Tag Archives: abuse

Internet bliss

I lived my life becoming what you wanted me to be

A nothing, a loser, a carer, a woman who lives solitarily

So you can have your nursie when you old become

You hoped I’d have no intelligence; you wanted me to be dumb

But I was bright as a button and I did my lessons well

I wanted children, a family

To you that’s a life of Hell!

So you treated me more cruelly in the hope that I would stay

Because my confidence you’ll shatter, of course I couldn’t stray!

But you didn’t understand solace, with books and with my friends

The internet provided them; they were my god-send

You cursed the day my brother presented me with this

A world full of possibilities, the internet was bliss!

So you tried to make me isolated even more than that

You said you’ll pull the plug September

I was absolutely sure of that

So I left in July and met Paulie

He is the one who set me free

Your cruelty can no longer touch me

For I have woken up you see!

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Filed under poetry

The art of indifference

Struggling with depression on a major scale in the past four days, it could either be because of my immune system crashing around me, my hormones or the fact that there is something I miss deeply and no one understands.  I am desperate to express myself on this matter, but I can’t without coming across as nuts, so I don’t bother.

No one understands the kind of person that I am, I have tried in the past to talk it through with other people, but let me tell you, there is only so much another person’s mind can take, before they switch off and decide perhaps you’re too messed up to talk to again?

Yet to me the only thing that remains abundantly clear to me and would be very healing to me is this… just talking freely with a non-judgemental person, whilst snuggling with said person and being loved, genuinely loved, without obligations for anything other than my reciprocation to them.

The kind of person I am, the liberal-mindedness that I have as well as my spirituality makes me a difficult person to befriend. 

The notion that I see everyone as family, but will avoid certain people if they make me feel supressed or judged in any way, is something that some people find hard. 

The fact that I believe in open relationships and I am bisexual and I am quite open about my likes as dislikes as I am not ashamed of who I am, so why should others be?

 The fact that I am both a humanist and a spiritual person; which cannot really describe my beliefs as I am my own unique mix: 

The idea too that I am healing from a huge mass of abuse and hiding a truly awful history and only tell people the thin surface of my life via getting in touch with my inner child and creative self, which means to onlookers think I am an irresponsible weird, immature, Pollyanna who is a tad too spooky for their liking. 

The idea I grow and eat weeds in my garden and let most of my garden be wild and talk to the wildlife that I come across as freely as any child. 

The idea that I get hyperactive after consuming candies and I react like any high child would!

The fact that I get so absorbed by my own imagination and blocking out the bad stuff in my mind from the past with fantasy after fantasy, to the extent I lose track of time and sometimes forget how old I am. 

All of this… is hard for other people. 

Which I find ironic, because I have actually lived through harder things that just listening and observing someone healing themselves!  It’s quite funny really, that people have the audacity to tell me, that they find my life too hard for them, that they have to leave.  Don’t they realise that in order to heal and be better, they need someone to care, but someone who can be impartial, just a listener, just a support with kind words and affirmations.  That just sharing who you are as raw as possible, should build such a strong friendship, a bond to last?  It’s not someone trying to offload their burden onto your shoulders, that is impossible, you could never feel as bad as that person feels, because your experiences are different! 

Until those moments, a lot of those people in my past were very nearly, very close friends with me.  But they, like everyone, wants to know you more and want to pry into your secrets, but then they run away when once they know the true past you’ve hidden from them!  My past is not criminal, my past is not the past of a junkie or a drunk or an abuser of any sort, my past is the past of a victim.  That is all.  I could understand if my personal past was more sordid, but it’s not, that’s what baffles me the most! 

I often want to shout at people who decide they can’t cope with what they know about me to the extent they can’t look at me anymore, but I don’t because I am very passive by nature.  I am very accepting that nobody really cares and I am alone on an emotional level in the world and perhaps always will be.

I want to shout out “Well what about me?  I can’t do that, gee thanks for leaving me to cope on my own then, you coward”!  Who needs friends like those anyways?

Then there are those who say they would stick around, if only I cried.  It’s the fact that I don’t cry that gets people thinking it’s a lie.  They don’t consider that showing emotions and crying is actually extremely bad in my family and that being an emotional person is beaten out of you!  You are around violence so much that you learn when someone shouts at you, that you don’t take their eyes off them a moment, you stare unblinking at them and don’t show emotion, because it could be dangerous if you did.  Much better to switch everything off whilst staying fully alert at all times! 

So, because I don’t cry, they think I lie. 

It is this reason that I find it hard to truly heal, even therapists have had to give up my case because they too, couldn’t cope and they were in tears, whereas I was passing them the tissues with dry eyes unmoved by them!

Ironic

This is why I often dream of suicide, dream of starting again.

But I am terrified.

Because if life is a lesson that I have to learn before I am allowed better things, then do I have to live through all of this again in another life?  Hell no!

I can’t!

My soul will surely self-destruct if that were true!

Thing is, I do cry.  I cry all the time, alone in my bed when no one is around.  I cry alone in the spare room, if it is night time, because its ingrained into me, no one should see you being weak, not ever, not no how!

Happy Reading I suppose, I wasn’t happy writing this and felt I should delete it, but who knows, maybe you’ll care?

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Filed under About Me

Defining self update May 2021

Since 2012 I had been trying to learn how to define myself – why?  Because I had such a suppressed, isolated and abused life before that time that I had never developed my true personality, likes and dislikes etc; because I was never allowed to be nurtured as an individual.  I was literally born to become a facsimile of my mother’s dreams and wishes and because her dreams and wishes went against a lot of my own instinctive nature, both of us were very unhappy with the result and neither of us got exactly what we wanted from my existence.

Where it was my nature to sit quietly, drawing, cutting & pasting, playing Barbie dolls and watching cartoons, it was my mother’s nature to force me to listen to pop music, watch top of the pops, worry about fashion, gossip and EastEnders and to try and teach me to give certain people Hell on Earth. 

When I was bullied by other children, it was my nature to ignore them, but confide in my mother and hope that she would try and help to advise me or complain to the parents or head teacher on the rare occasions I went to school; but instead she responded with the concept that I had to play dirty and hit them back or I was considered weak and therefore would only get bullied continuously.  There was a situation with my mother’s close friend, where her two children bullied me and pushed me off my own swing in my own back garden, I ran indoors crying and both my mother and their mother dragged me outside with a broom and told me to hit those kids as hard as I could or else I would get it instead.

Looking back I still can’t believe how both my mother, her friend and her children would sit back and laugh in recollection of that day, especially as I chose not to hit the kids with the broom and instead scarper upstairs as fast as I could and bolted my bedroom door up with my bed to stop any punishment of my supposed cowardice.  I stayed in my bedroom for the rest of the day, because I knew once my dad came home my mum couldn’t continue her plans, as dad had a sweet nature and wouldn’t allow it.  A trick I had learned to use for most of my life – hide till dad gets home.

I had to learn to be partly how she wanted me to be, as long as it didn’t go against my personal morals within reason.  I am glad to say, I have a higher standard of morals than she does.

The amount of times she had tried to train me to be violent, it had worked in some cases, but in others it only taught me how to literally close my emotions off at dangerous situations.  I easily phase out when there is a dangerous violent person around me ranting and raving and throwing things around, I go blank, close down, and become almost robotic.  It is something I have been told I need to alert the doctor about, but I won’t because I feel that they might try to think it would be helpful to keep me switched on.  A lot of people state that switching myself off emotionally during these times can be very dangerous, a sign that I could become a dangerous person, but I am by my very nature, quite passive unless provoked too much!

I just want a quiet life where I am loved, that’s all.  I want happy people who dislike drama and just want to get on in life, not bored, arrogant people who thrive on bullying and drama.  That’s not for me.  I don’t want that kind of attention.  I just want love, peace, getting on with my art, games, gardening and pets.  That’s all.  Boring I guess to a lot of people, but I would be very happy.

I am learning that a lot of things I thought I loved when I lived with my mother are actually things I was taught to love because she liked them.  Since moving away, on every context of my life, I am unrecognisable.  I don’t hold myself the same way anymore and I certainly don’t have the same voice anymore, strange I know, but even my voice has changed a lot!

There are a few things I wanted to be, do and have, when I lived with my mother, that I still want to be, do or have now; but not much of it. 

I still want to be a writer that gets her books published, but I understand that for now, it is best not to get published before Autumn of 2022, for certain personal reasons.

I still regard myself as bisexual, something that I have never been open about to any member of my blood family, due to stigma, my mother has a problem with gay people – she wouldn’t hurt them, but she is ridiculously avoidant of them and I have heard the kinds of things she says behind their backs!  The rest of the family are kind of open to homosexuality, but they are very Catholic too, so it is a stiff subject to rise with them.  Some of those family members will now most definitely know, because I know they read this blog.

Despite being sick, I have always wanted a homestead or a smallholding.  But I have to be realistic with what I can physically do, but I am trying hard to find a way in keeping to this dream, but working around the disabilities too.  I don’t have a big enough property yet, to do it, but I am researching a lot about chickens and food forest permaculture style gardening and that sort of thing.

I used to regard almost shamefully how much of a gamer I am, but these days I am starting to feel a part of a proud community of gamer nerds.  It is becoming cool to be a gamer nerd these days and it is a huge boost to my confidence about admitting to people my love for PC games in particular.

I also used to feel slightly ashamed at being a reader, because in my mother’s side of the family in particular, to be a reader, was regarded as weird as you admitting that you are a lifestyle Klingon who actively understands the whole of the Klingon dictionary!  Actually I know some Klingon words, an ex-online long-distance boyfriend of mine was a lifestyle Klingon who moved to USA and became pretty famous for it… so there you go!

I have always wanted to be a larper too, which is something that Paul has always wanted to be too, so we might do that together someday.

But there is a whole host of other stuff I never knew I liked before recently.  Really strange things that are even starting to raise Paul’s eyebrows in confusion as to…. Why is this interesting?  But I honestly can say, I don’t know why I am finding life of bacteria, soil health and microbiology so fascinating lately; as well as the entire lifecycle and habits of bees.  I also read a lot of books on cosmology and physics and this is puzzling to Paul because I can’t do math, don’t understand any of the maths involved in all of this and therefore only understand the non-mathematical parts of the stuff I am learning.  I have dyscalculia, it is dyslexia for math, and it has been confirmed professionally by the OU.

I have been thinking about joining SkillShare to see if there are videos that would help someone like me learn math to as high as I possibly can despite this problem.  But I won’t be able to afford that for a while, until the debts have been bought down a bit.

I don’t know why I want to learn math, especially as I don’t really plan to do anything with it, other than learn stuff I don’t really need to learn because I won’t have a career in microbiology any time soon.  But it is fun stuff the bits I do understand.

I am very geeky, I admit it.  But there you go.

Another thing my family will not recognise is my eating habits.  I don’t eat like how I used to because of medical reasons.  I can’t eat lactose (dairy) at all unless it is vegan, because my stomach can process it anymore.  I shouldn’t eat gluten (wheat) because it irritates my skin and asthma, but I do slip that in more than I should and I should avoid eating more than 2 eggs a week.  Because all of this can aggravate my problems; my main diet looks like this – 70% vegetables and the rest meat or fruit.  I have less than half a plate of my usual dinner size meal per day, for the whole day.  This is regarding what my mother would expect.  When I lived with my mother it was normal to consume 4500 calories per day – since cutting out a lot of the allergen foods and because of my illness, I can barely manage 1500 calories most days.  I am on high doses of most vitamins and minerals because I can’t process a lot of them.

My mother would think I am starving to death if she saw me eating 1 chicken fillet with a Mediterranean style salad and 2 roast potato halves, which is my usual meal and often only meal of the day.  Because I just can’t physically cope with more than that anymore.  Weirdly, I am just not losing weight, but I am losing inches.

Funnily enough doctors aren’t too worried about this because according to blood tests, my iron is the best levels they’ve ever been my whole life, lately!  I used to have constant anaemia when I lived with my mother and even was diagnosed with an auto-immune disease called pernicious anaemia too.  I have problems with B vitamins or something, which is now worse because of the lack of gluten in my diet, bread is rich in vitamin B, but I can’t have normal bread.

The new me is becoming very different to how I imagined I would be.  A lot of the things I thought were my deepest desires are now considered things I no longer want.  I wanted a large family, but because the cosmos has contrived to make my family as tiny as possible I have gave up fighting for it and no longer want any more children.  I never wanted to live in a rural area, I always wanted to be a suburban homesteader, but now I want to be as rural as I can get, whilst maintaining at least an hours journey from a major British city, London or Manchester.

I never wanted to become vegan, but I have to say, that my body is doing better with a plant based diet than not – though I am not giving up meat anytime soon, just yet.  But I am surprised that my diet is literally 75% plants, whereas before, it was around 20%

I am having a problem with sugar lately and I am finding candies less enjoyable than berries and vegan vanilla ice-cream.

All these are in my opinion are major changes.

I had very little respect for certain types of art and music and now I love them and will even fight for them.

I am becoming so very, very different; it is both exciting and scary!

I am shocked at who I am becoming.

Thank you for reading.

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Filed under Defining myself

A tardiness update

Hello everyone, long time no writes, I know, sorry about that!

I want to say that I have been having a lot more infections than usual and a lot more chest and breathing problems which are not Covid related; I have not been infected with Covid luckily.  I have completely self-isolated since March 2020, I have only left the house twice in that time for dental appointments – I have been scared of Covid especially as I have a history for chest infections and pneumonia anyway!

Other than dental appointments I must admit I have steered clear of all doctor clinics and hospitals because I think that if I go, I am more likely to get infections – now this is frustrating because before Covid the doctor could care less for my health problems and whilst Covid has been a factor I have had to turn down huge amounts of appointments because the doctor is now ready to try and solve them… it is like the world is conspiring to trap me to get Covid lol!

I think there is one good thing about the fact I was isolated all of my life by my mother, that is, Covid19 isolation is literally a doddle for me as I have always learned to cope with what I have and make the best of being at home.  But it is also deeply depressing that again, I feel like the world is conspiring to keep me cooped up for all of my life!

I have mental health issues because of my past and so many people have been concerned for how Covid isolation may be affecting me mentally.  But they don’t understand that it is normal for me, I have been so used to it for so long that it is second nature.  So unlike the rest of the world that has always had some kind of freedom, I don’t go stir crazy just because I can’t leave the house for a time.

Staying at home or even cooped up for prolonged periods inside a single room really doesn’t bother me as long as there are things I can do.  If the room was empty, that could be a completely different matter, I may go crazy after a few days, but I would make do with meditations, visualisations and if I were not causing trouble to do so, singing and reciting poetry etc. 

The thing with me is, imagination is easy.  Imagination is my friend and I have learned to harness it on command for any situation.  I do meditation and visualisation so well, that there has been times I have been hungry and I have visualised eating a meal and I have come out of meditation not feeling hungry anymore!

It’s amusing really that I am overweight; when I consider that I can do this.  But I will be completely honest with you; I am overweight for only three reasons.  As part of the abuse I have been victim of, a large part of that was being fed constantly, my abusers were feeders.  I have lost a huge amount of weight since being away from them, but not enough to be of healthy weight.  Secondly, I am addicted to caffeinated sodas such as cherry cola and Pepsi, but still, not as bad as I used to be.  I have gone from a 5 litre a day habit to only 1 litre now -still trying to fight the addiction.  Third reason – the biggest one of them all is.  I lost a majority of the weight I had because when I moved in with Paul and got away from the abuse, I started to religiously walk 9 miles per day and I that was doing the trick with normal eating.  Since becoming sick back in 2012 I then walked only twice a week for about 2 miles and since Covid I walk nowhere at all, except around the house.

In my humble opinion I need to lose a lot more.  I have tried to go on a diet, but diet alone is not working at all.  I have stuck religiously to a diet for 3 months and I haven’t lost a pound!  It’s only going to go via exercise, which this body just can’t cope with right now.  Every time I try to exercise I get weird symptoms of lower back shakes and unsteady shaking legs and hands.  I am residing myself to the fact I can’t garden anymore, not for longer than 15 minutes a time.

I have to make do with trying to think about what I want to do versus what I can realistically do these days.

I love gardening, but short of sitting at table with pots, that is something I can no longer do the exact way I love the most – which is to kneel down with my hands in the dirt, pulling and pruning and chipping and replanting from ground to ground in true food forest garden fashion.

I have to reside myself to the idea that someday, if I get a little money, I can get someone in to pull my whole garden out for  me and make me hip high raised beds with seating around them, so I can sit and garden the lame man’s way.  Sorry, but to say I don’t feel bitter about not being able to do it the usual way, would be a lie!

My disabilities are affecting my creative crafts too sometimes.  Hand shakiness (presumably not Parkinson’s) are sometimes affecting me using utensils when eating as often as once a week, as well as hand cramps and so therefore drawing and painting on those days is a no go. 

My writing can sometimes be affected on bad pain days; sometimes pain is so bad I misread things, miss-type things, mispronounce things and even have spoonerisms coming out of my ears!  Hand shakiness and pain can affect how much I read in a day too as well as depression.  On a good week without much pain or shakes I can read about three books, if the depression isn’t there.  I think I mentioned this before.  You can more or less tell how I am doing by how much I am reading on Goodreads.com

But don’t be overwhelmed with sympathy for me not getting down to my art and writing however!  There are other factors besides health which leads to my tardiness – the phases I go through.  I tend to find it hard to narrow down precisely who I want to be.  So I go through weeks at a time being so involved in one thing or two and then move on again. 

For example; Between October and April, I have got into the phase of watching around 3 hours a day of YouTube videos from people who are homesteaders and food forest permaculture gardeners, as well as food preservers and artists.  February and April 2021 I have gone through another spiritual soul searching phase.  I have read books based on spirituality and cosmic ordering and I have been thinking about my self-definition a lot.  Since the start of April I have re-established my love for The Sims 4 and have been playing that daily for literally 6 hours a time.  Disgusting I know.  But I have still been practising my art approximately 3 days a week for an hour a time, which is becoming a record now, because that too, used to come in phases!  If this is an unusually long phase, then I have been in this once since last summer!

Writing is on a severe back burner, I am writing about 90 minutes three times a week since March, whereas I wrote a lot more, before then.

On a very positive note however; my art practises are for the very reason that I have decided to make a children’s picture book series and I am practising my art to get the same characters right in several different poses.  Now I know, you are all thinking that I am not a children’s author and that would be very true!  But something happened in my mind, where I just have to have this children’s series about a dragon in true infant picture book form.  I don’t know why this is happening, but I am going with the flow!

But I will tell you now; my main genres are dark fantasy and dystopia that will never change!

Until next time, thank you for reading.

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Filed under About my work

Defamation and freedom of speech

I am tired of being silenced by fear; especially since in the past few days I have had the energy to thoroughly research the defamation act of the UK.  I was surprised to discover that not many claims go to court; because the courts will not entertain something unless two major things have happened to the plaintiff e.g. loss of earnings (not applicable, they are retired and won’t be working in the future) and secondly, they have experienced physical harm by a third party due to claims.  (Again not applicable and if it is, it needs to be proven).

If I can prove what I have said is true about the plaintiff then it will be thrown out of court.

UK laws value freedom of speech and freedom of expression, they take a dim view of people trying to silence others – in fact, I would be well into my right to take them to court for breach of my human rights.

Not only this can I pull up various character references from a number of people who have experienced what my mother can be like; both familial and professional.

My own character reference has often been described by others, even by those that still support my mother as being very nervous and quiet, good and old fashioned, if somewhat spooky at times. The worse thing I have ever done was run away and scared my mother as it was sudden and frequent between the ages of 20 and 27.  Quite a lot of the control, isolation and abuse even went into my adulthood; she affected my careers, studies, whatever I wanted to do.  All the drop outs were primarily caused by my mother; I had to get away to get a life, basically. 

My mother would be described by a lot of people as a fun person with an intimidating air, someone who is hard to talk to and hard to negotiate with, but someone reliable in a crisis; though confrontational.

The sheer cost of taking this to court will affect both sides and both sides are likely to be in debt for a very long time, because the cost of a claim like this is astronomical, from what I have learned.  It is not like a small claims court.  As far as I am aware you cannot get legal aid for this.

Both society and courts have a dim view on people who try to silence victims and try to stop freedom of speech. 

If I were to earn money from what I am saying and I do sell my books and art and have enough money to make being sued worthwhile to the plaintiff; the world also takes a dim view of people trying to pocket other people’s earnings; when they lose the court case – and they will! (Because the evidence is against them) it can actually affect the reputation and earnings of the plaintiff – because as far as I am aware, the plaintiff will not be my mother, but my brother!  As far as I am aware, he cannot sue for defamation unless my mother agrees, because according to the courts, she is the victim of these claims not him.  It would be a very unwise thing to partake in for him and his future.

I am also puzzled by the fact that, if what I am saying is supposedly untrue and hurts my mother to read and hear of such things, why does she claim to me on Facebook that both she and my brother and my dad watches my blog like a hawk?  Even subscribed to do so, so they don’t miss anything I may have said about them? 

Because the fact of the matter is, my mother cannot help herself!  She is and always will be a control freak, who just wants to intimidate me even from afar.  With scare tactics such as “We are watching you”, “We will ruin you before you even get started”, “We will do… whatever”. 

It worked for a time, but I am wise to the world now and its ways and to be honest, what they are saying and trying to do is utterly ridiculous, child’s play really.  A bully’s tactics to control and entice fear into those they presume to be emotionally weak or what they presume still are emotionally weak people.  It doesn’t rub anymore.

My claims are true and many things I can prove, can they say the same?

Thanks for reading this guys; I look forwards to my human right of the freedom of speech in the future and for you all to get to know me a lot better!

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Major changes explained

Updates to this blog are aesthetic updates as well as content updates; in the future I hope to post not only my poetry, short stories, art and life updates, but also updates on my mental health journey:

In future posts I will show you how I am trying to re-define who I am, because in reality, I have never been the truest version of me, I have been severely supressed and it is a journey about unleashing the real me!

Everything about me currently and in the past are not my real choices, it is not the true or real me.  What I mean to say is, I had an abusive past and a past where I was controlled and isolated very severely not only by my parents, but an ex fiancé as well.  My current fashion choices, my general knowledge of the world around me, my diet and my habits and even to a large degree, my career choices and beliefs were all facsimiles of my abusers, not me.  I do still hold myself accountable for many of the things I have done in the past, because it was due to my emotional weaknesses that I allowed those things to happen and take place, but that does not defer from the fact that my abusers were abusive to me!

This blog will include how I am changing into the habits I want to have, becoming the person I want to be, fighting through all the pain and sickness and mental health issues I have to literally sculpt myself into something I want to be, rather than making do of the moulding that my abusers have made me into.

My sense of fashion, my habits, my diet, my everything is going to change so dramatically and I know I will falter and falter a lot, because I am changing my whole existence and current life, for something completely new, unexplored and it will be tremendous hard work, which is why I feel it needs to be documented online and hopefully I will build a support system from my readers to help me through the major changes I am about to incur.

I am 39 on my next birthday October 3rd 2021. 

Let’s hope that my honorary aunts are right, that life begins at 40!

Because for me, I am still only a baby mentally, I am still only new to life – because I have never been allowed to live.  It is very scary to admit a lot of things to everybody right now, that even though I have a child who is nearly 11yrs old and even though, I have lived away from my mother since 2009 and totally broke from her in 2012, I still have never ventured out of the house alone, without some kind of assistance or support from a relative or friend.  I have literally always had someone hold my hand when I left my parents, someone to speak up for me when I am in difficult situations and to be perfectly honest, it is annoying, because even though, these people are my carers and they are helping me to come out of my shell and undo the abuse my parents have done by prepping me for life – but they also misinterpret a lot of what I mean to say to certain people or they say things in their own way, which sometimes isn’t as clear as I would have said it.  A lot of the time regarding my health, talking to doctors etc, they forget things and me being me, would sometimes be too nervous to speak out and say well actually.

Though this aspect of me has got hugely better in the past 4yrs, the doctors are surprised by the progressed I have made there, because whereas they used to look at Paul for confirmation of what has happened, they are now starting to look and listen to me, which they see as amazing progress.

It is these points which make it difficult for me to actually contemplate a life in marketing of any form – but I need to have that life, I can’t sit back and watch years go by and have more and more regrets of not doing things just because of the stuff that my abusers have locked into my head.

It is to a large point, very stupid to actually know that the world isn’t as scary as my abusers lie to me it had been, that those bad people in society were actually them and they are rarer than they make out and they are actually the worse of the lot.  It is stupid to know this and still be scared of the world.

I read a book recently which is very timely – “The Midnight Library” by Matt Haig, about a woman who lived her life in regrets and got a chance to undo those regrets by having alternate lives, therefore getting a chance to redefine herself time and time again.  There is a quote from that book which resonates to me very deeply “life fright”.  There are other quotes from that book which really connected to me too…

“If you aim to be something you are not, you will always fail. Aim to be you. Aim to look and act and think like you. Aim to be the truest version of you. Embrace that you-ness. Endorse it. Love it. Work hard at it. And don’t give a second thought when people mock it or ridicule it. Most gossip is envy in disguise.”

― Matt Haig, The Midnight Library

“The only way to learn is to live”

― Matt Haig, The Midnight Library

“Sometimes just to say your own truth out loud is enough to find others like you.”

― Matt Haig, The Midnight Library

That’s what I am doing, saying my truth loud enough, to not only start to throw off the burden of my past and to heal from it, but to stand tall and let the world know I am here and to ultimately find my tribe as it were!

Future posts on this blog will include my new diet ideas, plans, because recently I found out a lot of my illness is due to the fact that I am allergic to a lot of food!  Gluten, lactose, eggs, pineapples, flax and beef gelatine to name but a few;

I will also include, my weight loss plan

My art and photography

YouTube videos I may start at the end of the year

My skill development and so forth

I am also watching copious amounts of self-improvement videos on youtube lately, especially Blush with me Parmita, a life coach! 

All this to sculpt me into who I am, not what people think I should be.

I my opinion I need to lose 85 pounds

I need to start thinking about makeup and changing my fashion not only to my preferred tastes but to make the best of my natural body shape, as for someone who is fat, I have a very strange narrow and defined waist and an envious shaped body, well this is the opinion of many people who have told me this, personally I don’t see it – but as I have learned from a lot of self-help books, you’re inner critic needs to be ignored as it never sees the truth regarding yourself.

I consider myself hideous in every single way, yet I get a lot of attention from people about how pretty and unusually young I look for my age – I have had people interested in using me as a plus size model and hair model, but I get really hurt and confused by this, because I just see a hideous monster in the mirror!

I don’t understand how some people reckon I look like Meryl Streep that totally confuses me!

I need to start becoming more independent.

I need to start doing more art and writing and actually getting it published not only on my blog, but approaching agents too, because I keep sitting back wondering what was that movie I wanted to watch again?  To then remember that it was a book I have in my head that I have written and the movie doesn’t exist yet.  My primary motivation for writing is that I enjoy it, but also because I want to see my stuff turned into movies – I know that’s pretty pie in the sky, but that’s my dream – I think ultimately I would rather make movies than write, but there you go!

I write the books I want to see acted out on stage or on TV basically; I write the stuff I wish there was more of.

So it’s a vast change, I am already exhausted just thinking about it, especially as I have such severe health problems, nobody, not even the doctor is sure yet, if something I have is terminal yet; covid19 has caused a lot of investigative delays!

But I don’t care if I live or die and yes, part of my mental health problems is the fact I have been struggling with suicide for the last 7yrs, primarily because I am sick so often that my life isn’t really worth living, because any movement is pain!  So I guess that is one of the major factors why I am going to push myself now, if I push myself into exhaustion and collapse by changing myself so quickly, then so be it, but at least I died trying!

So there you go, it is not a New Year’s resolution, this has been brewing for some time now, but now I have had enough!

Speak soon xxx

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Fears of the shadow self

Since removing myself from my families influence in 2012 my mental health healing has improved far quicker than anticipated, even by health professionals opinions; many of my irrational phobias no longer exist and I am now able to learn to trust medical practitioners somewhat these days.

Since moving away from toxic people I have learned about a concept called “The shadow self”, which is an element of our inner being that is a mystery even to ourselves, usually resulting in irrational fears of something that can only be overcome when you are no longer affected by its symbolic element anymore in your day to day lives – many people never get over their fears because they never get over the element which causes it.

For me it has been a very surprising education of myself.  Certain phobias I once had, I no longer have and I have learned what those elements are which I have been avoiding socially or in my life, which has caused a fear of something seemingly unrelated.

The phobias I am now healed from are;

Wild Boars

Clowns

People raucously laughing

Mustela species (weasels, stoats, ferrets)

Vultures

Dolls in my bedroom

Mirrors

Starting from the first downwards, I will explain what these fears represent to the subconscious.

Wild Boars

To be afraid of wild boars means that you are afraid of stubborn people who you subconsciously realise as a dominant figure in your life or a bully.  A person who is difficult to persuade or calm down;  You are also afraid of other people’s generosity because other people in the past have been generous for ulterior motives, again, usually a bully; in other words you are cautious of what a simple kind gesture might really mean for that person… what are they after?  You are also afraid to be brave in handling difficult people because of accusations or exaggerations in the past when you have tried.  You may also be afraid to come across as rude or greedy, even when you are being modest.

For me the above was absolutely true because I have been bullied and control by countless people my whole life, people who are difficult to talk to in the smallest of ways.  Also in the past when I have dared to stand up to bullies they have often exaggerated my responses to the extent I allowed them to shame me into a corner to be quiet again, making me feel that perhaps my tone was overly aggressive of misread for coming across as physically threatening which worried me.  I was always afraid of coming across as greedy because I was mostly an obese child (not because of my own greed but because of strange rules I had from my mother’s growing up which people don’t understand even to this day nor believe), I was always misread from being a glutton, I was just raised that everyone ate that way, but I was never taught until I moved away about proper portions.

Clowns

When you are afraid of clowns you are afraid that people may be wearing a mask and not being completely honest with you.  Children who were raised in emotional and physical insecurity tend to have a phobia of clowns, because you never really know how to read your abusers as they wear one face for you and another for strangers.  A persons laugh and joviality can unsettle you because like a clown they mask that what is happening is fun, but again with ulterior motives later on they reveal their true forms to you, usually in an aggressive manner.  You may also fear this aspect of your own personality and may not even consider that you have a duel personality, so until you face the fact that you have a split personality of sorts, you may never recover from clown phobia.

For me, all of it is true.  Up until recently I was always in confirmation bias with social witnesses about a person’s behaviour, just to make sure I wasn’t reading them wrong, so they couldn’t become new abusers.  My family often lark around like raucous clowns, making fun of anything and everything they can, especially me when I was around.  The more naïve and quiet you were, the more likely they make you the entertainment for the day!  Often laughing loudly and playing tricks on you and if you were as trusting and submissive as I was, you often fell for their silly jokes and often became the butt of them.  Because I was so badly bullied and suppressed my true nature was never allowed to shine, my true opinions, my true likes and dislikes and I never realised this until a couple of years back that my whole life has been a lie.  I had no clue who I really was, I discovered over 75% of my personality, hobbies, likes and dislikes were not me at all but facsimiles of my mother and various other people.  I had to own up to the fact that temporarily, I may actually have a dual personality syndrome, until I find my inner self and let it grow at least.

People raucously laughing is just like clowns, so has the same meaning, especially for fears against being humiliated publicly of which I was often a victim of.

Weasels, stoats and ferrets

People who are afraid of the above usually are afraid of their inner darkness, their inner dark desires or even afraid of their own temper or assertiveness.  They may also be absolutely terrified of any ramifications of upsetting people and not being completely au fait with their rights.  You may also be afraid of coming across too slow or holding people back.  Actually weasels represent a huge inner strength that can intimidate bullies, but because you are afraid of using it when you need it, the weasel can become your fear rather than your guardian which it is meant to be.  Weasels are actually one of the fundamental personality guardians psychologically and should not be feared, rather embraced.

For me people have always exaggerated how aggressive I am and because of this I had never stamped on conflict nor spoke up for myself until recently.  I always felt that maybe I asked too much from people and perhaps maybe I did speak a little too loudly just then, maybe I am letting these people get to me too much and I am becoming like them?  It used to frighten me. 

Vultures

Symbolise renewal, you are afraid to renew yourself because you are afraid it would be undone or detrimental to yourself, you may also fear death or independence.

For me, I was terrified of making a new me because whenever I had tried in the past (whilst still connected to my toxic relationships) I had often been humiliated out of it and people had shown others who I was iin the past in full view – I am still at a high risk of that, but it no longer bothers me. I found it very hard to renew or redeem myself from anything, because somebody was always ready to show the world all of my past failings, even things that are supposed to be the most private.  The fear of vultures have gone because I made the decision when I opened this blog that I will do all the dirty work of showing my past to the world before anyone else does, so people can see for themselves my transformation and understand any and all of my setbacks fully.  There are always people who want to do me down time and time again, many people are just sitting and waiting to drag me back to where I was and primarily their main motive is their own self-preservation, face and potential monetary gain in the future and boy am I ready for them!

Dolls in my bedroom

People, who have doll phobia have a fear of being watched, observed, stalked, followed and may lack security.

I know from my own experiences that I was closely monitored at all times and when I did get an ounce of freedom my mother had friends practically on every street corner keeping an eye on me and reporting back about me, because every time I went home, my mother could relay like some psychic every tiny detail of my outing and what I did and what I did not do!  She often betrayed herself by the revelations.

Mirrors

I don’t know the true meaning behind this, but it is starting to get a little less though not yet cured – I do know I don’t particularly like mirrors because the person looking at me in the mirror is not the person I see inside my head, the face, the body shape, the hair, everything is completely different to how I believe I look and it shocks and even scares me when I realise how different I really do look!  I have a severe form of body dysmorphia and I have never sought therapy over it, I have had this all my life.  I believe the mirrors are starting to get a little better for me now because I am starting to change my beauty regime to slowly shift myself into what I believe I should look like and I do plan someday to have work done surgically to help me achieve what I think looks like me!

So if you have a phobia, go and research the symbolism or subconscious meaning behind that thing and find out what you are consciously avoiding in your life, so you can help cure yourself of the phobia by understanding it, because once you understand your fear and you work on those aspects of yourself, the fear magically goes away!

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Tears prove nothing

I don’t cry any-more because it never proves a point

Tears can fool people into believing any viewpoint

Tears are the enemy of a truce

Because liars use them always to show their false proof

The strongest person alive will use this tactic alone

To prove to others to stand by them, though they lie to you things unknown

Don’t believe in tears alone

I don’t cry for what’s happened to me

I don’t sit there forcing you to believe

If you don’t want to, I don’t care

All I know is, the truth is out there

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You can’t judge a person by their face

A person can be many behind their familiar visage

A person of good will or an evil doer at large

No one knows the truth in them, not everything they know

So when someone who is kind to you, to another it isn’t so

A face can have so many forms, depending on who you are

To one they are a devil from the depths of Hell, to you a wondrous star

So when others try to defame the one you love, always remember this

That love isn’t always truth and kindness and ignorance isn’t bliss

But do not put down the truth-sayer when you hear things that may not feel right

Because you don’t know the blamed one in both their darkness and their light

You can’t tell who someone is, not everyone’s a book

You can’t judge a person by their face; there are things you will overlook

People change in the shades of time, people grow old and wise

Some become more stupid, others will surprise

But just because you love someone, do not be blind to truth

Always listen with an opened mind, a good heart try to accept the truth

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Horror story of the iceberg of my life

A few days ago I wrote a long piece about parts of my life and how things in my past affect me currently, I never got around to posting that piece because I still haven’t entirely got my head around this new way of editing that WordPress has set up recently.  It seems that if I were to cut and paste my blog entries into WordPress admin, it will not allow me to change the font size or colour, well not easily for me and I have tried to get my head around it and I can’t.  So being that all my posts are done via Microsoft word first and foremost, I have to tell you that all of my posts henceforth will be in white font and the same size.

I shall say it all again anew, because upon reflection, there were a lot of vital points I missed out in the first draft.  All my posts on this blog are first draft, except for this one.

Due to growing up in such a controlling atmosphere and in relative isolation, I was never given permission to develop both independence and individuality.  I didn’t manage to move away from my mother until I was twenty seven years of age and I didn’t fully break physical contact with her until I was thirty and only recently stopped contacting her altogether since Easter of 2019, aged thirty six.  The break was difficult, not in a sense that it was emotionally pulling for me, but in the sense that it was truly difficult to break ties with someone who was so stubbornly controlling and persistent.

I started to develop my own fashion sense around 2012 but it still isn’t fully honed and a lot about the past me, was never really me.  Not the true me.  I was the image of which my mother wanted me to be in looks, behaviour and likes and dislikes.  Her control over me was complete.  What I liked in 2012 are not things I like now, in fact, I learned that since I am not expected to like or do those things, I actually detest them or at least dislike them enough to rarely bother with.  Simple things such as the type of music I liked, the type of programs I watch regularly, the food I choose to eat, just everything.

Nobody can understand how tight the control was over me.  How even how I spoke and the way that I spoke were not really me at all either, they were reflections of my mother’s expectations.  Growing up and even as an adult I was always terrified of doing anything outside of what my mother approved of, even if it was something as trivial as accidentally dropping a tiny piece of paper on the floor in the living room whilst going to the kitchen bin.  I lived in constant terror of what would happen if she noticed, or worse, what would happen to me if I did something I didn’t notice I did, like dropping the tiniest piece of paper on the floor in the living room whilst going to the bin in the kitchen.  My mother has extreme OCD about cleaning, tidying and minimalist culture that her hands are often raw and sore for how much she cleans them and she is the type of house cleaner which never wears rubber gloves when scrubbing the house top to bottom in bleach!

I lived in a very sterile environment for both, physical, mental and spiritual growth as well as personal growth in an individualistic sense.  My doctors blame the way I grew up for my weakened immune system.  My mother was immaculate about everything, social services often commented on how thick the air was in the house with the stench of bleach that they needed to sit by an opened window or simply try and talk to us on the doorstep or at the centre.  I was not the sort of child my mother would allow to go into the garden and play in the mud, although gardening was encouraged there was a fine limit to what I could and could not do out there.

Along with this strict cleaning regime and isolation was her ideology of never immunising me for anything – I never knew until I met Paul that I am lucky to be alive as an avid gardener because I have never had a tetanus shot.  I didn’t get chicken pox until I was twenty one years old, shortly after I started work as a trainee classroom assistant and I never got the nursery school child’s disease, hand foot and mouth until my own son, Henry was three years old!  I got my MMR vaccine when Henry was born because the midwife was astounded I never had it and was surprised my pregnancy was as healthy as it was when there was a measles epidemic in the area. 

My therapists are often surprised that I am not as mentally damaged as I should be considering everything I have gone through.  I am most certainly damaged, but in their opinion I am doing surprisingly well for someone who has had the life I have.  I like to think it has something to do with books.  The types of books I read from the age of eighteen onwards were very helpful to me.  Reading was the only thing my mother never interfered with and always encouraged, but she never had an interest in what I was reading so she never really knew what I got from the library every Friday afternoon, even though she would take me there and wait around an hour.  I read sparse snippets between my never ending chores and over half the books I read and still do read to this day are self-help non-fiction books.  Books about taking charge of your own mind, you own individuality, your own life and cosmic ordering and mental strength enhancement etc.  I never made the decision to break away from my parents and share my life with the world until I read a book called “Toxic Parents” by Susan Forward; until I read that book I had the belief that with sheer determination and patience, I could convince my mother that I am safe in the world and that I know what I am doing and that I can be whatever I want to be and that it’s going to be OK, because I still love her and would care for her much better if she just let me have a normal life.  But the book showed me that I was simply fooling myself, like all children who want their parents to love and nurture them do.  It isn’t until a large chunk of the child’s life has gone does the child realise that it is fruitless living in hope that such a controlling toxic person would ever change, especially if they don’t see a reason why they should!  The book suggested that I broach two things with my mother and depending on her response, I would know if there really is any hope for us.  So, the book asked me to ask her the two questions I wanted to.  A – Please give me permission to live the life I want and to go out without asking your permission first as I am an adult now.  An B – tell her what I hope for our future relationship and some pointers to help my mother change a little so we can cooperate together.  My mother’s responses to A were a resound NO and her responses to B were why should I be the one to change?  You see she didn’t understand that I wasn’t changing her personality, I was only asking her to change how she treats me and to let me live a normal adult life; I was thirty years old when I broached this with her and I had a three year old child who often saw his mother in tears after every visit and phone call from her mother!  Because my mother would try and talk my child into believing that mummy is stupid and foolish and fat and then she’d try to spoil him with candies and gifts.

Basically I learned from those two questions, that she would never change, our circumstances would never change, in fact it would get worse as she would come between my child and I and make an unhealthy relationship there too.

I knew for the sake of my child I had to stop contact with her, because she was encouraging dangerous behaviour in my toddler, it shocked me because she is usually an uber cautious person regarding children, but I often wondered if she did this, to get my son out of the way, to make me lose him by showing others how incompetent I am and using her old card of mentioning my nervous breakdown when I was an adolescent and saying, she has mental health problems, she is unable to care for a child – see, this is what has happened to her son.  I lulled this over for a few weeks, then my mother encouraged Henry to climb up and jump off the dining table, she tried this a couple of times and I demanded it stopped, she went home in a grump.  When I was cooking dinner Henry climbed the dining table and called me, he wanted to jump into my arms like my mother was encouraging him to do when she was there in her arms – I didn’t get there in time and he smashed his head on the furniture on the way down and we rushed him to hospital for stitches!

A couple of days later I sent him to play group and the family support worker saw what happened to Henry and asked me about it, I explained and told her about my past with my mother and she told me, if I didn’t break contact with her she would feel it was her responsibility to call child welfare because my mother is endangering him.  Many abusive parents do end up abusing their grandchildren if the parent is still easily coerced by them.  I agreed and decided not to return her phone calls from that moment onwards.  I knew if I confronted her directly she was likely to become upset and would drive 100 miles to come and see me eye to eye and wouldn’t be very diplomatic about it either.  Yes it was a coward’s way, but it was the best way to handle her.

Anyway, it took seven years for her to finally get the message I am not messing around.  In 2015 my brother found my blog and told her everything I had said on it, I deleted a lot of it, because I was threatened.  But I learned through legal advice that being I would have reports on my mother’s behaviour from doctors and social services that my mother and brother wouldn’t have a leg to stand on in court as I would have a lot of evidence against her – not only that but there are people in my life who would vouch for how aggressive she has been with them in the past too, in fact quite a few.

Why am I sharing this right now?  Because I am going through a self-designed therapy to find myself; to develop my personality, to develop independence, confidence, life skills, social skills, art skills, writing skills, I am trying to define myself.  I am trying to find out who I am and what I like, I am tasting many spices of life and I am dipping into all sorts of new things in an attempt to find what is me and what isn’t me!

There is a lot to work on.  My personal image, my behaviour, my reactions, my morals, my ethics, my beliefs, my sense of style and wants and needs – all these things make a person and I was never allowed to be a unique person.  Not only was I supressed by a controlling mother who wanted to mould me a certain way, but I was supressed by religion too.  I believe in a God, but I won’t dedicate myself to a religion nor talk about any kind of definition of them other than, they are a creator.  I regard myself as a humanist, despite some superstitions I have and pagan ways I might have and despite my belief in higher beings.  I know it sounds paradoxical but my life is pretty complexed.  I don’t know the proper words for many things and I often know things, but don’t know their names, if you understand me?

Mentally I suppose I am still like a child, at least in a lot of ways I have a childlike innocence about me, because of my lack of social interaction over the years.  But to call me naïve, foolish or even stupid, that is wrong – because I have seen more and experienced more than most people have in such a short time.  Though my life has been an isolated one, it has not been without its brutal experiences both personal and observational.  Another thing which surprised my therapist – the things I have gone through in this country, the things friends and family have experienced which has mentally and emotionally affected me, lots of things an average British person would not experience in normal circumstances.  Such as, knowing more than one person in your family or friendship circle who has been murdered, knowing of many women who have been raped or serially raped, knowing drug abusers, knowing prostitutes and criminals, seeing an animal killed in front of me, having strangers attack you, being raped, a very late miscarriage I had to hide, surviving a bomb explosion near your home, witnessing people having mental breakdowns, flaps and suicides, witnessing people having seizures or being brutally and fatally harmed, being a victim of racial abuse, being wrongfully accused of thieving and attacked for it, being forced into a Jehovah Witness membership as a teenager by a relative, having run ins with cults and gangs but not willingly involved with them, just wrong place at wrong time, being a victim of domestic violence and held underwater and sorry to say these are just the  tip of the iceberg of my life.

Every wondered why I rarely talk about my life offline?  There’s your answers – it is difficult to talk about these things, but when you have grown so used to extreme violence in your life, you become so hard and numb to it all that you don’t wobble or cry about it anymore and when you tell the average Joe about it all and you don’t show an emotional response, just blankness, they presume you are lying, because you should be in tears.  It’s utter rot.  The more you go through, the number you get, and you learn to switch off.

Some people get frightened about this, they think it is a sign I could be a psycho.  Hilarious and ironic, me the psycho, not the people in my past, but me, the victim who doesn’t cry, they’ve been made into a psycho, they might be capable of horrific things if they don’t cry.  Society really has to change their perception of how they believe a victim should behave.  Some people live such rotten lives so regularly that to sit back and cry is not only a waste of time and energy, but it also becomes fucking dangerous!  You cry and those who made you cry will make you cry again and again, they will keep on hurting you.  Some abusers hate it if you don’t cry, it sends them mad, but eventually, if you persist, they give up.  I’ve learned this, but I learned it the hard way.  The hit you harder and say worse things to you to get the response they want, you can’t feed their desire to break you or else they’ll never leave you alone.

I remember the times I cried in front of my mother, it made her laugh and satisfied, sometimes she would find my fear so hilarious she would try it again and again, as my fearful responses amused her.  I learned when I was fifteen to stop showing fear, suck it up and zone out and concentrate on imaginary things whilst she is at her worst and although she is purple faced bellowing in mine and slapping me across the face, as long as I concentrate hard enough on my imagination, she could not get what she wanted.  You can do it, you can concentrate on your imagination so intensely in brutal times, that you can literally remove yourself spiritually from that time and place, but you will come back and feel the bruises and see the exhausted bully in the corner in tears because it didn’t get what it wanted and then you will see how childlike they really are.

So, I am trying to keep them far behind me.  I am trying to define myself.  Who am I?  I want to share my development here on my blog, but I am also afraid to do so.  I feel so silly and immature explaining the depths of my self-therapy, but I also feel I need to do it too. 

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