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The.Divergent.Lens, Doncaster (2026)

24/01/2024

I did it!

I just threw caution to the wind, trusted my gut (not allowing negative energy to infiltrate my mind) and signed up to training to become a facilitator in a model of healing therapy I am completely taken with!

Yes, I have committed a hefty chunk of my (currently minimal) monthly income to it. Yes, I have been impulsive and not sought advice from those who know me. Yes, I perhaps ought to wonder what the hell I just did.

BUT

The truth of the matter is I COMMITTED TO MYSELF. I COMMITTED TO MY FAMILY AND TO REBUILDING BROKEN RELATIONSHIPS AND FORMING NEW ONES. I COMMITTED TO BUILDING A WONDERFUL LIFE FOR MYSELF, MY LOVED ONES AND ALL THOSE WHO DESERVE TO BE UNSHACKLED FROM THEIR SELF-LIMITING BELIEFS.

💜💜 I COMMITTED FULLY TO BECOMING THE LIMITLESS, UNSTOPPABLE, GLORIOUS FUTURE ME FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER! 💜💜

Am I scared? Not one bloody bit!!!

24/01/2024

Let's talk about the power of music!

We all appreciate a good song or instrumental, don't we?

If I've not 'got my ears in' (full whack volume, likely damaging to the eardrum but hey, music 🤷) whilst I'm walking down the street with a big smile on my face and hoping my mouthing the words and feeling every beat isn't actually resulting in audible caterwauling, I'll either be singing to myself at home or with others in rehearsals for my latest show. At the very least I'll be appreciating (though at times trying to ignore) the everchanging playlist in my mind.

Music is integral to my very being.

We associate certain pieces of music with particular memories. We become uplifted, wallow in self-pity, seek -and gain- inspiration, swim in happy nostalgia, and heal (or indulge in) our raw broken-heartedness, all because of something which started out as a few inky dots or hurriedly-scrawled words on a piece of paper.

But if we're lucky every now and again a piece of music, be it a concerto, power ballad or clubland classic, will have us see something new within ourselves or bring about major realisations regarding our own lives.

These become our personal anthems.

Four years ago almost to the day, and during a period of feeling profoundly lost, a song I had heard many times before played through my earphones whilst I was out on one of my then-frequent walks. But for the first time ever, I listened to the lyrics and I heard. I really HEARD.

I knew The Universe was trying to guide me by giving me a huge message and realised that her previous attempts through little hints and nudges had been met with resistance, so she shoved me towards the light in the way she knew would work best at that time- song.

That track was She Used To Be Mine from the musical Waitress and I knew in an instant it was to become my first ever personal anthem. And it spurred me on to really taking stock of my life, of who I was in that moment and in the past, and who I wanted to be in the future. I made huge decisions there and then which I knew were wholly necessary but yet which, inevitably, would impact others. And they did. In countless ways and certainly not all good.

Over the following four years life threw countless curveballs my way and what had been my anthem gradually became less of a call to action and eventually found itself relegated to being just another song in my playlist, albeit one for which I held gratitude and affection for the role it had played in my life story.

I didn't need it to be my anthem any more.

Recently I have been undergoing a huge spiritual awakening and personal transformation. I have begun to connect so many dots as to why I am who I am, and the realisations I have had so far have massively altered- for the better- my perception of self.

I am truly beginning to love all that I am and feel excited for all I can (and will) be in the future.

Today, windswept and soul-cleansed, I walked down the street with the volume up full pelt on my shuffled playlist and a song I really liked from the moment I first heard it began to play.

And I listened. And I heard.

What I had once hummed along to and considered a tribute from a man to the person he loved had become something else.

It had become my love song to myself.

I am not merely a simple song, I am a symphony.

We all are.

And we all deserve to find ourselves in a place where we feel safe to play that symphony loudly, proudly and purposefully. We should carry it confidently , unashamedly and unapologetically in every cell of our being, in every beat of our heart.

Always.

This is me. Andrea, The Divergent Lens. I am finding my feet, my purpose, my happy, my peace and my voice. I am healing. I am growing.

This is my anthem.

I hope you found yours.

💜

https://youtu.be/fQ50-gSAWGg?si=6TDqFHRL277AWOoW

Music credit: Cody Fry

24/01/2024

One aspect of my neurodivergent traits is my tendency to focus (and oftentimes fixate) on details as they present themselves to me, be that within a scene or indeed a scenario.

I have lost count of the number of times people have become frustrated with my difficulties in seeing 'the bigger picture' and in response I used to feel a tad dejected, rejected, and frustrated with myself for neither meeting expectation nor feeling like I could do anything to correct this 'fault' in me.

I think it was really only when I was first exploring the possibility that I may be autistic that I began to feel more comfortable with not being able to see the wood for the trees as it were, and my ASD diagnosis last year cemented that acceptance.

At that time I had a partner who was not only incredibly, pricelessly supportive throughout my journey of discovering my neurotype, but also never failed to praise (and promote) my creativity and artistic capabilities. My ability to notice patterns, intricacies and curiosities everywhere I went, and my capacity for feeling awe, joy and gratitude at the little gifts which presented themselves to me fascinated him.

But it's not just a comfortable acceptance I hold because that would suggest there's some degree of me which sees the detail focus as a flaw.

It had been shown to me in no uncertain terms that, whilst there would certainly be benefits if I was able to easily assess the 'whole', my noticing detail was a positive, worthy trait.

It is not a flaw, it is a strength.

A really beautiful, exciting strength which feeds into my creativity and for which I am now both extremely proud and utterly grateful.

I don't mind not being great at seeing the wood for the trees because that means I get to notice the lichen on the bark of the magnificent oak, the newly emerging amanita muscaria hiding away at the base of the pine, the myriad colours in the beech as the seasons turn, the speckled shadows dancing as the birch sways in the breeze, and the woodlouse scurrying over the roots of the sweet chestnut...

Why would I ever want to miss any of those things?

Give me the trees over the woods any day.

I have been gifted the capacity for focus and fixation, and as such I find amazing gifts before my eyes every day.

This morning was no different. The stormy weather as I headed out to work brought with it the songful whistling and dancing of the telegraph wires as they whipped around in the wind. And that made my soul sing.

And so, with the air circling with force and blowing away the last remnants of slumber, I turned the corner on to the next street with a smile. And there before me was one of those details which I am thankful for noticing- straw had fallen from its bale into a puddle and it had been transformed from a state of soggy disarray in to a wonderful semi-regimented pattern, like a host of grassy runners ushered to the start line about to set off on some marathon race.

Okay, so the photo was taken in haste and perhaps that means it doesn't show quite what I saw. But I saw it, I enjoyed it and I am grateful for it 💜

06/12/2023

THIS is why I don't give a s**t who might pass by and wonder who that weirdo is who's taking photos of discarded gloves, spilled paint or any other random object or scrawl...

There is a world of art, wonder and beauty all around us. And it is free for the taking.

It's easy to spot, you simply have to WANT to see what is before you.

It matters not one iota if nobody shares your appreciation for what your eyes see and your heart feels- if your imagination and creativity pleases you alone, it is still a work of art.

Perception is everything 💜

06/12/2023

I have been quiet.

I have been busy doing little other than finding my feet and enjoying life.

I am back...

💜

29/09/2023

Tbf I didn't get beyond the word 'squirrels', as I got distracted by the memory of having been distracted by squirrels today and yesterday, so... 🤷🐿️🐿️🐿️

28/09/2023

SYCAMORE SOLILOQUY

Inspiring creation in the hearts of a nation-
Memorial, monument, muse-
There she stood, strong and proud under rainbows and cloud
Against backdrops of greens, greys and blues.

Bold, brave, battle-torn; wild, weathered and worn
That lone soldier guarding the wall,
Rooted deep in the land with outstretched hand
Lest the visiting pilgrim should fall.

The betrothed, the betrayed, the dreamer, the dismayed,
Their promises, their joy and their grief.
Those memory-makers, those lovers, those fakers
All found peace under sycamore leaf.

Then terrain bastardisation, her brutalisation,
Forever erased from the map.
No counsel, no warning- with morning came mourning...
Broken hearts bore a sycamore gap.

( The.Divergent.Lens 2023 )

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜 🌳 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

(Photo credit: Elements Photography who spent countless hours in the presence of this arboreal icon. I know the loss cuts deep, Lee xx)

05/09/2023

PHONE CALLS :

I hate them.

Receiving them and making them, especially those with services or official bodies. I hate them. And yes I know I said that twice, but the difficulty is real. I find them highly uncomfortable and utterly exhausting.

The dread of knowing a call needs to take place.

The anxiety of being kept on hold (and the muzak. Oh god, the muzak!) or the frustration of seemingly endless ringing out before a human or machine kicks in at the other end.

The physical discomfort of the auditory input when even the minimum volume setting seems deafening.

The challenges with processing information when there is only the auditory without the back up of the visual.

The difficulties of being able to explain myself, of being understood and trying to ensure clarity without repetition, waffling or digressing.

Knowing when to speak and when to keep quiet... Missing cues, interrupting and failing miserably.

Questions... Questions being asked and needing answers without adequate time to process and formulate. Finding the right words and pitching them at a volume which the other person can hear clearly enough.

And let's not even mention language barriers!

Increased heart rate, nausea, headache, fatigue and tears. Oh so often the tears.

Phone calls. I hate them.

30/08/2023

RELEASE :

At a recent session with my counsellor we discussed progress to date. How was I feeling? What was the state of my mental health compared to at week one of therapy? Did I feel our sessions were helping at all? You get the gist.

My responses were all positive and the reasoning quite simple...
.. release

During our second session I had shared with my counsellor what I believed to be the singularly most emotionally heavy burden I had been carrying. It was something which I knew full well I had been suppressing in a bid to deny its significance and perhaps if I tried to ignore it, it would fail to maintain its hold over me.

But repression had become oppression...
.. that is, until I dared to hear myself utter the words out loud to another human being.

I shared my 'secret'. I talked, I cried and I offloaded.

I was not admonished, not questioned nor judged. I was heard and I was understood.

And as if by magic, my little world brightened. My shoulders dropped, my heart lightened and my head cleared.

That day was without a doubt the turning point, that therapy session pivotal in my healing journey.

The only way I could describe the effects of that moment to my counsellor, as is so often the case when attempting to explore emotions, was to explain the visualisation I experienced. You see, although I can't necessarily identify and describe 'feelings' with words in the way most people can, I instead see moving pictures and I can describe those pictures to make myself understood.

So that is what I did...

🌼🧚‍♀️🤍🌼🧚‍♀️🤍🌼🧚‍♀️🤍🌼🧚‍♀️🤍🌼🧚‍♀️🤍🌼🧚‍♀️🤍

I had seen a plain white background and on it the simple black outline - as if hand drawn - of a square box with an inlaid panel on the front. Nothing else. Just a 2D picture with no clue as to whether the box was open or closed, nor of what it may have contained.

The top of the box began to open, each side lifting in synchronicity as if unlocking to reveal the treasures hidden within.

Slowly, dandelion seeds emerged upwards like a host of little faeries dancing their way to freedom, each one silently drifting up and away. Wishes being carried on the breeze. Escaping. Being allowed to take flight. Being allowed to breathe.

Light and air.

Self-forgiveness.

Release...

🤍🧚‍♀️🌼🤍🧚‍♀️🌼🤍🧚‍♀️🌼🤍🧚‍♀️🌼🤍🧚‍♀️🌼🤍🧚‍♀️🌼

25/08/2023

I shouldn't laugh (though the fact I can speaks volumes!) but I just realised I took these shots of 'simple urban art' in mid May.

3 weeks later I found myself in utter crisis.

Eee.. the benefit of hindsight, eh?

The.Divergent.Lens

24/01/2024

24/01/2024

24/01/2024

06/12/2023

06/12/2023

29/09/2023

28/09/2023

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30/08/2023

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