You might have noticed I’ve been quiet on here, sorry readers. I’ve been struggling to find words for how I feel. Nothing has felt big enough to write about. Late in May that changed. I had been at a party after a hand-fasting ceremony, which is a pagan wedding of sorts. We left to drive home as it was over the border in Wales and we needed to be back before midnight as an in law was babysitting at our house. We walked back to our car, tired but happy. It was a clear night, not too hot or cold, I was in high heels so the walk back to the multi storey car park felt much longer than it really was. I’m the passenger, I slump in the car and relax as Husband drives down the zigzag ramps to exit the car park. Kind of dull for the first […]
This post has been written as a diary over the last few months, and will go live near the big day. Until then Blokey wants it hush hush. January. Around his birthday I drop to one knee and tell him how much I love him. He doesn’t say yes or no. This is very very him, and exactly what I expected! A few days later he emails me. The line that sticks in my mind is “you seem to take my hesitation as a rejection. it is not”. I had to check that that was indeed the YES I had read it as. He asks me to keep it under the radar – what a challenge to a blogger to not tell the world that after 15 years of knowing my other half, he will finally be my husband. I will be his wife, I won’t be a “Miss” any […]
The following post is a brave post by Sarah, it’s an account of abuse she suffered from as a teenager. This story may upset readers, so do not read if likely to be “triggered” by this post. Everything in this post is in Sarah’s own words. My story begins at 17. I had just moved into sheltered housing after my release from hospital due to numerous mental health issues and while I was older than some, I had led a very sheltered life. My time there had good and bad points; I learnt to fend for myself but was also completely taken advantage of. I quickly made friends with many of the others living in the building. At some point during my time there, someone introduced me to a chat “wap” website and I can easily admit now I was lonely and naïve and probably easy to spot a mile off […]
A long time ago, 14 and a half years ago, we were both members of the same website. It was the glory days of chat rooms. We were part of the same group of friends, although we had never chatted, I was often chatting with his best mate. After a while some bright spark said we should all meet up in person. The date that was chosen was my 20th birthday so I can never forget that date really. We all met at Yates wine bar in Leicester Square. It started out so well, but the conversation got naughty fast! I’m not good at trusting men, nor am I fabulous at going to a pub in a big city alone.
As soon as I heard the proposed willful neglect rules on the radio news I thought “they haven’t thought it through”. You might have heard about it and thought “what a good idea” but I think not. In theory wouldn’t it be marvellous if no one kept secrets, and all professionals passed on information? These professional folk could actually end up in prison over it. No no no! It’s not right to jail people for not talking. As I am a “survivor” of abuse I can see a huge flaw in the idea.
What can I say, it’s the sort of week that brings up bad emotions. Just recently a London food blogger Wilkes888 jumped to his death from a tall building in London. I’ve been there, not that building, but I’ve stood with one foot inside one foot outside in a tall building. My building wasn’t glamorous or nice. It was Debenham’s where I was working at the time. It was any normal day but I snapped, I’d had enough. I didn’t know what was wrong then, but this was my breakdown. I was on shift and I’d gone into a stock area. This is just a corridor between the fake walls and the actual walls which are mainly huge single glazed windows with cold metal frames. I calmly opened the window really wide and climbed out. I was on automatic pilot, I wasn’t snivelling – I’d already decided enough […]
Recently things have been getting me down. The home improvements, family, pet problems, my health and money. For the whole of January something has been going on, plastering, sanding, hammering and so on. It took longer than we wanted and cost more than agreed. It’s still not over but at least the “handyman” is finished. Now we are waiting for my lovely new carpet to be laid on Monday then it’s time to lugg the bookcases back down stairs, secure them to the walls and bring down all the boxes of books and dvds again.
Yes, a mistreated abused dog I saved returned the favour and saved me. I figure it’s time to tell you all about Ben the dog. I was quite young, I would say junior school age. I noticed a neighbour had a new dog, a small puppy with a curly tail, but he was bought as a gift by the Dad of the house for the very pregnant Mum of the house. The Mum already had her hands full with a small and unruly daughter. Ben was losing weight as the Mums’ priorities were elsewhere rather than feeding and looking after this needy pup she had been given. It was a burden she didn’t want or ask for, I understand that. What I can’t deal with is the abuse from the daughter. I saw her kick Ben. I saw her tie him in a plastic carrier bag and swing him over […]
No, I hadn’t either. But I was reading a pals blog, a lovely happy post, then I clicked on one of the related posts at the end. It was this the truth about tokophobia. Tokophobia apparently means an extreme phobia of pregnancy. So there is a new word for me to remember. I am terrified of pregnancy. Terrified of birth. Terrified of labour. I have flash back phobia related dreams. I imagine myself in labour, even though I am only dreaming I feel the pain. I feel cramping sudden pain like smaller contractions. Until I wake up I am back there. Things didn’t go well for me at the birth of my first son. Apparently it was all fine and not medically unusual. But I kept saying “something is wrong. Something is still inside me.” They didn’t believe I knew my own body, first time Mother, what would she know? […]
Today my Father phoned me. That doesn’t sound too unusual, until you realise he’s not seen me for 4 years and I get 1 or 2 phonecalls a year. Well today was that phonecall. He sounded ill, like a muffled snotty cold. I ask about my youngest brother and sister, he says their mum left him and took the children – he’s no idea where. He says he needs to see me and my boys. He’s not well, I could hear this much, but it’s serious. He medically died earlier this year. Heart and lung issues. His heart totally stopped. Enffesicam and a pacemaker. He’s now struggling with mobility… My Dad has a wheelchair. Running that past again, heart failed, dead, revived, pacemaker, long term health issue, wheelchair, I knew NONE of this, and now Dad is casually mentioning wills mid phonecall and that he wants to say goodbye. He’s […]
The Breastfeeding trial seems largely unpopular based on the other blog posts I’ve read today, and lots of comments on twitter. New Mum’s offered voucher incentive to breastfeed. If I was offered £200 for breastfeeding my sons I would have taken it willingly. It’s not £200 all in one go, it’s in £40 chunks only dished out when the mum has breastfed for certain lengths of time. For my first child I struggled. I cried in bed in the hospital as my B cups had swollen to about an E within a few days. It was horrible, but I got past this as I was helped in the hospital each evening by the staff after the dinner, visiting time then bed time routines. It would go quieter and I’d get sensible advice. I only managed up to 4 months with D, but I’m glad I tried. I had the dreaded […]