Wednesday, 30 September 2015

I'm Eleven Years Old Again.

I'm eleven years old again, the door to the science room is opening, fluorescent lights are bouncing off the clinical grey stools and hexagon tables. My palms are sweating and no matter how many times I wring the edges of my blazer they wont dry, they just wont dry! A warm flush is drowning my skin, reddening my face and I pull my hair in front of my cheeks covering as much as possible as I press my shoulder into the wall wishing to be invisible. Unfortunately, there's nowhere to hide in a classroom, and suddenly there they are, the three of them with matching blonde highlights and sneering expressions; leering at me as I approach my seat. A seating plan has become my jailor, this room my prison and my tormentors await, a whole fifty minutes is going to play out before I can breathe properly again. It starts with a sly kick of my seat as I try to sit down, stealing my notebook so I'm behind everyone else with the work task, refusal to share the exercise book so I can't see the pages and struggle with the questions, jokes at my expense, then the jabs in the ribs, flicking my hair..."You're a dog. You look like a dog. Do you have a boyfriend?...I'm really not surprised, who would want to go out with you. Do you even bother wearing a bra? there's no point. Do you have any scissors? Trim the dogs hair"...pinch, prod, comment. Laugh, sneer, threaten. Over and Over.
I never said a single word. Not to anybody.

I look at my nieces, two of them are that age now, and I see how they look at me, the woman I've become and the ideal they know...they have no idea. They don't realise there was ever a time Sian felt like a tiny pathetic bug, or how much effort it took for me to force myself to even pull myself out of crippling shyness and just talk to people. I see their confident stances and bright beautiful faces and I teach them, as an Aunty should, to never ever put up with other peoples crap. To always stand up for themselves and their beliefs. I tell them to never forget their own worth, or let others stamp down on their confidence.
I'm such a hypocrite.

At this moment in time I feel about as big and useful as a blunt nail. Pushed against a hard wall with thud, thud, thud as the hammer comes down and going nowhere. In my entire adult life I haven't felt like this, I actually thought this feeling was something one simply grew out of, but it turns out bullies down grow out of it, and so here I am...Eleven years old again, wishing I didn't have to go out of my front door in the morning because I know what's coming and it's breaking me down, shard by shard chipped away like ice from a car windscreen.

I wanted to be here so badly, I was desperate for any position, so when the only opportunity became available I took it gratefully. Seems I walked right into a version of hell. I had no idea so far along I would be so trodden on and bashed around like this.

Crying alone is one thing, but breaking down in front of the one person you can't stand to show weakness to is quite a different matter. I just couldn't hold it in anymore, and it seems since that day the dam has broken down and the waterworks wont turn off. The thing is I don't want to just walk away, despite how awful it is, this situation is getting worse every week, but I wanted the independence so much! I enjoy the freedom of money. I love having food in the fridge and lots of it too! But feeling eleven again. God I promised myself I would never let myself sink to that level again. I built up my confidence over years, I thought I'd turned into a different person but it turns out I just hid the frightened little bug I was into a dark corner, hidden behind red dyed hair and late developed breasts! The other person is still there, and my make-believe shell is cracking and I wonder how many people are going to see how weak I actually am. I look at some of my photos and think that's not me, because right now that character feels like a lie, a work of fiction. Because the red hair, the makeup, the bubbly personality-it's all a costume, a farce, to make people believe I am a confident, strong person when really I just feel like a bug again. And I don't know how to deal with this. I just don't know.

Tuesday, 1 September 2015

1st September

Today is the 1st of September. As tradition dictates, September is a good month for me. Apart from being my favourite month, it's always proved itself as a time for change. The circle has come full turn, summer is passing, winter is crawling in. Life usually takes a turn too right about now, whether by social structure or personal force. This time it may be's hoping I can roll with the wheel.

This is my month. I will force a change.

The wheel is turning,
the harvest nearly ready,
soon the nights will darken
and the cold will set in.

A time for freshly sharpened pencils
and cinder toffee in the air
a new beginning is dawning
and what's broken can be repaired.

Wednesday, 12 August 2015

Escape to the country

I've always known I don't belong here. I was born here and that wasn't my fault or my choice. One could say 'The Grass is always Greener on the Other Side' but I know in the very core of my soul that I won't ever be truly happy living here.

The counter argument has always been...There are things that hold me stationary. I have family and friends, connections that tie me to this place. I've always thought it would be too much of a sacrifice to leave them behind in search of greener pastures. Recently I've come to realise I've outgrown a lot of my old thoughts, a lot of my old connections. I've started to wonder what it is I am staying for?
I've said countless times, "I'll live in the country when I'm older"..."When I retire"..."One day"
alongside "I'll start my own business when I'm older"..."When I'm settled"..."One day"
One day seems a very long way away, it also feels like it's tinged with 'too late'.

Why am I constantly telling myself, "One day" instead of "Today" !?

There are places I want to be, things I want to do and I'm putting them off everyday but never stop thinking about them. When I walk to and from work, whenever I go around the supermarket, hop onto a bus....I think about these things in great detail. Wishing.

I've come to see that there is only one person I give a damn about spending my time with 100%. Luckily enough, he seems to be of the same mind as me. I know I've been quite ridged in my opinions of moving away and everything that entails, but lately, I really think I've become open minded to the idea. The only thing that would hold us pair back would be the finance side of it.
That brings me to how realistic this debate in my mind is...
Moving to the countryside in England is rather out of our budget.
Moving to the countryside of say...South of well within our budget.
We'd need jobs of course...
Jones is smart, smarter than anyone else I know, I'm fairly certain wherever we went in the world he would be a success.
For me?...As I stated above, I want to run my own little business.
Why am I putting this off? I believe I could do it. I could be a success. A small success maybe, but comfortable. I know I could do it. I feel it in my bones that I have what it takes.
I put myself down far too often, I should have more faith and more nerve to take risks.
Neither of us speak another language...well how necessary is that when most of the world speaks English! We speak English great! We ARE English!

For the first time in my life I feel like I'm really honestly considering all this.
I have a window of opportunity over the next four decide where I want to be, and what kind of life I want to live. To be honest I've already decided. It's just a matter of how we pull this off.

Sunday, 9 August 2015

September Poem

 it's that time of year again.
Nearly September.
September is when everything gets better,
do you remember?
When the trees change,
and the wind cools down
the clocks wind back
but they don't take you with them.
There's always a chance
every September
with the smell of freshly sharpened pencils
we can write our way from this prison cell
by the time the amber lights lead you home
and on your lips is sweet apple, salted caramel
the taste of autumn is ripe with promise
things always change for us
so I'll keep you near
it's time for a change,
now it's our time of year.

Nearest Exit. Poem

"Where's the nearest exit?"
I need to find my way out
no matter what room I enter
always the wrong one it seems
But you just can't live on a pocket full of hope
and a handful of childhood dreams

Think fast.

I've made some wrong decisions, and I'll likely regret those decisions for a long time going. I've also had to make decisions I wasn't happy about because I had no other choice. Again I can't help feeling tormented by all this, because I am not supposed to be here. This is not the right place for me. My private life is so blissfully wonderful, I think perhaps it warrants why professionally, academically, I'm not happy. You can't have everything. 
I don't want everything, I just want to be content in all aspects of my life. I've got to fix this. I've got to think fast and find an escape route. Think fast and act faster. 

Tuesday, 4 August 2015

I'm done.

I'm stood with bare feet, and all around for as far as I can see is broken glass and bits of barbed wire. Held above my head is a stilt like contraption, with my shoulders being the main foundation holding up a great weight. I cannot see what weighs me down but it is heavy and the burden grows as regularly something else is dropped onto the already teetering pile. If I move I sacrifice my feet, if I stay then I risk being crushed by the inevitable fall, or dying under the strain. I can feel the burden rocking, I haven't long to make up my mind. A person could run themselves mad thinking this over....

...I got upset today. I'm rather ashamed of myself for succumbing to my emotions but I guess everyone has breaking points and perhaps I'm just the sensitive sort who cracks more easily than others. I think on some psychological level I'm so focused on keeping it together when inside is turmoil that the cracks are actually deeper than I'd like to admit. It doesn't take much battering to smash me apart as the cracks have already weakened what's there. I've said it so many times, that I just don't belong here, it doesn't feel right. I can ignore those thoughts most of the time. At this moment in time however, a chisel has chipped away too many little bits of my resolve. My confidence has slowly but surely been draining away and I can see myself stumbling after it, clawing at what's left but it's like trying to catch smoke. I wish I was a strong enough person that this would never, could never have happened. But the truth is I'm not. One thing after another has chipped away at me, one burden on top of another has been thrown into my hands and I'm like a clown juggling too many balls, when I drop one I get ridiculed and battered down again. I'm battered down even if I don't drop one.

I never handled bullies well at school.

It's been so long I'd almost managed to forget but now as sudden as a rain storm I'm back there, twelve years old, miserable, isolated and mentally beaten down every day. I used to just put up with it, worse I used to believe most of it, occasionally reassuring myself with the promise that eventually I wouldn't have to put up with arseholes like that again. I should have known that arseholes walk next to us throughout life, not all of them grow out of it. Some people are simply programmed to be vicious, spiteful cunts. They victimize others to make themselves feel big.
I am not twelve years old anymore. I am not hideous and I am not stupid.
I shouldn't have to put up with this.

It's not just that, it's also the lack of structure. I need structure in my life, it's how I focus. I can't cope with these unreasonable conditions. These random demands. No set protocol, no real procedures. And then the vultures picking away at the carcass of my confidence.

I'm stood at the school gates, I've weighed up the odds. Fight or Flight. Could I come out on top if I stand up to confrontation? I know already the answer is no. I've watched others take up a fighting stance only to be torn to pieces. You tend to find even now, that Arseholes close ranks.
I shouldn't have gotten upset today, even though it was in private. I shouldn't have let myself hit this point. Now I'm furious with myself, angry that I've let people put me down, and that my inner twelve year old has listened and believed it. I promised myself I'd stop being that girl.
So now I'm done. It's time to get moving. It would take a momentous alteration to make me change my mind now. I'm just done.