Off Guard

Its 3am in the morning, I have an early start, I should be fast asleep. Instead my emotions have been caught off guard and I’m stuck thinking about my ex, everything about him.

As I lay here in my bed I close my eyes and try to imagine the feeling of his mattress beneath me, the heaviness of his duvet. The smell of his room, of this aftershave. The feeling of his soft skin against my cheek as I lay with my head on his chest. I used to do that every weekend. That was my home. See the truth is, nowhere has ever really felt like home to me before.

My first house, where I grew up, was ruined by memories of my first abuser. I can’t think back and picture my bedroom without picturing him there with me. No matter what memory I have, it always ends up coming back to him. I remember being in the front attick room of our house, I had always shared with my brother on the floor below but the lodger had moved out and I could finally have my own room. All girly. I remember that room, one Christmas Eve, I thought I would be able to hear santa land on my roof because I was so close. A little girl excited for Christmas. But then I remember that same room, that same bed. I remember being completely naked laying on the bed beneath him completely naked. I didn’t have that room for long, so now that I think about it, my sexual journey started before I stopped believing in Santa Claus. What kind of a childhood is that?

The next house I lived in he also visited once or twice, and whilst not much happened there it was were I was living when I first spoke up about what had happened. My memories of that house are surrounded by police interviews and interrogation and upset within my family. It seems like all of the good memories I ever had in either house only come back very rarely but these ones I could relive every moment, every fine detail at any point.

The house I lived in after that, during my teenage years, where my mum still lives now. That was where I was living during my second episode of abuse. The bed that I layed in when I was 13 years old, with a man who was 24. The convincing rapist, the groomer. It’s no wonder I have no self esteem, and no ability to believe in myself when I let that happen to me. Why didn’t I stop it? Why didn’t I see that it was wrong?

I moved to my father’s house for a little while, which is where I currently live now. It doesn’t feel like home, not one bit. I think that’s just because I am not close to anyone here, apart from my son, but he will be with me wherever I go. It’s not mine, I’ve not been able to decorate my room, I’m bound by rules, I don’t feel free. More than anything I feel lonely, and when I’m lonely, like this very moment, my thoughts consume me. And I cry, I cry until I fall asleep.

Before returning here, I lived in a flat with my ex and my baby. It would have felt like home if it wasn’t the very place that I was attacked whilst pregnant. Full of raging arguments, a place where I often felt low and didn’t want to live anymore.

My ex’s house started to feel like home. Whilst we bickered about things and had disagreements we never had a fight, he never physically hurt me, he never raped me. It was the only bed that I layed my head to sleep on where I was safe. Whilst I never felt safe mentally, because I felt like the whole world was attacking me, him included. Compared to the rest of my life this was a safe haven. With more happy memories than bad ones. With more positives than negatives. One place that I actually felt loved and welcomed. I felt like I was actually wanted there.

I think of the feeling of his teeny tight curls between my fingers. I loved playing with his hair, it felt so different to any other head I’d touched. That’s why I liked it so much. As I squished the strands in my fingers I dreamt of having little babies with the same hair, that I would play with in the same way until it wasn’t cool for me to do it anymore. I think of how our lips met when we kissed, his were like a big soft cushion. Never had a kiss that felt so right before.

Now I can’t even reply to a text. Every time I engage in conversation with him I feel at rock bottom, and I don’t want to live anymore. I’ve had a long time to work out why my head is so messed up, and I know the causes of most of my struggles and emotions, but not this one. The only thing I know is that not talking to him at all has helped me to start seeing a future for myself, but clearly it does not mean that I do not think about him. It does not mean that I do not miss him. My councillor asked me last week what I wanted and I said I don’t know. She likes to remind me that I may well find someone else who treats me better than I have ever been treated before. Fills me with optimism. It’s true, I could. But how do I know? I’m afraid. I’m afraid to ever let anyone in again. I’m afraid to date, I’m afraid to let anyone fall in love with me because they may no longer want me when they find out what I’ve been through and how it affects my life. I’m afraid of abondonment. My ex felt like I caught him under false pretences. Clearly the way I was acting when he fell for me, the person I was then, I am not able to manage all the time. How long can it last? I may find someone else, I may be able to be the good me for a week, a month, a year. Long enough to attract them. But what happens if I come back to this place, what happens when I’m struggling, when I’m hurting. Even though it’s not their fault, they may leave me, again, because I’m not the person they thought I was. How will I ever attract someone if I’m honest with them at the start? How do you say to someone.. oh by the way, before you fall in love with me, i was abused as a child, as a teenager, subject to domestic violence when I was just an adult and that has made me fragile. I have issues with trust and sometimes i just may not want to be alive. Be lucky if they even pay half the bill and don’t run from the restaurant before finishing their food.

I don’t know. It’s all I keep saying, to everyone, to myself. I don’t know what to make of the situation. I don’t know what I want for the future. I don’t know if I’ll ever love again. I’m just stuck here in limbo.

Until next time.

Saturday night – face mask, dressing gown and motivational speeches!

So in my last post I said I was going to start doing three things each day to take better care of myself. Brush my hair (seems a simple task I know, but not so simple for those who suffer with depression), uptake a skincare regime, and go to the gym. So far so good, I have been doing all of these things and I am already starting to feel better about myself.

Time is such a precious thing, but often we do not use it wisely, and often we don’t even consider how we are using it. I was thinking the other day about all the things that we don’t do, like taking off our make up, because we choose not to find the time. And of course all of the things that we do find time for, like scrolling through social media, that may not be so important. Let’s face it, brushing my hair and washing my face will give me many more benefits than looking at my Facebook newsfeed. It suddenly occured to me that there is time for everything, and that we should make time for everything, even things that may be considered wasteful. Everyday does not need a scheduled timetable that must be adhered to but why can’t we give it a basic structure. I spoke in my anxiety checklist about finding the time each day to meditate. I have now decided that there are three categories that I want to make sure I include in every day. All of these things are ” me time ” , whether you get half an hour, an hour or three hours of ” me time ” each day I think this is a really good way to utilise the time that you have.

The first category is self care, as I discussed in my last post, skincare, excercise, meditation, massages, facials, manicures. Anything that you can do or like to do to take care of your health, your image, your well-being. Hence why I’m sitting in bed with a face mask, I’ve already removed my make up, washed my face, now I need to wash off the facemask and apply my night cream.

The second thing I want to utilise my ” me time” with is something with purpose, something important or inspiring. Something that’s going to help you go forwards in life. Whether it be listening to motivational speeches, researching something, writing a blog, looking into ways to make your dreams a reality. Whatever it is that is going to help you keep moving forward, rather than get stuck in the present without being able to make the changes needed to really achieve your goals.

And finally, junk time. It may seem a little unfair to call it junk, because, to us its entertaining. Whilst it may not be useful to our future, whilst we may not learn anything, entertainment is needed for our well being. We need to have a laugh every now and then, free our minds from everything and just relax, a little like a child again, that knows nothing but playing games . This could be watching a film, reading a fiction book, scrolling through social media, going out for drinks, video calling a friend, playing a game. I think this is the category that often many people don’t struggle to find time for, but spend too much time doing these things and neglecting the other things needed in life for a healthy balance. Some people are quite the opposite and do not find any time for their own entertainment and this adds more stress and unhappiness to their lives. If we work hard we can play hard right? But you have to be doing the work, you have to be caring for yourself, and you have to be doing things that are useful as well as playing if you want to be successful and happy. There’s no point in watching every film on Netflix but feeling like your going nowhere in your life and complaining that you didn’t have time to paint your nails.

Make time for everything that’s important, and also make time for those who things that are not so important but nonetheless vital to stop us from becoming insanely over worked.

Until next time.

Dead when your alive.

Does anyone get the feeling that they are already dead, just trapped in a working, breathing body, but lifeless in the heart and soul?

People must not believe me when I say that I feel like I am already dead. They see me walking, and talking, sometimes they will see me smiling and they think that because my body is completing those actions I am alive. But I don’t feel alive, I feel like I’m just existing. Like im wasting the air that I breathe and the body that I live in. I was thinking today about everyone that’s fighting a terminal illness right now and I just wish I could swap places with them. I wish I could give them my body to enjoy and I could take their loss of life.

People say it will get better, but it’s easy to feel like it’s already too late. I feel like the place that you go when you leave this world, it’s pulling me in. Day by Day that little bit closer. I try to think about my little boy, and that he needs me to be here to raise him and then I think about the little baby that I lost, there all alone, without a mummy or a daddy, without anyone that knows her or him because I was the closest person that they ever had. I have two babies and they are both in different worlds. I don’t want to leave either of them and I feel pained every single time I think about this. I am so very lost.

I have listened to this song since I was about 11, I always related it to what I went through even though it talks more about physical abuse. Each time I listen to I feel closer to becoming a concrete angel. https://youtu.be/KtNYA4pAGjI

Until next time.

My Dreams – Visualising my feelings.

I keep having these nightmares, every single time I close my eyes and sleep. Each time they are different but they mean the same thing.

Last night I had a dream that I was in London, my favourite place. I witnessed accident after accident, one straight after the other. People getting hurt, people dying. I was trying to get away, not to avoid helping them but because whatever the danger was causing the accidents was still there. But I couldn’t get away from it, and I too found myself in an accident. I lay there on the street, still breathing but in pain and my body completely bartered. I think the accidents before mine were a symbol of all the bad things I have seen before now. All of the pain that I have been through. The scene was chaotic, unorganized, too many things happening at once. Just like the thoughts in my head right now. I lay awaiting help but the ambulance never came. Those that did come didn’t get round to me, I was left there. Also a reflection of how I feel now, like I’ve been desperately running to get away from the things the bad but that they’ve caught up with me, they’ve got me and I have no way out. Help is coming but it’s not coming quick enough, there are not enough people to deal with the amount of casualties.

This afternoon I had a nap and I dreamt that I was flying somewhere. This time I was not alone but I had my boy with me. The pilot said that they had to fly very low due to an engine issue. By low I mean barely above house height. It was scary and I knew something was going to go wrong. The plane ended up crashing on to a building and it was just balancing there. It turns out it had been hijacked, as had every other flight, and every service. Evil people were taking over everything in the world and the rest of us were to be done with as they pleased. The woman wouldn’t let us off of the aircraft, not one single person. It was in a dangerous position, and should it drop half of the people on the plane would die. It had been split into two sections, and me and my boy had been separated. He was in the side that was in danger of death and I was in the side of people most likely to live. I was trying to do anything possible to swap sides with him but nothing was working. I was frustrated and upset, and I felt he was much more deserving of a chance at life than me. The plane crash symbolises my constant fear that bad things are going to happen, the world take over symbolises how I always believe that the whole world is against me. The separation with my boy, that symbolises the fact that I currently feel unable to give him the life that he deserves. That I fear I will never be healthy enough to be happy enough for him. That he is better off without me.

What will I dream about tonight 😔.

Until next time.