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.

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Pixelated

Distorted vision

Harbouring contempt

A view blurred

concealed from igniting eyes

a muddied perspective

shunning the light

pixelated

an image broken

a life torn apart

sheltered and hidden

for her own protection

an identity crippled

a severed heart

her fears realised watching herself

where is her soul?

Beaten and bruised

values are mocked

blind perception

critical thinking keeps her from loving

compromised by self-loathing

unanswered questions keep her guessing

a tainted reflection

haunts her shattered world.

A new low for self image.

www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-latin-america-25962930

Just look a this. It’s a sad portrayal of what women in Venezuela have to endure to be accepted and valued. Women, who are beautiful in their own right, are being made to feel worthless by a man. Mmmm, that is not an unfamiliar feeling for me. However, this man should know better but he uses his power to degrade and criticise naturally beautiful women to make them change and alter their looks to the extreme.

This programme (shown last night on the BBC in Britain) tells the story of several Venezuelan women on their quest to be crowned Miss Venezuela. It intensely worries me that women are encouraged to amend their appearance from such an early age. Many of these women are ‘persuaded’ to have breast enlargements, nose jobs, liposuction and even (and more disturbingly) have a ‘mesh’ sewn onto their tongue to stop them from eating solids. It’s ludicrous!

Women everywhere are fighting to be heard, we are fighting to be respected. Our natural beauty should be praised not judged. I suffer from low self-esteem, I have many insecurities about my appearance. I can’t imagine living like that. In a society where my body, my face, my beauty is constantly monitored and criticised. A world where ambition is fading and women are seen to have no real purpose, other than to be “beautiful”.

We were never meant to all look the same. We should be nurturing individuality not distinguishing it.

Say it together.

We are beautiful girls.

.Image

Just as we are.

Ros xx

Broken Mirror.

She looks at herself at her tainted reflection

and is taken aback by her bland complexion.

She hates what she sees and longs to change

to look normal and pretty instead of quite strange

they will say she is shallow and seems to be vain

as she rarely reveals when she is in pain

for her hurt is hidden and her anger disguised

her fading self belief rests in her sunken eyes

She finds fault and flaws in her entire face

ridiculing each feature to debase and disgrace

a horror to see what the world can see

in the broken mirror looking back at me.

Broken Mirror

*Photo – dreamstime.com

4. Back to a time of despair.

The final thing I uncovered from my bedroom was a bunch of folded, hidden papers. I only read them recently and was thrown back in time to seventeen years of age.

It was all so angry, so upsetting. My husband was silent when he read them; shocked by my words and frustration. It was a side of me I rarely show. I am not an angry woman but reading the words I had written brought the despair back.

I had clearly written all over the sheets of paper in one go. Fury flooded over me and painful words bled out, piercing my heart. I felt sorry for myself, upset that my seventeen year old self had suffered so much. I was mad that I didn’t do something earlier and save myself a long time ago.

I was talking directly to him. My words were barely readable as I’d written them without thinking, it was just flowing from my soul. Endless words, strings of nonsense sentences, a desperate cry to be loved.

Swearing and hate filled one page and left me in shock as I looked at the continuous course of contempt for him and myself. My resentment echoed through the sheet, my hatred for him beamed from the page and my self-loathing radiated wildly.

The ache to be loved was a key element of my ranting. I just needed love. I just wanted to feel self-worth. A reiteration of failure played over and over as I read through the countless sheets of heartache.

After reading it all, there was nothing left to say.