Tag Archives: abuse

Raven warrior day

Today I feel like a warrior, the raven warrior I used to be.

I feel like dressing up in my old black clothes and wearing my raven feathered necklace and rethinking about designing that raven feather cloak I have always wanted to make.

I miss my gothic make-up today; I used to be a Goth as a teenager and into my mid-twenties – a big contrast to the semi-kawaii style I like these days.

I was the Gothic Jock type at school, but also sort of nerdy – because I was an A & B grade student mostly and I was teased for it some of the time, though I never flaunted it and tried to conceal my grades wherever possible – because in my family, nobody got grades like that it is a sort of anomaly, a weird thing which I held close to my heart in shame.

My dad and his side of the family was the only people I felt comfortable knowing my grades, because on dad’s side of the family there are teachers and government workers, so education is important to them and it’s not a cause for shame there.

But today, I am the raven warrior again – or at least it’s the first time in years I feel like she’s been awakened again.

At least I do have some black clothes, though no make-up – at least I can sort of feel like my old self again, in part. 

A black lace cami, a long black skirt, a back flowing shrug, black socks though ruined by pink diamonds, but you can’t have everything in this place.  It’s a cheerful day, despite the kind of poetry I am producing and despite looking mournful – to me it’s a brighter day in my heart.

I wonder why the raven spirit in me is so strong today?

I used to be called Raven Mother by some people in the past – sometimes The Raven Warrior – sometimes The Vampire – sometimes the warrior goddess  and I tried to get people to call me Raven but they didn’t do it, because I guess they didn’t like my sense of humour in being known as The Raven Lunatic, haha.

Some people have no sense of fun – in fact most, don’t.

I had lots of interesting nicknames before I moved in with Paul and every ounce of my identity in all of them has gone, you wouldn’t recognise me now from what I used to be.

I may have been abused badly in my past and mostly isolated – but to be honest I did still socialise on my mother’s terms and I did so more often than I do now I live with Paul.  I may have been living day to day scared for my life with violence and unpredictable people and living day to day with loss after loss – but strangely enough, I was happier then than I am now.  I still don’t understand it.

Maybe I was happy because of how many people used to visit?  Maybe I was happier because I was a lot richer back then and never had to wait months between necessary non-food purchases?  Maybe I was happier because I had more personal freedom around the home, even though I had copious amounts of duties and chores to do between them?

I don’t know.

As I said, I am still puzzled by it.

How can someone be so happy in a situation where day to day they are not sure if they would be alive by the end of the day?

Food for thought I guess?

Yet when I was in that situation I was desperate to get away because I was under so much stress, I often had black outs because things got too much for me and I had to constantly make excuses to non-family people about why I can’t be normal, why I can’t just take their invitation on the spur of a moment etc – because there was often a violent backlash if I did.  Not from them or from me, but if my mother found out she’d go nuts and literally hunt the person down.

So the raven took her flight and said “Nevermore” to that situation and came to live with Paul.

Thanks for reading…

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My quiet dad

Today I am going to talk more about my dad.

My dad has hardly had much of a look in regarding my past, but I thought I should share some things about him, because he wasn’t part of the problem when I was growing up – he was like a cushion to the blow I could have had – if that makes sense at all?

My dad was always fighting to get me better things, to get me better socialised, to get me better educated and he was almost always ignored – but my dad did have some small victories now and again in regards to having choices about what happened to his child.

My mum made no secret about why she married my father; she let it be known to both him and I that she married him purely to keep her boys safe in case she died, because she had a health scare about a year before I was born.

Her arrangement was, I shall marry you Tom if you ensure that you will raise my boys as your own if anything happens to me!  He agreed and he would have done so too, however my dad said he was sad he would never have children of his own and he sulked about it for a time – my mum was terrified in having another child because the child she had before me was a breach of which she was more or less forcing herself to have naturally and she suffered for three days in labour until she relented to have a caesarean.

However, she told me she felt sorry for my dad and said that she would give him only one child to seal the deal and he was happy with that!

So I was born before they got married, they married in the January after my birth. 

My dad was a sheet metal worker shortly after this and remained in that job until I was seven years old. Then stuck to his next job until retirement, pun intended a glue factory foreman – where I got my first job as a labeller at the age of 15.

Before he married my mum he was a chicken farmer and a train driver before he went into the army to get a HGV license, but he stayed in the army longer than he had planned.  There is a family rumour that my mum broke my dad’s leg deliberately to prevent him attending his duties in the Falklands, but it was never proven.

My dad was a quiet man, who hardly spoke about himself and so I don’t know much about him in his own words, only the rumours from other relatives who knew him.  He kept himself to himself and often shut himself away to play on consoles in other rooms away from family.

Sometimes dad would cook, but mostly I cooked for the family when mum was on nightshifts from the age of 7yrs onwards, dad was a less fussy eater than mum and would be more adventurous in the food he ate – he would have been a healthier person if mum wasn’t so dominant about the kinds of food she bought.  He had very little say on what happened to the money he bought into the family and he only ever had £25 a week to himself for betting on horses only.  She didn’t like him buy what she called junk to fill the house up with, because my dad was a bit of a retro head.

My dad always wanted to be an entertainer like his sisters, always wanted to do stand-up comedy and play the harmonica in public and create his own funny songs.  He liked making people laugh, but mum told he she wouldn’t let him do that as a side hobby, because he embarrasses her and it’s not fair to her that he should do that!

Mum was always telling him she was embarrassed by him and he just took it on the chin and obeyed, he tolerated it because he loved her.

My dad was a Tommy Cooper lookalike and he had his style of humour and my dad often imitated him a lot at family parties and weddings – in fact he looked so much like him and could remember all his jokes that his sisters tried heavens hard for years to make him be a lookalike act at special events where they honoured Tommy Cooper after he died – but mum simply wouldn’t allow it!

My dad would have been very successful doing that!  Especially as my dad could also do the special magic tricks that Tommy Cooper could too!  My dad was a bit of a magician!

My dad taught me how to act too; he would often play and relive our favourite movies together.  As a child I knew the lines to almost every Laurel and Hardy movie there was, because we played it together the most and also Blackbeard the pirate!  We also liked Norman Wisdom movies, Carry on movies and George Formby!

I don’t remember too much nowadays as it’s been almost twenty years since I saw a Laurel and Hardy movie last, but I do have recollections now and again.

But my dad and I were definitely entertainers for the family at family events, which is why mum started to refuse a lot of the invitations from the age of ten onwards – because we were both embarrassing her, my dad for simply being who he is and me being a fat funny girl who was too highly influenced in naughty humour bought about by my love for the Carry on team and comedians such as Frankie Howard and Julian Clary.

I like saucy and naughty humour, naughty is nice!

My dad paid for a while for me to have singing lessons (opera to be specific) but mum put a stop to it when they decided I had talent and needed to go to talent contests etc. around the country.  Plus she hated the idea of the amount of money she had to lose in order to hone my skills.  When I lost the singing lessons dad fought heavens hard to get me tutored in playing the piano, because of my addiction to my grandmother’s piano whenever we visited!

My dad would not compromise on one thing in his life and that was visiting his side of the family, something my mother really loathed bout him.  She hated every Sunday, because that would be the chosen day each week my dad would take me visiting his side of the family!

She rarely went with us because most of the family were outside of her 3 mile limit and the anxiety of travelling was just too much for her!  My gran lived 25 miles away in Bedfordshire.

Other relatives lived in Berkshire, Luton, Cheshire, Wales, Southend and Canvey Island or West London, far too far for my mum – so she stayed at home most of the time.

My dad and I would often go rowing in the lake at Alexander Palace in the summer with my cousins and have a large picnic, mum hated us doing that because she didn’t like my cousins being called cousins – as despite my mum having a mixed religious and mixed race background herself (third generation), she hated the concept of me calling my mixed race cousins, cousin and was quite racist about it, to the extent my aunt who is very passive was pinned up against the wall by my mother and threatened simply because she felt that she was putting ideas into my head that were against her own!

My dad never tried to control my mum behaviour, never tried to apologise for it or make any comment or even seemed to notice it – sometimes he would sigh and look downwards and wait for her to finish so we can all quietly leave again and hear the rants in the car about how victimised my mother felt for her own actions!

My dad was bullied by my mum and sometimes that did include physically being bullied too, though he’ll deny it, because he loves her.  But I remember lots of times where my mum has slapped him, kicked him, pushed him out of the way, called him names and dragged him physically off somewhere!

I do believe that domestic violence can affect both genders; I have witnessed it growing up!

Whenever my dad was pushed to the limits and he would rarely stand up for himself and say something, mum always won because she would say she is going to leave him right then and there and would often storm out of the house and stay with her friends for the night to try and scare him back into submission.  I remember those times, she would come back in the house with a smile on her face and carry on like nothing happened and dad would be thankful she is back, but she would pretend she wouldn’t know what he was on about!

Even when someone proved to dad my mum was having an affair with a bouncer at a nightclub my dad’s reaction was a shrug and well she comes home to me doesn’t she?  He wouldn’t challenge her on it.

My dad was submissive and unassuming and incredibly patient.

I often questioned his reactions and said you are not often happy dad, why stay?  He would make all kinds of excuses, but the one that stood out the most was hearing at the age of nine your dad confessing that if your mother did die of her heart troubles, you’d lose two parents at once, because he told me at the tender age of nine he’d commit suicide if she died.  Which shocked me, because he promised my mum he’d look after her sons if she did!  His reply is, they are adults now Tina, done my bit.  I said to him, well what about me?  I was shocked and hurt to hear him reply, the deal didn’t say anything about me!

I told him, I am your daughter, and surely you’d think about me wouldn’t you? What would happen to me then dad? 

He said I would be alright with my gran!

It was a scary time for me, because this was the time mum left for two weeks to go on  holiday in Great Yarmouth with her sister and friends because of another argument, one of which my dad tried to prepare me to pack to go and live with gran with him.  So suicide was lurking around the house for too long, mum came back, no smiles this time and she was asking if he had packed yet and he said no, but Tina has – then that’s when mum sent me off again to another aunt for a while and the whole time I was scared dad would be dead!

Other than gardening and playing darts with me from time to time, there isn’t really much else to say about my dad, other than his addiction to horse racing and online casinos.

He is a teetotaller, a good honest man who works hard and got obese living with my mum on the diet she provided him and he has very little self-esteem.

He is funny, a good entertainer, but she knocked him off his pedestal as much as she did me.

That’s all there is really to my dad.

He tried hard to get me into clubs and learn things – singing lessons, music lessons, pushing me in my sports, but mum always stopped us.

Dad always wanted to take me on holidays, but mum didn’t like it, didn’t like travelling unless she was with her sister and so we never had a family holiday together ever!  Not once.

I had no birthday parties after the age of 7yrs, nothing special for my landmark birthdays and that hurts when you see your mother go all out on landmark birthdays for your brothers, 16, 18 and 21.  It was always made clear to me, I was not important, I was not really supposed to be part of her family and so I don’t get those things!

That was my life, she lives for her boys, I got the scraps.

My dad never hit me unless he was bullied by her, she would literally lay into him to force him – but outside of her, he never laid a finger on me, even when he was at his most angry! 

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Maybe she couldn’t help it?

As hard as it might be to believe it, but I am starting to understand things a bit better about how I was treated as a child.

I am starting to realise as I am getting older that both of my parents were not really normal at all, I had my suspicions about my dad, but he was lovely, I kind of felt my mother was also a bit odd but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it… I presumed she was a bit off because she too, had a hard life – but no, there was more.

I may be entirely wrong with my suspicions, but it is making me wonder…

I’ll get to the gist shall I? 

I have been reading a book called “An adult with an autism diagnosis” by Gillan Drew, because I wanted to better understand my son Henry’s autism diagnosis better.  But as I was reading the book I realise more and more that the book was describing my parents!

Both had their obsessions, extreme OCD, both self-neglected when things went into turmoil in their lives, both were excessively awkward with strangers and would never leave the house if it meant leaving a specific three mile radius and would abandon trips altogether if they needed an alternate route because of roadworks or accidents.

Both had irrational ideas and were easily triggered into aggressive mood swings that held grudges sometimes for months and in some cases forever!

They also took everything literally, they never questioned what they were told and they were both excessively stubborn about any knowledge that they had.

Multi-tasking was also a trait none of them had; they were easily flustered whenever they had to do more than one thing at a time and were easily irritated by sudden changes of plan.  Everything in their lives were run by a tight schedule and outside of that schedule they were easily lost and confused.

The main trait of autistic parents according to the book is emotional distance from people, especially their children, though they focus on them a lot and they will do everything for the child in usually a suffocating manner, they often neglect their emotional needs.  They often fail to comfort their child, or cuddle them or support them verbally, but are quick to criticisms if it is outside of their idea of perfection.

I remember my parents thinking that cuddles was silly, get off, what do you think you are doing?  Do you think that is appropriate?  I remember my parents cancelling things if it meant that their dinner had to wait even by fifteen minutes, because the idea of not eating dinner by 4:30pm every day except Sunday was alien to them!

I know a lot of the time my mother would refer on the telephone to relatives she respected about the behaviour of all of her children and based on their advice she would change her parenting method quickly and react to whatever was suggested to her.

Throughout most of my childhood the parenting was delegated as much as possible, I was passed onto relative to relative a lot of the time and in between that she arranged for live in help in the form of au pairs and home helps.

Sometimes my mum would let me get away with things because in her opinion she didn’t see that something was wrong, if someone mentioned that it was wrong to her she’d instantly panic and respond in a very aggressive and often violent manner in the embarrassment that someone else had judged her.

All of these things are very much like a high on the spectrum autistic parent.

This would totally explain to me the constant inconsistencies in her parenting style and her ways and how extreme she was.

I know she hasn’t been diagnosed with autism because she has lived in a time where those things were not widely known, but I do know that my mother went to a prove school and was expelled for her behaviour a lot of the time and she had psychiatric tests a lot throughout her childhood because of her strangeness.

My dad isn’t so high up in the spectrum I think; I think he is just socially awkward and easily manipulated by my mother.

My mother had what I called “flaps” she often had to try and control herself, it is making total sense to me now and it is a confusing emotion to consider forgiving her because she may have had this condition and didn’t know any better!

Seriously, that is what is going through my head right now.

Her behaviour on many occasions was inexcusable, but I never once considered that she isolated me because she was suffering from social anxieties herself – because throughout my childhood she kept saying it was I who was not normal and that she simply didn’t socialise because she didn’t have the time or energy because of running a family and a home along with ridiculous work schedules. 

I didn’t realise when I grew up that most of the people she socialised with were in actual fact distant relatives and not friends at all!

This fact only came about near the end of my nans life as she revealed several family friends to be 3rd to fifth cousins and then it was confirmed on GenesReunited on more than one occasion that it was true!

Yet growing up I was led to believe my mum was cool and extroverted and wild, because of her stories and ways.

How she berated me for being a strange creature who was the complete opposite to her.  She said she feared that I was too trusting of strangers and that I didn’t know how to properly behave in public as I am too forward and innocent all at once, that strangers would get mixed signals from me!

Every therapist I have ever gone to has felt that socially there doesn’t seem to be anything amiss – that perhaps some of my problems are based around my mother putting scary thoughts into my head – but to them they thought I was rather mature and worldly and acting very appropriately in fact splendidly.

It’s very strange to consider I got this book to understand my son, but instead it made me understand my mother!

I remember growing up and hearing my mother ask me why I would do such and such and to have me explain things to her almost constantly and she would always ask me why I reacted that way!

I often used to cry about not being cuddled or having attention as much as other children with their parents – she honestly looked awkward and frustrated and often said “why is that important?  I don’t like to do this, so you should respect that – why can’t you just understand I am not the cuddly sort of mother”?

It was bad enough her rejecting me, but when I was around ten years old my dad started to say he won’t cuddle me anymore because my mother finds it inappropriate now!

Henry doesn’t like cuddles either he doesnt understand how they are important in families.

She was always asking me why about everything –why is this important to you, I don’t think that should be, you should think this way instead (her way).

She’d also never understood how people had their own hobbies, likes and dislikes and would easily get offended if you said you didn’t like something that she liked.

She always tried to tell me that as we have a mother and daughter relationship, it is the daughters duty to be as much like her mother as possible, therefore I should endeavour to dress like her, think like her, choose the same hobbies as her and want to be with her as much as possible doing things as a team!

She couldn’t fathom for the life of her that things don’t work out that way!

She was so self-absorbed that for years I didn’t realise that brushing teeth and washing outside of the once a week on a Sunday bath was important, until other relatives I lived with raised concerns about my hygiene standards when I was thirteen!

When I told my mother about this conversation, she said that she presumed I would know to have done it, because she did it to me right up until I was 5yrs old and she presumed that I would carry it on now I knew the basics… no children don’t work like that… children don’t understand those sorts of things unless you tell them specifically and remind them regularly!

When I moved in with Paul in 2009 my mother couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t have the usual meal time schedules, why I had breakfast now whereas in London I never had one – why I don’t do lunch at 12:15pm sharp instead it floats around 1pm to 3pm and why on Earth is dinner anywhere between 6:30pm and 8pm when it should be 4:30pm? 

Why do I now have an 11:15pm bedtime and a 5:45am wake up time? 

Why do I insist in going out at 8am every morning for a long walk?

Why do I want to have yellow and purple walls instead of ivory white?

Why am I wearing pink instead of black and white all the time suddenly?

Why… why… why…

Why can’t I be like her?

She couldn’t cope with all the changes, the idea of travelling up to visit me made her ill because it was an hour and twenty minute car journey, a whole 87 miles too far!

The panic of me leaving home caused her to phone me approximately twenty five times a day!

When she temporarily moved in with me because I wasn’t coping a the last month of pregnancy as I needed bed rest due to chronic oedema and blood pressure – she went around the house changing furniture to her taste, painting my walls her colours and throwing out anything she found ugly whether I wanted to keep it or not, whether they were special things of                 Paul’s or not too!

She couldn’t understand when I had my baby, that my baby was priority over everything, including her!  She was hurt and often whimpered and cried if I ignored her to attend to my baby, because I never used to just ignore and abandon her when she spoke to me.  She really didn’t understand the transition!

All of this makes me wonder if my mother was a high functioning autistic person.

It makes me wonder if she deserved my sympathy because she really didn’t understand anything at all and still probably doesn’t understand why I decided I had enough of her controlling, aggressive and oftentimes childish ways.

I remember before I decided to wash my hands of her, I told Paul; my mother is harder work than our two year old over there!  He is a doddle; she is driving me around the twist and endangering him with her stupid antics!

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Loneliness

Disappointment, I’m used to that

I don’t ask for much, but it seems like I ask for the world

A hot dinner eaten cold, sitting alone at a table because you no longer form part of this little unit anymore

They are making it blatantly obvious you aren’t wanted

Being consulted about nothing, only little shots here and there for an update, if I’m lucky

Conversation is too difficult for them, they don’t even try anymore

Yawn, looking forlorn, worn and tired of hearing you, even if you are friendly and chipper!

Good to know they find you so boring, good to know they are there to comfort you and it is good to know they aren’t spreading their toxicity to the child you share

Sarcasm comes easy these days

Teamwork is dead and gone

But I am told I am wrong, it’s not like that, I am just tired and I think I have a chill

But it’s been like that for weeks

Merry Christmas is just an ordinary day

Nothing changes, most things forgotten like candy canes, pigs in blankets, meat in the stuffing and old family rituals

Nobody cares anymore

Nothing is important

Everyone has given up

But I still try to keep things normal until I leave

But nobody else wants to

Yet I am not leaving because I want to, I am leaving because I am unwanted

Though he learned his mistake when my replacement turned out to be a fake

Hastiness is punishing him still

I have months of a life like this before I can go

Lots of the old shit I have to clean up before I can be free from this toxic environment

I can’t just up and leave, I have things to do first – pay the debts I suffered due to broken promises

Trying to keep this family together, warm, cool, clothed all on credit

I have to work on my health too, get myself fit for the only work I can do which will guarantee payment for me – trolley dolly; I am too deaf for telephone work now and too stupid for other things

This is why I am trying to let my creativity and daydreams pay my way through life soon

I never wanted to be alone

Never

But life is making me walk the lonely path

Doing everything alone

Like Rambo a lone soldier, battling the world against the odds and never getting love or comfort

That is too much to ask for it seems

Though don’t pity me, I suppose my lack of tolerance for the past is punishing me somehow

They were tests I failed and this is the booby prize for not living up to lower standards

I should have tolerated the abuse, at least I wouldn’t be alone

At least I could feign some kind of happy families now and again

Instead of living in a cesspit of toxicity and loneliness, with bitter people who don’t even try

Should have tolerated being their money pig and Tina the tea maker

Do this and that and cry yourself to sleep at night because you can’t get away and you can’t choose to be yourself, be an individual, that’s not allowed

But hey, go and cry with the people we let you talk to from time to time, they might cuddle you if you are lucky and they are sucker enough

Those times were better than now and it is a horrifying revelation

Things were fine before I got sick

I did it all

Living with an overprotective father figure who wouldn’t let me try and fight my ailments by allowing me to continue running the family

Go back to bed – slow down – go to sleep – just stop…

Stop…

So I stopped… for years I got worse

I tried every now and again to do things but it was always the same pattern

Slow down…. Go to bed… go to sleep… just stop…

Is there any wonder I wanted to stop completely?

I snuck exercises in when he wasn’t looking and was out of the house

Convinced I could turn things around and guess what?

I could

Just a little, but that little was a lot!

The resentment for my successes were in his eyes but not on his tongue

Feigning pride for me, but he looked hurt I was trying

Looked hurt that he might not be needed anymore

And in less than three months of my change, he was looking for someone new

But still he says… I don’t want to get rid of you

Ah but he did when he thought Emmie was real

That’s the deal

And it hurts still…

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God has forbidden them!

Am I healing my wounds?

Not yet I need TLC

A little love and some kind words and someone to snuggle me!

I am tired of doing everything alone

All by myself, till I’ve turned to stone

Or at least my heart has turned to bone

It’s cold here in the dead zone

I can’t heal when there’s a hole

A big chunk is missing I am not whole

I can’t mend when I still bleed

And the eels eat more of me through greed

I can’t heal when my heart is dead

Gone and hopeless I lie in bed

Turning to rock and dust and history

How can you heal me now, it’s a mystery!

Though I try to love everyone who hates me

Even those who forsake me

I fight to stay alive some how

But each day the people drive in more nails

I can’t heal until they stop or someone loves me

Like a clot

Because I can’t do this all alone

All alone till I’m a crone

I can’t find my happy place

When I am shut away in disgrace

I can’t mend my stone cold heart

When others intend to always tear me apart

I can’t live till I have love

But I am easily disposed of like an old glove

I give my heart for them to burn it

As far as they are concerned, I am just a piece of shit

So I can’t heal though I’d like to try

Why do I bother?  Why oh why?

Would I be better off if I die?

And fly off to heaven in the sky?

I’ve heard there’s love there in the clouds

They wrap you up in it like a shroud

Nobody can harm you ever again

Because God had forbidden them

Amen

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Pollyanna is dying

Pollyanna is dying, a slow and awkward death

She wants to stay positive

But should she hold her breath?

Things will work against her

Like they always do

There is only so much light here

Here within the blue

She is drowning in the misery

Of broken promises and lies

The blue are the tears that came from her

From all her heartfelt cries

She tried to keep them happy

With a little charm and wit

But they flogged her daily

With words so full of shit

Slowly they made her like them

Slowly her heart turned to stone

Because slowly the eels gnawed at her

Through her flesh and bone

Her happiness frustrated them

They couldn’t stand her words

It made them feel insubstantial

She is stupid and absurd

Of course life is not like that

They said day to day

How can you sit and tell us

Those things are bright and gay?

I tell you now, we will make you

See what life is like

That the whole world is a hard place

It will hit you like a spike!

You won’t be happy much longer

Not when we’re done and through with you

You say you should find the positives

We say, you have no clue!

You are stupid and naive

And we’re here to tell the truth

There is nothing so nice about life

Nothing is sweet and smooth!

You stupid little girl

With your stupid sweet ways

We are tired of you seeing things sideways!

We’ll knock you down and you’ll be like us

Off a pedestal

You will hurt like the rest of us

We are taking you to school!

The joy and laughter will leave you

When you come and see the truth

Do your lesson well and we will show you proof!

You can’t have these or this or that

You can’t be happy in mounds of scat

You will eat the shit of life we give you

Down here in the deep blue

You can’t tell me there’s something grateful here

Yes that’s right go and shed your tears

You are learning good, now shut your mouth

Or else we’ll go worse on you and take you to the South!

So Pollyanna is dying, she is leaving me

Pollyanna was once alive, deep inside of me

But they made me see that things aren’t bright

And maybe things one day won’t be alright?

Maybe they’ll stay the same and they won’t change at all

We are in this for the long haul

Can I ever see the light again or am I in too deep?

Will I have the courage, to close my eyes and sleep?

I can’t tell right now at all

Because today I am at a wall

It is blocking my sight to see

I wished I could be free

But I am stuck here in the blue

My only hope is to be fished out by you

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It’s not vanity week, honest!

Why did I confess about my supressed vanity and why do I seem so proud of it?

Because, it is a major part of my natural personality that got the hardest beatings and chastisements over the years, to me it feels like it was 50% of my personality and that since my suppressors took a hold on me – to get me out of the mind-set of it, it was like I have lived my whole life a lie.

I lived as my shadow self for too long, though many people feel that vanity is the shadow aspect in itself, maybe my mind is all muddled up – but to me, this is what came naturally to me and it is this what got moulded out of me.

I know a lot of people, my mother included will tell me that vanity is the shadow self, because vanity is a sin.

I don’t see how it’s a sin to make the most of what you have, why shouldn’t you adorn the precious body God gave you however you like?  Why should you not worship God through your temple, which is your body and give thanks and honour him for a job well done?

Why is it more holy to hate yourself and live modestly about your looks or abilities, surely revelling in it all is the biggest form of gratitude to the creator?

I remember slaps across my face as a child when I actually used to have the guts to ask these questions to my mother!

“How dare you” she used to say as she’d drag me to the bathroom to wash my mouth with soap, literally!

To wash those dirty words out of my mouth, because I say something that can’t be redeemed, her long nails scratching the back of my throat as she washed my tongue deeply!

I hate Imperial Leather soap to this day!

All the women I admired growing up were the vain glamorous types, I always kind of screwed my nose up at the ordinary woman and lived in amazement at how much some women put the time into their looks above everything else.

I always wanted to be like that too, but I was only like that for two short years in my adult life before I moved in with Paul and about a year when I moved in with Paul – funnily enough the year before I became sick.

Its sods law that I want to get to grips with my true self now and I have long Covid alopecia which is ruining my idea of what great hair is!  I have learned these things over the years, your hair is your crowning glory, and the thing that gets you judged the most; second to that are your shoulders, people look at your shoulders and your neck and judge your posture a lot!  Thirdly to this is the clothing or accessories you choose to wear and it’s generally make up as the last thing people will notice about you. 

Though going back to the clothing, people don’t look up and then down, they look down and go up, they judge you from your footwear.  This is my experience in any case.

Your smile is another factor that probably comes before the cosmetic application judgement!  Which is why I have a closed mouth smile, I am ashamed of my mouth.

My mouth is the most abused part of my body, my voice suppressed a lot, my mouth has had a lot of abuse – forced feedings, mouth wash outs, slapped across the face a lot, squeezed to keep silent, hand over my mouth, is it any wonder my throat chakra is hard to unblock?

So what is going on here, why is it vanity week?

Well it’s not intentionally vanity week – it’s just I am really working on my inner child in the past two or three weeks and it just so happens to coincide with a few of the self-therapies I am doing.

Waking up the true me, the unblocked me, the real me.

I want to take you all on a journey with me – weight loss and changing my image and I hope it will be fun for all of us!

I am not going to be happy until I can rock a pair of suspenders better than Dr Frank n Furter!

Just don’t think of me in them now huh, don’t want to have nightmares now do we?

For me one of the big things I hate about living here is the inability to get access to someone who can do household maintenance when it needs to be done, instead of having to wait years between projects!  Our shower broke down in 2016 and I bought its replacement in 2018 and it still hasn’t been installed!  I need my twice daily showers and twice weekly exfoliations!

I miss lathering myself in shea butter for an hour and then showering it off, the stretch marks were reduced a lot and it does a lot to help with cellulite, but you can’t get into a bath to wash it all off, ew!

I think my biggest goal since childhood was to have the confidence as well as the body to rock a velveteen cat suit too!  One I’ve dreamt of designing since I was a nine!  When I had the figure to wear something like that I didn’t have the guts!

Its really weird how since doing all this inner child stuff, I am seeing a lot of butterflies, dragonflies, caterpillars, flamingos, ibises and peacocks – all representatives of transformation, flamboyance, vibrancy, vanity and confidence.

I have been taking care of my body with a high protein diet, a little exercise per day and face yoga and I am seeing a major difference to my face and figure personally.  I am starting to like myself a bit but I am thinking that’s a lot to do with the change in my mentality, thanks to that Mel Robbins technique I shared with you a couple of weeks back!

I am now able to plank for about one minute, which is impressive when you think that I struggled to hold a squat for fifteen seconds at Easter!

Six weeks ago I could only do ten reps of bicep curls without weights before needing a two minute break to continue to the full thirty reps – now I can do fifty reps off the bat without resting, though I am slightly out of breath by then.

My main focuses in toning up are my triceps area, as that is not a very nice part of my body, as well as my abs, because I look five months pregnant if I am being honest right now.  The rest of the body seems to be doing itself naturally and appropriately, I don’t know why these two areas in particular are being stubborn!

The aim isn’t to become too muscular, but to tone it up and not be horribly flabby.

At the moment my arms look alien to the rest of my body, which is why I pose with them tightly behind my back, because I look like an ape… well I am an ape, all humans are… but you know what I mean!

So, I just want to be beautiful and feel good for it, I want to be in a position of belief when someone tells me I am beautiful.  But I don’t want to be a mean cocky bitch about it like some women are. 

I just want to wear what I want, feel great in it and be who I want to be, when I want to be it, instead of cringing and thinking I am making a fool of myself, or that people are going to think that two little boys are fighting up my skirt as I walk down the road!

Thanks for reading!

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Who’s energy is this?

Having lived a life of semi-isolation pre-covid, because of life circumstances, I have not developed in a usual manner for other people in society.

My life has effectively been similar to that of a yogi.

Why do I say that? 

Because I have spent a lot of my life in social isolation because of one reason or another and I have always had reflective thoughts on everything that happens to me.  My memory is very good when things happen to me, because they seldom happen to me, if you get my drift?

Religion, philosophy and self-improvement has always been a way of life for me, indeed, it is a lifestyle of sorts.  I am always soul searching, I meditate often though not in the usual manner and I spend a lot of time inside of myself.

This has made me become described by many people as a sensitive and highly empathetic being.

I come from a very spiritual and somewhat occultist background with my grandmother’s gypsy and witch heritage, so I have learned to be open regarding everything and I have inherited my gypsy ancestral ability for clairvoyance.

Not only this but working with angels has always been a major part of my families indoctrination and so I have always worked with my spirit guides or guardian angels as it were on a very close one to one level to such a degree, I do not need to meditate to hear them, like most practitioners do.

Because of all of this, I have become a person to which friends rely on for messages.  Some friends of mine in the past and even my exes have become a little afraid of my abilities because it is my lifestyle.  I never push my beliefs on anyone, but people find it really hard when I am unsurprised by events that have happened in their lives.

Some are so afraid that they feel invaded and have left my life; others kind of try to abuse my ability and constantly try to get more answers to their questions to their lives.

Why am I sharing all of this?

Because I am finding myself socialising more online these days with new people and there are certain people I can feel want to say something “BIG” to me, but I sense they are afraid of rejection.  I think it is only one person; though I can sense seven who have similar intentions to this “main” energy I can feel.

I can tell there are seven new people who want to be a part of my life in a major way, in my opinion there is only the one that connects well to me and what’s so strange about it is, they haven’t made themselves known to me yet.  But my spirits have told me, they know everything that they can about me and it’s not just through my blog either!

This particular person who connects to me really well is definitely American, but there are four Americans amongst the seven.

This particular person is begging for a miracle because there are circumstances in his life, which indicate that they cannot do what a regular guy can do, he has a lot of responsibilities and he is afraid of getting me caught up in it all and becoming stressed.  He is deeply concerned for my mental health and stability.

He is afraid I will reject him, because he feels I am afraid of the challenges he brings with him.

He is afraid that I will feel emotionally neglected because he is a very busy, constantly on the go kind of guy and along with this, he is afraid he might physically exhaust me as well.

I sense a lot of people in his life know about me and is trying to support him through this awkward emotional time for him.

I feel he is afraid that I will not be impressed by him or that I may feel he is a narcissist in some way if he does what he instinctively feels he should, regarding me.

He is afraid that his lifestyle or certain associations within his lifestyle may emotionally harm me in some way.

He is also unsure how I cope with change and he really doesn’t want to stress me out with a huge upheaval, I definitely see him as very caring and nurturing.

He is also afraid that he might be overreacting about me, that maybe when things calm down a little in his life he may not think the way he does about me.  He worries that I have become discovered by him at a vulnerable time in his life – and it is a vulnerable time for him.

But what I can sense about this person is that we are so much in tune with each other.  We have the same needs almost and we are perfectly balanced in that, what he wants from me, I have the ability to be naturally that for him and vice versa – we really do not need to change much of ourselves to be part of each other’s lives.

I do feel that they have hugely underestimated my stamina and endurance, not physically, but emotionally.  Yes, I do feel physically their lifestyle will be very tiring for me for a while, but he has the ability to improve my stamina over time.  But emotionally, we’ll be OK, more than OK in fact.

He is very sensitive and he needs someone who can respect his boundaries and his choices and he is a very private and security oriented person.  Maybe he has been hurt a lot in the past or perhaps he is afraid of being taken advantage of or something along those lines…

I am really good at keeping things to myself, I dislike gossip and I am rather security conscious myself – though I do put myself out there a lot online, but depending on my circumstances I can tighten things up for the right person very quickly.

I can train dogs; dogs make me feel more secure… sorry for going off on a tangent there.

I feel our only issue, if we were to have a relationship with one another is that he will definitely find me a little too childish at times and selfish, but he will endeavour to kind of reign that out of me over a time.  He likes the playfulness and creativity in me, but the over excitement, the squeals and hyperactivity he will feel he has to step in and calm me down a bit.

He does feel that other people’s opinions mean a lot to him, he is very image conscious but he is not shallow, this much I can feel from him and he is living in frustration that people expect him to be shallow for some reason?

I sense his biggest desire with me is to help me experience a life of fun, freedom and happiness.  This is important to him; he wants me to be happy and less tight, it means a lot to him.

He is also afraid that I will reject him because he is a very physical person and somewhat clingy.  I don’t mind this actually because I have been attention starved most of my life, I am actually afraid I would slow his life down because of how demanding I can be with snuggles and mooching around them.  I know I am a very physical person too and I don’t mean sex, though I have to admit my tantric energy is rarely turned off!

Whoever this guy is, my only concerns are… can you cope with a hyperactive squirrel type woman?  Who is always in a snuggle mood, that is super creative and loves to brainstorm her ideas with you all the time.  Can you cope with the idea that she hates contraception for herself personally and wants a large family even though she’s forty?  If you don’t want kids, can you really keep your hands to yourself until you do? 

Do you like dogs?  I need a dog in my life… though I’m sympathetic to allergies.

I prefer suburban areas or areas that have a lot of nature around us, like big gardens and trees lining the streets, if nothing else and local parks…

I have a 12yr old son who will not be coming with me in my new life, as he has already chosen to stay with his father because of his 300yr ancestry in this village – will you think less of me for honouring his choices?

Do you like Mediterranean and Asian food as that’s my main diet? Because my ancestry is predominantly Italian with some Sephardic Jewish and Greek roots too.

Are you easily jealous?  This could be a problem as I am super friendly with the whole world, likely to hug everyone and be super nice and even a little flirty at times, but I am loyal to a fault!

Can you take the reins if necessary as I need a lot of direction and I get anxious when I am involved too much in a passive relationship… basically, do you have the patience with a person who is constantly asking “is this ok” “is that ok”? Or is that going to annoy you, because I know it has bothered many exes in the past.  I am also apologetic as I always feel like I am doing things wrong!

Do you have the patience to help me become the best that I can be as an individual? 

How are you with positive people who try to motivate you and help you?  Do you allow others to help you?  As I am always trying to help people and some people get moody about it, I only need to be told gently – I am OK thank you.

Do you like the outdoors?  I love it!

I don’t sunbathe; drink (unless it’s a special occasion & limit myself to 3) or smoke and I don’t do night life with the ladies, like most women do.  I am more of a lunch in town or an afternoon tea at home or at friends’ homes type.

How snobby are you?  I like thrift stores and markets and antiques.

I have a huge problem with spending loads of money on something I know I can get at a bargain price down the road of the same quality – this was something a couple of my rich exes couldn’t get over and they were snobby about where they got things, regardless of the price.  Which made no sense to me, you know look after the pennies and the pounds look after themselves and all that…

Besides I like needlecraft and thrift stores have some nice clothes to touch up and make your own designs with!

I don’t travel light and that is the understatement of the century!

My rabbit Ray means everything to me and if he can’t be part of your life, well… sniff* meanie!

I am a drama queen at times, especially if I feel emotionally neglected and I can sense this is the same for the person I am talking about here.  So that will be interesting… two queens in one home…

But I sense I am the submissive one in this energy.

I am really laying myself out there for an energy I don’t know is going to take the plunge with me… are you actually all energy and hot air with no real intention… or are you going to find your balls and talk to me?

Sorry to be blunt, but the suspense is killing me!

I can feel your energy so much it is distracting – when I try not to hone in on this energy I am seeing some weird signs everywhere that makes me refocus again.

222

444

Snake

Trees

11

Watches/pocket watches

Ibis

Flamingos

Peacocks

Dragonflies

Butterflies

Bubbles

Red with gold in blocks or tiles

Purple with teal usually seen with peacocks and shiny metallic blue and horses?

Crystals – jade in particular

Wheels

Crab

Aries signs

March for some weird reason is important, like 2023 March

A black and white cat

A ruby ring

Rose tinted glasses

Chakra alignments

The kabbalah

Adam & Eve references

Alpha and Omega references

It’s all just weird and I know it’s somehow connected to you… whoever you may be!

Why the blazes does my instinct tell me that when I meet you I am going to want to run away and scream and then come back to you like super calm and cool and like… yeah hi, how are you?

Nobody does that to me!

Who are you?

Really…

Whoever you are, in dream time we have a certain way of knowing if we’re the right people for each other. Its subtle, but we’ll know.

Thanks for reading!

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Junk, craft & gardens

Rummaging through old boxes and bags around the house, I have found things I have lost because Paul had moved them and placed them in towering piles at the corners of unregulated rooms, I have come across things I have completely forgotten about for years.

I didn’t realise at the time I made them, but I was a really nifty knitter and crochet thing (maker)? I have found two pairs of fingerless gloves I Knitted for myself as well as knitted hair dangles, two scarves, a babies blanket and a cowl.

Funny thing is I remember giving it up as I thought I was rubbish, but there you go.

I also remember giving it up because it was one of the main causes of my carpal tunnel syndrome as I am addicted to fidgeting so I took up the hobby as a kind of fidget toy that was productive idea.  However I got addicted to making things and I was knitting 100 stitches per line 100 times a night and my arm became almost unusable for three months because of it.

If I knit more than fifteen minutes it comes back.

Such a shame as I had a lot of projects I wanted to do.

I’m traditional and so I often like to knit cardigans, blankets and dungarees for babies as presents, so it’s hard for me to choose not to knit when I know there is a new baby on the way for friends and family.

Weird thing is that sewing and embroidery doesn’t affect me as much as knitting does.

I hand sew, scared of sewing machines because of things that happened to me as a kid; mum didn’t like my love for fashion and design, so when she was resizing curtains she bought one day I asked her to let me help her sew the seam with the machine and she deliberately nudged my hand where I had three inches of stitches go through my hand.  “There’s it’s your own fault, now stop bothering me about it”.

I want to get brave with using sewing machines as I have always thought about making my own clothes someday; Paul told me there is a lady in town who will make clothes to my specifications if I provide her with a comprehensive pattern for her to follow and she will do it with any material I give her for £25 an hour.

It would be nice someday to be able to do that.

The silly thing is I was the most excited about finding some playing cards I haven’t seen in a while; the donkey cards, snap cards and the old maid.  I have loved those cards since I was a kid, but Henry isn’t really into playing pairs or snap with me, unfortunately.  He is completely absorbed with robot making and learning geography.

I have loads of board games too; nobody wants to really play anymore.  We used to make a point that every night, or at least most nights we’d play a board game for one hour before bed, but Paul and Henry grew out of it and I was the only one who wanted to play.  Too much resentful arguments during gameplay ruined the fun for me, so we don’t bother anymore.  Even on special occasions like Christmas and my birthday, they just can’t help but make a scene.

This year on my birthday I got a lovely three course meal home cooked for me by Paul, a rare treat and it stretched our budget badly!  It’s a landmark birthday and I got no landmark present.  I don’t mean to sound bitchy but it was very disappointing.  Paul has always known this landmark birthday was something I wanted to be special for the last three years.

But I guess it’s not his fault the oven broke down two weeks before my birthday.

I understand in Paul’s mind, birthdays mean nothing to him; but for me, my life hasn’t been celebrated past my seventh birthday.  The last ever proper birthday party I have ever had was when I was seven years old.  All other things were always two weeks after my birthday, never parties and always something my brother wanted to do in the façade that it was really for me.

Is it really bad to want to feel special from time to time?

I am always made to feel unreasonable.

I try to look on the bright side though; at least people won’t circle around me smiling weirdly at me whilst they sing out of tune “squash tomatoes and stew”.  Ugh I really hate that version of happy birthday.  But I’m no kill joy, honestly.

I am starting to sort the house out, finding all my stuff, moving it to my bedroom as we’ve moved apart now me and Paul.  I don’t mean I’ve moved out of our house, I mean, we’re living sort of separate lives whilst still living together and I want to organise my stuff.

Mostly because it destroys me that I worked hard to keep things being thrown away over the years by my mum, only for it to come here, get lost amongst Paul’s mess and when I find it, find that its broken irreparably.  It bothers me when it’s an ornament or an item of clothing that was thrown in a corner out of the way being ruined, instead of going in a laundry basket – but it hurts a lot when I find it’s a handwritten story or a watercolour painting I have done.

Paul is a recovering hoarder (pack rat).  When I first moved in this house was quite something… It took me nearly two years to get the house into some sort of liveable shape and it was a very tumultuous time emotionally between us as Paul had to let things go in order to give the growing baby their own space too.

When I got sick, the house got bad again.  But for years I struggled to try and clean at least one room a month to keep on top of things, but the problem with that is energy and health.

I have asthma; one of the biggest things that set my chest off is dust.  Cleaning is not his priority, so this house is never dusted by him, always me.

Once a month it took me about three to eight hours in one day to clean a room, just one room.  To always find that three days later it looked like it hadn’t been touched, because Paul will shift items from other places in the gaps I made.

Years of struggle and arguments over it – new friends I have made since living here has no idea of Paul’s past and Paul is quite sneaky in letting people believe it’s me who has the problem… look at all the books, they are all hers.  Because I have bookcases downstairs visible for everyone, they see it as a truth and it’s not.

If you were to see the house, you would see all of my areas is clean and tidy most of the time.  You can clearly see where Paul spends his time, as it’s the messiest corners of the house with very dangerous high piles of whatever.

My bedroom is heaven in comparison the whole house.  The dining room is not functional for its purpose and the kitchen is just downright dangerous.

I used to care for our front and back gardens up until two years ago when the bad neighbour moved in with his girlfriend and decided to start sexually harassing me all the time whenever he saw me in the garden.  The gardens are now dangerously overgrown, because I won’t go out there and Paul has no spine to tell the guy where to go.

I have wanted to call the police, but being deaf I can’t use a telephone; Paul has flat out refused to call them on the grounds of lack of evidence.  I suggested we use a camera to film me in the garden so they can observe his actions, but of course our poverty is the perfect excuse for Paul not to do that.

As my illness has been the perfect excuse for him not finding a job. 

I miss my garden.  It was one of my ways in staying sort of fit.  I miss walking on the ground barefoot as I pick strawberries and columbines.

I miss doing “what that mad cow” is doing as the bad neighbour called me once, when I decided to go in our front garden and sit directly behind our privet hedge amongst the tall wildflowers because there were tamed frogs, toads and magpies who liked to visit me out there.

I remember hearing his girlfriend and daughter telling him to shut up and leave me alone, because they knew what I was like and they liked what I did.  They often commented about how my garden seems to steal all of nature’s beauty from them, all the butterflies and birds visits my garden but not theirs.

Their garden has decking from door to fence with only four small pots of violas, is it any wonder?

I’m a bit of a hippy, nature’s child – actually I might have under exaggerated, just a little…

Since I watched Shirley Temple’s Heidi when I was 5yrs old I have always wanted to own a homestead with my own goats and chickens running about me free, feeding them at 6am singing like Cinderella.

Before I got sick, I was very much a morning person.  Waking up like a new-born every day, excited to start living again, throwing open the curtains and singing “Good morning” by Doris Day making everyone in the house want to kill me as they recoil under their covers like vampires hiding from the sun.

I can’t do that anymore; when I wake up around ten to fifteen minutes after I have walked about a bit getting washed and dressed the coughing fits start for about an hour on a bad day.  If I wake up and don’t move out of bed, it’s not so bad, but as soon as I get moving it comes.  The really bad days scares the crap out of me.

When I do eventually move out of Paul’s house, it’s going to be tough on anyone new I make a relationship with.  Those early morning coughing fits are scary for even Paul who has been used to them for eight years.

My consultant believes he knows the cause of this, but he will not treat me because our local hospital is almost bankrupt and has a policy of treating life threatening conditions only.

I have enlarged adenoids that won’t shrink and broken cartilage in my nose made it worse.  I broke my nose around 5yrs ago which made the coughing worse, they won’t repair the cartilage, it’s considered aesthetic.  Although they call it aesthetic, it won’t improve my looks; my nose will still look big!  But there are times the cartilage moves and makes me sneeze uncontrollably and it hurts.

The biggest thing about all this stuff I am finding is that I don’t want a lot of it anymore.  I want to give it away to a charity/thrift store.  But Paul, ever the hoarder, told me not to do that.

He then caved in and said OK, I take some stuff for you.  But it’s all talk.  The bag of things has sat on the floor hall for a week now.

Hopefully someday we’ll sort things out here.

Happy reading!

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Mini book of me.

WARNING – approximately 5k and first draft unrevised, don’t want to revise it; too much to do, did re-read it all to Paul, he says its fine. It’s an honest insight to my personality, thoughts and feelings, though not comprehensive. A lot of explicit details which some viewers erm readers may find shocking! *Shrugs* warned you.

Today’s post is a huge insight to me as a person or at least how I view myself, the good and the bad – why do I want to share this?  Because I think it will answer a lot of questions for the people interested, also a greater understanding why I have been tardy to start my life as well as my creative projects.

It has been mentioned many times before that my start in life was a bumpy one, growing up with a toxic narcissistic and hedonistic parent that isolated me, overfed me and was Munchausen when I was healthy and neglectful when I wasn’t and who destroyed my social life time and time again.

I will not give too many details about what went on in my life before I finally and permanently got away from her, when I was twenty seven – but I think you should know, I underplayed a lot of the things that happened – a lot!  What I have said in the past is enough.

I would say my biggest issue with new people is trust – I have been blackmailed by various people my whole life, that if I sense anyone trying it on with me in the future, even just a little bit, I walk.

Yes, I know other people have emotional baggage too, I understand that and I am loving and caring towards people, but to place their problems on my shoulders then cry about how I don’t care enough, to me is emotional blackmail and I don’t stand for it.  I don’t like anyone making demands of me, if I have not invited them into my life willingly. 

I am tired of taking on people who never considers my thoughts and feelings but always demands I must consider theirs, I have been self-sacrificing for too long and it saddens me.

It saddens me that people want to do this to me time and again, because all I want is to love someone and be loved unconditionally and to care for someone in my own way and to just have a happy life – I need vibrant people, even if they have baggage, they have to be able to rise above it, sigh, take a deep breath and try their hardest to get on with it without burdening others.  This is how I am and I am sure I can’t be the only person out there who can do this?

If you know anything about chakras, you’d understand that my throat chakra is always blocked and I practically live with a sore throat all the time with the amount of stuff I don’t talk about – the amount of stuff I refuse to burden others with.

I have lived with so many energy vampires, I attract them, because of my fake vibrancy (yes I fake it, because I don’t like to zap others) and so I have to become picky about who enters my life in the future.

I am an understanding friend, I will be a pillar of support when you really need me – but ultimately, I am not someone who likes to sit back and wallow.  I am the sort of friend who seeks out the funny side of things, often quite inappropriately and childishly, it is the way I cope.

When I talk fast, apologise a lot with lots and lots of insane giggles, you know I am not coping with the energy around me and I am trying to lighten the atmosphere.

I may even become over the top caring, to the extent I do random acts of stupidity like impulse hugging the person who is sad etc. and then I leave the room and cry in embarrassment about how I acted like a moron in there and can I ever look the person in the face again? as they misunderstood my intention as something that was, you know… a bit too intimate?

I haven’t got out much – seriously I haven’t, I have very little social skills and I am very childish.

When I make friends, I am like a child in kindergarten – what do you do for fun?  What’s your favourite colour?  What’s your favourite food?  Do you have any pets?  I know it’s not normal adult conversation, but that comes easy for me!  These are questions that come to the top of my mind all the while, because these things genuinely interest me about a person!

I do weird new people out, it’s just me…

I like professional conversations or conversations about events that are happening with new people around me, as I can focus on those things and not make a fool of myself, as much.

So, this school is great isn’t it?  Love the fete that’s on right now, what stalls have you been at so far?  Isn’t Mr whatever lovely with the children?  Those conversations make me seem normal.

Some women avoid me because I am quite tall and muscular for a woman.  I am 5ft 8 but I used to weight lift a lot when I was younger and so I have a lot of defined features, basically I look like I shot put; which is a massive contrast to both my bone frame (medically petit) and my sweet fairy face, as some people describe me.

Before I got mono and pneumonia which made me really ill with a permanently bad chest back in 2014 ish, I could carry a man that weighed 248llbs across the room with a bit of struggle, now I struggle to lift Henry two inches off the ground, he is twelve years old and 116llbs and 5ft 3. 

I am hoping to get healthy to manage to lift 250llbs again, I know it will take a couple of years work, but it’s one of my goals.  I have no intention of doing weight lifting professionally nor having very ugly large muscles where I lose my bust, no way, not for me! It’s not ladylike!

But I do know with my muscle mass that it is virtually impossible for my body to weigh less than 180llbs because of the work I did in my youth.  One amazing thing about my body, which I love, is how narrow my waist always seems to remain, I am an hourglass shape and I often get comments about how long my legs are too!

I have big feet, which according to grandma means that babies will cannon ball out of me; I didn’t believe her, until the midwife nearly dropped Henry on his way out!  Now there’s an image for you!

I love the colour of my eyes, though I find them too squinty, but I am kind of proud of them as it shows I have some throwback genes of my four or five great grandpa’s Vietnamese roots, they are also the rare colour green. 

I am self-conscious of my laugh and smile, even though I seem to endlessly giggle – believe me its anxiety, stress and nerves!

I sound like a horse racing commentator when nervous and I often exhaust myself quite quickly when I am stressed out and meeting new people; It takes me a few meets to get comfortable enough to talk freely with a person, but it depends on how nice they are and kind.

I am very body aware and self-conscious because I have certain things about my body I don’t like. 

I have lots of small scars for example, in weird places a sort of small birthmark style thing which makes me self-conscious about showing my back, it’s not big, but I know it’s there; which seems to be inherited as my mum and gran had the same thing. 

I have pigmentation patches on the tops of my legs and lower abdomen (the abdomen patches has faded completely now) which an ex once said he believed wasn’t a pigment problem, he said it was just dirt – so that helps confidence a lot doesn’t it?  I showered daily and he knew it!

I don’t know my own strength a lot of the time, too.  Some people think I deliberately hurt them when I hug them, I don’t, I am just a klutz and accident prone.  I am a nightmare doing the dishes because I have a problem with my left hand; it’s weaker than my right because of tendon issues and I am known to break wine glasses just by holding them. 

My body is unpredictable in that it swells up and goes down in short notice, it’s really weird and significant, I literally wake up fatter or slimmer day to day, I never know what the day is going to be like and often it makes my face swell too!  When my body swells it often makes me look nine months pregnant!  Which is yikes!

We’re relying on a broken NHS system to figure out what’s wrong with me, but they haven’t managed to diagnose why yet.

I hate the inconsistencies and lately I am paranoid about my hair, because I am developing alopecia in a particular place, which makes me have perfect brushed hair like Sandra bullock, but with a fuzzy top like weird brown exotic grass sitting on my head! Thanks long covid!

As a child and teenager I used to have a lisp and stammer that was quite bad, but not as bad as a friend of mine, that is still friends with me to this day because we bonded over our speech impediments.  By the time I was Sixteen my stammer and lisp had completely gone thanks to intense speech therapy – unfortunately in the past two years the stammer is slowly coming back. 

I think it’s because I am out of practise of talking, in all seriousness, my therapist did tell me the more I talk the less I will stammer!

My stammer is annoying as it is worse when I am trying to shout or argue with someone, I can’t be taken seriously, because the stammer just makes a mock of me!

I am talented in doing voices, but still the stammer can come and go whenever it likes.

As for my habits, I only drink to socialise at dinners and parties and limit myself to three alcoholic beverages; yes I am the bore who asks for water or fruit juice. 

I try to drink three glasses of water per day, a chamomile tea and green tea.  I am now only having Pepsi or cherry cola once a week and only one glass, hurray me!  Oh and I love cranberry juice and smoothies.

I don’t smoke and never will. 

I don’t like to sunbathe, bad for the skin and I am a bit of a vampire really… though I love playing in the water, or when I am at beaches I am a big kid digging trenches, playing with the sand and rock pooling or burying the ones I love… all normal here… I say that about beaches, but only been to a beach twice in my life.  I tend to go to the fake beaches that are inland, you know, the lidos and the thingamabobs. 

I am a water baby though, love swimming, get me a pool you will struggle to get me out, also love those diving boards!

I am a bit of a germ-phobic too, I clean my laptop etc. whenever anyone I believe is unsanitary has used it and I am reserved about. 

I don’t have much to talk about except for recent things, because I have so far had a boring life, its best for me to talk about what’s going on immediately in my life and what I plan for it in the future.

I love cooking for people; I like to feed people, but nice food, healthy foods.  It is one of my joys in life, especially if the food it made from scratch by me, like lasagne with all the homemade sauces not canned stuff from a supermarket!

I am easily bored so I am always looking to be doing anything else at any time and I love people who motivate me to do things, like, go for a walk, or anything!  I am happy for change; I easily stagnate when I am around people who do nothing.

I am very modest in what I want from life and people, I like praise but I don’t take it well, it kind of embarrasses me to have people be nice to me and that.  In fact that’s a weird thing about me, whenever people are super kind and nice to me, I tend to need to leave the room and cry because I am not used to it and I don’t know why I am like that!

I am prone to nervous stomach as well, which is a huge embarrassment!  My stomach gets unnecessarily noisy and I can’t control it!  Groan grumble groan, groan, like some moany old man and sometimes, depends on the situation or people I am dealing with – now this is excessive anxiety, usually bought on by having medical procedures or dealing with people who I am afraid of, but I visibly shake and my teeth chatter.  I can’t hide my emotions very well when I am anxious. 

Thankfully, on a general note I tend to be braver than the average person, or so Paul seems to think so!

When people hurt my feelings or are mean to me or shout too much around me and there is a lot of anger in the room, I tend to leave the room and get away from that kind of energy until I think the person has calmed down.  I also try not to speak to them if I bump into them again and leave the ball in their court to speak first, so I don’t screw up; because it’s likely I will start with the inappropriate jokes, usually on the person’s behalf and it can blow up again.

I have the habit of saying “no offense” immediately before or after I have insulted someone, because often I have the habit of saying what I think and then thinking oops, but also I am kind enough to arm a person before a supposed insult ensues.  I don’t really mean to insult people and don’t go out of my way to.  But I have been known to say things like… “No offence, but that was bitchy of you just then” or “No offence, but you are a little behind with the times”.

If a person is an asshole, they’ll know I think that too… just too honest for my own good!

But the thing is… some assholes are actually nice assholes!  What I mean is a certain type of dominant that has gusto, poise and finesse can get away with it if they putting down someone nastier, but not a regular asshole who is an asshole for assholes sake!

I don’t want any trouble, but I will give trouble if it comes my way; I am feisty, like I was raised to be!  Because my past had a lot of violence and abuse in it, it means that threatening me with violence is a dumb idea, because I’ve been there done that, worn the t-shirt got tough and so what is the big deal huh?  You want to hurt me?  You’re going to get some pain too!  Sorry, but I do not back down to bullies, it took me twenty seven years to build that strength, I am not going to be a victim again!

I’ve played with some nasty people over the years and I know all the dirty tricks and I’ve learned over the years that the people likeliest to try and abuse me are all soft pussys who never experienced it themselves and will curl in a ball shouting mama, no sooner had I slapped them back!

People think because I have had an abusive past that I am a victim for the rest of my life, yes some women get destroyed by it and never find their courage, but I am one of these that the more I was abused the thicker my skin got and let’s put it this way… Paul can vouch for the truth in this, I broke my leg and it hurt a lot!  But I didn’t feel I needed the doctor, I didn’t see any protruding bones etc, but I could walk on it and I did for nearly nine months until a doctor accidentally bumped my leg with his chair and I screamed, asked what happened, told them, they sent me for an x-ray and found I was living with a break the whole time! That’s one of the reasons Paul decided to get me away from my family.

That’s how much I’ve had in my life, so much that breaking my leg was nothing to me.

I am not saying this to impress anyone.  I am saying it to put a point across, that I am not going to be abused again, not in a way that is detrimental to me. 

I like dominant self-assured guys who know what they like, I love and admire that.  A guy can dominate a woman without destroying or hurting her.  I have a past in the lifestyle, what is the lifestyle you ask?  I have been an active part of the BDSM community and there are guys out there who are not abusive, but tender, nurturing and protective of their women.  The total opposite to what society thinks the lifestyle is about.

Ironic that my past domestic violent relationship outside of my childhood home was vanilla and was a very religious man to boot – vanilla is what we in the lifestyle call non-BDSM couples!

My mental health and my strength to stand up for myself would never have happened if it weren’t for these wonderful men training me how to overcome it all.

Because I was used to pain, I began to self-harm when I didn’t get regular bouts of pain – weird I know.  I self-harm when I am stressed.  These guys helped me with that; they toned down the punishment I’d do to myself to a safe sane level under their control. 

I can take a lot, so I am pretty fun to play with in the scene.  But don’t get the wrong idea, it’s not abuse, because it is something I have agreed on and no one goes beyond another person limits.  There are safe words and understandings, everything is talked through, and everyone is respected including the submissive!

But I tell you now, it takes a very special person to get me in the lifestyle, because a couple of my exes were amazing men.  I have found it very hard to replace them.

Why am I not with them anymore?  The first one I was jealous of their new submissive as they were polyamorous, the second one went to war and came back mentally unstable and felt for my sake, he should let me go.

I didn’t live with them though.

I feel bad for the first one, because jealousy is no longer an issue for me and I am currently in an open relationship with Paul, where he actively seeks other women – however, Paul is the least dominant person I’ve ever met, despite meeting him in a lifestyle community room.

Paul has been pushing me to find someone else for a long time, someone who will bring out the Empress in me, because Paul thinks I am naturally dominant, but I don’t see it personally.  He thinks I would have been quite a formidable woman had it not have been for my toxic upbringing.

I don’t think he knows me that well.  When I am in love and I respect a man a lot because of their gumption, good manners, and self-certainty and so on, I go weak at the knees and it is Yes Sir all the way! As long as I feel respected and above all cherished like a favourite pet! 

Some of you no doubt are disgusted by all of this, but I don’t care.  It’s me, like it or not.

All I want from life is someone to respect me, look out for me, protect me, guide me, nurture me, help make me the best that I can be by keeping me on track with my goals, motivate me, love me so much it feels unreal.  I want dogs, a herd of goats and guinea pigs, an aquarium, a large garden I can turn into a food forest, some more children and endless amounts of art supplies and a cosy home. 

I am forty now, I don’t know how many kids I can have before I dry up!  But if I become rich due to a lottery or becoming a bestseller, I think I’d have my eggs stored so I don’t miss out on a new family.

The Italian, Irish and Greek blood in me is so strong; I need to be mama to a large brood!  It is something I’ve always wanted, but my relationships have always controlled that.  I love family life, but unfortunately things contrived to leave me virtually without one.  I only really have Paul and Henry now.

All I want to do is share my ideas with the world, my art, and my stories, perhaps start a new weird sub-culture because of my works and see other people play or be inspired by my ideas!  I want to garden, I want to go to dog sport events with my future trained pups and cook good food for good friends.  I’d like to go to the occasional country fair and things like that.  A simple life really, filled with love and passion for everything.

This post is becoming a bit of a novella I suppose; it is very long right now. But I want you to know me more, I don’t know why I want to do this, I have some kind of instinct it’s a good thing to post out there.

But one thing I have problems with is my chronic embarrassment by how I look and talk, smile and laugh.  I don’t want this body, I want a new one.  I like being 5ft 8, I like having green eyes, I like having the narrow waist and the legs that go all the way up, but it’s everything in between I hate.

I hate my big nose, I hate my shape of the face, it’s an inverted triangle, how ugly, makes me look like I have huge jowls and I squint too much!

What I hate more than anything is, I can’t shout, because I stammer and because my voice breaks and screeches like Madeline Kahn from History of the world part 1, I can’t sound composed and mature when I need to shout suddenly.  If I work up to it by thinking about it before shouting, I can sound a bit, sergeant major like, but a sudden shout will be a screech.  So embarrassing!

Anyway not much positive stuff yet I know, but I am getting there.

I know I care very deeply for people who are in my life, whether they are neighbours (except the bad one) or friends or family or mere acquaintances I see often in town.  I don’t ever walk away from a person in need, even a stranger, even if I get into trouble for it from my bosses because I left my post to help a woman who was having a heart attack.

I believe the whole world is a family, we’re all cousins and I don’t like it when people disagree I find it so short sighted.

I always thank people who serve me whether it’s protocol or not!  I don’t care for protocol if it means we forget our manners!

I am the sort of person who’ll wipe the table down at a café or restaurant before anything else and will tip generously if the service was genuinely friendly and nice and sometimes leave a message for their bosses about how lovely the specific and named worker was. 

I can’t walk past homeless people without giving them food or water, unfortunately when I am out with some people they grab me by the arm and move me away from them because they know I am so generous.

I often do the gardening without shoes, which worries Paul a lot.

I have all sorts of weird holistic remedies for people I love, if they need it.  Got a stomach ache?  I have a crystal for that you should hold.  Got a headache?  Rub your head with the nearest pebble and throw it away.  That sort of thing; I eat flowers too, some are edible.

I garden organically and with nature’s aid, got a pest problem?  I will endeavour to encourage pest eaters to the garden!

I like fantasy, sci-fi, dystopian, comedy, animation, non-slash horror, martial art and mafia movies.  I am addicted to vampire movies, Pixar movies, DC and Marvel.

I like reading a lot and there are always around ten to fifteen books on my bedside cabinet!

I like doing oracle readings and tarot readings for people who are close to me.

I can’t drive a car or ride a bicycle, never learned.

I am terrified of horses but will go near them as I like them, but I am too scared to get within touching distance.

I am more of a dog person than a cat person.  I love cats too, though, but I do tend to get sinus problems around them if I am with them too much, same with pug specific dog hair, but I love all animals so I think its worth the suffering!

I don’t know why it’s just pugs, but there you go.

I have an excellent strong sense of smell, which makes me really sensitive to all kinds of odours and I have a strong gag reflex!

I have quite a prominent mustard allergy unfortunately, it makes my spleen swell! I also have issues with eating soy occasionally.

My biggest food problem (as in the foods I love too much) are cream and dairy anything, lamb, kebabs, southern fried chicken, Indian and Chinese food.  I mostly have a Mediterrean mixed Asian diet though.

I have five different personalities that come out from time to time, a masculine me, a kawaii/Lolita loving me, a gothic me, mother of the world me and a jock me. 

I do love sports, despite being fat and unfit.  I’ve been housebound for eight years!

I love watching sports, but I love doing them too.  A major part of my depression has been what I describe as physical boredom.  I love to move my body, but I am not motivated when I live with or am around lazy sedentary people. 

Unfortunately, although Paul walks everywhere, he loves to be immobile most of the time and me being a water dog, I flow with those around me.  So if people are stagnant around me, I stagnate too.

I really do become the energy of the people around me the most.

Before my illness, I loved Tae-bo, netball, Frisbee, swing ball, belly dancing, skipping, rowing machine, power walking, hurdling, swimming, lots of sports.  There is a sport in the UK called rounder’s which is like baseball really, I love that at picnics.

On TV I like to watch gymnastics, rugby, wrestling, horse racing, dog sports and other things.

I am a positive person really, I always see the good in most things, and I have a Pollyanna type problem lol.

When people first get to know me I am very open and honest immediately with little or no reservations after the first few meets, but tend to allow others to lead conversations bore I get comfortable with them.  It puts some people off, making them think I am trying to put them off, but I am not.  I just like to let people know where I stand and set boundaries immediately.  I don’t mean to come across defensive with things like “so why did you want to contact me then”? 

If they happen to start to talk to me online for an example.

I am over excited when people are nice to me too, as it’s a novelty.  Stupid as it sounds.  It takes a lot to bite my tongue about things so I don’t sound weird, but often I just want to blurt out to kind people things like this… “omg you are so sweet, I love you for that”, but I hold back with an “oh wow, or that’s nice”.

My music tastes are jazz, rock and easy listening.  But I like opera and classical music too and weird modern classical like Nox Arcana, I suppose that’s the best way to describe it?  Though saying that, it is dark fantasy or gothic instrumental.

I consider myself in having mostly Jewish ideas, though I am not Jewish.  My ancestors were but not me; my parents raised me to be Christian and Jehovah Witness.  I don’t hold with their beliefs.  I think of myself more of a Noahide/Ben Noach with a lot of spirituality with it, some pagan stuff and Buddhism and I love myth and folklore.  But I do believe in just one god, all other gods from pagan beliefs etc I think were just spirits perhaps angels that got misunderstood or whatnot.

I don’t believe Hell is for humans, I don’t believe in being god fearing, because fear comes from the devil, love comes from god.

My personal addictions are perfume, sparkly things (but I don’t like wearing jewellery casually or wearing makeup) formally though make up and jewellery is essential.  I have a caffeine problem I am overcoming.  I love fleece and faux fur (fake fur) and cotton. 

I love cushion forts and can easily get addicted to video games, I have a huge gaming past and I am trying to curb it these days. Doing well with that actually!

I love war games, Rome Total War and real strategy games.  I am a master of ancient warfare; I was 5th in the world leader board for the original Rome Total war twenty years ago, for being one of the best generals in the world. 

For a woman I have a lot of weird hobbies and knowledge.

I know how to change a fuse and build a wall and change the water in the car, weird things like that.

My experience of being passed around different relatives as a child, meant I experienced lots of different family lives and I learned that the bigger the family the calmer the environment and easier it is to actually feed them all.  Sounds counterproductive, but it works!  Really less than three children is hard work!  More than five kids is easier!  I know it sounds nuts, but its quieter, because they keep each other amused and there is less sibling rivalry.

Henry is extremely demanding and hard work as he constantly needs attention as an only child. I warned Paul about this, but he didn’t want to risk me getting sicker by having more children.   I can’t force Paul to get me pregnant, so I didn’t have anymore.  He knows I resent this, because he hasn’t respected my choice with my body.  But the thing is, he does want more children.  The other thing is, we are in an open polyamorous relationship, where he is going to be getting another woman pregnant someday and I am sitting there not having another baby.  Which is hard to digest!

I have struggled to have any kind of life outside of everything I have said in all the above paragraphs, because I have been controlled by other people all my life and I have put myself aside for them. I am also trying to boost my confidence to get a life, because I am scared.

I don’t know how to react and socialise in a normal acceptable kind of way. I am ugly and so even when I fake confidence, people call me pretentious and all sorts of horrid names.

The amounts of time I have thought about suicide, just so I can have a fresh start.

I have heard I am getting popular, Paul has told me certain people have told him things. Whether its true or not I don’t know, it could just be his attempt to boost my confidence, but if its true – it’s terrifying me the kinds of attention I am getting.

Why are they so interested in me in a nice way?

I am not that talented, I am just weird, nervous, I live in the clouds and I am ugly, I am fat and honestly… if they showed up I’d hide. I’d probably swear out loud, run away and vomit in a corner somewhere because of the attention. I’m a mess. Or sometimes, as I have been known to do this instead when I am a little more brave, is become too friendly if you get me? Almost desperate like.

I am fascinated and confused by the attention Paul claims I am stirring up in some people. You know I don’t get it, but Paul is getting fan mail. Fan mail? Really?

I haven’t done anything yet!

Nothing significant, this blog is nice, but its underworked and certainly not what I call my best work!

So what’s the big deal?

I don’t get it.

I love you for being interested in me, but I don’t get it.

There is a handful of people, not just one or two and I don’t get it.

I think though, I might not get it, even if I am a bestselling author someday.

I think, it’s all dream and nothing has happened yet!

People contact Paul more than me – I invite you to talk to me directly, either on twitter DM or my email at TheTardyCreative@gmail.com Paul is tired of the questions and the cryptic stuff. I am more than happy to talk in depth with you all.

I can’t think about what else to say about me.  Other than I am so confused. I have been writing this for nearly two hours now and it is 5k long, so I am posting this as a mini book of insight to my personality.  I don’t think it’s full and comprehensive, but it will have to do for now, because my fingers are icy cold and going stiff.

But all I want is love, a few more children, a lot of pets, good food, friends, to be creative and have a lovely forest garden and some health and fitness, is that too much to ask for?

I feel like deleting this and wasting those two hours, but Paul won’t let me.

Happy reading!

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