About Me.

About Me..

My name is JD Stockholm. I am the soother of Dear Teddy.

This blog is mostly for my journey. To get those thoughts out that linger in my mind until I am driven crazy. Its sharing. Maybe someone reading will realise they are not alone. Maybe when someone comments I will realise that too.

We all walk along different paths, but sometimes, when the road is rocky, the way to go is unclear and you just need that helping hand. Its good to look over the canyon next you and see someone else doing the same.

Give them a little wave. Smile say Hi. And know that why ever you are here reading. If your struggles plague you. You are not alone.

This blog maybe triggering. Please read with caution if you have been a victim of abuse in any kind.

JD

Dear Teddy.

        Sneak Peak. Doing rewrites of the next book in the Dear Teddy series and for some reason this one seems to be coming out in a different tense. Not that it is a bad thing, but clearly I don’t want to mess with something so much that it loses its readability.

I’m posting this here mainly for opinions of anyone who has read Dear Teddy already. If the change is bothersome. It’s a little triggering and a little graphic at the end, so please as always read with caution.

Thank you for your time.

***

I love my Mr. Ted. He is all mine and he is magic. He keeps me safe from the bad man. I hug him all tight. We sit on the floor by the fire. I don’t be allowed to sit on the chairs. I am too evil.

Me and Mr. Ted like to write stories. He tells me what to write. Then I draw the pictures about it and we make it all nice. I put it in my scrap book. My Nan bought me the scrap book. It is big and has lots of pages. It has a car on the front and my name.

I write about all my stories inside it. I don’t write about the bad man though. I don’t tell anyone about the bad man. He can hear me. He reads minds. Mr. Ted keeps him away.

My mum says she doesn’t want to hear about it. But the bad man makes me scared in my tummy. Mr. Ted says don’t tell anyone. If I do then the bad man will come and get me. My mum says he’s a demon. He is from the devil like me. But I’m not a demon. I’m just evil. But my mum is going to make me all better. She gives me medicine.

The medicine doesn’t get to work yet. That’s why the bad man comes at night. Then he does the hurt thing. It makes me scared. Mr. Ted says it’s a secret. The bad man bites me and scratches me. Then I don’t get away. My mum doesn’t hear me shout. The bad man makes me go to sleep.

Me and Mr. Ted write a story about a penguin and a mouse. I make all the pictures. They live together in the mouse house.  They are very happy. They go to the fair and have candy floss. The mouse is very kind. He shares all his things with the penguin.  He shares his candy floss. The penguin thinks it is very yummy.

Me and my Nan are going to the fair. It is my birthday and I get to be six. My mum and dad don’t come. They have lots of things to do at home.

I get candy floss. But I don’t get to give Mr. Ted any of it. My Nan says it will make his fur all sticky. Then my mum will be mad and he will have to go in the rubbish bin. He is my Mr. Ted. I didn’t want him to go away in the rubbish bin.

No candy floss for Mr. Ted. I tell him no. He doesn’t be sad about it. He is a good Mr. Ted.

I am allowed to go on the rides. They make it all tickle inside. My Nan goes on them too. She likes the rides. I hold onto my Nan’s hand. We get on rides that are like tea cups. We sit in the cup and it spins around in circles. It makes me all dizzy in my head. My Nan says I am being silly because it makes my tongue fall out of my mouth and my eyes go across.

There are big rides too. They go very fast and I want to go on them. I ask my Nan but she says I am too small.

I am big.

I am six.

My Nan says, “Not big enough.”

I pull a sulky face and make my arms fold up. But she says I was still too small. One day I will be big. Then I will go on them. There is a board with a line on it. I get to stand on my tip toes. My Nan says I am cheating.

We finish on all the rides and we get to ride on a tram. It is time to go home again. My Nan takes me to my house. My mum and dad are there. They don’t remember it is my birthday. But I am allowed them anyway until I don’t be evil anymore. My mum says when I am better I can have one like my brother does. I try my best to get better.  I take all my medicine.

I sit by the fire with Mr. Ted after my Nan goes home. We draw a picture about the candy floss and the tea cup rides.  My mum is in the kitchen. She is cooking dinner. It is roast chicken. My dad sits at the table and drinks his beer in the can. He asks me what I am doing. I tell him I am drawing a picture about the fair.

“Can I look at it?”

I show him my book. He gets the pictures in his big hands. He asks me if I drew them myself. I make my head all nod. Yes I did. They are mine.

My dad does the stare thing. “It’s bad to tell lies.”

But I don’t be lying. I did them myself. I didn’t trace them. Me and Mr. Ted made them. I get my paper and my pencil. I show my dad how to draw the rides and the penguin. He picks it up. He says it is very good.

My dad asks if he can look at my story. I show him the one about the fair. My dad sits on the floor with me and then he looks at my book. He reads it out loud. He makes a silly voices with it. It makes me laugh. He makes the voices sound all funny.

He gets my hand. He puts it inside his pants. I wish I got to hug Mr. Ted. My dad gets to the end of the page. He tells me to turn it to the next one. He says my stories were very good.  He wants to read some more. He keeps my hand in his pants until it get all wet. He tells me to go and wash my hands. It is nearly dinner time.

Siren Love.

Do you dream of the one?

Do you?

The one whose skin is so sweet, kissed by the salt of the ocean and the warmth of the sun.  Her body shimmering like glistening particles of sand that still hold the moonlight.

Devouring.

Intoxicating.

The drink so delicious that you would never be able to tear your lips away.

Waiting.

Needing.

Unbeknown, the reaper rapping at your door.

Delicate fingers, lies. Hiding. Claws behind his back.

A fool that fell for the sirens song.

Left,

Wanting.

Drained.

Dying – Dead.

For Love.

New Release!

While writing Dear Teddy – Journal of a Boy, JD Stockholm experienced many vivid thoughts. Some came to him in sleep while others seemed to appear at random through his musings. He had time traveled, in a way, to a place where the darkness of his abusive childhood occurred and alongside, also came the dark and sometimes painful reflections.

They are real and raw; emotionally explicit and even occasionally, healing. Walk with him through his poetic journey as he takes you to those tiny cracks that most of us will never see.

Note: Please take special care that the writings in this book may be explicit in nature. If you have been abused in any way they may be triggering for you. Be considerate to yourself while you read.

Buy at Amazon

Trapped

Today is a day I need to fight myself out of that hole. The one inside that feels heavy and I sigh a lot. Each minute drags on and the thought of tomorrow seems pointless. The pain inside weighs heavy and if I could just reach in and pull it out I’d be okay.

I wonder if it ever goes away. If we can ever reach ‘normal’

Maybe a survivors life is like those funny pictures you see where you can never unsee the illusion once you’ve seen it. I feel like everyone lives a normal life without knowing the horror and inside I have this agony that I can’t move and can’t give to anyone.

It’s almost like a mask. I feel like a normal person with everything feeling okay, trapped in the mind of myself.