She’ll never get me.

She’ll never get me nor understand
They way I feel or who I am.
There are no lies nor is there spite
Why search the darkness for a fight?

Look at me, I’m easy to read
No hidden agenda just honesty.
I snap, I yell, I even cry
There are times when emotions run high.

I’m blamed for things I never did
You see me as a little kid.
A child who brought you so much shame
When really you were the ones to blame.

The past’s in the past yet I’ll never be free
The pain will continue relentlessly.
My words will be frozen I’ll aim to please
and I’ll face the fact that she’ll never get me.

Advertisements

New Chapters Lead to a Better Journey.

I have been writing on WordPress since January 2013. This blog has consisted of tales and memories circulating around my past and childhood. It has mainly centred around the horrors of the emotional and verbal abuse and torment I endured from my late father. I began the blog with a hope for closure. A hope that I would be able to close the doors on my abhorrent and devastating past. I do feel as though in many ways I have achieved this closure. 

Writing on WordPress and meeting countless survivors of abuse, has not only been humbling but encouraging too. It has been the best decision of my life so far without doubt. I feel a changed woman and could not have felt this way without all the support, backing and faith from my fellow bloggers.

So thank you.

I am beginning a new chapter in my life.

As I am now on the path to becoming a mother, I want to move forward and look to a happier future. Perhaps it is time to say goodbye to the man who ruined my early adulthood for good and firmly slam the doors on his legacy. Of course, I cannot say I am in a truly happy place. I cannot admit that my life is perfect either. Troubles continue with my family and sister especially. Sadly there I am still haunted by many aspects of the past and until they are resolved, moving forward will be difficult. I just hope that the past does not repeat itself. I wish that I could say everything is fine now – it isn’t but hopefully there will be a day when I can say that I’m firmly on my way to recovery. Living with and surviving his torture has left me with a world of insecurities and anguish but maybe now, using WordPress, I can explore deeper into resolving and re-evaluating myself. I can take credit for the person I am and want to be and not rely on who I once was.

I still want to help others in their plight to reach the same closure I am trying to also accomplish and there may be times it is necessary to refer back to the past. However, I am at a point now where I want to find inner happiness and I am sure my followers and supporters want that for me too.

So guys, here’s to a happier future and many more blogs to come. One that’s filled with a sense of hope not uncertainty. One that marks a new journey into personal goals and dreams I have put on hold because of that man.

Here’s to a better life.

Dear Mum.

Dear Mum,

Who would have predicted our relationship to become what it has? Certainly not me. I am incredibly thankful that we both were able to forget the past and forgive the pain we caused each other. I know we made foolish mistakes and sadly, I will live with that regret long after you will have gone from my life.

I worry about that day. The day I eventually lose you. I think about it unnecessarily. It often haunts me. The fear is consuming as I think about the emptiness I will feel. You will berate me for it but all those wasted years of anger and stubbornness will echo louder than ever on the day we say goodbye. I am truly sorry I did not see through his lies. I regret so much. I should have listened to you but his control was so powerful. I was a puppet to him that he commanded and manipulated for his will. Undeniably, I trusted him; he was my father after all.

You hated me once.

I know it was hate.

The day I ran away and left that torrid note. The note that you and I will never forget. I remember the words, some of them at least. Saying “sorry” was not enough for my actions but there were no other words. I felt trapped. He was so convincing. He knew the game he was playing very well and I became a pawn in it. Helpless. Don’t forget, I was only fifteen. It is still young and my innocent soul was struggling to stay in reality. He had won his pathetic competition the second I walked out of your house. 

I cannot bear to think of what that did to you. Coming home to find me gone. My things, my clothes, my presence – gone. My note remained, left to be discovered on the kitchen counter. Hate doesn’t come close. What I did was detrimental to your breakdown and I know the blame falls on me. Yet, although I understand why, I cannot agree with all the comments you and my sister made towards me. I did not do it to hurt you. I did what I thought was right at the time. I did what he had convinced me to do. I truly believed your love for her was stronger and the only reason you wanted me was to spite my dad. 

You had become a stranger to me.

No longer were you my protector. The strong woman who nurtured and guarded me from harm. I did not feel safe with you. To me, you were volatile, risky. Both of you were. You and my sister became frightening. A powerful, intimidating duo. I looked for warmth, for love, for the kindness within you but your anger and hostility towards him was far more substantial. I could not break through your hardened exterior.

You mocked me.

You both did.

It hurt Ma. It hurt so much. I loved you. That never changed. Yet, you both used my hurt against me. 

I am so glad we got through that. Change can happen. We are proof of it.

To think that the woman I ran from all those years ago would be the same woman I have run to now.

Thank you Ma,

Love Tuni (your nickname for me) xxxx

19 months later.

19 months later and I am still waiting for my inheritance. Sadly, due to the non-existent relationship between me and my sister, I rarely hear any news on the matter. After speaking to a colleague yesterday, I realized that something needs to be done. For the past year and a half, I have been chasing up my sister for any news relating to any progress. However, she has made it very difficult, not just to contact her but to pull out any decent information. 

It feels like a game. One in which I’m sorely losing.

I feel greedy. Thinking about money. Worrying about my future. All I have ever wanted was total closure from my father – from the past. My sister’s distance is only emphasizing and tormenting the pain further. My father’s memory is still burning bright. I want to distinguish it. 

It almost feels like that man is still controlling my life! Yet, he is dead!

I hope my true freedom comes around sooner rather than later.

Freedom is what you do with what’s been done to you.

A Bitter Sweet Reminder.

I have just arrived home. I feel compelled to tell you that I saw a man today. A man standing in my father’s house. My old prison. A man standing by the kitchen window. He was dark, like me. My father’s house was lit up. Not grey and hidden as it has been for the last eighteen months since his death. I was shocked to say the least, haunted even. I have a bad habit of peeking into the old place. Curiosity gets the better of me and I can’t help but look back. Perhaps if I wasn’t living in the same area as my abuser, I would not even think about our home.

As I’ve mentioned before, I pass my abuser’s home every day to and from work. It’s highly depressing and unfortunately unavoidable. However, this unexpectedly ghostly figure could be the answer to my prayers. The house has clearly been sold and the time has finally come to move on. I can look at this as a positive step forward out of the darkness.

It has felt like an age, and although it is disturbing to witness someone else in my last home, it is also a relief. I hope their lives are more enjoyable in it than mine was. That house holds so many awful memories in it for me; for my mother. I want one day to never see it again. It belongs in my past.

Seeing a man by the window was upsetting. His build was not that dissimilar from my father’s. It was only for a few seconds but it was long enough for me to feel queasy.

Thankfully, I did not get too upset. As I got off the tube and made my way onto the bus home, I felt nothing. There is no more room for tears, I have no emotion left for him or that house. The windows had steamed up from the heated bus and the heavy rain. I could not see a thing. I leant over to the clouded pane and drew the only thing that could put a smile on my face.

Feel good.

Having only properly discovered Spotify recently (yes, I’m so far behind for a thirty one year old) and after finding some essential tracks for each mood, I have come up with a few playlists that I wanted to share with you guys. Music has always been a fundamental key to my survival especially during the abuse. It has been the one consistency through the trauma, the one thing I have always relied on to raise me out of the lowest feelings. It can heal you. Lyrics that have been penned from the darkest of souls who seem to understand your pain for that sad moment, lyrics that capture love and heartbreak and the rare times of happiness. Music has saved me in many ways. The nights where he screamed obscenities at me behind my locked bedroom door as I lay in bed with my headphones over my ears and the gentle sounds of the radio played through my stereo and rocked me to sleep.

I love putting playlists together.

I totally listen to certain songs at certain times and it all depends on my mood.

Here are my favourite ten songs from my Feel Good playlist.

1. http://youtu.be/g0_FvK51wOQ

My, does this song change my mood. I cannot feel unhappy after hearing this. Cheesy? Maybe. Classic? Probably. Feel good? Yes, definitely. The tune and melody instantly captures me and Michael McDonald’s voice is crazy. How a man can reach those notes is beyond me. Love it.

2. ‘Change the World’ – Eric Clapton

This not his biggest song. I do love Tears in Heaven but the heartbreaking story behind it crushes me. It does not belong in this playlist. Change the World is gentle and easy yet has that American, acoustic guitar I like. It’s simplicity. I like the lyrics too.

3. http://youtu.be/P_OK_H8F2g0

Blur or Oasis? There was never any contest for me. I was Blur all the way and in 1999 they released ‘Tender’ which has firmly become one of my favourite Blur songs. It may not seem “Feel Good” but with the help of The London Community Gospel Choir, the song is transformed from softly haunting to melodic genius. It is uplifting as well as calming. It brings back great memories too and who can argue the lyrics, “Come on, come on, come on, get through it. Come on, come on, come on, love’s the greatest thing that we have”. Beautiful.

4. http://youtu.be/dNmpoj2Izwc

This is an acoustic version of the original which is actually more of a dance genre. I like both versions but I picked this one to share as it features the model Cara Delevingne on vocals. She is one my style icons so it made sense to use her version here. Will Heard is on lead vocals and his raspy tone is addictive to listen to. Not only is it feel good but mesmerising. I am in love with his hazy voice and have spent time listening to it on repeat.

5. http://youtu.be/QbsAqs3YHyg

Could not care less what anybody thinks of this! Not only is their music video for “Pray” cheesy and cringe-worthy as hell even I, their loyal supporter cannot control my laughter. No matter what, I adore this. It is wrong and so right at the same time!

6. http://youtu.be/Sds5SpNd1Mw

Bruno Mars can be a little hit and miss for me but he got it so right with “Treasure”. It is: turn it up, hit the dance floor, create a very “un-cool” routine to kind of song. Doesn’t matter. It makes me feel good.

7. http://youtu.be/y_elVdQppTU

Luther Vandross was such an inspiring man, a great loss to the music industry. There was no question he would be in my top ten. I love ‘Stop to Love’, so catchy.

8. American Boy – Estelle.

Great British songstress who only really had this as her biggest hit. Shame we never saw much more. Nevertheless, ‘American Boy’ is so feel good. Back when Kanye was less bizarre and more about the music. This tune makes me want to dance on a beach somewhere.

9. http://youtu.be/bBQVrCflZ_E

Oh god, I am not showing my music taste in a very good way! Well I never pretended to be “cool”. I love eighties music as much as I adore eighties films. This is a quintessential eighties anthem and has to be on this list. You are made of stone if this music video doesn’t make you smile.

10. http://youtu.be/NMNgbISmF4I

Not only ‘Feel Good’ but this Aerosmith song goes on my list of favourite songs of all time. I adore the video and loved Alicia Silverstone when I was younger (I am the generation of ‘Clueless’). I love the sense of freedom in it even though it’s essentially a love song. I longed to be a rebel like the girls in the video. I also wanted the trust and love that the two friends had. I have never found that. The song was released when I was twelve but I saw the video for the first time a few years later at fifteen. It was a bewildering time in my own life and the element of escaping that Aerosmith shot in their music video appealed to me very much.

Without music, life would be a mistake.
Friedrich Nietzsche

Photo 6 – How am I not dead?

At the end of 2013, I began a photographic story showing the state of the home I lived in with my father. I received many responses to these pictures. Mostly reactions of horror from people I know, who never really knew the extent of the conditions we lived in. They had never been witness to it. My father was very clever at disguising certain parts of the house and his dangerous eccentricities and careless nature were always well hidden. Friends and family were only allowed in the showy and presentable parts of the house. I however, saw the truth every day.

The kitchen was one of the worse rooms. It also happened to be the largest room in the house much to my father’s happiness (he saw it as his domain). Guests who visited always commented on how big it was; he loved that. But what if they had looked closer? Would they have seen the dirty and crumb filled toaster from,

(See My filthy life – Photo 3)

would they have stepped into our adjoining garage and discovered his hoarding obsession?

(See My father the hoarder – Photo 2)

Would they have walked around and seen the state of the cooker? A piece of kitchen equipment that I used every day living at home with my father. An appliance that I could not do without. An essential aid to making my life as normal as possible, something that would bring me sustenance and provide me with a basic human right. But what if that appliance was spoiled, unhygienic, unsanitary and rank? What if you were forced to use a machine that hadn’t been cleaned for ten years? It was another task my father had placed in my list of chores to do. A list that went up to eighty four. A mental list that I never lost count of and never completed. My father refused to help in any way. It was not his job. It was MY fault it got into that state and MY responsibility to resolve the tainted problem. Except it was too much for me. He gained so much enjoyment watching me on my hands and knees scrubbing his precious kitchen. I could not stand the humiliation and fearing the examination of my work after.

Why did I ever let myself live like this?

I mean, how am I not dead?

Image

Dictionary.com

un·san·i·tar·y

[uhn-san-i-ter-ee]  Show IPA

adjective

not sanitary; unhealthy or unhealthful; tending to harbor or spreaddisease: unsanitary living conditions.