Monthly Archives: November 2012

I can’t reach.

by

10

Some days, like today feel as though I have just come out of a hole and the whole world moved on and I didn’t recall it happening. It feels like it’s been weeks, not just days since I have posted here, or written anything at all. I thank all those so much that did reply to my two forgiveness posts. I will reply to you, because the support I feel I get is so huge. I wish I could show each of you.

My nights have been long this last week and filled with nightmares, more than I am used to. One night I even woke screaming and I was sure that I was a child and I was in my room and the man, I named in my books as the bad man was there. He was so real to me, although his face and identity still remains hidden.

Perhaps some part of my mind wants to show me something. I have never had nights as bad as these all night and every night. I wake and I am little in my mind. He’s there and it’s taking me a few minutes to realise, no he isn’t and I am safe.

Safe.

I wish I knew what that actually felt like. I can tell myself I am safe, that I am an adult and he can’t get me.  I feel like I am going crazy.

I have many people to apologise to, so many since my last posts on here that I still haven’t got myself to talk to properly. I’m finding it hard to talk. People want to chat about the ordinary things and all I can think is why does any of it matter? But then who am I to ask that?

My self harm hasn’t stopped, twice today. I can’t dig in deep enough to cut away what it is I’m trying to remove. I don’t even know what it is that I am trying to reach. I can’t get clean. Not in the germ dirty sense, but somewhere inside I feel something. I can’t wash it away, I can’t cut it away. It’s driving me insane.

Talking here, or talking to anyone, I just want to tell myself to shut up. None of it matters.

 

Forgiveness, The Afterthoughts.

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19

Yesterday I wrote about forgiveness and how to do it, almost after I had posted it and replies came in, it occurred to me that perhaps it isn’t my father or even my mother that I have to forgive. Perhaps it is the little boy himself that needs the forgiveness. 

I’ve hated him for a very long time, to the point if anyone asked me I would say, I would happily push him down the stairs and hope it hurt for the things he did.  But I have to ask myself, if he were a real child stood in front of me, if he was anyone but me, would I do that to him and no of course I wouldn’t  I would never hurt a child.

In a way it is like I am on the side of my mother and father, I help them to abuse him even more because I blame him. I get asked many times if I think I could confront him about the things he has done and I can’t, not that I am afraid of him, but if I confront him, then he will know that he abused me and I don’t want to hurt him. How strange is that? But it’s what I feel and I think, points to I actually have to accept that what my parents did was abuse, because I don’t, and I only call it that for the sake of here. When I was in therapy I could never say it out loud, it felt like I was lying, not about the events, but about the label.

I found myself nodding a lot to the replies I received yesterday; one of them was from someone named Lil, her words were so very true. Especially about my recent issues. I have a very hard time right now sticking to the decision of having my father out of my life. He doesn’t make it easy because he keeps emailing me and messaging me, of course none of them are nasty, in fact most of them are so nice its heartbreaking, because he is teasing me with exactly what Lil mentioned the answer to my craving for a parent.  He’s showing me what I have longed for my entire life, but part of me knows that if I go back, he’ll snatch it right back again.

And here I am, full circle in my thoughts, I don’t accept that what they did was abuse, I don’t accept it because it’s my parents., I can’t let go of the belief and hope for the parental love back. I blame the little boy for what he did and making me who I am today, because if it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t have been abused and would have the relationship I so clearly want.

I need to forgive that child. I need to forgive myself.

Forgiveness

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15

Forgiveness.

It’s a strange word and while I do know what it means in theory, knowing what it means in feeling it is a completely different thing. I am not even sure if it is something that is possible. How exactly do you forgive someone?

I am not a religious person; I don’t believe in God, I know a lot of people will answer with regards to their faith of God and forgiveness. I think if I did believe in God I wouldn’t know how to forgive him either.

I guess forgiveness comes in many shapes and sizes; it makes hypocrites out of us. Me especially. I haven’t been very good with keeping up with people this last month or so. Not that I have ignored anyone, or not replied, I just haven’t had it in me to talk. Messages have gone unanswered, my phone has been left, emails not responded to. Yet I in some way expect and hope that these friends will understand when I say I am sorry. Many of them have thought they have upset me and that isn’t the case. It’s just a bad time and I hope they forgive me for my lack of communications.

But forgiveness is probably part of why I have been quiet. I wonder if discovering forgiveness would be the key to removing or at least healing the pain inside. It was my birthday just a couple of weeks ago. It’s never a good time; it makes me anxious and afraid. I’d happily ignore it if I could. This year was worse, added to that is my decision to not have my father in my life. It’s made me very ill these past few weeks.

My hands are very sore through the overwhelming feeling of not being able to get clean, though I know some part of this is my minds way of coping with everything else. I do suffer from OCD and when it is at a point that my hands are bleeding, I know I have something bothering me. The fact that even my wrists are cut and bloody tells me I have a problem. I have had days of not eating and over eating. Nights of no sleep or nights plagued with bad dreams, but the biggest one is, in ten days I have only had two days where I have not self harmed. Some of myself harm days have been multiple occasions.

I look at all of this and why I do these things. I feel sane on the outside, but my actions feel far from it. None of my insanities can ease the pain I feel inside. I wish if I could give my father anything, it wouldn’t be confrontation, but it would be a day of feeling what I feel.

Forgiveness might be the key, but how do you do it? I’m not sure it’s possible. I wonder if forgiveness is real at all, or is it just something we convince ourselves of?

Alley Kid Part Nine

by

8

 

Colin eats his breakfast as though he hasn’t eaten for a week. I wish Will was with me. I wish I could shower him this way, with food and the things he needs instead of starving, and the deprivation he receives being my son. I chase away the pangs of guilt. I tell myself I am doing my best, but I know I am not. I’m failing him. He just doesn’t know any better and doesn’t complain.

Joanne eats her food, too. I smile at her enthusiasm over the money and what we can do with it. She runs off all her excitements in such fast succession that I am not sure I can keep up. I know her though; these are nothing more than pipe dreams.  She, too, has thought about filling the cupboards but, of course, our first thoughts are going to Froggy and scoring for the weekend. What a great time we will have. I agree, I can hardly wait. Anything to take away the inner gloom that plagues me constantly.

The time ticks by and I wait for Phil to come back. I know he will come back. I trust him that much, but not much else. Even so, some part of me is relieved when I see his car approaching and then he pulls onto the forecourt to the café and comes in. the hammering in my chest threatens to break my ribs and I let out my relief.

Phil comes in and his grin is huge. He sits himself down and orders too, for him and Becci. I want to ask for my money. I can feel myself reaching out for it and being able to touch it, but he doesn’t say anything. I am waiting with baited breath for him to put it in my hands and relieve the anxiety I didn’t know existed.

I know he’s teasing me. He knows I want the cash and is waiting for me to ask on purpose. I’m thankful when it’s Joanne who asks him.

“What makes you think I have it?” He tells her, and Joanne doesn’t believe him. She holds her hand out waiting for it.

“You have the money?” I ask him myself, in the end, he keeps grinning as if he is debating on what to say and then he laughs.

“Look at the scared look on both your faces.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out some cash. I take it from him before he has chance to take it back and tease me some more. I can hardly believe it’s there.

We finish our food off and then Phil says he’ll give us a lift back to our flat, but he can’t stay. He is on curfew and wants to be home. Poor Becci thinks he means home to his place, but he means his other girlfriend, Sarah, and I wonder how he keeps up with it. Sarah has a daughter and Becci is pregnant.

Sometimes, I have been with Phil and Sarah and if we go to see Becci, I slip up and Becci scowls at me. Part of me thinks she must know, maybe she just doesn’t want to see it.

We go back to my place and Joanne says she needs to go out and get some smokes. She’s going to get them cheap from her mate. “I’ll be a couple of hours,” she says, “Are you going to Maz’s?”

“Yes,” I say. “I promised her I would do.”

There’s a figure sat on the steps leading up to our door when we get there. Colin recognises him right away and  is over everyone and out of the car so fast  to go into his older brother’s arms.

“Do they know you are here?” I ask.

Mark smiles and shrugs. That means no, I guess. I don’t say anything, but I wish he would stop it. He’s going to get me caught and I have no desire to end up behind bars.

“I thought I’d take Colin out for something to eat,” he tells me.

“He’s just eaten.”

“No worries, we’ll find something to do.”

“Can I? Asks Colin and there isn’t a way I can say no, not that I think he would listen to me even if I did refuse and I would have no grounds to stop him. I nod my head and Colin forgets himself for a moment and hugs me too. I watch as they walk off down the alley way together.

Joanne leaves too and I tell Phil and Becci thanks and then go to see Froggy and Maz.

Maz is sat on the step in the hallway of the building her flat is in. She’s been crying. She is smoking a cigarette.

She starts rambling and I don’t really know what she is saying. Mikey and Froggy. How she hates the drugs but she took them anyway. She shows me her arm, swears at it, shouts and tells me how bad she is, and that she won’t ever get her son back. Soon, she’s going to lose this baby too. She points to her stomach. There isn’t anything I can say. I put my arms around her and we just stand there for as long as she needs while she cries.

“Promise me something,” she says.

I nod my head.

“Don’t ever let them get Will. Pick him first.”

That’s easy. “I won’t,” I tell her.

She pulls back a little to look up at me. I wipe her face dry and kiss her as she wraps her arms inside my shirt. In that moment I feel at peace.

The door opens and Froggy comes out.

“I thought I heard your voice,” he says to me and tells me to come in.

Maz doesn’t move, but I put my hand round hers and drag her behind me.

Froggy already has my phet ready and good to go. Seems he knows me too well. I take the bag and hand him over, one hundred pounds. Froggy gives me one of his needles and I use their bedroom to take it. Although, it’s only been hours, as the phet takes hold, it feels as though everything gets washed clean away and I can live.

Joanne pops in for a moment to tell me her and her mate are going back to our house. I figure I need to go too. Colin will be back soon and, no doubt, Mark would have to get back to the farms.

Maz comes with us. Joanne has two girls with her. Lauren doesn’t stay so long. Her boyfriend comes and picks her up, but the other girl, Angela, who doesn’t look more than fifteen, I have never met

“Angela needs some where to stay,” Joanne tells me when she takes me into another room.

“We already have Colin,” I say.

“Exactly, so we can have Angela too. She’s fourteen and she won’t be a problem.”

“How come?” I ask.

Joanne tells me Angela’s parents don’t want her. They live the other side of the country and have thrown Angela out. Angela, who has clearly been listening, knocks and comes into the room.

“You can call and ask if you want.”

I look at Joanne and she nods at me. It doesn’t look like I have much of a choice other than to take another in. I can’t exactly turn a young girl out onto the street now can I?

The rest of the night goes fast. Colin comes home and goes straight to bed. His brother stays only long enough to steal a cigarette while Joanne shares her phet with Angela and I sit and talk with Maz.

Daylight creeps in the next day and the phet is almost gone. “Can I get some more from Froggy?” I ask Maz. We haven’t seen him since the day before.

“Sure,” she says. “If not, I’ll ask Woody,” she says before she leaves.

Woody lives next door to them; he deals too.

Joanne has just set Angela up on a spare mattress in Will’s room with Colin, when someone knocks on the door. I think its Maz again, but Joanne answers it and its the familiar sound of the police.

“We have a warrant to search the premises.” It reads.

One of the officers hands me a copy and I hardly have time to read it before they begin to look inside everywhere and turn everything upside down.

I don’t care about the warrant. My mind is at the bag of phet in the lounge and how I will get to it before they see it. Joanne has the same idea. She gets there and removes it before they see it.

The officer says they were told Mark had been here. I deny it of course, but I don’t need to ask who told them. I already know it was Phil. I’ve seen him play these tricks a dozen times, perhaps, this was karma for the times I have laughed when he has called the police out in jest on another friend.

Christmas 48 Days To Go…

by

17

I can hear the screams now, no don’t remind me. Not yet. it’s too early…. the odd dread people have for this season that I never understand. I count down the days. Christmas is my favourite day in the entire year.

I never really had Christmas as a child, the family celebrated it of course, but for me it was the way in which my hopes would be torn apart each year. My mornings were the same, I’d watch my brother open gifts and hope the ones I had were from my list, but they never were. Anything that was on my list always ended up in my brothers pile. I asked for a train set for years. Every year it was at the top of my list, I loved trains. And every year I didn’t get one, until when I was 12. On my list again was a train set. I went to bed hoping and wishing like all the other children and in the morning when we opened our gifts, my brother got a special one. He got a train set. This kind of thing had gone on all the time, I asked for a go-kart, he got it, I asked for a bike, he got it, but nothing made me more heartbroken than watching him get that train set. I watched him build it with our father over the days. I watched him play with it and I got banned from touching it.

That is what they did all the time. Through the day I would sit by my Nan and watch my brother and wonder why he got what I asked for. My dad would always tell me they couldn’t afford it for me.

My Christmas Day nights always ended the same way, year after year. My father would sexually abuse me and then I’d go to my room and cry it out into a notebook, sometimes I’d cry so hard I though it possible I could die from that alone. Those were my most sorrow filled moments.

I guess it’s odd that Christmas is my favourite day given all that, but I’ve come to realise my parents never took that day from me. They didn’t have what I had. I had my Nan. I’d sit curled up with her and watch movies on the television while I tried not to think about what my brother had. I’d sit with her at dinner time to ensure I got fed. I’d share her giant mugs of tea with her, her laughter, her jokes. We played board games. We sat away from everyone, the two hated outcasts. But she gave me love and warmth. Christmas Day didn’t start until she arrived.

If there’s anything I miss, it’s her sharing that day with me and now with my children. I wish she could be part of that.

I remember getting my first real Christmas present. I was 22. It was from my mother in law. There were gifts for me, I was surprised. I had sat watching everyone open their things and never realised she would buy me something. I was part of my first real Christmas. she put the wonderfully wrapped gift in my hand and I stared at it. I didn’t want to open it. I was afraid but excited inside. I just held onto it because that moment was worth more to me than anything anyone could give me. She asked me if I as going to open it and I was so shy. How do you tell someone they gave you your first gift? She’d think I was crazy. I didn’t tell her, but I did open it, but she gave me more than just a gift that year, she showed me what family Christmas was.

That is what I love, the family part. If someone asked my children about Christmas, it wouldn’t be extravagant gifts they remember, it’s the funny things. The year they wrote letters to Santa and left them trailing up the stairs and he replied to each one. The year we watched 24 Christmas movies, one a night. Midnight baking of mince pies and cookies. The special gift they get on Christmas Eve. The time spent hunting for each years Christmas decoration. The scene we make from marzipan to put on our Christmas cake. Making crackers and decorations, window painting and so much more. No amount of money could ever buy those memories.

This year I’m going to give someone else Christmas, because in all my hate and anger and jealousy, I released that my brother has never been given Christmas. He doesn’t remember the toys he got. He remembers the fights and the arguing and the beatings. He remembers the disappointment and heartache. When I talked to him a couple of days ago about Christmas, he said he wished he had a real family so he could do Christmas. He may have had the gifts of expensive toys, but he never had the fun or the laughs.

I guess I didn’t see that he lost out too.

It makes me a little mad when people moan about Christmas and all the money they have to spend and how they hate it, because it’s not true. we’ve already got our gifts. They are the people we spend Christmas with and memories we make. Nothing can beat that. No one says we have to buy all the latest gadgets and buy ourselves into debt.

This year Im going to Berlin for the Christmas markets 😉 I’m taking my brother. He might kill me when I’ve walked him for hours, and his legs want to leave, but I can’t wait to see the look on his face.

I want to give him his first Christmas.

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Alley Kid Part Eight

by

10

Phil arrives but he doesn’t come in. He sits outside in his car and sounds his horn. I tell Colin to hurry up and get his shoes on

“You don’t have to do this,” says Maz, again. I don’t know why she is worried. I’m not, iI’s a fool-proof plan.

“I’ll be fine, I promise.” I tell her and then I kiss her and she puts her arms around me.

“You better come to mine when you get back so I know you’re okay.”

I swear I will, and I shout Colin one more time to get a move on. Phil isn’t one to be made to wait. I stand by the door and wait for Colin and he runs out passed me, to the car. Joanne comes too. Becci is sat in the back of the car. She doesn’t look at me or Joanne. Colin climbs in and over her. Joanne goes around the other side.

“Move up you stupid cow,” Phil says to Becci, and none of us look at her.

 I feel her embarrassment inside. I don’t want to see it reflected on her face. I have already noticed the tears in her eyes as she tries not to look at any of us.

We get in and before I have a chance to put my seatbelt on, Phil puts his foot down, and the car slides as he wheel-spins it. He laughs at the look on Becci’s face as he glances in the rear view mirror.

“Cheer up you miserable git, or get out.”

She doesn’t smile, nor does she look at him. He slams his foot down and stops the car, and stares at her, waiting for her to make a decision.

She sits forward, and I open my door, and get out of my seat so that she can climb out of the back of his two-door car. She puts her hands on the back of the front seat to steady herself and Phil swings and lands his fist in her face.

 “Sit down,” he says. He looks up at me, “I can’t believe you were going to let her get out of the car.”

I shrug; there isn’t much I can say to him, he’s in that kind of mood. It’s easier to be quiet. I get back in the car, put my seatbelt on, and we set off again. Phil, wheel-spins the car once more, but no one says nor does anything. He doesn’t stop, and we drive towards the main industrial estate where the store is with the television. All the time, my mind thinks about Maz’s words about the money and what I could do with it. It would be nothing for me to just sell sex that way. What did it actually matter? They were just strangers, and it was nothing. I wondered if Joanne would mind. I was pretty sure she wouldn’t if it got us some money.

We pull up outside the store, and the television we need is in the window. Phil gives me some paperwork and I read it.

“It has my name on it,” I say to him, “I thought I was using someone else’s details.”

“I couldn’t get them, but my uncle said we could do it this way, it’s all the same. Your credit’s clear right?”

I want to say no and get out of the car and go home. It doesn’t feel right now, but I can’t spend more days with no phet. I already feel the dread and darkness within. I know I won’t survive until Tuesday when my social security comes in. I don’t have a choice.

I get out of the car and we all go into the store. I stare at the television like it’s going to come out and bite me. I don’t know if I have it in me to ask and say that I like that one. I tell myself it’s five hundred pounds and think about what I can do with that.

A sales assistant notices us, comes over, and I smile at him.

“Can I help you?” He says. I stammer my words. My mind isn’t working, and I feel hot.

“We’re looking at this television,” says Phil to the assistant. “It says a year on credit.”

The assistant nods. “Yes,” he says.

“We’ll take it,” says Phil, without hesitation.

“Do you have an ID?”

My hands are shaking as I tell him yes and try to unfold the papers to give to him. Utility bills with my name on them.

“Do you have anything else? Passport?”

“Driving licence?” I offer.

He nods yes. I pull it from my wallet and give it to him. He tells us to wait a moment and then he’ll be back.

I try not to stare at him from across the store as he loads my details in his computer, and calls someone for a credit check. I know my credit is clean. I’ve never used it. It doesn’t take long for him to come back, but already Colin is growing bored.

“Take him outside,” says Phil to Becci.

“It’s freezing out there,” she says, but he doesn’t care.

He stares at her and waits. She sighs and takes Colin’s hand and leads him outside.

“Great news,” says the assistant. “I just need your bank details and we can arrange delivery.”

“Can’t we take it with us?” Asks Phil right away.

The assistant eyes us oddly as though he doesn’t get that often.

“Of course, if you want to,” he says. “This way.”

We follow him and Joanne is silent as she comes with us. Part of me wishes to hold her hand, not because she offers me comfort, but because I need something. My insides have done nothing but turn over, and I fear in a moment I could vomit from the nerves and the anticipation of my next fix. I wish Maz was with me.

It doesn’t take long to fill everything in. The assistant offers me a print out and tells me to read it. I stare at the words. None of them make any sense. They are nothing more than black marks on the paper. I sign anyway. It doesn’t matter. I pull my bank book from my pocket and pass it over him. He copies down the details and asks me to sign for payment.

It’s as easy as that, and I wonder why I was worried.

“If you want to bring your car around back,” he says to us, “then we can load the television, and you can be on your way.”

I thank him and shake his hand, then I follow Phil. He’s already stood up and left. I can’t keep from smiling at how easy it is. Soon the money will be mine, and then everything will be right again.

“What about paying it off?” I asked Phil when I catch him up. “He took my bank details.”

“Don’t worry,” Phil reassures me. My Uncle will write you a letter to show you lost your job; they have insurance to cover these things.”

 I calm a little at his words. I never knew that. I have never taken anything out on credit before.

We drive around back and two warehouse workers bring the television, and load it into the boot of the car. It’s massive. I wonder how all of us, plus it, will fit inside, but I don’t say anything.

Once it’s in, one of them gives me more paperwork to sign to say I received it, and they go back inside, leaving us to squash up. We have to have the rear seats wedged forward, and Colin sits on my knee in the front of the car.

“I’ll drop you at a cafe around the corner,” Phil says. “Then I’ll take the television to my uncle and meet you back there.” He hands me a twenty pound note to buy some food.

It’s nice at the cafe. I feel happy as I order myself a decent dinner and tell Colin he can get what he wants. Joanne orders a burger, but Colin’s delight makes him loud, and he can’t choose. I order him a milkshake and burger too.

I watch the smile on his face. Maz is right; I’ll call Lorraine in the week. I’m sure nothing can break my mood as we sit and wait for Becci and Phil to come back with my money.