause a complete mystery,
Apparently not enough of us were debilitated.
Severe enough for a wheelchair,
On and off crutches for near 10 years.
Medication mislabelled as care.
Five tears for each year I had no fear.
Not severe enough for immediate action;
Not at that young anyway, at its worst.
Suppose they were right in one sense,
But no resolution left me craving a hearse.
Flitting either side of the fence,
Never ending nights; no mental respite.
Endless physical rest, thus restless mind;
Struggling speech, only able to indite.
Fighting to know how to be kind.
I know it’s true that hurting people hurt people,
I’m not sure it’s a T-shirt I want to claim.
Many things are like climbing a greased pole,
It’s no excuse to at your loved ones take aim.
Not only at them, but at the whole world;
When the world shows only sheer cruelty,
It can feel right to push karma to unfurl.
Seen from parents as well as their “sweetie”.
Just a child, feeling how the grown can act,
To someone one so young and unaware.
Developing arthritis before puberty, but relax;
You don’t look like anything has a tear?
Until one step too far and I’m writhing,
I’m still hurting but I’m still healing.
I don’t wish any kind of pain on others.
Seeing my brothers tears sparked guilt,
His anguish over my pain, I felt the tilt.
A flap of my wing, the stroke of my knife,
The impact that had on his life.
I swore that day, I’d make it count.
On the writing process
I have written a lot about the world around me or the negativity I have experienced. Most of the time what I am going through doesn’t really make sense to me until I am writing about it. There have also been those inspiring times when I don’t even fully appreciate what I have been through until I hear or read someone else’s take on something similar. I find there is a deep magic amongst artists in this regard and I can only hope to pass this onto those who read or listen to me.
Unfortunately, it is rare for me to have a constant stream of poetry as the words very much find me like 'eureka' moments. There are some very long periods of self-doubt and feeling as though nothing I do will be worth sharing with the world. Contrasted with short bursts of feeling like a mad scientist of literature! A few times I have been in the shower when a flow of words began to form; each time I had to jump out and scream “where’s the pen” before they lost me again. That or in my darkest moments, only being able to try and make some kind of beauty out of the ugliness that swirls in my brain, as well as the world around me.
Favourite poets, poetry nights, books or other resources:
The Romantic era (capital R, please) is way up there in my favourites. Their love of the sublime, battle of good and exploration of nature vs science always sparked my interest.
Wordsworth making it to number one for me. His observations of nature, people and human’s roles in the world portrayed so eloquently has been a big inspiration for me in terms of turning the mundane or unattractive sides of life into pieces of art.
There are too many poets I have met since performing my spoken word to begin to mention them all. Each person I have heard and met have been so brave and insightful, opening up parts of me – some yet undiscovered.
I keep returning to Orbit Brewery and Taproom’s open mic night, as the welcoming energy and acceptance is overwhelming. ETAT (Encouragement Through Art and Talking) are unbelievably eye opening and encouraging. As well as venturing to Cornwall, where I spend half my time, to Bodmin’s Old Library for Bring Your Verses; again, another open mic night that feels like an incredible warm hug for creativity.
Last year, I was fortunate enough to find my person who, along with being musically talented, is a lyrical genius. The creativity, inspiration and belief we ignite in each other is unlike anything I have experienced before. Going so far as to start an indie electronica duo together; combining synths, singing, beats and poetry. Even our band name has a story - Thief Monkey.
Write Speak Recover, in collaboration with TheNeverPress is an open, free collection of original portraits of poets using their art to find strength in their recovery journey from any form of dis-ease.
We invite you to follow Write Speak Recover on Instagram and to reach out to Tim Foley at WSR or us directly at the zine to learn more, or put yourself forward to be featured in this initiative.
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If you need support, here are some resources:
Samaritans
Alcohol Change
Recovery Dharma
Alcoholics Anonymous
Be kind. Stay present. One moment after the next.
This article was put together by Tim Foley, the WSR contributor and Graham Thomas.
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