The Oxford dictionary defines friendship as, “The emotions or conduct of friends; the state of being friends.”
In some ways I think I would be better off without friends. Leading a hermit life whilst being friendless. I have always found friendships tricky, like a friendship minefield. One false move and you’ve reduced your friendship into tatters. I feel like I am constantly charting a boat in uncharted waters.
In primary school I don’t think I made any proper friends and preferred to clean classrooms during lunchtime instead of leaving myself vulnerable on the school playground. Things got a lot worse in secondary school. I tried to integrate with other children and join friendship groups but I always felt like an outsider.
When other girls singled me out to be their best friend, I always wary of being flavour of the month. It never lasted. I was always cast out after the month is up and replaced by a more popular girl. In sixth form I spent two years being bullied by a group of girls.
The ring leader being the first friend I made when I got to secondary school. In the end I survived school by being a loner, which meant I was less valuable and less paranoid. My issues with friends and friendships didn’t stop when I left secondary school. It continued throughout my adult life.
A handful of friends have stuck by me. But most have disappeared into a puff of smoke or left my life leaving a trail of destruction behind them.
I feel that I have learnt a lot of valuable lessons about friendships this year, which I have changed my perspective about friendships past and present.
I have realised that it not best not to label friends with terms like close friends and best friends. Putting friends on imaginary pedestals, leads to disappointment and me being let down in spectacular fashion.
I have in turn learnt not to put any friend before my family and more importantly myself. I must remember blood is thicker than water.
I have discovered that friendships constantly evolve as they exist between two people. A friendship is a two way street. A balancing act like two children on a see-saw.
I now acknowledge that sometimes friendships naturally run their course and I need to learn to let go. There’s no point trying to fix a flagging friendship on your own, because you’re clutching onto memories of when it was a healthy friendship. You cannot operate a friendship on your own.
There’s no point dwelling on lost friendship as you get to keep the fond memories of times you shared together.
I have learnt the hard way that there is no point wasting my time or energy on fair weather friends who take, take, take when they need someone. But in turn disappear when things aren’t going well for me and I need extra support. Not responding to my calls or texts. This has led me to realise that I need to keep friends that have stayed by me through dark and disappearing times close to my heart.
The most important thing I have learnt is that I am actually a good, loyal, caring and trustworthy friend. When I doubt my ability as a friend I just need to reflect on my healthy existing friendships and what I bring to the friendships. After all many people have been friends with a person for 30 years and counting.
Hopefully the lessons about friendships I have learnt this year will stay with me next year. Enabling my existing friendships to stay healthy and allowing me to recognise faux friendships. More importantly I hope what I’ve learnt means I can make new friends more easily without being paranoid of people’s ulterior motives.
When it comes down to friendships, I think my future is bright.
“The only way to have a friend is to be one.” Ralph Waldo Emerson.
Friday 27 December 2013
Friday 6 December 2013
Untitled Novel: Chapter 1
“So this is it,” Avery whispered to herself as she watched the taxi disappear up the unfamiliar road. Part of her was hoping the taxi would come back and return her to the train station.
She was hit with the sudden urge to go back home; to be with her mum and her twin Mona. Neither of them had wanted her to up sticks and leave home, let alone move counties. Watford was over three hours away from her home town York which suited her; even if it didn’t suit them.
But deep down they knew she longed for a fresh start. To go somewhere where people didn’t know her and wouldn’t judge her. She felt haunted being in York; constantly haunted by bad memories and all her bad decisions. They kept bouncing around her head; screaming inside her at the same time. Each one competing to be the loudest.
She was pleased that even though it was hard for her mum and Mona to accept that she needed to leave, they knew they had to let her go. They needed to allow her to find somewhere where she could be happy and escape the darkness that surrounded her in York.
They would have to lump it and make do with scheduled phone calls and sporadic texts. The final condition was the most important. She had to take her medication daily without fail. However, there were a few conditions that she had to adhere to.
She had to call home every other day without fail and be honest with them. Tell them whenever she wasn’t coping. Instead of keeping an eye on her in the flesh, they would have to rely on technology to keep them in contact.
She realised that she had rushed into moving out. One day she was searching on ‘Gumtree’ for a second hand laptop case for her mum and suddenly found herself looking at the ‘Room to let’ section.
The next day she surprised herself and her family by accepting a room in a shared house in Watford. She’d never been to Watford before. She was adamant that she didn’t want to view the property before she decided if she was going to take the room or not.
She’d seen a few blurry photos of ‘her’ room and to her family's annoyance that was enough for her. From now on she was all about ‘Carpe Diem’. Seize the day. To her amusement when she mentioned Carpe Diem to Mona, she thought it meant Fish of the Day.
The house was a Victorian Terrace on a road called Swallowfield Avenue. Avery was convinced this was fate. Swallows represent freedom and this was what she wanted; somewhere to spread her wings and be free.
The room was a ground floor bedroom of a shared house. It looked quite spacious but only had a single bed in it, which was pushed against a wall. The size of the bed suited her down to the ground. She wasn’t anticipating sharing her bed with anyone. Sharing beds just led to complications, disappointments and heartache which she couldn’t deal with. Not anymore. She’d experienced enough heartache to last her a life time; twice over.
She was pulled from her thoughts as she felt something land on the left shoulder of her khaki parka jacket. Curiously she looked down to see what was there. Her pale powder blue eyes widened in horror as she realised what it was.
“Really! Really?” she exclaimed not caring who heard her. “Bird poop! Seriously?”
For a moment she just stared at the off white, thick creamy stain, trying to work out if it was a bad sign. A bird pooping on you was supposed to be lucky. But knowing her luck it was unlucky. She didn’t know what to do with it as she’d packed her box of tissues in one of her cases and didn’t want to go searching. So even though the bird poop stood out like a sore thumb, it would have to stay there for now. On the plus side it could potentially be an icebreaker topic to share with her new housemates; whoever they turned out to be.
She knew her new housemates were two guys who had moved into the house a few months earlier. Living with two guys didn’t worry her. She seemed to always get on better with guys and only had a couple of female friends.
Taking a deep breath, she decided to keep going. There was no option to turn back. She had to move forward. She turned her attention to her belongings that sat on the pavement beside her.
She’d had to borrow her mum’s luggage which was actually older than her sister Mona and her. Her parents had been given the luggage set as a wedding gift over 25 years ago. The tan leather was now faded and scuffed, which Avery had thought was quite symbolic. Their relationship had fallen apart when she and Mona were just four years old.
Avery wasn’t supposed to know that her parents had only got married because her mum had fallen pregnant with them. It was apparently the right thing to do back then. People didn’t always marry for love. It was supposed to be a closely guarded family secret. Avery only knew because her mum once told her when she was drunk. Celebrating what would have been their tenth wedding anniversary.
She wasn’t too sure if her mum remembered telling her the secret as she never mentioned it again; drunk or sober. Avery kept the secret to herself and decided not to tell Mona. She thought it was best to protect her sister from the truth.
She’d only packed most of her clothes and a few essentials. Her mum was going to Fed Ex some of her other boxes of stuff in the next few days. She couldn’t take everything with her today especially as she was travelling to Watford on the train. She wondered if her new housemates would be willing to help her bring her stuff into the house. Otherwise it would take a few awkward trips back and forth to bring her stuff into her new home.
“Come on Avery,” she told herself firmly. “You can do this. Pull yourself together.”
Before she moved forwards she reached into the left hand pocket of her hoody and pulled out a plastic figure and stared at it. It was wearing a pinstriped suit and his brown hair was styled in a bouffant quiff. The figure was of David Tennant’s reincarnation of the Doctor from Doctor Who. If the Doctor could take on the Daleks, Weeping Angels and Cybermen and win; she could do this.
Most people probably had traditional comfort blankets like a comforter or soft toy that they had when they were a baby. Avery was different. She had an action figure of her favourite Doctor. It came with her everywhere and lived in her bag or jacket pocket. He was her travelling companion.
She kissed the Doctor’s head before returning him to her pocket and took hold of one of her suitcase handles with one hand and brushed her mint green fringe out of her eyes with the other hand. Triumphantly she took a step towards the house.
As she walked up her new home’s front garden path, her paranoid side took over. She half expected to see the words ‘Red Rum’ scrawled across the path in angry red chalk letters. But the words weren’t there so she willed herself forward cautiously, one foot in front of the other.
She noticed that the terraced house’s exterior was much shabbier than it had been in the photos that the Landlord, Mr Harris had attached to the ‘Gumtree’ advert. The photos that he had posted against the advert must have been a few years out of date.
The cream painted pebble dashed exterior was patchy in places where the paint had chipped off, leaving the pebbles exposed to the elements. When looking at the photos, her attention had been drawn to the front door. It was almost the same shade of dark blue as the Doctor’s T.A.R.D.I.S. She liked the fact the house was flawed. She was flawed too. Deep down she knew that they were kindred spirits. Number 28 Swallowfield Avenue was where she belonged.
She plucked up courage to ring the doorbell, which let out a disjointed robot ‘ding dong.’ The doorbell battery was obviously running out but no one had bothered replacing it. Seconds passed which felt like hours. Then around her suddenly seemed to grow colder, making her shiver.
As she waited awkwardly on the doorstep, negative thoughts started to flood her head. She tried to think of something else but they wouldn’t stop and they started to make her feel more disorientated. She shook her head trying to get rid of them like an ‘Etch a Sketch’ when it erased the iron filling doodles.
The overwhelming urge to make a hasty retreat swept over her like a tidal wave, suppressing the rest of the voices inside her head. Suddenly she was distracted by a new voice which was coming from above her.
“Ellis! You have a few more minutes. It’s not the pizza guy. It’s a girl!”
Quickly Avery looked up to see a stranger at the door, staring down at her with a bemused expression look on his face. She’d been too wrapped up in her powerful thoughts. She hadn’t realised someone had opened the front door.
Clumsily she took a step backwards, forgetting she was standing on a doorstep, not the flat garden path. Not prepared for dismounting the doorstep she found herself falling backwards into the night air. She felt like she was falling in slow motion.
She shut her eyes bracing herself for the impact with the path. But she didn’t collide with the concrete. Indeed, she wasn’t falling anymore. Moments later she felt herself being pulled up back into a standing position by someone. Quickly she opened her eyes, curious to see who had rescued her.
The guy was now standing on the doorstep, towering over her with a grin like the Cheshire cat from ‘Alice In Wonderland’.
Awkwardly she became acutely aware that she was still holding his hand, even though she now was standing firmly on the garden path. He didn’t seem to mind that they were still holding hands, as he was not showing any signs of letting go. He’s hand felt warm wrapped around her ice cold fingers.
Embarrassed she quickly let go and let her arm fall to her side. The guy was obviously amused by her goofy behaviour as he let out a brief chuckle.
He looked like a giant compared to her as Avery was just shy of 5.4ft in height and he seemed to be at least a foot taller. Perhaps even taller! He was stocky in stature with loose fiery auburn curls that hung just above his shoulders.
He reminded her of a taller and beefer version of Mick Hucknall, the lead singer of her mum’s favourite band Simply Red. She noticed his navy hoody could barely contain his muscular biceps. She wondered if he played rugby as a hobby. He certainly had the build for it. She predicted that some people might be intimidated by his appearance. But for some reasons she wasn’t.
“Hi, I’m Avery,” she said boldly, breaking the silence.
“You’re Avery?” The guy replied revealing his thick Welsh accent. “But you’re a girl. Not a boy.”
“I’m definitely a girl. I’ve always been a girl,” she said confidently, which surprised her. “I’ve been rocking this body since 1986.”
“So Avery can be a girl’s name too.” The guy paused, seeming to take in this new revelation. “That’s good to know. Old Mr Harris must have not known that. He told us that our new housemate was a dude not a chick.” He winked at her, which made Avery relax more.
“Well we only exchanged emails and you can’t really workout the sex of me by my email address. Invisiblyflawed86@hotmail.com.” She couldn’t believe she was giving a complete stranger her email address. She knew Mona wouldn’t approve of this. But Mona wasn’t here to judge.
“That’s a very ‘Emo’ email address.” The guy laughed. “I better not tell you mine. It’s a bit X-rated and we’ve only just met. Anyways, girl Avery, you are a day early. We were told you were arriving tomorrow. But I guess that’s another mix up care of Mr Harris.”
“Definitely another mix up.” Avery agreed nodding.
“Does it matter?” Avery asked, starting to feel a pang of anxiety growing inside of her. She suddenly realised that going back to York wasn’t an option.
“Matter?” The guy repeated looking confused then slowly he understood. “Nope. It’s not a problem at all. I’m sure that Ellis won’t mind. It will be nice to have a woman’s touch around the house. Asha’s always complaining it’s a bachelor pad and that we never tidy up after ourselves.”
Avery frowned at this remark. Mr Harris had told her that there were only three bedrooms in this property. Currently two rooms were being occupied by this guy and another guy called Ellis. Who was Asha and was she living here too? She didn’t want to live with a girl. That wasn’t part of the plan.
“Asha?” Avery tried to ask casually, but not succeeding as the guy let out a laugh. This embarrassed Avery and she could feel her cheeks start to redden with embarrassment.
“Yes Asha. She’s sort of friend of mine.” He paused seemingly trying to work out the best way to identify a suitable label to give his ‘friend’ Asha. “A close friend. She hangs out here a fair bit and always complains about the mess. She sleeps over a lot but she doesn’t live with us. I keep telling her that the house just looks lived in. I think lived in is a good thing. Don’t you?“ Avery shook her head enthusiastically whilst the guy continued.
“Apparently Ellis and I are super untidy. We do tidy a bit. The washing up gets done almost every other day and we draw straws to see who will take the bins out each week. We don’t hoover often. It has too many parts to it. It’s like putting a puzzle together. You need be a Mensa member to put it together. I realise that lack of housework is not the best thing to admit to a new housemate.” The guy laughed realising he was digging himself a hole to stand in. But this made Avery like him more by the minute. He was quite friendly and refreshing.
“So can I come in?” Avery asked changing the subject as she realised her feet were starting to get cold. She noticed her warm breath had started to make little clouds in the air as she spoke. She wondered why she hadn’t noticed it until now.
“Blimey!” The guy exclaimed slapping his forehead. “Of course you can. Silly me. I will give you a hand with your stuff.”
He energetically jumped down the steps and darted down the garden towards the luggage which was still sitting on the pavement opposite the house. Before Avery could move or say anything he was at her side holding the rest of her luggage. He looked like a giant pack horse.
“I’m Luca by the way! It’s good to meet you!”
“And you too,” she replied.
“Come on then. Let’s get out of the cold,” he shouted as he headed into the house. Obeying him, Avery quickly took her first steps into her new home.
A few minutes later she was sitting alone in the sitting room on a mustard yellow three-seater sofa, that didn’t match the other sofa or armchair in the room. Luca had shown Avery to her room where they had dumped her belongings on the bed.
He then led her back into the sitting room and insisted on making her a cup of tea to welcome her into her new home. Plus they could have their first meal together once the pizza finally arrived.
The sitting room was quite messy and it also seemed to double up as a dining room. There were discarded items of clothing scattered on the floor and pizza boxes and empty cups stacked up high on the wooden coffee table in the middle of the room. Luca apologised for the mess but Avery didn’t mind. It made the place feel more homely. She liked the fact none of the furniture matched. She was amused that the dining set was actually plastic garden furniture.
Avery was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of footsteps coming from the stairs behind her. Startled, she turned to see who it was.
Coming down the stairs was a guy who had obviously just come out of the shower. He was only wearing a bath towel around his waist and another towel draped round his shoulders. Avery was quite shocked at his overall appearance and didn’t know where to look.
But for some reason she couldn’t look away. She noticed his skin was still wet. The little water droplets that had caught in his arm hair shimmered in the light. She also noticed his lean sculpted torso which made her tummy somersault for some strange reason.
“Hi!” Avery found herself calling out whilst spontaneously jumping up from the sofa and extending her hand towards him. “I’m Avery. You must be Ellis.”
Amused, Ellis shook her hand. The handshake lasted for a long time but neither seemed to mind. Both of them seemed to be just happy staring into each other’s eyes. Avery noticed that his eyes were slightly almond in shape and the colour of dark chocolate. Trying to ward off any further embarrassment she let her gaze wonder towards his face. Avery noticed he was now frowning.
“Yes, I am a girl not a boy.” Slowly the guy nodded in recognition whilst scratching his wet short jet black hair.
“You have green hair,” he said as his eyes wandered to the top of her head.
Ever since Avery had read the graphic novel ‘Scott Pilgrim versus the Universe’ she’d decided to regularly change her hair colour. In a way she wanted to be Scott Pilgrim’s love interest Ramona Flowers. She had all the character traits Avery wanted to have, particularly her self-assurance and self-confidence.
Avery’s hair always changed colour but the style hardly ever changed. She had a pixie haircut with a large sweeping fringe, which often fell across her face covering her eyes.
“Yes.” Avery nodded in response. “I have green hair. Sometimes I have pink hair, blue hair and even rainbow hair.”
“It suits you.” Ellis said, his gaze returning to her eyes. “And I am Ellis. Sorry about my attire. I was in the shower. I heard Luca shout up to me. I thought he was telling me the pizza had arrived.”
“It’s not here yet.” Avery smiled, whilst noticing Ellis was looking around the room.
“Luca’s sorting out plates for the pizza and making me a drink.” Ellis nodded in acknowledgement.
“I better go and get dressed. I don’t want to put you off your dinner.” Avery watched as he took the towel from his shoulders and handed it to her, which made her frown. “For the bird poop. Must have been our feathery neighbour Harold. He’s always targeting us.”
Avery watched as Ellis he disappeared up the stairs. Moments later she sat back down on the sofa and found herself smiling. Deep down she knew she was going to be happy here.
This was definitely a new start.
She was hit with the sudden urge to go back home; to be with her mum and her twin Mona. Neither of them had wanted her to up sticks and leave home, let alone move counties. Watford was over three hours away from her home town York which suited her; even if it didn’t suit them.
But deep down they knew she longed for a fresh start. To go somewhere where people didn’t know her and wouldn’t judge her. She felt haunted being in York; constantly haunted by bad memories and all her bad decisions. They kept bouncing around her head; screaming inside her at the same time. Each one competing to be the loudest.
She was pleased that even though it was hard for her mum and Mona to accept that she needed to leave, they knew they had to let her go. They needed to allow her to find somewhere where she could be happy and escape the darkness that surrounded her in York.
They would have to lump it and make do with scheduled phone calls and sporadic texts. The final condition was the most important. She had to take her medication daily without fail. However, there were a few conditions that she had to adhere to.
She had to call home every other day without fail and be honest with them. Tell them whenever she wasn’t coping. Instead of keeping an eye on her in the flesh, they would have to rely on technology to keep them in contact.
She realised that she had rushed into moving out. One day she was searching on ‘Gumtree’ for a second hand laptop case for her mum and suddenly found herself looking at the ‘Room to let’ section.
The next day she surprised herself and her family by accepting a room in a shared house in Watford. She’d never been to Watford before. She was adamant that she didn’t want to view the property before she decided if she was going to take the room or not.
She’d seen a few blurry photos of ‘her’ room and to her family's annoyance that was enough for her. From now on she was all about ‘Carpe Diem’. Seize the day. To her amusement when she mentioned Carpe Diem to Mona, she thought it meant Fish of the Day.
The house was a Victorian Terrace on a road called Swallowfield Avenue. Avery was convinced this was fate. Swallows represent freedom and this was what she wanted; somewhere to spread her wings and be free.
The room was a ground floor bedroom of a shared house. It looked quite spacious but only had a single bed in it, which was pushed against a wall. The size of the bed suited her down to the ground. She wasn’t anticipating sharing her bed with anyone. Sharing beds just led to complications, disappointments and heartache which she couldn’t deal with. Not anymore. She’d experienced enough heartache to last her a life time; twice over.
She was pulled from her thoughts as she felt something land on the left shoulder of her khaki parka jacket. Curiously she looked down to see what was there. Her pale powder blue eyes widened in horror as she realised what it was.
“Really! Really?” she exclaimed not caring who heard her. “Bird poop! Seriously?”
For a moment she just stared at the off white, thick creamy stain, trying to work out if it was a bad sign. A bird pooping on you was supposed to be lucky. But knowing her luck it was unlucky. She didn’t know what to do with it as she’d packed her box of tissues in one of her cases and didn’t want to go searching. So even though the bird poop stood out like a sore thumb, it would have to stay there for now. On the plus side it could potentially be an icebreaker topic to share with her new housemates; whoever they turned out to be.
She knew her new housemates were two guys who had moved into the house a few months earlier. Living with two guys didn’t worry her. She seemed to always get on better with guys and only had a couple of female friends.
Taking a deep breath, she decided to keep going. There was no option to turn back. She had to move forward. She turned her attention to her belongings that sat on the pavement beside her.
She’d had to borrow her mum’s luggage which was actually older than her sister Mona and her. Her parents had been given the luggage set as a wedding gift over 25 years ago. The tan leather was now faded and scuffed, which Avery had thought was quite symbolic. Their relationship had fallen apart when she and Mona were just four years old.
Avery wasn’t supposed to know that her parents had only got married because her mum had fallen pregnant with them. It was apparently the right thing to do back then. People didn’t always marry for love. It was supposed to be a closely guarded family secret. Avery only knew because her mum once told her when she was drunk. Celebrating what would have been their tenth wedding anniversary.
She wasn’t too sure if her mum remembered telling her the secret as she never mentioned it again; drunk or sober. Avery kept the secret to herself and decided not to tell Mona. She thought it was best to protect her sister from the truth.
She’d only packed most of her clothes and a few essentials. Her mum was going to Fed Ex some of her other boxes of stuff in the next few days. She couldn’t take everything with her today especially as she was travelling to Watford on the train. She wondered if her new housemates would be willing to help her bring her stuff into the house. Otherwise it would take a few awkward trips back and forth to bring her stuff into her new home.
“Come on Avery,” she told herself firmly. “You can do this. Pull yourself together.”
Before she moved forwards she reached into the left hand pocket of her hoody and pulled out a plastic figure and stared at it. It was wearing a pinstriped suit and his brown hair was styled in a bouffant quiff. The figure was of David Tennant’s reincarnation of the Doctor from Doctor Who. If the Doctor could take on the Daleks, Weeping Angels and Cybermen and win; she could do this.
Most people probably had traditional comfort blankets like a comforter or soft toy that they had when they were a baby. Avery was different. She had an action figure of her favourite Doctor. It came with her everywhere and lived in her bag or jacket pocket. He was her travelling companion.
She kissed the Doctor’s head before returning him to her pocket and took hold of one of her suitcase handles with one hand and brushed her mint green fringe out of her eyes with the other hand. Triumphantly she took a step towards the house.
As she walked up her new home’s front garden path, her paranoid side took over. She half expected to see the words ‘Red Rum’ scrawled across the path in angry red chalk letters. But the words weren’t there so she willed herself forward cautiously, one foot in front of the other.
She noticed that the terraced house’s exterior was much shabbier than it had been in the photos that the Landlord, Mr Harris had attached to the ‘Gumtree’ advert. The photos that he had posted against the advert must have been a few years out of date.
The cream painted pebble dashed exterior was patchy in places where the paint had chipped off, leaving the pebbles exposed to the elements. When looking at the photos, her attention had been drawn to the front door. It was almost the same shade of dark blue as the Doctor’s T.A.R.D.I.S. She liked the fact the house was flawed. She was flawed too. Deep down she knew that they were kindred spirits. Number 28 Swallowfield Avenue was where she belonged.
She plucked up courage to ring the doorbell, which let out a disjointed robot ‘ding dong.’ The doorbell battery was obviously running out but no one had bothered replacing it. Seconds passed which felt like hours. Then around her suddenly seemed to grow colder, making her shiver.
As she waited awkwardly on the doorstep, negative thoughts started to flood her head. She tried to think of something else but they wouldn’t stop and they started to make her feel more disorientated. She shook her head trying to get rid of them like an ‘Etch a Sketch’ when it erased the iron filling doodles.
The overwhelming urge to make a hasty retreat swept over her like a tidal wave, suppressing the rest of the voices inside her head. Suddenly she was distracted by a new voice which was coming from above her.
“Ellis! You have a few more minutes. It’s not the pizza guy. It’s a girl!”
Quickly Avery looked up to see a stranger at the door, staring down at her with a bemused expression look on his face. She’d been too wrapped up in her powerful thoughts. She hadn’t realised someone had opened the front door.
Clumsily she took a step backwards, forgetting she was standing on a doorstep, not the flat garden path. Not prepared for dismounting the doorstep she found herself falling backwards into the night air. She felt like she was falling in slow motion.
She shut her eyes bracing herself for the impact with the path. But she didn’t collide with the concrete. Indeed, she wasn’t falling anymore. Moments later she felt herself being pulled up back into a standing position by someone. Quickly she opened her eyes, curious to see who had rescued her.
The guy was now standing on the doorstep, towering over her with a grin like the Cheshire cat from ‘Alice In Wonderland’.
Awkwardly she became acutely aware that she was still holding his hand, even though she now was standing firmly on the garden path. He didn’t seem to mind that they were still holding hands, as he was not showing any signs of letting go. He’s hand felt warm wrapped around her ice cold fingers.
Embarrassed she quickly let go and let her arm fall to her side. The guy was obviously amused by her goofy behaviour as he let out a brief chuckle.
He looked like a giant compared to her as Avery was just shy of 5.4ft in height and he seemed to be at least a foot taller. Perhaps even taller! He was stocky in stature with loose fiery auburn curls that hung just above his shoulders.
He reminded her of a taller and beefer version of Mick Hucknall, the lead singer of her mum’s favourite band Simply Red. She noticed his navy hoody could barely contain his muscular biceps. She wondered if he played rugby as a hobby. He certainly had the build for it. She predicted that some people might be intimidated by his appearance. But for some reasons she wasn’t.
“Hi, I’m Avery,” she said boldly, breaking the silence.
“You’re Avery?” The guy replied revealing his thick Welsh accent. “But you’re a girl. Not a boy.”
“I’m definitely a girl. I’ve always been a girl,” she said confidently, which surprised her. “I’ve been rocking this body since 1986.”
“So Avery can be a girl’s name too.” The guy paused, seeming to take in this new revelation. “That’s good to know. Old Mr Harris must have not known that. He told us that our new housemate was a dude not a chick.” He winked at her, which made Avery relax more.
“Well we only exchanged emails and you can’t really workout the sex of me by my email address. Invisiblyflawed86@hotmail.com.” She couldn’t believe she was giving a complete stranger her email address. She knew Mona wouldn’t approve of this. But Mona wasn’t here to judge.
“That’s a very ‘Emo’ email address.” The guy laughed. “I better not tell you mine. It’s a bit X-rated and we’ve only just met. Anyways, girl Avery, you are a day early. We were told you were arriving tomorrow. But I guess that’s another mix up care of Mr Harris.”
“Definitely another mix up.” Avery agreed nodding.
“Does it matter?” Avery asked, starting to feel a pang of anxiety growing inside of her. She suddenly realised that going back to York wasn’t an option.
“Matter?” The guy repeated looking confused then slowly he understood. “Nope. It’s not a problem at all. I’m sure that Ellis won’t mind. It will be nice to have a woman’s touch around the house. Asha’s always complaining it’s a bachelor pad and that we never tidy up after ourselves.”
Avery frowned at this remark. Mr Harris had told her that there were only three bedrooms in this property. Currently two rooms were being occupied by this guy and another guy called Ellis. Who was Asha and was she living here too? She didn’t want to live with a girl. That wasn’t part of the plan.
“Asha?” Avery tried to ask casually, but not succeeding as the guy let out a laugh. This embarrassed Avery and she could feel her cheeks start to redden with embarrassment.
“Yes Asha. She’s sort of friend of mine.” He paused seemingly trying to work out the best way to identify a suitable label to give his ‘friend’ Asha. “A close friend. She hangs out here a fair bit and always complains about the mess. She sleeps over a lot but she doesn’t live with us. I keep telling her that the house just looks lived in. I think lived in is a good thing. Don’t you?“ Avery shook her head enthusiastically whilst the guy continued.
“Apparently Ellis and I are super untidy. We do tidy a bit. The washing up gets done almost every other day and we draw straws to see who will take the bins out each week. We don’t hoover often. It has too many parts to it. It’s like putting a puzzle together. You need be a Mensa member to put it together. I realise that lack of housework is not the best thing to admit to a new housemate.” The guy laughed realising he was digging himself a hole to stand in. But this made Avery like him more by the minute. He was quite friendly and refreshing.
“So can I come in?” Avery asked changing the subject as she realised her feet were starting to get cold. She noticed her warm breath had started to make little clouds in the air as she spoke. She wondered why she hadn’t noticed it until now.
“Blimey!” The guy exclaimed slapping his forehead. “Of course you can. Silly me. I will give you a hand with your stuff.”
He energetically jumped down the steps and darted down the garden towards the luggage which was still sitting on the pavement opposite the house. Before Avery could move or say anything he was at her side holding the rest of her luggage. He looked like a giant pack horse.
“I’m Luca by the way! It’s good to meet you!”
“And you too,” she replied.
“Come on then. Let’s get out of the cold,” he shouted as he headed into the house. Obeying him, Avery quickly took her first steps into her new home.
A few minutes later she was sitting alone in the sitting room on a mustard yellow three-seater sofa, that didn’t match the other sofa or armchair in the room. Luca had shown Avery to her room where they had dumped her belongings on the bed.
He then led her back into the sitting room and insisted on making her a cup of tea to welcome her into her new home. Plus they could have their first meal together once the pizza finally arrived.
The sitting room was quite messy and it also seemed to double up as a dining room. There were discarded items of clothing scattered on the floor and pizza boxes and empty cups stacked up high on the wooden coffee table in the middle of the room. Luca apologised for the mess but Avery didn’t mind. It made the place feel more homely. She liked the fact none of the furniture matched. She was amused that the dining set was actually plastic garden furniture.
Avery was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of footsteps coming from the stairs behind her. Startled, she turned to see who it was.
Coming down the stairs was a guy who had obviously just come out of the shower. He was only wearing a bath towel around his waist and another towel draped round his shoulders. Avery was quite shocked at his overall appearance and didn’t know where to look.
But for some reason she couldn’t look away. She noticed his skin was still wet. The little water droplets that had caught in his arm hair shimmered in the light. She also noticed his lean sculpted torso which made her tummy somersault for some strange reason.
“Hi!” Avery found herself calling out whilst spontaneously jumping up from the sofa and extending her hand towards him. “I’m Avery. You must be Ellis.”
Amused, Ellis shook her hand. The handshake lasted for a long time but neither seemed to mind. Both of them seemed to be just happy staring into each other’s eyes. Avery noticed that his eyes were slightly almond in shape and the colour of dark chocolate. Trying to ward off any further embarrassment she let her gaze wonder towards his face. Avery noticed he was now frowning.
“Yes, I am a girl not a boy.” Slowly the guy nodded in recognition whilst scratching his wet short jet black hair.
“You have green hair,” he said as his eyes wandered to the top of her head.
Ever since Avery had read the graphic novel ‘Scott Pilgrim versus the Universe’ she’d decided to regularly change her hair colour. In a way she wanted to be Scott Pilgrim’s love interest Ramona Flowers. She had all the character traits Avery wanted to have, particularly her self-assurance and self-confidence.
Avery’s hair always changed colour but the style hardly ever changed. She had a pixie haircut with a large sweeping fringe, which often fell across her face covering her eyes.
“Yes.” Avery nodded in response. “I have green hair. Sometimes I have pink hair, blue hair and even rainbow hair.”
“It suits you.” Ellis said, his gaze returning to her eyes. “And I am Ellis. Sorry about my attire. I was in the shower. I heard Luca shout up to me. I thought he was telling me the pizza had arrived.”
“It’s not here yet.” Avery smiled, whilst noticing Ellis was looking around the room.
“Luca’s sorting out plates for the pizza and making me a drink.” Ellis nodded in acknowledgement.
“I better go and get dressed. I don’t want to put you off your dinner.” Avery watched as he took the towel from his shoulders and handed it to her, which made her frown. “For the bird poop. Must have been our feathery neighbour Harold. He’s always targeting us.”
Avery watched as Ellis he disappeared up the stairs. Moments later she sat back down on the sofa and found herself smiling. Deep down she knew she was going to be happy here.
This was definitely a new start.
Thursday 5 December 2013
Times are changing
It’s taken 31 years but something seems to have finally clicked inside my head. Something seems to have changed for the better. It’s a less dark and despairing place. Though I am not too sure why and I am not sure how long it will last.
To a degree I feel like I’m working towards accepting myself for who I am and hating myself less and less each day. I seem to be gradually becoming comfortable in my own skin. I feel less inclined to wish that would become invisible, particularly when I am out and about amongst strangers. Nor I am I constantly willing myself to spontaneously change into a completely different person inside and out that everyone likes, including strangers. I feel less awkward in myself and I don’t feel the need to apologise to everyone for my existence, which I usually find myself doing.
Being out and about is getting easier as I seem to be playing the ‘fun’ game of comparing myself to every other female in terms of physical appearance less and less. Usually my mind automatically does it 24/7, which makes me feel my brain is turning against me constantly. But my mind seems to be less interested with the game and what other females look like. It’s making being out and about a lot less angst ridden and stressful.
I feel more confident when strangers interact with me and on occasions even I feel chuffed with myself when opportunities arise for me to be a good Samaritan. Like when someone drops something without realising or when people need advice about buses whilst I am waiting for a bus. Usually I would feel self-conscious calling out at someone alerting them that they’ve dropped something and ignored people if they asked me when the next bus is due.
I have even started to enjoy talking to OAPs whilst we are sitting together at the bus stop. Listening to stories about their grandchildren or the bargains they got at Poundland whilst they were in town. Previously I have longed for them to stop trying to talk to me and have been on occasions tempted pretend to be a ghost, turning to them and say in a surprise matter, “You can see me?”
Most of the time I am able to look at myself in the mirror without recoiling which is usually unheard of. Instead I can acknowledge my reflection staring back at me. I often pull silly faces at myself which makes me smile and feel warm and fuzzy inside which generally is an alien concept.
I no longer feel the need to stay in my pyjamas all day and loathe the entire contents of my wardrobe. Nor do I want to cut up all my clothes so I have an excuse not to leave the house. When I wake up now look forward to choosing an outfit and working out what accessories to wear. I have been enjoying going out and treating myself to new pretty dresses; though I still will not set foot into the horror which is the shop changing rooms. I feel one step closer to embracing my curves and not hating the skin I am in. I am even accepting compliments from people and not dismissing them automatically.
I am no longer considering myself as an as an asexual being like Sheldon Cooper from the Big Bang Theory. I am accepting the notion that at some point in the future I might meet a guy that likes me for who I am and will want to have a proper, healthy relationship with me. I no longer feel like I am destined to be a crazy hamster lady, my version of a crazy cat lady.
Recently I have been talking to a few new guys and have been enjoying getting to know them, without wondering why they are wasting their time talking to me. I even find myself occasionally flirting and being flirted back to.
I feel quite daring as six months ago I would shy away from talking to guys and ignore the emails that my inbox of a dating website from prospective suitors. I like the idea of going out on a date and enjoying a bit of face to face contact instead of chatting through cyperspace and texts.
In terms of my relationships with friends and family I feel that they have greatly improved. I feel that my relationship with my parents has become much stronger. I don’t feel like the black sheep of the family and like I am a valid member of my family. My parents seem to be more intimate with me and allow me give them the occasional hugs and kisses. For most of my life I have longed for my parents to be more tactile with me and hated the fact that I would have to ask for a hug when I need one.
I feel like I have become more choosey with who are my friends and who I socialise with. I am no longer putting my eggs in one basket, so to speak. I am distancing myself from friends who I can get swept up in their issues and their emotions, where friendships feel one sided. I am now focusing my time on friends who I enjoy spending time with and they enjoy spending time with me.
For the first time in my life I am feeling positive about my future and accepting that I do actually have a future. Previously I couldn’t cope with planning what I was doing the next day, so thinking of my future in terms of months and years was inconceivable. I always felt I was living on borrowed time since my first breakdown ten years ago so there was no point planning a future. I couldn’t see past my depression and other mental health problems.
So all in all I am feeling more hopeful about things, although I am wondering how long this pragmatic period will last. I’m keeping my fingers and toes crossed that it’s here to stay.
Wednesday 17 July 2013
Empty
I feel empty. I am an empty vessel. I feel like I'm a Vulcan, devoid of any feelings or emotions. Like someone's switched something off inside me.
I'm the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz. I have no heart. Inside I only feel cold or nothingness. I don't feel sad, happy, upset or angry. Nothing seems to bother me. Nobody annoys me anymore. My opinions seem pointless so why should I share them.
I'm a spectator. An observer of life. I don't participate. I feel like I'm invisible. I long to be invisible. I've spent most of my life wishing I didn't. To not exist is my birthday wish each year. I'm still waiting for the wish to come true.
When I'm out as a part of a group, I long to disappear. If I sit still long enough and don't move I will blend into the background. The people I'm sitting with will forget I'm there. Leaving me to listen. Information goes into my head but nothing comes out of my mouth.
Being empty doesn't worry me. It's actually a big relief. I'd rather feel nothing than feel too much which is my other mode. I hate it when I am consumed with depression, despair, self-hatred, self-loathing. When I feel too much I feel haunted by my past which is played over and over in my head. Being plagued with constant obsessive and negative thoughts doesn't leave much room for anything else.
Living with emptiness is fine with me. Even though I feel like I've stopped living. I don't feel like I have a life anymore.
When I feel empty, emotions feel alien to me and I'm ok with it.
I'm the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz. I have no heart. Inside I only feel cold or nothingness. I don't feel sad, happy, upset or angry. Nothing seems to bother me. Nobody annoys me anymore. My opinions seem pointless so why should I share them.
I'm a spectator. An observer of life. I don't participate. I feel like I'm invisible. I long to be invisible. I've spent most of my life wishing I didn't. To not exist is my birthday wish each year. I'm still waiting for the wish to come true.
When I'm out as a part of a group, I long to disappear. If I sit still long enough and don't move I will blend into the background. The people I'm sitting with will forget I'm there. Leaving me to listen. Information goes into my head but nothing comes out of my mouth.
Being empty doesn't worry me. It's actually a big relief. I'd rather feel nothing than feel too much which is my other mode. I hate it when I am consumed with depression, despair, self-hatred, self-loathing. When I feel too much I feel haunted by my past which is played over and over in my head. Being plagued with constant obsessive and negative thoughts doesn't leave much room for anything else.
Living with emptiness is fine with me. Even though I feel like I've stopped living. I don't feel like I have a life anymore.
When I feel empty, emotions feel alien to me and I'm ok with it.
I wish....
I wish I wasn't me. I wish I was a few inches shorter and a few stone lighter with smaller feet and a lot less curves. I wish I could be happy about my body. Dressing to show it off and not dressing to hide it because I'm ashamed.
I wish that all my smiles and laugh weren't always fake. A way of hiding what I'm really feeling. Natural smiles and laugher seems an alien concept nowadays.
I wish I was genuinely happy about myself and my so called life. If I could remove the big weight of depression hanging around my neck weighing me down so I only look at the ground. But I can't. It's here to stay.
I wish I stopped relying on my many masks and be the real me. But I think I've forgotten who the real me is.
I wish I was the type of girl that guys fall for, even notice. I can't remember when a guy last checked me out or when builders wolf whistled at me when they drove past me.
I wish I could speak my mind and voice my opinions without worrying about the consequences. But I don't think anyone would want to hear anything that I'd want to say. When I speak my dull, droning voice sends people to sleep.
I wish I was a sociable creature. A social butterfly or night owl with a busy social life which meant I was never home. In fact I wish I didn't live at home so I could leave long enough between visits that my parents missed me. I wish I wasn't me.
I wish that all my smiles and laugh weren't always fake. A way of hiding what I'm really feeling. Natural smiles and laugher seems an alien concept nowadays.
I wish I was genuinely happy about myself and my so called life. If I could remove the big weight of depression hanging around my neck weighing me down so I only look at the ground. But I can't. It's here to stay.
I wish I stopped relying on my many masks and be the real me. But I think I've forgotten who the real me is.
I wish I was the type of girl that guys fall for, even notice. I can't remember when a guy last checked me out or when builders wolf whistled at me when they drove past me.
I wish I could speak my mind and voice my opinions without worrying about the consequences. But I don't think anyone would want to hear anything that I'd want to say. When I speak my dull, droning voice sends people to sleep.
I wish I was a sociable creature. A social butterfly or night owl with a busy social life which meant I was never home. In fact I wish I didn't live at home so I could leave long enough between visits that my parents missed me. I wish I wasn't me.
Wednesday 24 April 2013
Child-Adult
I am 30 years old. I am supposed to be an adult. But I don't feel like one. I feel more like a child trapped in an adult's body. I am a child-adult. I still live at home with my parents. In the same house I've lived in since I was 18 months old.
I sleep in the same bedroom, in the same single bed that I've slept in since I was a toddler. The only difference is my bed is no longer part of bunk beds. The same mint green walls. The same pastel chequered curtains which have never been good at keeping light out.
There are no grown-up fancy arty pictures on my walls. Instead my walls are covered in Doctor Who posters. There are boxes of American comics under my bed and plastic action figures on my shelves instead of books.
My parents provide me with food, heating and electricity as well as comfort and support. I don't understand mortgages, council tax or water rates. The only bill I have to worry about is my monthly mobile phone charge. Every Friday evening I will be asked what food I will want for my lunches next week so they can make sure I've got food to eat.
I don't iron clothes as I can't be trusted with hot objects and in the past when I've tried to use the iron I've burnt other people's clothes. I hardly ever put the washing on as I easily get confused separating clothes in into piles of dark and light colours. When I attempt to hang clothes on the washing line I apparently hang them up the wrong way.
When I am home alone I'm not a happy bunny. I feel lonely and restless. I often call my dad up when he's at work. To let him know I'm how I'm doing, what I'm doing or if I'm needing some tlc. I always seem to call him when I need to make a decision whether it’s big or small. I don't feel capable of making decisions on my own.
I hardly ever feel confident enough to use the oven on my own if I'm home alone. I can't cook meals from scratch as recipes and ingredients confuse me. On rare occasions when I am full of false hope I try to bake something for my parents, but I will keep checking that I've turned the oven hobs off for the next hour or so. I don't trust myself as I've caused a fire before when I forgot to turn the grill off after I cooked some sausages.
If the home phone rings when I am home alone I don't answer it 99% of the time. If I open the front door to cold callers the always seem to ask if my mum or dad are in before I can even tell them I'm not the owner of the house.
I always go to bed before my parents and make sure I say 'night night', and I get woken up by my mum for breakfast every day.
I wonder whether I will always be like Peter Pan or one day shall I be grown-up like Wendy?
I sleep in the same bedroom, in the same single bed that I've slept in since I was a toddler. The only difference is my bed is no longer part of bunk beds. The same mint green walls. The same pastel chequered curtains which have never been good at keeping light out.
There are no grown-up fancy arty pictures on my walls. Instead my walls are covered in Doctor Who posters. There are boxes of American comics under my bed and plastic action figures on my shelves instead of books.
My parents provide me with food, heating and electricity as well as comfort and support. I don't understand mortgages, council tax or water rates. The only bill I have to worry about is my monthly mobile phone charge. Every Friday evening I will be asked what food I will want for my lunches next week so they can make sure I've got food to eat.
I don't iron clothes as I can't be trusted with hot objects and in the past when I've tried to use the iron I've burnt other people's clothes. I hardly ever put the washing on as I easily get confused separating clothes in into piles of dark and light colours. When I attempt to hang clothes on the washing line I apparently hang them up the wrong way.
When I am home alone I'm not a happy bunny. I feel lonely and restless. I often call my dad up when he's at work. To let him know I'm how I'm doing, what I'm doing or if I'm needing some tlc. I always seem to call him when I need to make a decision whether it’s big or small. I don't feel capable of making decisions on my own.
I hardly ever feel confident enough to use the oven on my own if I'm home alone. I can't cook meals from scratch as recipes and ingredients confuse me. On rare occasions when I am full of false hope I try to bake something for my parents, but I will keep checking that I've turned the oven hobs off for the next hour or so. I don't trust myself as I've caused a fire before when I forgot to turn the grill off after I cooked some sausages.
If the home phone rings when I am home alone I don't answer it 99% of the time. If I open the front door to cold callers the always seem to ask if my mum or dad are in before I can even tell them I'm not the owner of the house.
I always go to bed before my parents and make sure I say 'night night', and I get woken up by my mum for breakfast every day.
I wonder whether I will always be like Peter Pan or one day shall I be grown-up like Wendy?
Wednesday 17 April 2013
My Story
I don’t remember much about my school years. My
mind seems have blocked out that time. I seem to only remember snippets
of bad memories related to school which always haunt me. I liked school
in terms of learning but I struggled with making friends and
maintaining friendships. I would definitely say I was socially awkward
as a child and I am still to this day, though I’ve now been diagnosed
with social phobia.
Friends seemed to best friends with me one minute and then someone else would become their new best friend and I was no longer wanted as a friend at all. In fact they would decide that they hated me and would make this public knowledge. I never knew why people hated me, all I wanted was to be their friend and share fun times with them.
In primary school I preferred to tidy classrooms instead of playing in the playground with other children and in secondary school I became a library assistant and spent my lunches amongst books. I remember my parents were asked to visit the school and were advised that I should spend more time socialising and less time studying at home. I’d come home from school, have dinner and then study till bed.
In the sixth form I was bullied by girls because I didn’t fit in. I've been a Tomboy for as long as I can remember, not a girly girl. They’d pretend to like me one week and the next they’d make my life a living hell. They’d make lies up and spread them around the common room. The ring leader was ironically the first girl I made friends with on my first day at secondary school. She was the definition of a fair-weather friend.
The first time I would say I became depressed was when a school friend with special needs died during the school holidays. My fair-weather friend was the person who told me he’d died. I remember she seemed amused by the news. I developed an issue with food and started to skip eating whilst I was at school. I’d buy food like sweets and crisps with my lunch money (I was supposed to get hot dinners) and hide them in my locker or give them to other pupils. I remember a teacher wanted me to ‘talk’ to someone about how I was feeling but I always made excuses and dodged the meetings. Looking back at sixth form photos that have appeared on Facebook I looked like a human lollypop. This look lasted well into my years at university. I thought I looked perfectly normal.
I met my first proper boyfriend when I was in sixth form. He was a few years older. I think I went out with him partly because everyone else was dating. I wanted to fit in. I always felt I was not good enough and that I was my boyfriend’s booby prize. These feelings still stick with me now and I think it’s why to a degree I self-sabotage relationships. When I was preparing for my first year exams at university my boyfriend cheated on me. I met my next boyfriend during my second year at university he was in the same year but studying a different course. We had a good year together, but then everything changed.
My university course involved a placement year during the third year. My placement was in Bedford miles away from my family, boyfriend and friends in Hertfordshire. I lived in Bedford during the week and went home on Friday’s for the weekend. I struggled with the placement as I didn’t like the job or being away from everyone I loved. But I didn’t tell anyone. I pulled away from my boyfriend and would often hide in his room when I visited him on weekends instead of socialising with him and his housemates. I felt like a stranger. I’d cry for hours and not be able to tell him why I was crying. We started to argue lots.
I had my first breakdown in 2003 whilst still on my placement. Everyone was unaware that I was crumbling inside and I was not coping. My dad would drive me back to Bedford Sunday afternoons and I would pretend to be fine. As soon as my dad dropped me off I’d cry my eyes out for hours. My boyfriend struggled with my volatile behaviour and dumped me when my insecurities and paranoia got the better of me and I accused him of cheating. I felt like my life was spiralling out of control.
A few days later I made the decision to end my life. I went to work in the morning knowing that I wanted to kill myself when I got home that afternoon. At work I sent my ex and my best friend suicide emails My ex managed to get hold of my dad at work and filled him in on everything and my dad immediately contacted my Manager. The cat was officially out of the bag and I ended up finishing my work placement earlier than planned and sent home.
Once home I was sent to my GP, diagnosed with depression, given antidepressants and referred for counselling. At the time I felt like my GP dished out antidepressants like they are sweets and in a way I still feel like that. I managed to go back to university and complete my degree even though my heart wasn’t in it anymore. I had counselling for two years though I am not too sure it helped. After university I had a few jobs but always struggled dealing with customers whether it was on the phone or in person.
A few years later I was diagnosed with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (CFS)/ M.E. Early 2008 I had my second breakdown and was referred to my local CMHT. Initially I saw the CAT team for a few weeks and then I was referred to a psychiatrist who diagnosed me with clinical depression and mixed anxiety disorder. I believe the breakdown was triggered by the combination of my mental health problems and physical diagnosis and the breakdown of the relationship I had been in. My boyfriend didn’t seem to like the fact I had CFS and was put on medications that lead me to gain weight. During the last six months of our relationship he changed and mentally abused me. But I didn’t tell anyone I believed the deterioration of our relationship was my fault. He dumped me a few months after being made redundant and I haven’t had a serious boyfriend ever since.
When I am in relationships I seem to lose my identity and become really self-conscious, have low self-esteem and feel like I’m not good enough for them. Nowadays I feel like I am not able to be in a relationship because I don’t think a guy would accept me for who I am with my mental health problems and all my baggage.
Over the years my mental health diagnosis has changed from being clinicaldepression to Bipolar Disorder (type 2) to my current diagnosis Borderline Personality Disorder. I was also diagnosed with Social Phobia and OCD tendencies. I definitely feel I fit the diagnosis of BPD better than any other diagnosis I have been given. Other the years I have been treated as a day patient at my hospitals mental health services for therapy, and I had a Care Co-ordinator for a while and seen a Psychologist. Currently I am seeing a Psychiatrist every few months and seeing a Psychologist on a bi-weekly basis. Due to funding I no longer have a Care Co-ordinator since my previous one left in September 2012.
For the last few years I have been attending my local branch of Mind to do short courses and on-going classes (Pottery and Yoga) but before my Care Co-ordinator left she encouraged me to look into evening classes at my local college.
I signed up to attend a Creative Writing class one evening at college during the summer term last year. I’d always enjoyed creative writing since I was little. My earliest memory of creative writing was writing short stories about my teddy bears during my school holidays. Over the years I kept trying to write stories but always found myself stopping as I lacked confidence in my writing and felt self-conscious. No one would ever read my stories so what was the point in writing. As soon as I started the Creative Writing course I felt like I was given the skills and tools to work on my creative writing as a hobby.
My tutor would give the class buzz words to write prose pieces about and I found myself using the buzz words to write about my mental health. I started writing more prose pieces about my mental health struggles which I found very therapeutic. I started to be known as the dark and twisty writer in my class.
Encouraged by my tutor and class mates’ feedback on my work I decided to create this blog for my prose writing on mental health. I hoped that people would be able to relate to my feeling about my mental health struggles and find comfort in my words and experiences. I hope that my blog will help reduce the stigma that is associated with mental health and help sufferers feel better about themselves. I also believe that families and friends of sufferers might benefit from reading my blog.
A month ago I decided to take to Twitter (invisiblyflawed) and contact Mental Health charities about my blog in the hopes of helping others. I recently wrote the hardest prose piece that I will ever write which I called Pearls of Wisdom from the Future. It was a letter I wrote to my 20 year self after I had my first breakdown 10 years ago this March. It was basically a pep talk from the future, telling my younger self that things will get better even though it may not feel like it at the time. I think the letter helped me get some closure.
I have continued going to college for my creative writing class, which is now a community led group the first for our college. As well as working on my prose work I have started writing a novel/book about a girl with Borderline Personality who up sticks and moves counties to start her life over again, where no one knows about her past and mental health problems. It’s a work in progress but I feel that I can do it with the support of my family and friends.
Friends seemed to best friends with me one minute and then someone else would become their new best friend and I was no longer wanted as a friend at all. In fact they would decide that they hated me and would make this public knowledge. I never knew why people hated me, all I wanted was to be their friend and share fun times with them.
In primary school I preferred to tidy classrooms instead of playing in the playground with other children and in secondary school I became a library assistant and spent my lunches amongst books. I remember my parents were asked to visit the school and were advised that I should spend more time socialising and less time studying at home. I’d come home from school, have dinner and then study till bed.
In the sixth form I was bullied by girls because I didn’t fit in. I've been a Tomboy for as long as I can remember, not a girly girl. They’d pretend to like me one week and the next they’d make my life a living hell. They’d make lies up and spread them around the common room. The ring leader was ironically the first girl I made friends with on my first day at secondary school. She was the definition of a fair-weather friend.
The first time I would say I became depressed was when a school friend with special needs died during the school holidays. My fair-weather friend was the person who told me he’d died. I remember she seemed amused by the news. I developed an issue with food and started to skip eating whilst I was at school. I’d buy food like sweets and crisps with my lunch money (I was supposed to get hot dinners) and hide them in my locker or give them to other pupils. I remember a teacher wanted me to ‘talk’ to someone about how I was feeling but I always made excuses and dodged the meetings. Looking back at sixth form photos that have appeared on Facebook I looked like a human lollypop. This look lasted well into my years at university. I thought I looked perfectly normal.
I met my first proper boyfriend when I was in sixth form. He was a few years older. I think I went out with him partly because everyone else was dating. I wanted to fit in. I always felt I was not good enough and that I was my boyfriend’s booby prize. These feelings still stick with me now and I think it’s why to a degree I self-sabotage relationships. When I was preparing for my first year exams at university my boyfriend cheated on me. I met my next boyfriend during my second year at university he was in the same year but studying a different course. We had a good year together, but then everything changed.
My university course involved a placement year during the third year. My placement was in Bedford miles away from my family, boyfriend and friends in Hertfordshire. I lived in Bedford during the week and went home on Friday’s for the weekend. I struggled with the placement as I didn’t like the job or being away from everyone I loved. But I didn’t tell anyone. I pulled away from my boyfriend and would often hide in his room when I visited him on weekends instead of socialising with him and his housemates. I felt like a stranger. I’d cry for hours and not be able to tell him why I was crying. We started to argue lots.
I had my first breakdown in 2003 whilst still on my placement. Everyone was unaware that I was crumbling inside and I was not coping. My dad would drive me back to Bedford Sunday afternoons and I would pretend to be fine. As soon as my dad dropped me off I’d cry my eyes out for hours. My boyfriend struggled with my volatile behaviour and dumped me when my insecurities and paranoia got the better of me and I accused him of cheating. I felt like my life was spiralling out of control.
A few days later I made the decision to end my life. I went to work in the morning knowing that I wanted to kill myself when I got home that afternoon. At work I sent my ex and my best friend suicide emails My ex managed to get hold of my dad at work and filled him in on everything and my dad immediately contacted my Manager. The cat was officially out of the bag and I ended up finishing my work placement earlier than planned and sent home.
Once home I was sent to my GP, diagnosed with depression, given antidepressants and referred for counselling. At the time I felt like my GP dished out antidepressants like they are sweets and in a way I still feel like that. I managed to go back to university and complete my degree even though my heart wasn’t in it anymore. I had counselling for two years though I am not too sure it helped. After university I had a few jobs but always struggled dealing with customers whether it was on the phone or in person.
A few years later I was diagnosed with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (CFS)/ M.E. Early 2008 I had my second breakdown and was referred to my local CMHT. Initially I saw the CAT team for a few weeks and then I was referred to a psychiatrist who diagnosed me with clinical depression and mixed anxiety disorder. I believe the breakdown was triggered by the combination of my mental health problems and physical diagnosis and the breakdown of the relationship I had been in. My boyfriend didn’t seem to like the fact I had CFS and was put on medications that lead me to gain weight. During the last six months of our relationship he changed and mentally abused me. But I didn’t tell anyone I believed the deterioration of our relationship was my fault. He dumped me a few months after being made redundant and I haven’t had a serious boyfriend ever since.
When I am in relationships I seem to lose my identity and become really self-conscious, have low self-esteem and feel like I’m not good enough for them. Nowadays I feel like I am not able to be in a relationship because I don’t think a guy would accept me for who I am with my mental health problems and all my baggage.
Over the years my mental health diagnosis has changed from being clinicaldepression to Bipolar Disorder (type 2) to my current diagnosis Borderline Personality Disorder. I was also diagnosed with Social Phobia and OCD tendencies. I definitely feel I fit the diagnosis of BPD better than any other diagnosis I have been given. Other the years I have been treated as a day patient at my hospitals mental health services for therapy, and I had a Care Co-ordinator for a while and seen a Psychologist. Currently I am seeing a Psychiatrist every few months and seeing a Psychologist on a bi-weekly basis. Due to funding I no longer have a Care Co-ordinator since my previous one left in September 2012.
For the last few years I have been attending my local branch of Mind to do short courses and on-going classes (Pottery and Yoga) but before my Care Co-ordinator left she encouraged me to look into evening classes at my local college.
I signed up to attend a Creative Writing class one evening at college during the summer term last year. I’d always enjoyed creative writing since I was little. My earliest memory of creative writing was writing short stories about my teddy bears during my school holidays. Over the years I kept trying to write stories but always found myself stopping as I lacked confidence in my writing and felt self-conscious. No one would ever read my stories so what was the point in writing. As soon as I started the Creative Writing course I felt like I was given the skills and tools to work on my creative writing as a hobby.
My tutor would give the class buzz words to write prose pieces about and I found myself using the buzz words to write about my mental health. I started writing more prose pieces about my mental health struggles which I found very therapeutic. I started to be known as the dark and twisty writer in my class.
Encouraged by my tutor and class mates’ feedback on my work I decided to create this blog for my prose writing on mental health. I hoped that people would be able to relate to my feeling about my mental health struggles and find comfort in my words and experiences. I hope that my blog will help reduce the stigma that is associated with mental health and help sufferers feel better about themselves. I also believe that families and friends of sufferers might benefit from reading my blog.
A month ago I decided to take to Twitter (invisiblyflawed) and contact Mental Health charities about my blog in the hopes of helping others. I recently wrote the hardest prose piece that I will ever write which I called Pearls of Wisdom from the Future. It was a letter I wrote to my 20 year self after I had my first breakdown 10 years ago this March. It was basically a pep talk from the future, telling my younger self that things will get better even though it may not feel like it at the time. I think the letter helped me get some closure.
I have continued going to college for my creative writing class, which is now a community led group the first for our college. As well as working on my prose work I have started writing a novel/book about a girl with Borderline Personality who up sticks and moves counties to start her life over again, where no one knows about her past and mental health problems. It’s a work in progress but I feel that I can do it with the support of my family and friends.
Wednesday 20 March 2013
Erasing myself
I wish I could erase myself from the minds of my family and
friends. Like Jim Carrey and Kate Winslet
do in the film Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind. So I could leave
home and catch a train to somewhere faraway and start again. Somewhere
completely new.
Armed with the money I’d saved up for my escape I'd find a bedsit to call home. I’d have a corner where I’d put photos of my family as a reminder of where I came from. If anyone asked me who they were I’d say the photos came with the photo frames.
They wouldn’t miss me as they wouldn’t know me. I wouldn’t
feel guilty for leaving as they wouldn’t know I’d left. They’d just be confused
by their spare room looking like someone lived in it even though they couldn’t
remember who lived there. I’d remove all the photos of me around the house.
The day of my leaving I’d pack the bits I was taking with me
in the middle of the night and hide it on the back garden doorstep. After
breakfast I’d kiss my parents goodbye as they left for work and set off soon afterwards.
I’d catch a train with a few belongings in a wheelie
suitcase and randomly choose somewhere to call home by shutting my eyes and
pointing at the rail map. Where my finger lands will be my new home.
Armed with the money I’d saved up for my escape I'd find a bedsit to call home. I’d have a corner where I’d put photos of my family as a reminder of where I came from. If anyone asked me who they were I’d say the photos came with the photo frames.
I’d reinvent myself. Change the style and colour of my hair
and the clothes I wear. I might even change my name by Deed poll. Perhaps to
Betsy, Avery or Emilia. I never thought I suited my given name anyway.
I’d control what people knew about me and keep some things
back. My history would be on a need to know basis. If pushed I’d rewrite my
past and keep it light and cheery. I’d rewrite my backstory so it excludes my
family. If someone asked about my family I’d say I was an orphan with no family
to speak of. I’d be happy starting afresh,
meeting new people and finding a job I could flourish in. Maybe there’d
be a chance of romance. A flight of fancy. I think I’d like that.
I’d make a journey once a year on the anniversary of my
leaving and come back to my hometown. I’d watch my family from afar and make
sure they were ok and importantly, happy. I’d go to their favourite Italian
café on a Saturday morning and sit at a table near their favourite spot. I’d
listen to them happily chatting amongst each other.
My niece might drop something on the floor and I would be
near enough to give it back to her. She might flash me the smile that used to
fill my heart with love. I’d bottle that love so it would last a whole year.
When I left the café there would be no goodbyes as I’d be a stranger to them.
My face wouldn’t stand out in a crowd. I’d be a nobody.
My family would be happy so that would make me happy and
that’s what matters. Living in two different worlds.
Monday 18 March 2013
Living Under a Raincloud
I’ve been living under my own personal unwanted rain cloud
for ten years and counting. It looms over me when I’m awake, tormenting me like
a creature from a Grimm Fairy tale. It sinisterly controls my feelings and
thoughts. Like I am a puppet and it is the puppet master.
Even when the sun is shining when I’m outside, I’m unable to
appreciate it. As my rain cloud stubbornly hovers over me. Preventing me from
enjoying the warmth and happiness it brings other lucky people. Sunshine can’t
give me rays of light relief. Instead my rain cloud drenches me with rain drops
of doom and gloom.
Each tiny little rain drop hits me with great force. Like
someone is punching me in the stomach each time. Each punch triggers negative,
obsessive, self-doubting, hopeless thoughts which overwhelm and numb me. It
makes it hard to think straight. Let alone function like a normal human being.
The rain drops also wash away any colour from me and my
clothes. Turning me into a monochrome person. Like a character from the film
Pleasantville. A black and white
photocopy of my former self. Suppressing happy thoughts and emotions.
Once in a blue moon I look up and my rain cloud isn’t there
causing me to think that it might have left me for good. I start to feel lighter
and freer. But it doesn’t last. It never does. The rain cloud slowly creeps
back across the sky. Polluting my mind.
I long for someone to rescue me. My Knight in Shining armour.
Armed with a leaf blower to permanently relieve me of my life sucking rain
cloud and fill the sky above me with fluffy white clouds and crystal clear blue
sky. We would bathe in the warmth of the sun together and I would be filled
with hope and happiness.
But I doubt I will be rescued. I’ve been waiting for over a
third of my life and it hasn’t happened. I don’t think anyone will be up for
the challenge.
So I think for the foreseeable future, it’s just going to be
me and my cloud.
What fun will that be.
Tuesday 26 February 2013
Mirror vs. me
Mirrors are my enemy. I hate all mirrors and anything that can hold my
reflection in it. If by accident I get a
glimpse of my reflection, it sends a chill down my spine. I don’t recognise the person who stares back
at me, it’s not me. It’s not me anymore; it hasn’t been me for years. Maybe
even ten years when depression got a hold of me, paving the way for more
illnesses in years to come.
My eyes don’t sparkle anymore since M.E and depression sucked the life out of them. They now look lifeless and empty. I have a permanent big dark circle round each eye, making me resemble a washed out panda, now grey and white not black and white.
My eyes don’t sparkle anymore since M.E and depression sucked the life out of them. They now look lifeless and empty. I have a permanent big dark circle round each eye, making me resemble a washed out panda, now grey and white not black and white.
The skin that holds my face together is dull, pale and even
translucent. My freckles now look like abandoned old smudges when painters are
trying to get the right colour brown for a painting. My lips sport a constant
frown and my frown is hardly ever turned upside down.
My lips are littered with bite marks, a sign of my anxiety. I can gnaw away on my lips for minutes without
realising it. I like it when my lips are sore, the tingling makes me feel alive
inside, when I spend most of the time feeling like I’m part of the walking
dead.
My face is no longer slender and long, not since I became ill with M.E
and depression. Medication I take daily causes weight gain. Not taking them is
not an option, so I can never win. My youthful face is now round, swollen and
puffy. I feel like it has doubled in size like a football.
I don’t like the new me, I look like a complete stranger, a tortured,
lonely creature. Like someone has replaced me with a shadow of my former self.
To be honest, I didn’t like the old me, but at least it was familiar, a
reflection I recognised. I don’t recognise me now, and I don’t think I ever will.
It’s just a horrible reminder of my life before illnesses took over my mind and
body. It’s always someone else staring back at me in the mirror.
So mirrors are not my friends, they are my enemies and I doubt this
will change.
Him
I hate it when my brain subconsciously tricks me into thinking I miss him, when I don’t miss him and I don’t want to miss him! He is part of my past and he should stay in the past. But why is everything reminding me of him? Triggering memories I buried years ago. That I want to stay buried. That I need to stay buried.
When one good memory of times we shared together pops into my head making me slightly miss you, ten bad memories follow suit. Bad memories overshadow good memories because he always flipped from Dr Jekyll to Mr Hyde. For the last half of our relationship he saved the Hyde moments for me and only me. I was his unlucky victim.
He gradually pulled me apart with his words. His critical, judging, negative, hateful, disgusted words. Chipping away at me. Destroying me. Words can cause you harm even though you can’t see the wounds and bruises. If words could cause harm I would have been littered with bruises which other people would have seen. Maybe they would have realised what was going on and perhaps tried to protect me.
He tore apart the little self-confidence and self-esteem I had and left me vulnerable and exposed. He tried to mould me into what he wanted me to be. Didn’t he fall in love with me for who I was when we first met? Wasn’t it love at first sight? Or did he see the potential for a girlfriend he could sculpt into his ideal girl?
Maybe he wanted me to be his own Stepford Wife. Someone who followed his orders, constantly pleasing him, doing only want he wanted, following his commands and never talking back.
Why did I keep quiet about how he treated me? Why did I sufferer in silence? Why does our relationship stop me from meeting another guy? What’s holding me back? Will someone ever be able to love me and love me for who I am? Will someone be able to knock down the wall I’ve made around me? Or cut away the emotional baggage the invisible suitcases that are chained to me and go everywhere with me? Is the phrase – ‘once bitten twice shy’ true? Am I destined to be alone?
I don’t have any answers to the questions that bounce around my head. Like lottery balls ricocheting off each other. The questions are screamed out inside my head for only me to hear.
One thing I definitely know is he couldn’t have genuinely loved me. That was not real love. It couldn’t have been. Does anyone have the answers? Where is my Knight in Shining Armour to rescue me? Who will show me what real love is?
Depression
When depression gets you its in every cell of your body, from the tips of your toes to the top of your head.
It sucks the life out of you from the inside out, making you feel hollow like a cheap chocolate Easter egg which starts to crack when touched.
It lingers on your every word when you speak, gushing out of your mouth like a cloud of invisible black smoke that only you can see.
It lives inside your brain like a parasite and suffocates any positive thought, memory and feeling with its spider-like tentacles. The parasite screams out every negative thought like a walling banshee that only you can hear.
It makes your heart feel like its empty and shrievelled making you unable to love and care for anything. Your heart beats so slow, you start to think you are a member of the walking dead.
Depression is here to stay and makes you forget who you were before it gets to you.
Pearls of wisdom from the future
Dear 20 year old self,
I thought I’d send you a letter as I know things have been extremely tough recently and you’re currently in the midst of your first breakdown and simply breathing and existing seems utterly challenging at the moment.
I know you wished that people hadn’t interrupted your ‘grand’ plans a few weeks ago and you are angry at everyone around you because they didn’t let you go. But they did the right thing if you didn’t realise it and you won’t do for years to come. But I promise you will, it will just take time. You need to stop believing that everyone will be better off with you being dead, because it’s not true.
At the moment you are cross with a lot of people particularly our parents. You may think they are smothering and mollycoddling, but this is their way of showing you that they care, support and love you. Yes, it might be hard to comprehend but they do love you, whether you choose to believe it or not. Every parent loves their children even if they don’t say it to them every day.
Even though it was us who had the breakdown, they had to cope and deal with the aftermath. There wasn’t an ‘Idoit’s Guide’ available that covers how to cope when your child wants to end her life and has a breakdown. There’s no list of do’s and don’ts that they could follow to make things easier. They did their best, they tried to manage the situation as best as they could.
It must have been extra hard for them as they had to look after our sisters as well as look after me. They have to and still have to juggle their love and share it between the three of us. If they didn’t love you they wouldn’t have taken time off work to look after you during the day so you weren’t on your own. Do you think you would have had the courage to go to all your doctors and counselling appointments on your own under your own steam?
I know you think it’s the end of the world that your relationship with him didn’t work out, but you will find love again, though watch out as there probably will be a few more relationship bumps in the road over the next few years. Everyone finds break ups hard, but people don’t die from a breakup or even a broken heart.
Just because you were doesn’t mean you are undateable and that you can’t be loved. Everyone knows it takes two to tango but it also takes two to make a relationship work. It wasn’t working, you hardly saw each other and you were growing apart because you were working in different counties during the week.
Towards the end when you were together you just argued or didn’t speak to each other at all. You started to shut him out as well as everyone else and he didn’t even notice. It wasn’t the best idea to send that fateful text when you accused him of cheating on you. Just because our first proper boyfriend cheated on you doesn’t mean every boyfriend after him will cheat on you. Not everyone is a cheater.
There is a guy out there for you, but you will only find him when you stop looking. Your friends will always tell you that you will met a guy when you least expect it and even though it hasn’t happened yet, it will do one day. But you need to change how you are and how you act when you are in a relationship. Guys do not find it attractive when you constantly refer to yourself the booby prize, it makes them sound like they have low standards and no taste and it can make them doubt the relationship.
When you start a relationship don’t change who you are so you turn into someone who you think they would prefer. Don’t let any boyfriend control you and what you do. Letting them control you means you lose yourself and what makes you gets lost. You become a version of yourself that you think they will love more. But remember they started dating you for who you are. They were attracted to you, they chose you. There must have been something about you that caught their eye. Don’t doubt why they like you, just accept it. Don’t let your constant insecurities ruin your relationships.
I know you think that having a boyfriend will validate your existence but it’s not the case. It’s ok to be single, it doesn’t make you less of a person than any of your friends who are in relationships.
I know you find friendships really difficult especially after how you were treated throughout school. You have to learn that some friends come and go, but true friends will stay in your life. Remember this: good friends are like stars, you don’t always see them, but you know they’re always there. True friends will see who you really are and stick by you during bad times.
I know we struggle with control but starving yourself so you can shrink yourself to a size 6 is not the best way of gaining control. It’s not healthy and will only worry everyone around you. Being a lolly person and wearing children’s clothes is not a good look and pictures of you like this will haunt you forever. Try finding other things that you can control about your body, like the colour of your hair and nails.
You will still have body issues for your rest of your life but you need to accept that no one is completely happy with their body. If people say they are happy, then they are lying. Focus on the things you like about your body and not the things you don’t like. After all these years you still don’t love yourself, but you are slowly learning to like yourself.
For the rest of your life you will be battling with your mental health problems, collecting different diagnoses as you go. You will never be cured at some point in the future you will slowly learn to live with your mental health problems. It may feel like the doctors give out antidepressants like they were sweets but they know what they are doing. If they don’t think medication is working they will change what you are on so they can find what suits you.
Try and find the positives about having mental health problems, such as the people you will meet on your journey who also have mental health problems. Meeting these people will help you feel less alone. Remember quite a few famous people had mental health problems; such as Vincent Van Gough, Sylvia Plath and Winston Churchill so you are in good company. You need to learn to stop bottling things up and actually talk to people about how you are feeling. Bottling things up makes you feel a lot worse and you turn into a ticking time bomb.
I hope this letter is of some comfort to you and makes you feel a little better and less alone. I will leave you with one more piece of advice, which you should always remember: Just move forwards and don’t live in the past.
Love,
30 year old self x
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