Tag Archives: violence

My dreams scream

I am driven insane

By the things I know

Little bits of secrets

Of all the world glows

In my mind they fight for space

In my dreams they scream

I can’t escape all the weirdness of dream

I am going mad by the violence of life

The cold hearted people are my vice

I can’t stand doing this alone

I need to be free… I need to go home

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The lady brawler

It’s ok, I get it, a lot of people think that I am nice and sweet and I am gentle and ladylike; lots of people think that because I am kind to them and I always generally try to choose to have a passive stance that they can walk all over me.  They don’t believe for one second I’ve had the life I have had, they can’t see how I can be Lady Penelope one minute and then a backstreet brawler the next and I get it, I can see why that’s hard to chew!

Because I have transitioned so far away from what my mum made me into, deliberately.

I’d love nothing better to sit back and be a lady and never to have to use fighting talk again, but when I do that – people take advantage and I am not going to let that happen!

I have had enough of being subdued by people who think that they are better than me, when obviously they are not if they can be mean to someone.

When I used to be thin and I used to be fit, I had a lot of admirers; I had a lot of people wanting to be in my crowd; did I bully them?  No, because I am nice.  The only people I ever said an unkind word to, was those I heard saying things to others, to put them down because they thought I wanted to hear that – because they thought a pretty girl is always like that and they’re not!

I remember my closest friends were bullied a lot by other pretty girls and some wannabes – my closest friends had a lot of problems, such as physical disabilities and one had a particularly bad stammering problem.  A couple of my friends were pretty, but too poor to spruce themselves up – I was a kind and fierce protector of those girls. 

This is one of the reasons why I don’t make friends with women easily, because I hate to say it – there is a lot of body image discrimination and I am not somebody who sits back and lets someone be mean at those who are disadvantaged – I am one of those who will be mean to anyone who tries to be mean in general to a person’s disability or physical bodily appearance. 

Fashion wise, yeah, I can snipe because why on earth would anyone want to wear cowboy boots with a Charleston cocktail dress?  I mean… come on!

But this post isn’t about me being a defender of friends or a fashion critic – this post is a little more of an insight to how I have been raised and partially why my life had been so full of violence regularly, even outside of my family circle.

My parents were rockers, part of the mods and rockers conflict. 

My mum in particular, in her first marriage was the leader of the gang’s wife!

Even when she left the rockers, there were still old memories sticking around even to this day some people will still challenge her, if they remember her and recognised her!

This isn’t all, my granddad was also a backstreet boxer and wrestler to earn extra money over the years and we have associations with others which I won’t name.

Amongst all of this, quite a lot of my family have been alcoholics or substance abusers and well anyone who knows about that sort of thing, can more or less tell, what comes into a person’s life once that happens!

So with all of this going on, there was always a reason, sometimes many for why people would boulder into my family home and beat the crap out of someone.  There was always some kind of reason for it.

Growing up I had to take a lot of scapegoat beatings from people who merely attacked me for my association with my family, some backed off when they found I was the good apple of the family and not like the others – but others used me as a target sometimes to provoke my family into reigniting their wars!

This is what I had to live with and accept!

I think partially this is why during my early adult years I became afraid to go out alone and I still am – I am happier and feel safer in small groups of people and this is a huge part of my PTSD.

But it doesn’t slide away from the fact that my own mother wanted to shut me away too – funnily enough not to shelter me from it all, but just because.  Because wherever possible, my mum used to try and push me forwards into any fray that was happening because it’s great life experience, toughen yourself up and oftentimes she’d leave me fighting her battles alone whilst she sneaked off!

She told me never to phone the police about these things, the last time this happened, I did, because the person tried to set three dogs onto me, whilst mum snuck back off to sit in her car watching it like some kind of blood sport and did so with noticeable relish!

So when people think they can challenge me for my looks or personality, or even think that they can get one over me by slapping me across the face – they are often left in a state of shock!

Because, this nice sweet, polite, timid exterior of a girl – fights and fights hard when challenged and I don’t back down, because to back down shows weakness and I have had harder beatings from my family for showing mercy and weakness, than I can ever get from an adversary!

I remember when I refused to hit someone with a stick once, four of my own relatives turned on me and beat me with sticks to teach me a lesson and I was 7yrs old, two of them were adults!

That’s what things were like for me, so don’t think you could ever knock me down and keep me down – I am too much of a fighter for that and I have a huge amount of resilience and stamina when the instinct to survive is turned on!

Thanks for reading!

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Filed under About Me

I won’t judge them!

There are a lot of people I miss from my past.

A lot of holes in my heart that hasn’t been filled by the loss of those people who were once in my life and some of them are dead now and some of them won’t talk to me because of their loyalties to others who have harmed me and so; they are not part of my life anymore.

Even the best of them had a lot of problems that the average Joe couldn’t cope with, but I didn’t mind them as they were the lesser evils in my life.  I know it sounds bad to call them that, but if you had known what I was up against day to day you’d have a hard time believing that some of the people I miss were the good ones, but to me, they were the best!

To me they were brilliant, vibrant, they made me happy and they kept my confidence from reaching rock bottom.

So what if they had problems with their anger, drink, drugs, crime, so what if they were benefit scroungers, scarred, societal oddballs that had dubious leanings to the occult or were overzealous bible punchers.  They were nice people to me and I loved them.

Even if sometimes I would be scared to visit them because their husband is home for once and drunk at the time and I never knew if I would need to stick around for her sake, just in case an ambulance was needed.  Even if I knew that they themselves were drunk and would go on their vicious rants about other people I loved and would then start becoming weird with me, I knew they weren’t always like that and I forgave them because their lives were in some ways just as horrible as my own, if not more so.

To be honest, I think it was only a small margin of people in my life who weren’t addicted to something or another or didn’t have some kind of serious mental issue about them.  To me, I am easily hurt in honouring them – what I mean is, I see people don’t forgive people like those easily.  People don’t really support people like them unless they’ve been there themselves or loved someone who have been.

So it drives me around the twist when I see a lovely person like these people, striving hard against all the odds to become a sober person and someone bad from their past comes along to upset the cart or people who don’t understand or know them judge them harshly for their pasts where the poor buggers are sitting there wondering is there any point at all in being sober if I am constantly going to be judged all the time?

 Is it any wonder they think that at all?  I mean, why do people judge others for their past?  The past is gone, praise them for their efforts now, never wield it as a weapon against them by suggesting that they need you, because oh you know, you’d go back to that way of life without me.  That is blackmail and I have a hard time sitting around hearing that kind of vomit coming out of people’s mouths. 

I have lost people I love to this, suicide because why did they bother?  Murdered because their past friends snuck an injection into their arms when they weren’t looking at a party for an old time’s sake! 

I’ve seen it all and I don’t like it.

I don’t like how people judge them.

It breaks my heart because all I can see are their floods of tears and their war wounds, still fighting hard against all the odds, and yet society wants to kick them down again – because they think that once you’re in that type of life, you always belong there and it isn’t true!

Society needs to change; they need to praise them when they try to get sober.  Not kick them in the gutter because they tried to get a job and you’re judging them because they were honest with you about their past and why it took them so long to make the decision to have that career now!

I am disgusted at the law for locking addicts away into prisons making them criminals, when in fact most of them are actually very good law abiding citizens who only use their addictions as a means to cope with life’s hurdles.

Instead there should be recuperation centres or something, but not a prison.

Why am I talking about all of this today? 

Because I miss a lot of people who have or had had that kind of life, I miss them a lot and I worry about them every day, I love them all a lot and I bet they think I don’t even think of them anymore – but I do!

My family run rife with drunks and junkies, some are law abiding but there are a couple who are out and out criminals, I won’t hide that.

To think I escaped that kind of life, people think it’s a miracle – but I don’t because you know… I see how addiction works, I understand it, I was raised to see it in every possible personality type you can think of.  I did in fact become drunk for a small while in my youth because it made me human or so my mum and brother told me… here have another drink before you dry out and become like an old prune again Tee.

When I was drunk I was hysterical, I mean scared hysterical, not laughing at all – paranoid that the walls are falling around me, where is the floor?  Scary stuff!

My family observed me through morphine when I was recovering from mastoid surgery; they knew what type of addict I would have been based on my behaviour during that time so they said – though it was small doses for two weeks. 

Their observations scared me.  According to them, I tend to be the type to love the world, be in awe of everything that’s beautiful, be easy going, do anything to me and I would do anything to myself sort.  My brother freaked out, this is the type that is going to die on this stuff mum – make sure to keep her away from it!

They told me what I was like when I had it, it was enough to keep me away.  They judged I’d be easy to bed, easy to anything and way too honest with people – a no, no in the family, I’d be a spill the beans and everything else on the floor type, my tongue is loose on those things, so they say. 

I know on general anaesthetic it lasts longer on me too and although it’s kind of different people have also reported similar personality in me to the above observations.  Lover of the world, everything is beautiful, I love you and you and you, yeah you can touch me, yeah I will stick my hand in the BBQ and take the hot coal out for you with my bare hands… seriously, this has happened to me and nobody stopped me doing it either, because the stupid bitch will learn, won’t she?

Nope, that happened twice in my life and nearly a third time when Paul was with me! Up until recently I was naturally trusting because I was always hopeful in finding the best in people, gets worse or comes back when I am drowsy because of meds. I still do try not to lose my faith in people – some will say that’s my biggest fault.

My family didn’t stop me doing things just because I was recovering from surgery and still under some kind of anaesthetic influence, Paul has seen what they’ve done to me, you could ask him yourself if you like?  You have his email up there in the Email me tab.

Paul is sensible; on the two occasions I have lived with him and had been under the influence of anaesthetic he forces me to stay in bed for around 48 hours, it takes a time to leave me.  It’s weird, even the doctors are puzzled why it stays longer in me.

Gosh I miss some of these people.  I miss the console game parties they had, I miss the pub lunches once a month with them, I miss the dogs I had to babysit for them.  I miss the gardening we used to do together as we helped our elderly relatives maintain their gardens, all sorts of things.

I miss the cuddles as they tell me that “you’re going to be OK, you smart beautiful girl because you are amazing and strong and you don’t let people push you into crazy shit like this” they say as they hold up their joint to me.

There’s too many, that are gone.

But never ever feel that I will ever judge you because of your past, that’s not me.  I am not that kind of person! 

I love you for who you are now and who you are striving to be and I wish that you will grow stronger and ignore anybody who tells you that you can’t change – you can change, you’ve probably changed so much already, but NEVER EVER let anyone make you believe that you can’t do it without them!

Never!

I love you all and I send all the positive vibes your way to help you heal whatever wound you have whether you are an addict or not!

Thank you for reading!

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Filed under Home and Family

Who is Catalina?

DISCLAIMER – EXTREME TRUE LIFE BODY HORROR MEMORIES

There are things I thought I have shared on my blog, only for me to find that I can’t find where they are when I want to refer back to them; what I have done is, lost the confidence to post some things and put them on a private journal on another site, like blogger; where only invited people can see what is there, because sometimes I am ashamed of my past.

Even the things that I should be shameless about because those things weren’t my fault, I feel I should hide them because it is too graphic for my audience.

But I have to write those things sometimes, as a form of therapy to myself – also as I write things down it is easier for me to zone out and just read out loud for Paul to know things about my past, without me feeling too attached.  Because I can zone out and read something out loud, it’s a weird skill I have developed over the years to protect myself from hurting again.

I don’t think anyone can understand how that works, I know I don’t.

One of those things for example is an explanation about who Catalina is to me.

I thought I had shared this here, but apparently not – or at least I can’t find the post using the keywords I was trying to find in order to reference for you who she is.

So, this is why this post exists – to tell you who she is to me.

This is why I have to state right now DISCLAIMER – THIS POST IS NOT FOR THE LIGHT-HEARTED.

One of my exes put me on birth control against my will so that he could have unprotected sex with me whenever he liked, he made me have the Depo-Provera injection – however, my mother didn’t trust me when I told her that I am on Depo-Provera and so she too, forced me back to another clinic for the mini pill and another injection on top.

I told the doctor at the clinic mum doesn’t believe how I got that bruise and the doctor said that if I had a double dose so quickly like this as well as have the mini pill, I could permanently damage my fertility in the future – mum was eager to make me do it and forced the doctor to agree too.

So I had it done again.

My ex, who I will name G here, was happy to do as he pleased even though I was suffering really badly for a month with a very bruised back.

He and I were confident there would be no unwanted babies coming our way, for him anyway.

Unfortunately for G and my mum I am one of the 4% that seem to be able to get pregnant on contraception whether it is in double doses or not.

Believe me when I tell you, I freaked out by this as both homes would have kicked me out if they knew I was pregnant!  But I love babies and I could never abort, personally.

So I continued in our relationship, hoping he’d grow to like the idea, but instead he thought I lied to him, because he worked in the medical profession and in his eyes this was impossible!

He was already domestically violent to me before this happened, but after I told him about the pregnancy test and showed him the evidence of it, he got more violent with me.  He completely denied the fact that the test was genuine and wouldn’t acknowledge or talk about it with me.

I started to suffer during my pregnancy and I wouldn’t tell my mum I was pregnant at all, because it would have been a mixed race baby and she told me at the time that she’d beat me up and kick me out and burn all my stuff in her house if she thought for one minute I would be pregnant with a Peruvian Indians baby.

I couldn’t get medical assistance to see how the pregnancy faired in London with mum, when G sent me back to my mother for weekends and the occasional week and I couldn’t go to a doctor in Wickford, Essex because G wouldn’t let me sign up in the area.

I started to lose a lot of weight because of extreme morning sickness and I started to get really bad bleedings and I felt I needed a doctor ASAP, so I begged G to get me to a hospital as I was getting really ill – all he could think about was how horny he was right then and wanted to have me immediately, no matter how I felt.

So frustrated he beat and raped me, this made the bleeding worse and he went for a shower humiliating me about how the bleeding was on him and how I need to get cleaned up.

When he got out the shower the bleeding got a little worse and I started to get a lot of pain and I told him, I believe I am about 5 months pregnant according to the dates and the size I am.  This made him furious and he told me he will show me how much he believes I am pregnant and full on punched me right in the stomach and stormed out of the house, telling me to sort myself out and get the idea of a baby out of my head!

The bleeding got worse right before his eyes and I said, I need an ambulance!  He just turned on his heel and left me there, with no phone.  He took our only phone and we lived in a dense rural place.

I bled hugely in the bathroom and had to cope on my own, I struggle to this day seeing pictures of foetuses and premature babies because of what I saw that night.  She was almost perfect and weirdly transparent.

When he came home in the morning I was still in the bathroom on the floor unable to do much because I was distressed about the dead baby, he forced me to flush her down the toilet and said she’s just a clot, but I knew she wasn’t.

He then threw bleach and towels at me and told me I had to clean the mess up whilst he went to bed.

Her birthday would have been the 7th of November had it have been a normal pregnancy to full term.  This day has always been a day of remembrance for her.  What makes it hard for me is that nobody acknowledges miscarriages as child loss.

She was definitely a girl, at 23 weeks, she could have potentially lived as a premature baby had I of had the proper care, there is a 50/50 chance at that stage.  She might have been disabled, but she would have potentially lived.

So, I named her Catalina, because I couldn’t live with myself without acknowledging her life and giving her a name and I knew I would have honoured G’s family with naming her after her aunt, the one who raised G.

So every year, on November 7th I light a candle in remembrance of her, because it is what my catholic family would do.  My aunts Catherine and Christine would understand this about me – but not many other people understand it.

She’d have been 19yrs old this year, probably going to college now or working full-time, I expect she’d have been short and a little stocky, as her dad was 5ft 6 and chubby and I have weight issues too.  She’d be half Latino with an Islamic great grandparent by all accounts, with all of my ancestral mixes rolled into one.  She’d have been quite a diverse little lady.

Henry once asked me about the candle on November 7th and was hurt when I wouldn’t tell him once, but it happened so regularly, that when Henry was 8yrs old, I finally told him about her.  He too, lights a candle and even bakes a cake every year for the family on this day, to remember the big sister he never knew!

I am unsurprised if people don’t believe me – because it’s very rare to get pregnant when you’ve had contraception, let alone double doses, but a lot of people struggle to believe me, because of the violence and the lack of care around it too, nobody can believe in evil people.

Because I couldn’t seek any medical attention whatsoever about this, I had no after care.  I bled non-stop and heavily for several months, my mum knew about the bleeding and took me to the doctor – but she never knew the cause.  When the doctor examined me, they blurted out how I’ve had a miscarriage, but I said, that’s impossible – mum you tell him.  Because she was in the room and I was terrified about her finding out. 

Mum told him, he is a useless doctor, I felt bad for him – but I had to keep it quiet.

He diagnosed menorrhagia.

I hate lying, but I just had to.

What is terrible is that this caused a lot of long term mental damage, not only because of what happened to me – but because my mum forced me to watch a pro-abortion documentary to sway me into the mind-set of accepting abortion at any stage the woman wants it.  Unfortunately the documentary she chose was a pro-life documentary, documenting what exactly happens during abortion and the scenes were uncut and horrifying.

Not something I needed to see after what happened to me!

My mum was disgusted about it and she was the one who became swayed to a new way of thinking!

I believe anyone should be able to do anything to their bodies – don’t get me wrong.  But I find it hard to accept abortion on a personal level.

Sorry about such a graphic post.  But I needed to explain who Catalina was and how big an event this was for me and how it has affected my life forever.

Thank you for reading!

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Filed under About Me

Some clarity on me

There is a problem in my life at the moment;  Paul and I are trying to work out how to handle this together, because things are moving faster than the both of us has planned.

It all has to do with the open-relationship we have.  Paul has found someone else, this means that we are in a predicament about what to do with me?

It’s not simple for us both to part like any other couple would.  Paul is scared this lady might run away from him no sooner had she got to know him more personally and then there is the issue of me.

What’s the issue with me?

I have never recovered properly from PTSD and I have a lot of anxiety issues, self-care issues and I have been struggling with dark suicidal thoughts for a long time.  Paul feels it is positively dangerous for me to live alone, at all!

In his mind, even at the loss of his own new found happiness with another woman, he is not happy about letting me move out unless he knows I am going to be cared for by someone who understands what is happening with me and who can take that on willingly.

Sometimes my mental illness can be so bad that I self-harm, but also my physical health can sometimes leave me zoning out at inappropriate times because it’s the way I manage pain.  I am also not reliable in medicating myself.  I have no mental health medication, it’s all physical.  But still, I forget it.

I am also not known to eat and drink regularly and often needs to be prodded to do so.  Though Paul often forgets the food aspect himself, I only really reliably eat a dinner every day, every other meal is usually skipped or I just snack.

It’s not as simple as just moving me out and Paul won’t have it.  Also Paul has told me, if I found another relationship that is willing to take care of me properly but they then decide that they no longer want me – he wants to just let this be clear, he would have me back here anytime.  Which would put a strain on his new relationship, but Paul feels responsible for me, like a father really.

He kind of adopted me when he helped me get away from my parents and he takes this role very seriously. 

But there is another problem with this.  He also agrees he is not the best person to care for me, because he is so absorbed in other things, he doesn’t have the time to talk to me or snuggle with me like he should.  He has also admitted that he feels quite neglectful towards me, because he is absorbed with caring for Henry and being chair of the governors for the local schools. 

We don’t share a room anymore and only hug each other to say goodnight or goodbye and he has told me that this is not enough for someone like me who has been attention starved most of her life – but he can’t spend more time with me, because he is exhausted with everything else.

I am only just recovering from a long standing sickness which made me bedbound for nearly nine years.  It has only been since Easter that I have been able to move around the house more, do some small exercises and even help a little with chores again.

The notion of just moving away into my own home without anyone living with me is not realistic right now and Paul wouldn’t let me anyway, as its too dangerous for me.

We are also in quite severe poverty, where paying taxi fees to see doctors is an issue.  I should be seeing the doctor very regularly, but we just can’t budget the taxi fares without starving ourselves for it!

So, even if I did find someone online to take me on – they’d have to literally go out on a huge limb to get to me and make so many compromises, that both Paul and I are very uncertain anyone is up for the challenge.

So we see ourselves as pretty much stuck together.

What hurts Paul the most is that this new lady of his, really wants to marry him ASAP and she is so much like a former fiancé he had, that died before they got married, thirty years ago.

Paul is twenty seven years my senior.  I am forty years old now, Paul also worries that if I cannot find a new relationship quite soon, that I may be alone anyway, because he might die of old age whenever and that scares the both of us, because it is likely at this moment in time – if I were to lose Paul tomorrow for example, I am likely to be made to go into a residential home for the mentally vulnerable and my son may spend a temporary time in welfare care, whilst they make arrangements to a distant cousin.

That’s my situation in a nutshell.

However, it’s not that simple again…

There is big interest in me from a handful of men.  I am not leading any of them on as such, just a little friendly flirtation with one or two, but I am not looking seriously.  Because I think nobody would be interested in someone like me… not with the problems I have.

Not genuinely and not in a non-toxic kind of way.

I don’t drive, we don’t have a car, we rely on public transport and we can’t afford to travel outside of our town Rugby in Warwickshire and I don’t have a passport.

When I said in the past posts about my isolation in life, I was being VERY sincere about that.  Until I met Paul, I rarely went out without anybody being with me.  I have always had someone accompany me to places; I have been that badly micromanaged.

I virtually never do anything alone outside the house; the idea is alien to me!  It’s alien to people reading this, but it’s normal to me.

My PTSD has never been treated properly because when I refused medication for mental health, the therapist refused to further management of it.  I am triggered by tiny things; things which can make me zone out and even lose wads of time, black out or panic.

I am not a social phobia person like my mum would make you believe; on the contrary I am quite an extrovert.  I prefer being around large groups of people, I am more anxious in quiet places that are unfamiliar to me or haven’t got anyone familiar in them. 

I am more secure when it is an open space with lots of escape routes, because I have experienced a lot of outside violence too, not just abuse at home, but it has to be filled with lots of people as it makes me feel safer in crowds. 

What I am trying to say is, I am even nervous alone in my own home.  I have always strived to live in places where the idea of being alone will be at its minimum.

A lot of people hate the idea of always having people around them, but for me, it’s what helps me thrive.  I need people.

Also I dislike handling people at the door, I would rather someone else deal with them because new people make me anxious, because again, I have experienced a lot of violence even on my on doorstep with people coming in to attack my mum or brothers! 

I don’t talk on the telephone either because I am deaf, texting is OK, but most people conveniently forget I am deaf, so all telephone calls are taken on my behalf.

Well, that’s me and my situation.

Happy reading and please understand!

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Filed under About Me

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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Filed under About Me

Lessons from life

Things I learned from life

How to sing from my grandma and where I want to be

How to dodge a face slap when someone takes aim at me

When to talk and when to run, knowing who is a foe and who is a chum?

Where to hide and where to play

How to laugh and what to say

Where to find peace and where to write

What to do to avoid a fight

How to smile when I hurt and hold my tongue about the jerk

How to pull a punch and line, so folk don’t go down in crime

When to make a stand at all and how not to become a fool

Where to go so that I can shine and how I found God divine

When to love and how not to hate

I won’t forget my past mistakes!

A task set by the book “how to grow your own poem” by Kate Clanchy, learning I made a mistake with this poem that I fell back into rhyming, I should do another like this but remember not to rhyme.  The subject should be about your life and the things you’ve learned, where and how and all of that and maybe even about where you see your life is going?

Happy reading!

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Filed under poetry

Books saved me from crime

I haven’t been raised to be who I am, I was raised to be something quite different and I fought against that system heartily because it felt wrong, corrupt and somewhat evil.

I read ferociously, reading was my weapons against self-destruction.

I am glad I took the quiet path and found solace within the pages of books – because the other path would have been a huge detriment to myself, my life, any offspring I had and perhaps a loss of art from my perspective – because the alternative path would have been a life of sordid means and running away from problems, skipping town to town to avoid being tracked by my past abusers and potentially I would have followed one of my older siblings into a life of crime.

Instead the path I took was a weird one, for the type of family I was raised in.

My mother often told me she was disappointed that I appeared to be some kind of flake, some kind of weird little creature who sat in dark corners reading books and seemed alien to what she said was a normal person’s idea of fun!

So what did my mother think was a normal person’s idea of fun?  Going out Friday and Saturday nights drinking themselves into a stupor with your friends, gorging on take aways and BBQs wherever possible and bothering the doctor about your strange back pain, without telling your doctor that you recently fell off a balcony with an 8ft drop because you were too drunk to realise what you were doing!  Oh but that’s not all, pick on the quietest person in your group and make them do things they’d never do without your cajoling and bullying – oh such fun!

Then on Sundays spend all day cleaning the house whilst worshipping God in the form of watching biblical movies in dead silence. 

If it wasn’t for books I would have successfully ran away by the age of fourteen, I knew at that age the only people who’d help me on the street were the bad kind and I was near enough prepared for it because I needed a way out.  I knew from past experiences of other women in my life that once you are in that kind of life, it is hard to get out of it, but I very nearly took that chance.  Thought that maybe I’d earn my way out, but you never do.  The big kick which knocked sense into me was that I had a cousin who had the same notion – only she had the guts to actually do it and came back home in tears, black and blue and with a new found drug addiction only a year older than me, she didn’t know, like I did back then, that it’s not only sex they get you into for money, but drugs too and in order to sell it, you have to take it yourself like a good sales person.

Fifteen years down the line, it killed my cousin. She was murdered when she was clean of drugs for nearly 2yrs as an effort to win her kids back from welfare and stumbled across her old dealer who was desperate for her to buy again! It could have been me, if I chose the same path.

Drugs was a big issue for me, because I saw the damage it did to several of our relatives growing up, drink and drugs are bad, very bad, it changes people heads, make them do stupid things and then they fall apart in tears because they genuinely didn’t meant to ram your head into the wall fifteen times, they were just stressed that’s all!  So I never wanted to experiment or be lead into it.  Several near misses though of people trying to sneak it into me, but I was paranoid around strangers and never accepted food or drink from anyone just in case!

No, after what happened to my cousin I decided to stay as the quiet one of the family, lock myself away in my room because if I didn’t, I’d usually end up the night’s entertainment!

They treated me like a circus freak, something to poke fun out of, to test, experiment with, to scare, to have a laugh with her, see what she’ll do next, like some kind of trained monkey or puppet.

Despite all of this, they still had the audacity to call themselves god fearing Christians!

If it weren’t for books, I wouldn’t have wanted to be a writer.  Because I thought movies were just movies, people playing pretend and they made something good together; it didn’t occur to me until I watched several Stephen King movies with my horror loving grandma that I kept seeing in the credits “written by Stephen King” over and over again in most of the movies I watched.  I knew when I went to markets and charity shops that Stephen King books were everywhere and I decided to collect and read them at the age of 9.

My grandma was very encouraging – another horror fan in the family made her feel less lonely.

I realised at the age of nine most books I liked were movies and that movies very rarely come from other places; I liked movies and I wanted to watch my ideas on the TV or at the cinema.  I wanted the world to visually see what I see in my head or at least adaptions of it.

Books are a love – but mostly I love movies, I am very stimulated by vision and art.  I learn better with visual cues for example – I have mild dyslexia and dyscalculia as well as ADD and Paul thinks ADHD.  If something visually pulls me, I lose concentration on other things because of the interest it holds.  This can be difficult at times because I can zone out on people if I find something visually attractive about the environment around us, fashion, hair, or even a beautiful person – now that one can be awkward!

So, I am really writing in the hope that my books make it to the movies and if they don’t then I have a plan B.  I will give my first book out to publication and if there is no interest from movie producers to make something of it, then I will have to bore myself to tears to learn technology where I can create my own movies online.  How?  I don’t know, but I hope it won’t come to that!

One major type of book that saved me from a life of sex crime etc. was non-fiction psychology.  From the age of 9 I taught myself how to pacify aggressive people without becoming too submissive or self-deprecating, how best to react in violent situations and how to talk to angry people.

Now it works to a certain extent on a vast majority of people and I have been commended in work for excellent customer service and hospitality skills, but there is a small margin where the advice can actually make some people more aggressive with you – my mother is one of those.

If I didn’t emotionally react to her behaviour with me, she’d get absolutely hysterical, come close into my face screaming and then slap me repeatedly about the head, because damn it, she is going to get the reaction she wants because she needs to feel her power over me!  Because she is insecure, that’s all, my fear and tears make her happy, because it verifies to her that she is strong and she is still alpha.

It wasn’t until my mastoid surgery when I was seventeen that she was positively shitting a brick about hitting me, because I have a vulnerable spot at the side of the head would could be lethal if bashed.  So she tried other tactics to hurt me in other ways, usually the legs.

In 2012 it was a book called “Toxic Parents” by Susan Forward that helped me finally tell someone outside of the family and family friend circle about my mother.  They responded in horror, they were a nursery worker for my son Henry.  They got me a nurse and a family support worker to come and speak with me and then the police came to give advice too.  Unfortunately their advice was, get her out of your life or it may affect your ability to care for your son appropriately, meaning that we could take court proceedings to put your son into care until we feel that you are safe!

Because my son did sustain a head injury earlier on that month due to my mother encouraging him to do dangerous things, such as deliberately climbing onto the dining room table to jump off it onto the floor, he was 14 months old and had only been walking seven weeks!

She didn’t want me to have children, you see, it wasn’t part of her plans.  She wanted me to stay home forever and become her nurse when she is old; she told me this over and over as I was growing up.  I accepted it, because it’s what daughters do, but mothers tend to want their daughters to thrive, be independent and happy in their own right too and usually good mothers want their daughters to expand their family, don’t they?

She didn’t.  She didn’t want what she called “more problems” that came in the form of new family members – she didn’t want me to go out alone and make friends, because she liked to micromanage my every waking moment.  It was hard for her to allow me to go into full-time work and she’d often sit in her car all day long outside my work place waiting to see what happens, if I leave early etc.

On some occasions I was ten minutes late in leaving the building because my boss required extra work, my mother would embarrass me by making a visit to the building demanding to know where her daughter is and how they can’t push me around into doing more than my times worth!

I often lost jobs because of her.

Because I knew how she liked to micromanage me and because I wanted to be a good daughter and keep my head down and please her the best I could, until I could convince her to allow me freedom and a family of my own – I decided to talk with her about me becoming self-employed with homework of some description, there was always an issue for her and that never worked.  Because she would become obnoxious when I was on the telephone (up until 2015 I had perfect hearing in the left ear), so keeping those jobs was a task too.

She revelled in telling people about how lazy I was, how she is stuck with a quiet reclusive freak of nature that is eating or starving herself to death periodically and has no enthusiasm for life whatsoever.  Not true, I had no enthusiasm for the life she wanted for me.

I had a lot of ambition until I gave up wanting.

When I was twenty seven I left her to move in with Paul, it was done sneakily but I had to do it that way.  By thirty I had to stop all contact with her, because she is a respected matriarch in the family that meant I had to say goodbye to everyone except for a small handful of relatives on my dad’s side of the family.

She would never know or appreciate that all I ever wanted in my life was for me to be considered a daughter that was good enough to stick around and help as much as I did.  Good enough to trust out alone, good enough to get chores done, good enough to deserve a good husband and family of her own and good enough and trustworthy enough to be humane enough to want to care for her mother if she ever needed it.  I didn’t need to be moulded and abused to do that, but she didn’t understand and I don’t think she really cares.

Because I messaged her in 2014, two years after not speaking to her and I said to her – I am willing to forgive and forget everything about the past, if she is willing to tell the truth to others about how my life was like and repair my reputation in the family and secondly I’d come back into her life if she could allow me to take full charge of my own life because after all I am a woman of thirty now with my own child – she said no, she won’t do that.

I said well just give me permission to live life how I want and I will work it out with the others myself.  No, she said, I won’t do that Tina, because I don’t agree you know what is best for you and as far as I am concerned, you don’t need that permission really, what are you playing at exactly?!

So I said to her – are you telling me then that I have got you wrong?  That you’ve always allowed me to make my own decisions and you never intended to interfere?  No she said – I never said that and you know what Tina, this is the end of the conversation.  I leave the ball in your court, come or go as you please, but I won’t change – I stand by the fact that you haven’t a clue about life and that you are a stupid, stupid girl and as far as I am concerned I wish you never have any more children, you made a stupid mistake when you decided to keep that one! (This was in reference to my Henry who was planned and is very much loved)!

I also wanted to point out, that the message came about because I wanted to tell my mother that I was hospitalised with an ectopic pregnancy and how my plans for a large family could be over and I was feeling suicidal over it – because all I wanted in life was to be a mother of a large brood.

Books have helped me heal from that too… books are magic aren’t they?

Thanks for reading! 

P.S my idea of fun is… picnics or eating out at buffets or country pubs with a large group of family or friends, rowing on a lake, visiting a zoo, playing with dogs, doing messy arts and crafts with kids and playing pretend with my creative and kooky friends, oh and swimming, I love swimming and gardening or being in a beautiful garden that isn’t overlooked! That’s the light side of me… there is a dark side too… What does that part of me like?

Once again friends or family around me, snuggling down with a horror movie – watching thunderstorms, creeping people out, telling a good story, having sex and generally being my weird self!

And guess what!  No drink and drugs for any of that is there? Well, erm, maybe the pub lunch eh?

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Stop contributing to suppression

I am falling down a rabbit hole lately; I feel like I am chasing approval, because there are many issues being raised within the book review and writing community which state certain likes and dislikes regarding various ideologies or classic works of the past – that seem to clash with my own work.

What I mean to say is, I am discovering as time is going on that the Western World is becoming increasingly intolerant to many subjects that is severely stifling not only personal freedoms of speech, but creativity – society is going on a big ban of almost everything collective mind-set, which is dangerous because, intolerance is suffocating the world.

Yes, OK, I understand that certain subjects in literature can be triggering, but you can’t keep sweeping things under the carpet – these things go on in the world and did go on in the world, yes the world changed, but to lock it all away and forget it is dangerous – dangerous because history will repeat itself if it is forgotten.

Yes certain subjects like suicide, rape and violence are horrific and should never ever be glorified, but to ban literature for having those themes will simply make these things manifest further underground and we really don’t want to make things go more underground – these things need to be exposed and these things need to be remembered.

For me personally, my rape and sexual abuse was absolutely horrible and I don’t think I could ever have got over it, if I had not have read other people’s biographical accounts of what happened to them!  It made me feel less alone and understood, before I read those books, I felt like nobody really understands what it is like to be a rape victim.

Same with suicide, if the literary works that contained suicide scenes and biographies of those going through that dark mental state had been banned, I would never have learned to cope with my own dark thoughts – I would have literally have been left in the dark…

Books such as Mein Kampf have been banned in many countries over the years and I have read this book, because I wanted to know why he hated certain people so much.  It did not make me sympathise with him in anyway whatsoever, but it enlightened me to the true horrors of the war with its depths and behind the scene snippets.

There is another book I read called The Women of Hitler, which again, mentioned events that I had no idea went on during the war – it is an eye opener and the scariest thing I have ever read.  The idea that a woman could do the things that they did to babies, it goes against feminine nature.  Absolutely no words can describe how this book made me feel… more than just shocking… I really don’t know what word can describe more than shock for the description of how I felt reading this book!  It is more than horror, for no horror book could ever top what is mentioned and described in this book!

Having very close Jewish blood, it makes me understand why over half the members of my family in my great grandmothers generation decided to become Catholic and pretend that they were never Jewish – this startled many Jewish families into going into hiding on a permanent basis. 

My mother is still terrified about anti-Semitism still existing in the world today, that she begs that I never mention my ancestral past, but I won’t do that.  I am not ashamed of it, I defy the haters.  Paul my partner, is also scared about me getting too involved in my Jewish roots and teaching my son of them – but why?  Why has the world still not accepted a culture that has been around for millennia?

Why are some people still terrified to the extent they deny their roots and urge their friends of those cultures, to abandon those roots too for their own safety sake?

I did not enjoy reading what I read, but it helped me learn a lot about humanity.

It is vital that no area of life and events should ever be banned in literature – the world needs to know – it has a right to know!  And I for one will fight hard and true to ensure that nothing is swept under the carpet and hidden – for those who don’t like it, all I can say is… this shit happens, stop living in cloud cuckoo land!

I am learning more and more classical literature is becoming out of print because it upsets people.  The world shouldn’t be pandered to regarding this, they need to learn!  Future generations need to learn!

If we don’t get a handle on this soon, book burnings are going to be so commonplace, that it will revert society back to the dark ages!  That’s a scarier place to be than those offensive books!

Please, please, please… think about this!

You don’t have to like it, you don’t ever have to give the books a stunning review, in fact do the opposite if it upsets you – but never, ever vouch to hide it!

I said in a recent post – you can tell a lot about an author based on what they write… you don’t have to like them, but you need to know those people still exist, they need to be exposed and they need to be watched.

I don’t mean stalked – just watched, carefully… watch their fans more so… only then will the world stamp out such things.  But do it mindfully, carefully, never with hate and malice and certainly don’t try to supress it… because what happens when people try to suppress others?  It causes anger and anger causes violence and violence turns into bloodshed and war that is what we as a species are trying to prevent.  We are trying to bring peace to Earth; no negativity is going to do that, even if it is so-called positive negativity!  No negativity is ever positive!

So where was I going with this post?

I became a writer because I want to write mostly movies – my second motivation is healing from the crap I have experienced in my own life… so that does that mean?

It means in order for me to heal from what has happened to me, I need to write similar scenes in my stories to get it out there – off my chest, but also into the open to let people understand how certain people think and work…

I have a lot of very useful and needful information to share with the world through my fiction, but I feel as though I can’t do that anymore, because it might upset people.  It is actually damaging my mental health a lot more, because of this feeling of more suppression… a thing I have been fighting against most of my life!

Isolation and suppression!

I had hoped that my descriptions of scenes, though they will be horrible, will also help others who have experienced similar things.  Helped some isolated and supressed people learn how to get away from it and heal – but if my books are going to be rejected by agents and publishers because of awful and ban-able content, how can I do that?  How can I help those people?

How can I heal myself?

It’s fine to be all righteous about taboo subjects in literature when you have never experienced such horrors, but please learn to understand that the world isn’t all about you – it’s about all of us and the whole world! 

Some people need to read it – others don’t, so please don’t suppress those who need it, for your own selfish reasons! 

Because, ultimately, you will be contributing to a world where individualism and freedom becomes rarer and that’s terrifying!

Happy reading…

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Mental health experiences

Descent into madness as a trope is something I have written in a couple of my novels, I have always been lured into reading books that have this as a theme and I think it has something to do with personal experience.

I have been there, twice in fact and I have experienced the rollercoaster of having such mental illnesses, so I can identify with certain characters.

I remember being put into such a violent situation so regularly and though I would fight against engaging in any physical conflict with my aggressors, I did succumb once to a violent frenzy that was uncontrollable, my doctor reckons it was my brain going into survival mode as I explained how I experienced the red into black vision as I went into a rage that I can’t explain to anyone what happened during it, only that others were absolutely horrified at what had ensued.

I went through eight months of daily torture, having to share my life with a group of aggressive adolescents because of a day care school I was sent to, a school which ironically was supposed to have helped me heal from my post-traumatic stress experiences of the isolation and abuse I had at home.

I had recently had lifesaving surgery because of an infection that got too close to the brain thanks to the mastoid problems I had, it was literally just two months before the incident I had the operation.

So you can imagine how delicate I was in the head area, so when the group decided to push me over a wall that had a nine foot drop, I went into such a rage that I had no idea what I was doing and a girl nearly got severely hurt because of my actions!

It was surprising for another reason, I couldn’t bend over and care for myself for two years after the surgery and this was within two months of it, yet I could find the strength in me somehow to drag the ringleader girl across the playground and into the girl’s toilets where I nearly drowned her!

There were lots of witnesses who saw the entire thing, including teachers, who knew that I was a good pupil who didn’t like to interact with anything that would cause me problems (I had enough at home and was often sat in the library to get rest), I was shy and insecure and healing from awful surgery from which I nearly died.  They knew I was badly provoked and they supported me through this time and managed to expel this girl, even though she did come off the wrong end that day – this was enough for them to feel that she was never meant to have been around vulnerable children – this school was just a stop gap for her as she had been expelled before.

I’ve experienced such deep depression and loss to the extent I have become anorexic and addicted to exercise to the point of collapse.  I have been there; I have even experienced the loss of two pregnancies, one due to violence and the other as an ectopic pregnancy.

I have been a victim of domestic abuse, sexual abuse, emotional neglect and rape. 

I know what it feels like to lose control.

When I used to engage with English tutors they would be horrified at the graphicness of my writing, particularly when I used to write horror and thriller more than I do now.  I said to them, you told me that it’s best to write what you know and that shocked them even more.

Some people just can’t believe that one person can have gone through as much as I have; I have even had therapists quit on me, due to the extent they didn’t know how to help me as there was just so much to work on – so much crap in my life!

I have experienced a huge amount of discrimination from ex-boyfriends who don’t believe I have gone through all of these things, because it’s too much.  Paul is different; he understands and has witnessed a few things for himself.

I have only written about four characters with this trope, horror, thriller and dark fantasy.

Usually the character has some kind of background as being a victim of abuse.

I know the feeling of the spiral of hopelessness, that darkness that descends over you and clouds your vision, that experience of losing control of not only your mind but your actions.  Losing such control that no matter how much you really want to talk it through to people, you can’t utter a single word, it is like your mouth has been sewn up and there is nothing you can do.  You can’t move your eyes to look at them, it is as though you have been paralysed.

Yes, I have experienced the total breakdown, where I have well and truly become non-comprimentos, it lasted nearly a year.

The thing is, when you are in that state, you can see and hear what is going on around you, but you can’t respond, it’s like you have been turned into stone.

You can still remember what goes on around you sometimes, but you just can’t react.  I reacted once, finally, when in this… it shocked me too, as well as the people around me… because I wasn’t eating they threatened to put tubes into me to make me eat and on the day they were about to insert the tubes, I came to again.  Fighting against them doing this to me; I don’t know to this day, why it was that which woke me out of that state.  But I spoke them into allowing me have half an orange to see how I go.  They didn’t put the tubes in me.

The problem was my keyworker loss her kindness for me after this, because in her eyes, I must have been pretending all this time – I wasn’t!

Happy reading!

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