Telling Teddy Is Out

Telling Teddy is out

My new book Telling Teddy, the sequel to the #1 ranked book, Dear Teddy, has now been released on Kindle. Please check it out.

 Mr. Ted. I love you very much.

 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.

Mr. Ted holds the hand of his six-year-old friend as they share more of his deepest secrets. Poignant and bold, the boy’s courageous words are detailed and real. He takes you farther into his abusive life and broken mind as he survives the tangled deceit and lies of his everydays. Sit alongside him. Hear his voice and listen with your heart as he opens it up once more.

His story continues…

 Buy at Amazon.com 

Buy at Amazon.co.uk 

Crazy and Abandoned

Crazy and Abandoned

I’m a sane person trapped in the mind of a crazy guy. I say it often; I feel it always. I’m banging on the bars wishing for someone to let me out, but there isn’t a door.

I’ve retreated. I know I have. I feel it. I stare at the ceiling wondering why. What’s the point? Why should I get up today? Who will notice?

It’s been like this a few weeks now. It has taken me a while to figure it out. I have fought hard to not fall into some pit. My voice has been silent. It still is. I have to make it talk. Every word is forced.

I gave a voice to a child and he has gone. He’s taken most of me with him. It has made me cold. Blank. Nasty to some extent. I know I am doing it, yet I don’t know how to stop it.

I don’t want to talk. It isn’t that I have nothing to say. It is that I don’t see the point in saying. I feel my worthlessness once more. It shrouds me like a dark blanket.

I’m forgetting what I am fighting for.

Abandonment caused this. I can reason. I can tell myself to shut up and deal with it, but my mind isn’t listening. It’s a hard issue to face and to even understand. I’m only just getting it myself.

I’ve learned that it’s a trigger. The slightest abandonment and I am triggered to no end. Anything from a cancelled meet up with friends, to the end of a relationship. It brings out not the feelings of the current situation, but years and years of abandonment. It makes me react bigger than the situation warrants.

It turns every insult back on myself. I have not looked in a mirror for weeks; no more than I have to. I lower my eyes when I pass one. It’s almost done without a thought now.

I cancelled a house party invite because my first thought was, why did they invite me? Necessity? I don’t fit in. There or anywhere, so I didn’t go. That is a chance to see the disappointment of me reflected in the eyes of others avoided.

It’s a slippery slope going backwards, and the sane part of me is digging his feet in and trying to hold on. But I feel the crazy part is going to win out. The child inside. The sad part that doesn’t want to talk anymore.

He got abandoned a few weeks ago. I hacked up my arms and almost got myself hospitalised (see above for overreactions) and now I’ve detached.

I have no tools to come back. No way to look at what happened and not feel every single bit of pain from that and every other moment it brought up and triggered off, like a chain reaction in a mine field.

It is the same lesson time and time again.

Maybe I should just learn it and graduate.

Everyone leaves.

 

I want to be normal

I want to be normal.

I want to live.
I want to be free.
I want to get out of this prison I got locked into so long ago, by people that get to be free.

They are free physically.
They are free mentally.
They have choices and a life because they took mine.

I want to be normal.

I say it many of times. To no one. Just me. In my head, to the darkness. In those moments when I’m as far from normal as I can be. When I’m lost. When I’m hurt. When it all crashes so bad I want to hide.

What is normal? People ask. People that don’t understand. People that don’t see the world the way I do.

I got taken and placed outside of life. I see the world different. I wish people could see the world through my eyes. It’s tainted and darker. Things that people take for granted seem bigger.

A mother

A father.

Normality.

I’m looking out through the shell of the man I was supposed to be. My breaths are slow and I am watching. Watching everyone live a normal everyday life and wishing I could be like them.

The pain is like a silent ringing in my ears. Nothing I can hear. It’s pressure. Like lying in a bath full of water until the pressure makes me hear my heart beat. I lay there until I can’t take it anymore. And just like someone would sit up and take their head out of the water, I take something sharp to my skin and I cut.

It goes quiet. I can breathe. No longer does my heartbeat pound in my ears until I’m begging it to stop.

My count slipped. It has been 36 hours since I last self harmed.

Why did I give in?

Because I dreamt of a man I don’t remember so well. He and my mother holding me down. I dreamt of tape across my mouth and my arms bound. Like many memories, that’s all I have.

They bound me and made me silent.

The bad man. I want to take my life back from him and make it normal like it started.

I want to get to the evening and not be faced with my PTSD. I want to go upstairs and not feel the fears of a five year old. I want to lie in bed and close my eyes and not be afraid that tonight someone from long ago will come back.

I want to sleep.

I want to be normal.