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GRADUATE OF LIFE

 haven’t had my graduation ceremony yet and with all that has happened this year, I totally forgot that I have finally finished my degree. My other half was going ballistic (in a good way) and looked at me and asked me why I looked so down. I guess either I am still in shock or I don’t think it is that big a deal compared to what other goals and shit I have had to focus on this year. So let me high 5 myself and reflect on how the path to get my degree became – the successful one.

Way back in 2007,I had just come out of the hospital with a BMI of 16. I enrolled at my local college in the U.K. to do my BA in acting performance.

I was with a lovely group of talented individuals and managed one term. I was quickly losing more weight again and my mental health went down. I could not maintain a low BMI. I either had to go lower or higher and I went lower. I managed to get merit (when they still called it that) for my classical acting. How amazing is that?

I wanted to engage with my group but I couldn’t shift the anorexia. I had become a sub-host to it.

Back in 2008, I decided to have another go at it. I had gained a normal amount of weight. I met a seemingly lovely man who swept me off my feet. He worked in the army and ended up going on tour for 3 months in Canada. I went to live in Barcelona with my Aunt for a few months and partied hard. Hit Ibiza with my cuz and when I came back to the U.K I was ready to piece my life back together.

The night I arrived back in the U.K. was the same night the army guy got back and he came straight to see me, bringing me little gifts back from his tour. I was so touched and couldn’t believe we had another chance to get to know this one another again and give him my heart. I invited him for a meal at my Nan’s house the following evening as he was rather ‘fatigued'(such an elegant way of putting it)  from his flight.

The following day he texted me to tell me he was getting his car serviced and would see me later. Later turned into 6pm And 8pm and then 9pm. The curry was losing it’s cool. I rang him asking him why he hadn’t pitched up and he completely dissed me on the phone and told me he was with his family and I can’t make him choose his family over me! WTAF?

If he had explained that he wanted to be with his family then I would of got it.-The lovely army guy broke my heart. He didn’t want to be with me. I internalised all this as my fault. I had put on weight, I had been homeless and had recently found somewhere in the U.K. to live and I thought I wasn’t good enough. I remember walking my Nan from my new home to the bus stop and I broke down. I didn’t know how much I liked this guy until I felt my heart tearing. Each sob caused another tear and another.

In 2009 I was finally in a better place and I was ready for another attempt to get a degree in the arts arena. I started a  two Foundation Degree with 24 students. By week two that had whittled down to 7 students. Again a totally different bunch of lovely people. I fucked up. I stopped taking my meds. I was trying so hard to fit in but I guess I felt a bit intimidated by all the talented actors and talent. I didn’t know then that they were all just as frightened of failing as me. At first I  was coping and I managed to go out get wasted and silly and form friendships. Standard uni stuff. One night a girl on my course rang me and told me to come out. She said the night was on her. I got dressed and put on my party face even though at that time I was taking 100 laxatives a day.

When people asked me out I would say ‘Awesome. I will be there’  I had a bad habit and once I had taken those tablets I was ill. I mean of course, I had the shits. Haha. Never thought I would be typing this but the moment before I purged I had stomach cramps that pushed and pulled and stabbed at me from the inside. I couldn’t walk from the spasms. SO that night I gave a big fuck you to Anorexia and went out to have some fun and bond with some friends.

My taxi pulled up at ‘the only reputable club’ in that locality and I saw my college friend wave at me and she was laughing and she gave me £50 and told me to come with her. It was a bit. Well, I was sober and everyone else was hammered. I didn’t find it funny. I wasn’t in the zone yet. I went to the bathroom and then I went to look for the pack and I couldn’t find them anywhere.

My mobile battery died and I turned around to the first person I saw to ask that person if I could use their mobile. I happened to bump into the person who went on to degrade and disrespect me in the most colourful and inventive ways. I couldn’t find anyone so we went back to mine and drank until………… I passed out mid-sentence.

This guy wouldn’t leave me alone. He was lovely at first but really full-on. I tried to back away. My friends told me he looked creepy.Leave him alone.

A guy from uni came up to me and told me that creepy ex was well and truly creepy and to stay away. Did I listen? no, I let my insecurities get the better of me. I melted into his world. At first it was flattering that someone would want to be around me so much. I didn’t think I was going to get in a relationship with him. I was trying to make friends and I had my eyes on someone else.

Out of respect to my daughter, I won’t go into a diatribe of events. He tried to take my soul. When he couldn’t have all of me he came up with a cunning plan to try and take my life away from me. Our daughter. During this time I could feel Anorexia clawing it’s way back inside. Cold, damp and merciless. I couldn’t allow it home again. I reached out to a couple I know and went on to meet my future husband to be. Before you judge- I have had my karma. I nearly lost my daughter as you may know from previous posts.  I had time on my hands. Instead of being a full-time Mom to my daughter, I was a 10 hour per week Mom instead.

I decided while I battled it out in the court arena with social services and my creepy ex I would resume my studies. This time not in a mainstream uni but an online one. I worked my toosh off and today I can say I am a graduate. I couldn’t have done it without the support of my partner and my family.

DON’T JUDGE -if you can help it.  That is a huge lesson I’ve learned. This piece of paper means so much more than the letters printed on it. It is a symbol – a tangible piece that reminds me of how I got to this place where I am today. I’m a bride to be with a gorgeous daughter who will be four in October. I’m working with mental health charities and I am a stable weight- super healthy. I don’t smoke. I drink mostly water ( with the odd cocktail of course) , I exersise. I am a success. I am proud of me. No one can take that from me. I won’t let them. Always be ready to learn a bit more. I may have officially finished learning but I will not let that stop me from learning in other ways. I treat every experience in my life as a learning curve. Always look for the silver lining no matter how bleak.

Even Academics can get into Violent relationships

 

I AM SO A GRADUATE WITH A BACHELOR OF ARTS WITH HONOURS (in the arts and humanities)

I haven’t had my graduation ceremony yet and with all that has happened this year, I totally forgot that I have finally finished my degree. My other half was going ballistic (in a good way) and looked at me and asked me why I looked so down. I guess either I am still in shock or I don’t think it is that big a deal compared to what other goals and shit I have had to focus on this year. So let me high 5 myself and reflect on how the path to get my degree became – the successful one.

Way back in 2007,I had just come out of the hospital with a BMI of 16. I enrolled at my local college in the U.K. to do my BA in acting performance.

I was with a lovely group of talented individuals and managed one term. I was quickly losing more weight again and my mental health went down. I could not maintain a low BMI. I either had to go lower or higher and I went lower. I managed to get merit (when they still called it that) for my classical acting. How amazing is that?

I wanted to engage with my group but I couldn’t shift the anorexia. I had become a sub-host to it.

Back in 2008, I decided to have another go at it. I had gained a normal amount of weight. I met a seemingly lovely man who swept me off my feet. He worked in the army and ended up going on tour for 3 months in Canada. I went to live in Barcelona with my Aunt for a few months and partied hard. Hit Ibiza with my cuz and when I came back to the U.K I was ready to piece my life back together.

The night I arrived back in the U.K. was the same night the army guy got back and he came straight to see me, bringing me little gifts back from his tour. I was so touched and couldn’t believe we had another chance to get to know this one another again and give him my heart. I invited him for a meal at my Nan’s house the following evening as he was rather ‘fatigued'(such an elegant way of putting it)  from his flight.

The following day he texted me to tell me he was getting his car serviced and would see me later. Later turned into 6pm And 8pm and then 9pm. The curry was losing it’s cool. I rang him asking him why he hadn’t pitched up and he completely dissed me on the phone and told me he was with his family and I can’t make him choose his family over me! WTAF?

If he had explained that he wanted to be with his family then I would of got it.-The lovely army guy broke my heart. He didn’t want to be with me. I internalised all this as my fault. I had put on weight, I had been homeless and had recently found somewhere in the U.K. to live and I thought I wasn’t good enough. I remember walking my Nan from my new home to the bus stop and I broke down. I didn’t know how much I liked this guy until I felt my heart tearing. Each sob caused another tear and another.

In 2009 I was finally in a better place and I was ready for another attempt to get a degree in the arts arena. I started a  two Foundation Degree with 24 students. By week two that had whittled down to 7 students. Again a totally different bunch of lovely people. I fucked up. I stopped taking my meds. I was trying so hard to fit in but I guess I felt a bit intimidated by all the talented actors and talent. I didn’t know then that they were all just as frightened of failing as me. At first I  was coping and I managed to go out get wasted and silly and form friendships. Standard uni stuff. One night a girl on my course rang me and told me to come out. She said the night was on her. I got dressed and put on my party face even though at that time I was taking 100 laxatives a day.

When people asked me out I would say ‘Awesome. I will be there’  I had a bad habit and once I had taken those tablets I was ill. I mean of course, I had the shits. Haha. Never thought I would be typing this but the moment before I purged I had stomach cramps that pushed and pulled and stabbed at me from the inside. I couldn’t walk from the spasms. SO that night I gave a big fuck you to Anorexia and went out to have some fun and bond with some friends.

My taxi pulled up at ‘the only reputable club’ in that locality and I saw my college friend wave at me and she was laughing and she gave me £50 and told me to come with her. It was a bit. Well, I was sober and everyone else was hammered. I didn’t find it funny. I wasn’t in the zone yet. I went to the bathroom and then I went to look for the pack and I couldn’t find them anywhere.

My mobile battery died and I turned around to the first person I saw to ask that person if I could use their mobile. I happened to bump into the person who went on to degrade and disrespect me in the most colourful and inventive ways. I couldn’t find anyone so we went back to mine and drank until………… I passed out mid-sentence.

This guy wouldn’t leave me alone. He was lovely at first but really full-on. I tried to back away. My friends told me he looked creepy. Leave him alone.

A guy from uni came up to me and told me that creepy ex was well and truly creepy and to stay away. Did I listen? no, I let my insecurities get the better of me. I melted into his world. At first it was flattering that someone would want to be around me so much. I didn’t think I was going to get in a relationship with him. I was trying to make friends and I had my eyes on someone else.

Out of respect to my daughter, I won’t go into a diatribe of events. He tried to take my soul. When he couldn’t have all of me he came up with a cunning plan to try and take my life away from me. Our daughter. During this time I could feel Anorexia clawing it’s way back inside. Cold, damp and merciless. I couldn’t allow it home again. I reached out to a couple I know and went on to meet my future husband to be. Before you judge- I have had my karma. I nearly lost my daughter as you may know from previous posts.  I had time on my hands. Instead of being a full-time Mom to my daughter, I was a 10 hour per week Mom instead.

I decided while I battled it out in the court arena with social services and my creepy ex I would resume my studies. This time not in a mainstream uni but an online one. I worked my toosh off and today I can say I am a graduate. I couldn’t have done it without the support of my partner and my family.

DON’T JUDGE -if you can help it.  That is a huge lesson I’ve learned. This piece of paper means so much more than the letters printed on it. It is a symbol – a tangible piece that reminds me of how I got to this place where I am today. I’m a bride to be with a gorgeous daughter who will be four in October. I’m working with mental health charities and I am a stable weight- super healthy. I don’t smoke. I drink mostly water ( with the odd cocktail of course) , I exersise. I am a success. I am proud of me. No one can take that from me. I won’t let them. Always be ready to learn a bit more. I may have officially finished learning but I will not let that stop me from learning in other ways. I treat every experience in my life as a learning curve. Always look for the silver lining no matter how bleak.

Neglect october domestic violence awareness month

There are many types of Child Abuse 

Emotional Abuse can be hard to spot and is easy to miss the signs. 

  • humiliating or constantly criticising a child-

 When my Mom was in a Domestic Violent Relationship with my ex step father he would constantly tell me I was chubby, too clingy.

  • threatening, shouting at a child or calling them names
  • making the child the subject of jokes, or using sarcasm to hurt a child
  • blaming and scapegoating

My ex -step father would shout at me for wanting to be close to my mom. He would drag me into my bedroom -my mom would stick up for me and she would get the brunt of my tantrums, clinginess, my eating issues.

  • making a child perform degrading acts
  • not recognising a child’s own individuality or trying to control their lives
  • pushing a child too hard or not recognising their limitations

My ex step father’s idea of teaching me how to swim was to grab hold go me, jump into the swimming pool and stay under the water until I thought I would pas out. He would do this as a joke in front of his friends and laugh at me for being so scared. I was 5 years old

  • exposing a child to upsetting events or situations, like domestic abuse or drug taking

My ex step father used to beat my mom up regularly because she dared to challenge him for cheating on her constantly ,for getting a 15 year old pregnant. He was always high and there were always parties going on with strange men and women around. I used to try and defend my mom until I became too afraid. I used to barricade myself in my bedroom. I would wait until he came home from work and hide under the bed. 

  • failing to promote a child’s social development
  • not allowing them to have friends
  • persistently ignoring them

I felt like my life was irrelevant. I wasn’t worth anything. I remember having an argument with my mom. She was struggling with her Mental health and the abuse. She came home from work when I was 5/6 years old. I was dressed up in her wedding dress and having fun. She screamed at me to get out her room .She was crying, I didn’t want to be away from her. She locked me out of the room because I started to have a tantrum. I went to the kitchen and got a knife out of the drawer and went to her bedroom door and yelled I was going to stab myself if she didn’t open the door. No reply. I heard her crying. I felt alone and that I couldn’t help her.

  • being absent

When I felt helpless and angry. I would act out. I would binge on food, wet the bed conrantly and go and sleep with the dogs in the kitchen. I recall one day feeling so worthless and useless that I couldn’t make my mom better or please my ex step father that I packed a suitcase falloff toys and clothes. I needed to get away. I walked down the driveway (to my child self -it looked like I was walking a long way from home),  When I reached the end of the driveway I looked left, right, I looked across the road and I thought to myself: What do I do now? I prayed that a car with two nice people would stop and pick me up and take me away from where I was. That didn’t happen. I had to accept my defeat and I walked back up the drive way angry. No body knew I had disappeared and I didn’t get the attention I wanted.

  • manipulating a child

Manipulation can be so subtle. I recall a time when my mom had found out about another affair that my ex stepfather had. He turned up from work with a puppy for me. I was over the moon. 

  • never saying anything kind, expressing positive feelings or congratulating a child on successes
  • never showing any emotions in interactions with a child, also known as emotional neglect.

SIGNS OF EMOTIONAL ABUSE IN OLDER CHILDREN

  • use language you wouldn’t expect them to know for their age
  • act in a way or know about things you wouldn’t expect them to know for their age
  • struggle to control their emotions
  • have extreme outbursts
  • seem isolated from their parents
  • lack social skills
  • have few or no friends.

EFFECTS OF EMOTIONAL ABUSE

BEHAVIOUR PROBLEMS

  • wanting attention or becoming clingy

I never wanted to leave my moms side. I refused to go to school. I would have tantrums and do anything to be heard.

  •    not caring how they act or what happens to them

I became a child who started walking home from school on my own from 5/6 years old. I remember a group of older boys pushing me about and touching my breasts and vagina. 

  • trying to make people dislike them

I didn’t feel very likeable or good about myself so I pushed people away from me. I didn’t feel Could trust people and even today I will show people the worst parts of me to protect myself.

  • developing risky behaviour, like stealing, bullying or running away.

The first time I stole anything was a 5 rand note from my mom so I could buy myself and people in my class sweets at the tuck shop. My ex step father refused to allow me to eat sweets because I was too ‘chubby’. I ran away from home many times as a teenager to get away from my mom when I was a teenager and my Nan and my Dad who refused to acknowledge me. I didn’t want my family to dictate to me. I didn’t want them to tell me they knew what was best for me. I wanted to escape and drugs and being around strange men seemed like the right answer.

EMOTIONAL DEVELOPMENT PROBLEMS

  • feeling, expressing and controlling emotions
  • lacking confidence or causing anger problems
  • finding it difficult to make and maintain healthy relationships later in life
  • higher levels of depression and health problems as adults compared to those who experienced other types of child abuse.

MENTAL HEALTH PROBLEMS

I went on to develop serious mental health issues. I developed social anxiety from a young age.  My first suicide attempt was at 12 years old

  • eating disorders

I became obsessed with my weight. I couldn’t deal with my weight issues and I started taking diet tablets at the age of 15 years old. I abused cocaine and mandrax and ecstasy -any drug to stop me from thinking about food. I used to demand my mother take me to doctors to prescribe diet pills for me even though I was thin. I had huge problems and I eventually developed Chromic anorexia. I was sectioned twice in the U.K.   In 2007 I develop Bradycardia. My BMI was 14. My weight was 39 kilograms. I wanted to die. 

I don’t know why I felt the need to cut my legs in my Nan’s kitchen when I was 12/13. I didn’t know how else to express myself. When I lost my virginity to a guy who had left his ex and promised to date me and be with me. The next night his ex, myself and him herein his car and he chose his ex over me. I flipped. I couldn’t deal with the pain, the headache and I cut myself with a bottle neck and became uncontrollable. 

  • language development
  • problems forming healthy relationships.

If you want to help some one who is being abused in all its forms or to help some one who is self harming. 

SELF HARM RESOURCES

Catch 22

Fall – leaves turn shades of browns and greens.

my heart dips and I don’t feel that same sense of summer’s beams.

Alone. I look to my left. Creativity shines- glitter, stilettos- latex, white faux fur coats. All legs.

Like a string of pearls flung across a room,  a musky scent wafts across my midst.

Temptations persist. Glamour. Warmth is all I seek. Summer, why do you have to be so cruel?

I know if I cross over to the other side – I’ll be feeling the warmth – it will be pimped out inbox ring styles – I won’t have time to dodge the fists.

My body will burn up an exotic shade of hues. I will have no rest.

Hell is the other side of Summers gluttonous jazz bassline.

One hit. One vein. Blood – artificial nirvana could infiltrate my being.

I won’t have to think of the biting cold that is ringing in my ears. Muffled will be the ice cone, frozen on the edge of my nose. It doesn’t matter who sees that I have been seen.

Bus shelters full, spikes erect from the corporate underground – I can’t sit down. I know it takes fewer muscles to smile than frown.

Energy is all I have to see me through this cycle of undomesticated abuse. October may be  Domestic abuse awareness month.

If I hadn’t left my keeper, I would still have a roof over my head.

A blanket.

I would still be touched.

 Roughed up.

Better the devil you know – I know every one of his moves. I know when to dissociate –

detach my mind

from my body.

Floating above the marital, martial art stylised bed – I see myself and that devil I married, grabbing folds of my skin. He doesn’t notice the smell of the new conditioner I bought at Asda or how soft the sheets feel now they have been newly spun.

Dryer. I’m dry. He doesn’t notice the lack of moisture. He doesn’t notice that all of that fluid has shot up to my eyeballs. I refuse to let them free flow – I am not her. I’m floating.

Fly on the wall. Caught up in a spiders web. I have to watch. It doesn’t matter if I have a crick in my neck – oh hang on a minute is he choking me?

Leftover food languishing in the sink drain. He switched the waste disposal on to automatic.

Arrested, I am back in bed, under him. Time to vogue with my lips and give him a little pucker.

These white sheets have turned red in his need to let off steam. I come out in blisters hovering underneath his vapour.

Turn my neck – feels like I need a box of throat lozenges for having to get all deep throat.

5 am flashing in stimulant green.

I’m 5 months pregnant. I am going to be late.

Grab the nearest decent clothes. Pull-on my Adidas trainers. Scrape my hair up into a ponytail.

Finally the motivation to go on the run. I don’t have to time myself. I know his schedule well.

An Olympic torch passes into my hand. I’m running for freedom. Liberty is my destination.

I can start over.

Spring – blues, violets, colours in a perfect union – uncompressed. Naturally dressed.

For the first time in months, I feel like I belong. I too am a medley of colours. I blend in.

Natures milkshake collects in my breasts –  4 months to go until I give birth to a miracle of pure life.

Not branded a colour – just innocence – a chance to see a light – work on my soul and tackle it all. This is the only cure.

Vanilla.

I am no Killer.

Life goes in cycles. It passes by fast. There are no traffic jams when you have to pick up your feet and walk.

Eyes cast down, belly protruding.

Christian volunteers crouch down next to me- hand me a card.

Die and be reborn.

They can help me. I just have to give my old life to our saviour. I’ve never met him but he sounds

Forgiving, comforting, caressing- a handwash with extra Aloe vera – calming properties.

All I have to do is offer my unborn child to him and I can enter paradise with the rest of my weary comrades.

Eyes raise up to the bitter sky. I’ve always thought whatever is up there twinkling and winking down at me is having a far better time than me.

My unborn deserves a place in heaven. Earth only promises scars and wild jungle roots to keep it grounded to the spot.

The ultimate sacrifice.

Did I fold in with this cult out of cowardice?

I will drink my poison.

Maybe this winter I will be reunited with the one that let out a sudden cry.

Lead me not into temptation. I lie down, no need to be afraid, child. I close my eyes and sigh.

Hope is my last premise.

* Inspired by domestic violence awareness month*

mainimage_0

OCTOBER 2016 (IMAGE SOURCED FROM GOOGLE)

HERE IS A LINK TO A  POST I WROTE,ON 11TH MAY 2016 , ABOUT MY OWN PERSONAL EXPERIENCES IN A D.V. RELATIONSHIP , TO RAISE DOMESTIC ABUSE AWARENESS IN MY COMMUNITY AND   SOCIETY.

CLICK ON THE PINK HIGHLIGHTED LINK BELOW

THE FREEDOM PROGRAMME

*photo credit Rhode Island Francesca Woodman, Benjamin Moore *

Scars -a bloody unwanted reminder

Writing prompt -Scars

One scar I have is huge – it almost wraps all the way around my upper wrist -it is 2-3 cm wide.  Indented, It reminds me of a dried upriver.

The cause?

Domestic violence.

Before I continue…

Domestic abuse & Toxic relationships

Rape -NO means NO.

I’m going to state the obvious here.

Domestic violence is a relationship fucks about with your mental health, whether you love the person or not.

 

Toxic relationships have usually tipped me over into using shitty coping mechanisms like drinking too much, taking drugs, overdosing and not managing my medication or my eating disorder and Bipolar.

So back to the blood river scar.

One night- no

Another night of heavy drinking and arguing, I found me in a house -not mine- that looked like a slaughterhouse. all dirty browns. There was a rusty scent of blood impossible to ignore.

Every time I inhaled, the scent would drip down the back of my throat like a  tap -I could taste it too.

I  had mixed copious amounts of alcohol with my medication and all I remember is trying to push my ex away with my left hand ( I am left-handed), he grabbed my arm and I struggled back.

BLACKOUT

 

 An image.

An arm.

 

 a massive shard of re-enforced window glass- barbered-   poking out of my right arm.

 

Another image.

the back of my exes legs and back running up the stairs.

PANIC 

BLOOD

DRINK

VODKA

WHERE IS THE ORANGE JUICE?

WHERE IS THE GLASS?

WHERE IS MY EX?

BLOOD 

DRIP

BLOOD 

DRIP

BLOOD 

DRIP

BLOOD 

DRIP

PANIC 

PANIC

An arm coated thick with blood. I wear it like an accessory

Blood makes noise.

I hear screaming.

Mine.

Ex reappears and tries to grab me.

I try to run away.

PANIC 

BLOOD

DRIP

I NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE.

Why is my ex naked? 

In the middle of the street?

Rolling on the floor with me- trying to muffle my screams with his hand. Trying to stop me from running away...

BLOOD

MIND FUCKERY at its best.

“Look what you have done…” ex says.

6 hours later – location:  hospital.

The doctor asks to speak with me in private. My ex doesn’t want to leave my side.

I don’t say anythingquack quack! quack quack! quack quack!   the word on a loop…

 

“What happened?”  he wants to know.

“We don’t know. We were drinking. I can’t remember. It was an accident.” my ex speaks for us.

My head bows down,it almost appears as if I am nodding. I can’t quite remember.

What I do remember feels like I have made it up, it is so detached from my mind and emotions. It is about as close to me as Pluto or Saturn.

3 days in hospital my ex never left my side.

Not even to go home to wash or brush his teeth.

I wasn’t alone- my mother was with us too.

I was high on morphine for the pain.

Why didn’t they operate sooner? 

Did they want to monitor me? 

The situation? 

Us? 

three days later…  I’m being wheeled on the hospital bed- away from the stale, coughing ward…

“countback with me from 10,” says the anaesthetist.

10 , 9 ,8 ……

BLACKOUT

 

“1”. my eyes burst open. I gasp a breath. It is  like I’ve been living in a homemade sac filled with half shallow water and half air.

 Disorientated.

What happened?

I look down at the artwork the surgeon has done.

No more blood.

re-stuffed re-patched, recovered,

by a micro surgical  hand.

Discharged.

Back to the carnival freak show.

I enter his home – a massacre.

Dry blood everywhere.

Smell.

Bleach.

Sound.

Scrubbing brushes.

Stubborn blood. 

If only it could serve as a reminder of what actually happened that night.

“I don’t remember” the ex says.

How can he and I not know?

Every time I look at my scar I am reminded of the chaos that was my life for 4 years.

This scar says –

mutilation.

despair.

secrets.

emotions numbed.

detachment.

silence.

silence-1.jpg

This scar reminds me to NEVER be silent in the name of so-called love or a sense of loyalty to one who claimed to love me so much he would do anything to keep me.

http://www.vevo.com/watch/suzanne-vega/blood-makes-noise/USIV20300313

When I left him, I did not take his threats seriously.

 What he did next gave serious competition with the scar I see.

That everyone can see.

Toxic relationships result in a severe loss – sometimes that means your life.

Think carefully about what and who your life may include.

I was reborn again on the 06/05/2015.

The day the court ordered social services out of my life.

The day that my ex turned his back on me,  is the day I realised I had been holding my breath for years.

I had forgotten how to breathe.  I might have been dead- a wanderer.

06/05/2015 -I remembered not only how to breathe again but why.

Life -not just my own but that who is of me.

Life is precious

Life is my responsibility

resumption_by_jorgeremmy-d3drxy2.png

Thoughts about Social services & Justice

*First posted 2015

Content: How I got my daughter back-  and issues of control/being out of control

This morning I woke up with a feeling of loss and  a heavy anchor weighing me down. I should have been buzzing. I was three hours away from meeting up with a girl who works with a mental health charity and to work together on a one off workshop to close the stigma between the volunteers and the people they help. Below is all I had to type this morning: warning alert: very woe! woe! woe is me !and not WOW WOW look at me go.  

THIS IS WHAT I MANAGED TO WRITE  YESTERDAY MORNING :

Why do I only see ugly? What is wrong with me.I can’t love my cat or daughter or partner cos I have trouble accepting me? Why is outer beauty so important to have when I see the beauty of people in all their different guises? My heart has been rung out . The salty ness stings increasingly as it courses through my veins. Pumping –you are ugly  you are not good enough.Why now? Why these feelings now? My next challenge — like a bull waiting , snorting – A Red mist descends. Red mist that at the end will be.

  I had writers block I couldn’t think of anything poetic to say. All words seemed shit and I felt shit. 

So let me get real and tell you what is really on my mind My head has been doing 360 degree turns lately like that possessed chick in every movie about hauntings and possession.  Except it has been me not some movie.  My weight has been going up and  up – I have had no control. Even with me eating healthily. The numbers have  kept on  going up. I have been getting a  daily beasting from the  Goddess of hard core exercises -Jillian Michael. No bullshit. No pansy-ing about. No quitting. I am no quitter.Not a sinker. No Titanic. Why is this fucker in my head fucking with me now? I’m finally getting somewhere with myself and what I want to invest all my working time in.

Yup, so I have really been struggling with my mind for a few months Isn’t that crazy? Me wanting to help people who are struggling? I’m struggling.

I had to let go of the figures on the scale. I’ve never done that. How did I  do it?  Well,  I decided  I like eating (yes, Anorexics can like eating)  and I eat healthily  already so, I was not about  to go hungry and become ill again. No, this is my time. I wasn’t going to start taking overdoses to cope with the madness inside me — skewered. Grilling me .It was bedlam in my head. True bedlam.

I stopped weighing myself every day. I CAN’T BELIEVE IT EITHER.  I carried on with 40 minutes of  an intense cardio workout . I didn’t carry on doing 3-4 hour workouts like I have done previously. I did not start monitoring my fluid intake.  In fact I did the opposite and btw  my skin looks the best it ever has. I had to get moving. Get out the house and live.  The critters inside jittering and chattering and  fluttering  chaotically in my mind could carry on.I  carried on with life.

I got out there and I followed through on my next goal. I have my daughter back . I’m already a student with full BA(hons) in Arts and the humanities. I’ve booked our wedding for next year. The one I was never ever going to have. I am finally in a place to help people.

I don’t care if I don’t get paid I’m getting so much back from this.

You know what is even more chaotic than my recent state of mind?  Okay -ready?  The training I have been put on to do, is all stuff I worked out on my own and with my family when social services wanted to put my daughter up for adoption.

Why didn’t they get HOME-START in first?

Or THE FAMILY INTERVENTION TEAM?

How come they didn’t tell me about a 12 week course called called WRAP ( WELLNESS RECOVERY ACTION PLAN)  that helps a person put together a support package if a person’s  health starts to get distressed?

This is not some new concept or specialised training. It’s been going on for years and being taught in prisons and schools today. Why didn’t any of the social workers I know signpost me in these  directions?

I stayed up into   the early hours of the morning for weeks. Researching online to find an answer to convince  social services that I could be a mom and  have times when my mental health isn’t all that cracking.  In my research I came across something called ‘ the circle of protection’ (very Lion king – the zulu bit -you know what I’m on about?) An epiphany or something.

Why had none of these highly qualified social workers, guardians of the court, these professionals but myself thought to put a contingency plan in place?

When my daughter  was put under an interim care order. Obviously, I  attended court. The letter for the court date arrived days after the court hearing. I was lucky that I had my family to give me the heads up. I didn’t know that the  alleged assault charges against me , that had been dropped (because their was no physical evidence to suggest that I shook my 12 week old daughter) was only the beginning of  an incredibly long f*ck*ng journey home. I was like Hercules and his 12 labours.

Back to the morning of 14/12-Confused, in a state of panic-The former manager of social services – I like to call her Miss Hannigan-you know from ‘Annie’ the movie?  I swear she looks and acts like Miss Hannigan – every professional I described her too-could not keep a straight face.

They knew exactly who I was on about. Anyway, so after court, the wooly and rather snivel  cardigan came into view-like a red flag. Her voice was the second thing I noticed ,she sounded like one of Marge’s sisters from the Simpsons.

I was like : Where is my daughter going? You can’t just take her from me!

She spluttered in that voice.  

Stop the drink-stop the shit and sort your life out . I wish she could take her own advice.

I found out about a 12 week group called the  FREEDOM PROJECT that was running in my neck of the woods. In a nutshell it is a 12 weak group that helps women understand why we  enter and stay in abusive relationships. I took Miss Hannigans advice  and self-referred myself to my   LOCAL SUBSTANCE MISUSE TEAM and  I  engaged with a wonderful woman to work out what my drink issues were and how I could manage them. We tried various plans until we  both agreed  that whilst all this was going on, drinking was probably not going to be drunk for the ‘right reasons’.

I went to every mother-baby group I could could go to.

 I could only see my daughter 10  hours per week. I missed 7 contact sessions in 12 months. There was  a local contact centre only 5 minutes up the street from where I lived. I had no problems with anybody in that contact centre. Lots of positive feedback.  The contact worker who had become emotionally involved told us she had been taken off  as  our contact worker. Social services and my ex felt that the contact worker was being biased. It is not my fault that every other person who met him thinks the same thing. Whatever that may be.

A new contact lady comes on the scene. We did not mix well. It happens in life. I can’t love everyone.

Next thing I know and I was now taking  two buses to go and see my child — in a contact centre monitored by cctv like a criminal. This is how the dynamics of our relationship went. If I got on with spending time with my child and didn’t talk much with the contact worker-she said I was being hostile. If I did chat with her-she said I was distracted and not mentally focused on my child.

This contact person has no mental health qualification. Her job  is to collect children from carers/family homes and take them to  a ‘neutral’ meeting/contact centre and to make sure the child or children get back home safely. She is a chuffing human. All her notes ( she was a fan of all the Disney songs — those notes were just as agonising to hear)  were being gurned  into the social workers reports.This is one opinion from someone who was not even qualified. It felt like she was there to prod and provoke a reaction out of me.

I asked the court to authorise  a hair strand test for alcohol and drugs  to be done. The test was only done 7-8 months after my baby was taken into foster care.  It came back negative that I was an alcoholic and drug taker. I am on prescription meds  so that obviously came up.  The non alcoholic levels  of drinking found in my hair proved to them I had drunk alcohol but not at the levels they were making out.From  the period  I decided  to go teetotal the levels had reduced even more.  It all  came back negative.

I was in a very violent and manipulative relationship. This  ahem… man treat me like something he found in the gutter. He warped my mind.  My mental health was exacerbated in that relationship. I dealt with this issue and I don’t want to say more on here out of respect for my daughter. He walked away when he lost control. When my daughter is at an age she can make and formulate her own opinions  that will be the time I decide to give her the information about her paternal father and seek him out and ask him whatever questions she wishes too.

I paid nearly £400 to do a parenting course online because social services stated I could not do a certain group because my ex was attending it and my daughter had to be over 5 years of age.  He got on it because he has two sons under 18. I got my daughter back under a  full care order-on the 28/04/2013 .  She was not even three  years old and all of a sudden I could attend this 12 week government funded parenting course for free. I had THIS IRO ‘professional’ come into my home and threaten me. She tried to wind me up because I made a comment about her not even having met my daughter and she was the person to ratify the adoption plan. She sat on my living room suite and re-iterated that it was her that ratified the adoption plan and still held that view.  If I had a problem with her then I could change  IRO’s.

I looked her straight in the eyes and I said ‘NO, you and me are going to see this through to the end.-It was like something out of a western movie. Eyeballing one another.

‘Yes. we will’, she puffed out her chest and chuckled to her ‘henchman’ .The person she brought with her to intimidate me. What makes me want to poke out her eyehole is at the final LAC review meeting she was hugging me and saying I had taught her something about people with mental health issues and  she realised how ignorant she had been. This woman works with dozens of cases like mine everyday. Mental health is not a new endemic in society. I hope ,you the reader can see why I am ranting at this…

I always say ‘I hold up my hands  I am far from being perfect‘. I would actually like this to be engraved on my grave. I have said the phrase so many times.  The thing is  I put in the effort in and they did not want to own up that they screwed up and I wasn’t what they read on paper and what they thought I would be like. ALL PEOPLE WITH MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES ARE DELUDED RIGHT? HAVE NO SENSE OF REALITY

Here is my point, It didn’t have to go straight to adoption but it was easy for them to place  my innocent  12 week year old child. Blue eyed  with blonde hair and  not soiled and tainted from being ragged around a defunct system.  No behaviour issues. An easy adoption case. They call it ‘twin tracking’

Ha , you should have seen the  guardian’s face when I told her that the chances of my daughter being adopted after being told that mental health issues run in her paternal and or maternal family drops. She was 25% less likely to get adopted.  Oh they loved me. My legal team were ace. I communicated and I asked questions and I researched.

As a volunteer I have a ticket to go to this PARENTING AND MENTAL HEALTH CONFERENCE

I hope a few social workers will be there to learn something about mental health .

I’m not angry. I finally know why I went through all this shit. Now I  can do the professional training and help other people.  I’m not bitter- AM I F*bitter-F*CK? 

 Thank you social services for giving me such a hard time. It has led me to take the actions to   where I am in this new chapter in my life. I am strong and empowered and passionate and every time I have fallen in my life,  I get up.

 Every time.

These other less invasive  helpful  services should  be taken into account and be brought to the attention of a person before they start taking kids off their parents and family without the full facts. I’m not talking about the families where abuse goes on. I’m telling you what I have experienced  There is so much wrong with the system. I’m gonna volunteer my heart out.

Thank  fuck for silver linings.

I not only have my daughter and my partner and my beautiful  family and friends  to live for but I have been given a gift of knowledge and I will be trained to help people who need some support and advice. I must share this knowledge of how I got my baby girl back and how much I have changed and how  exhilarating and terrifying   it is but it is worth the fight. I’m not the only one. There are so many more who are terrified to talk because they feel threatened and bullied by social services.

CHANGE  must happen and I will do anything I can to be a part of that.  If you have read this far. Thank You. Never give up your right to speak . I had a  ‘gagging order’ imposed upon  me when my child was a ward of the courts( This is the law in England) . I don’t anymore and I am well within my legal rights to post this.  I want to use my skills and my creativity in writing and acting to help people remember  how to communicate again and it is a right of theirs to have a voice…

P.S. I still am partial to a cocktail or two  when I’m not looking after my health  for one thing or another-usually for a dress to fit in to  go somewhere.

P.P.S. I have written a stage play inspired by these events with a Brecht like influence. I wrote it for my final end of module assignment for my degree at the Open university and I got a 1st for it.  I might put it up sometime . I might not.

Ginger nuts parasite

This was the first piece of fictional writing I ever wrote. It was also graded and then I had to adapt it into a different genre.

 ‘Miss Sainte!’ the travel consultant’s hands twitch like a bees feelers, ‘let me get your tickets for London.’ and she is off. I’ve always found it amusing how people assume that your life is more exciting than theirs. My life had taken on the acrid taste of bourbon. Hard decisions require liquor. There I was bobbing up and down like a buoy in a sea of bitter. Disconnected from all sources of life. Waves of nausea threatened to bury me, deep, in an unrefined grave. This was my existence until I sobered up.

The hairs on my arms prick up like ears on stalks, straining to confirm what they’ve heard. Shivers rush down my spine. Impulsively my hand goes to feel the smooth outline of the documents in my handbag, confirming that the surgery will go ahead. I look up from the tropical brochure and nearly fall headfirst into a pair of dung coloured eyes. She’s that close. I quickly murmur my thanks and bolt out the door, the wind slamming the door for me

My life tends to go from one oblivious moment to the next. One ginger bastard is all it takes for the state of my jagged ignorance to be shattered. Now all I can see is my former ignorance smirking everywhere. All of a sudden its: Ginger beer, Gingerbread, Ginger cats, Ginger biscuits, Gingernuts, Ginger pubes, Ginger! Ginger! Everywhere! I’ve reasoned that it’s not too avaricious to want more than ‘current-girlfriend’ status. Why would a heathen (his -word) such as myself, all tits hanging loose, wild hair and barefoot, want certainty and commitment? Why indeed?! Every time it’s the same watery twaddle:

 ‘I’m a married man… A Catholic!’ –with a bellyful of 24-hour bargain booze. It’s all driftwood. I’m Odyssey’s ‘Scylla ‘or ‘Charybdis’. If he wants to treat me as a necessary evil then instinctively I will lure him to my grotto and devour him.  Men have this habit of changing anything they see as mystifying into the female form.

                                                            *

Yesterday his spinal support kicked in and he decides to call me. It went something like this:

‘Babe, things are … complicated. I’m here for you.’ he said.

Then, that familiar feeling, the tightening jerk on my vocal chords, taut like a gymnast’s rope. Panic. The struggle to gulp in air. My throat is blitzed with grainy, arid sand. The beat. The beat in my heart starts clanging cacophonously and belches up into my throat. My instincts are shrill. Screeching: Caution! Do Not Proceed. This is what his voice does to me.

‘Babe, we’ve been through so much?’ Smelly feet. All I can smell is pongy feet; His feet! I’d rather go collecting cacti with my teeth than screw you. Yerr screw: That’s what I should have said.

‘I’m on my way.’ C’mon you don’t wanna be loved? So instead he gets his way and I’m running like an Olympic sprinter to get to my car.

There I am sitting in the car about to gear it up. Panic. With my palms, I start slamming the steering wheel. You stupid bitch. SLAM! Greedy stupid bitch.  SLAM!  Blasted tears form. I look into the rear-view mirror and with a fingernail, I press down hard, scraping my cheek- only satisfied when I see the offensive, black line of soggy mascara tarnishing it .Ugly Bitch! I pound the rearview mirror-over and over.

                                                                        *

I can feel the gamut of my emotions and thoughts losing form. So fragile. One knock. One tiny crack is all it takes. When he opens the door all the innards of my mind start to scramble.

‘Neck this’, he says. He plays his part well. He picks me up like I’m a delicate fawn and gently lowers me onto his sofa. He waves a bag of coke in front of my face. My fucking dopamine receptors are giving you a standing ovation, mate! Trust an ex-army cadet to bring out the Bolivian marching powder. Several hours later, we’re both wading deep in overconsumption. Billie Holliday is playing, her voice becomes the beat in my heart.

‘Love. Love her voice… so raw….so pure…but damaged like… Know what I mean?’

He just sits there, shakes his head mindlessly, not even one cobweb is disturbed. Great bulging eyes leer out at me. I might as well have a pair of fucking rabbit ears and a hat on with electrodes attached to my head.  One eye hanging precariously out of its socket. It is torture what he does to me. I want to scream: Why do you look at my pain? Consider it. Consider me! And then decide this bitch needs sterilizing?

He’s suddenly up and real close. His odour arrests my breath, it’s like taking in a whiff of a Parisian fish market at the end of a hot rough day. The hairs stand up on my body betraying my true feelings. Then he demands me to laugh.

‘Laugh. ‘He roars. Followed by frenzied laughter – Shit what’s he gonna do? He’s just laughing. Standing over me and laughing at me. Kick him in the gonads, quick!  He stops. Breathe. He moves up close again, our faces touching.

‘Boo! He whispers, slapping his hands together with glee, he grabs my arse –roughly. I’m smiling. My mind severs itself form my body. It too plays its part well. He then begins to undo his jeans.

                                                              *

A bloated smiling face. The receptionist takes my documents. The ballooned smiling face points us in the direction of the waiting area.

‘Whoa!  They must have known we were arriving, all the chairs are set up, ready for a blessed sermon. Wanna do the honours?’ What am I saying? I watch his fat turnip- shaped face go red. Blood red. He is simmering away like a stew but someone forgot to put the meat in. Jesus why the hell did I agree to this? The walls expand and shrink like I’m sucking on a plastic bag.  Panic. I’m in Plato’s allegorical cave. His shadow torments me, I’m convinced that Mother Nature has given him rights over oxygen.

            ‘Hope Sainte?’ a nurse’s voice booms. Jumped up like a leapfrog. Crap joke but I got spooked. The nurse looks up at me, she raises her eyebrows which make her glasses slant downwards. He heaves his body upwards. I feel his skulking bristling my nerves. The Nurse ushers me into a cubicle.

‘Change into this then hop on a bed’ she gestures to a bed. I touch the blue gown and put my fingers to my nose. Tainted, I gag. How can I put it? It’s like, I’m inhaling water. Panic has dropped her anchor.

 Lying horizontally I turn my head to the left and I look up into a pair of nostrils. It’s the Surgeon. His lips are moving like that singing bass fish that was all the rage in the nineties. I can’t hear jack shit- the porter wheels me into the theatre.

                                                            *

 I open my eyes.  I exhale, the cubicle expands. He enters, drops his head. Doesn’t even bother to look at me. He stands in a corner and folds his arms He just stands in that corner reminding me of a scarecrow. All stiff and glacial. Hours slither by, the silence hissing mercilessly. A hug. I want a hug. The silence is pierced. It’s me. I’m screaming. Little critters are scratching away at my insides. The attack is stabbing and sharp. The pain throbs with intent. Panic.

‘What the hell is happening?’ I look over and he’s fiddling with his fucking phone like he’s re-arranging his balls. Strap on cock-face! He turns around to face me. Did I say that out loud? He looks demonical enough.

‘Erm… well derr!’ He slaps my forehead, ‘you’re giving birth to our baby! Look at the state of ya!’ I follow his eyes. They settle on my well-formed bump.

‘You stupid murdering bitch!’ He then spits in my face and turns to leave.

‘Hey, where you going- we agreed on this?’ Panic. There’s more screaming.

‘Why? Why? Why?’ Each “why” growing in expectation and volume. Sobbing, through my tears, I can just about make out a figure of the porter. Everything starts to slow down. No. Retardation is setting in, slowing me down. Panic. The surgeon appears again. It’s like I’m in a macabre pantomime

‘Now, please, count backward from ten, please.’ he smiles down at me.

‘I can hear you!’ I dribble out. The surgeon smiles and nods his head like one of those Chinese paw-waving cats.

‘Hey! Listen can you hear that?’ they’re playing music!  What kind of sick set up is this? Beethoven’s, ‘Moonlight sonata’ is playing in the background. I touch it. The bump. I’m pretty sure this has got to breach my human rights.

A voice punctuates the air. It’s mine.

‘Number one. Gotta look after number one!’ That’s what my Mum always used to say… “If ya can’t put yourself first, you’ll never be able to put ya, child, first. From now on I swear it. I’ll make each moment in my life count! Maybe one day I will be worth being called a mum….sorry.’

My eyes close, a tear rolls down my cheek as I’m wheeled into theatre.

What are your views on Abortion?

I wish this was fiction -Pro choicer

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Exactly! not so much religion but more your beliefs about pro-life.FYI
All of us in this debate are pro-life. You don’t have to be religious to respect and be Pro-life.

I have a lot of anger towards the hypocritical B/S sludge techniques that some Pro-lifers use to prevent Abortions from going ahead legally ( safely and hygienically).

They use religion & guilt & even shame and protesting to bully women into carrying the fetus to full term.

This is ignorant & these are debauched tactics using  -mind games /Emotional blackmail.

Why?

One simplistic example?

A pregnant woman may find she bonds with this unborn life and is conflicted about her reasons to abort & then it gets to the 24 weeks cut off date that the law states is ethical. If a mother or another person causes the death of her unborn child it is classed as murder in the U.K.

Women around the world who can’t have a legal abortion are often forced to have back street abortions.

Here is a loose retelling of a friends experience having a back street abortion.

Her partner was highly abusive. He beat her with abuse, words to have an Abortion at 25 years old. She was not given an anaesthetic & the person she paid did the abortion with a coat hanger.

It’s B/S that MOST women who have/had an abortion use or do it as a contraceptive prevention tool.

My body is mine as is all other women’s bodies are theirs. Men have ownership of their bodies. The body can be used as a vessel for life to grow in it.

It’s an incubator.

If I don’t want (for whatever reasons) a host to feed off my body zapping me of minerals, iron etc & (sounds crude) that is my choice. My body.

9 months is the average period to carry a life/ unborn life/developing life/ host to full gestation That’s 9 months of my time not anybody else.

Pro-choice is pro-life.

Pro-choice looks at multiple & complex factors in deciding to terminate the growth of a fetus -full-term baby. I don’t want a baby is a good enough reason.

Pro-lifers I ask: why don’t you adopt the orphans – all of them. Take financial responsibility, take emotional responsibility.

A possible Pro-life answer :

It’s the mother who has that responsibility. God will provide. God doesn’t give you more than you can handle. You will end up in hell if you do.

I  had an abortion at 24 weeks – I am a living person.  He would have been called Nicholas. Medical professionals advised me of the risks involved. Largactil – a medication that I was taking at that time would result in the unborn child being severely physically & mentally disabled. Risk chance probability – Over 70%

I couldn’t justify having a child who I knew could possibly live a quality of life that would merely be existing not living.

I’ve lived that kind of life.

 

Could I manage? Mentally, physically, financially, emotionally.

Eventually, I agreed with the doctors and had the Abortion in a private clinic in London.

Of course, I grieved. It was one of the shittiest moments of my life. I couldn’t take back life. I made a choice & I had to move on and make the best of my life.

I digress,

I abused alcohol, I was with a very violent & manipulative man. I should have been more responsible & used a condom. I was naive as after my abortion

How many of you who have sex use a condom all the time? A round of applause for all those who are 100% safe all the time. ( I am on a non-hormonal coil to that does the least amount of harm to the reproductory system  I bled for  10 days & tried to find comfort in my now ex, I got drunk, cried about what I had done and we had sex. That’s how it went.

I was naive when I found out I was pregnant the first time because I had thought I couldn’t fall pregnant.

I had amenorrhea ( no menstrual periods)for over 15 years of my life due to 1 diagnosis of Chronic ( something that doesn’t go away) Anorexic I wasn’t ready to put on weight when I found out. My ex was ecstatic.

His words: I’ve known for weeks. Your breasts have swelled up.

At this point, I  spent most of my time at his house. I stopped seeing my family and friends.  (paid 3 months advance on my own rent in my own home).

I was grieving & started drinking to c ope.I  was finishing my undergraduates’ degree & had a tutor who was bang out of order & a bitch towards me. I had a performance to do for one of my modules & I refused to fail. I have seen pictures of what I looked like at the time. I wanted to get a good mark. I wanted to be with my colleagues and enjoy the experience.

I had been confined to my bedroom. Against my will, He handcuffed to my bed drifting in various states semi-consciousness, unconsciousness after taking a  substantial medication & alcohol overdose. This person decided to play “God” with my life for 5 days. He didn’t call an ambulance because he was trained in 1st aid (that is what he put in his statement). It doesn’t make him a Doctor.

(2 weeks after my abortion)

I returned to college with a black eye to the final piece for summer 2010. Everyone on my course was stressed in rehearsals & had their own lives to deal with. I had cut them off & turned their back on me. I covered up my black eye with a mask when I took part in our live art installation.

I remember a tutor  ( same age as me) looked at me and she said ‘Man up’ to me. Why? BITCH.

She had paperwork and deadlines to do. …Idk maybe that is why.

Morally bankrupt and highly ignorant.

She used to patronize me & belittle me.

Now she is a mother herself so she is a Mother bitch.

I’m sure she is a great mother. I don’t care.

I was dealing with my own mental health issues, I was trying to get away from a HIGH-RISK violent relationship. I fell pregnant a week later with Isabella. I had stopped the medication that was toxic to a growing baby. That is the truth.

I didn’t leave his house, I struggled to get to college or out of the house because as I had started nightly binge eating sessions, the depressive part of Bipolar the feelings & thoughts that go with overeating and self-loathing meant that I escaped by sleeping my life away. Severely Depressed. Then I would have panic attacks and look for a way to escape from myself. I took many overdoses, cut my wrists, drinking.

I started to have blackouts when we started arguing .Especially when it turned physical/sexually abusive. It was like a switch went off in my brain and I used to have serious blackouts that continued right into the early stages of my relationship with my now-husband.

Due to childhood abuse and other male and female abuse I learned to disassociate to cope with all the trauma because my mind can only process so much. It’s very common.

It’s something that started from a young age (self-preservation).

The blackouts happened when I had been drinking & mixing it with benzodiazepines (prescribed).

Some people have said that I was confrontational or violent even. How and it was my ALL my fault said certain men who were emotionally or physically /sexually abusive to me.IA pattern for the people I attracted to my Life emerged.

I think that many the people who put me down are full of self-hatred and complexes. It doesn’t justify them with an excuse.

It highlights how many people I’ve come across in my life  (my hand is up too) who have their own self-image, emotional issues. And when feeling vulnerable or see a trait that they don’t like about themselves in someone else sometimes deflect how they feel about themselves & put it on another person. Psychology 101.

When I was dating my now-husband, he would recount events when I blacked out. What I had done. We analysed it. We would discuss at length of what I had done, what I remembered.

 I was able to get a different perspective of where I saw myself to blame along with what was not mine to own. It helped me to put things in context. How much of what was said about me (to me) was distorted?

In my experiences, it’s harder to look at ourselves rationally when we are hurting. It is can seem easier to blame another person for a fall out/ violence/ abuse.

I slowly came to realise I wasn’t to blame for every situation that happened or when I was confrontational with my words or reacted to what people said. My biggest mistake was to let a person disrespect me and still expect them to respect me.

I became more aware of certain  triggers to my behaviour and attitude. Some of it was my shit to own & the rest was abusive.

Whether it was a valid trigger from another person’s actions/words. Or whether it was my subjective/automatic reaction to (perhaps) misinterpreting someone’s words, reactions or facial expressions.

I believed that I couldn’t use my memory as reliable evidence. I believed what he was telling me. I have done this with many people in my life due to self-doubt.

 I fought (along with my true fam beside me) social services /the ex and the court jesters for 16 months. We didn’t stop until our daughter was living not just in her home but with me being her sole carer -legally. I had the experience of addressing the judge myself. Social services, and lawyers, Appointed children Guardians were instructed to sit at the back of the courtroom.

My legal team thought/hoped  I was more than capable of requesting for the shared responsibility cared order to be revoked. It’s a big achievement considering they had her up for twin tracking ( from 12 weeks old)

Twin tracking is looking at other alternatives for my daughter’s life and adoption/twin Tracking whilst the case was still live was ratified when my daughter wasn’t even 3 months old.

I  didn’t feel I could express emotion in the meeting room. There were at least 10 people involved not including from my support system because it could be used against me in court to prove I was unable to care for my child. They wanted to throw a textbook at me & tick all the boxes.  The Social service system is flawed, underfinanced, open to corruption and abuse happens in the care/foster system too

I have parental responsibility for Isabella -legally. The ex didn’t want to see her. He had contact workers picking my daughter up /dropping her back off from his house. Not a lot of Dads get that choice. One day he sent her back refused to have her in his home.

It happens to mothers every day.

I stopped having blackouts. Life was more positive. I was hiting my goals. I was happy.  I became better.

Another  blackout happened in April 2017 when an ex-friend punched me. I wish I could This led to me being assaulted by a load of yobs who thought it was justified to beat up a woman who asked then insisted that they stop recording me being punched by ex-friend. I have a broken nose from that experience.

This ex-friend can’t understand why I won’t speak to him. I allowed him to disrespect me over and over again. He thinks it is a minor tiff. I have defended myself or tried to when ex-friend assaulted me (many times) I allowed the abuse to happen cos I would accept his apologies Its in the past.

I’m lucky and deserve to be with a true Alpha- my husband. He has never put me down nor has he belittled me. Intentionally? Never. He hasn’t ever raised a hand to me though has been close to it. I am not easy going especially when I’m ill and (I don’t agree with violence) I am saying that if there is one person out of all the others who’VE  disrespected me( & tried to take away my inner fire ) Gaz would be the only person I can truly state might have been “justified” being violent to me.

He isn’t and he wasn’t.

I will gladly have another child or children when we decide and if nature gives the green light.

PRO-CHOICE is PRO-LIFE. Look at how we treat children. This image prompted a lot of words. Haha!

How many times can a heartbreak​?

I don’t know how this post is going to take form. Well, it will be in a  word press post form, I don’ know what the hell I’m going to put down or how it is going to end. All I know is that after having a conversation with a close friend of mine. I am left feeling crushed like  I’ve spiralled, fallen-  down a long dark hole of wretchedness. I should have been there for this person, so she  could  talk and unburden her darkest thoughts, instead of sitting in silence  for a long time. Someone so close to me has been living in anguished silence for so long. I’ve documented in previous posts of  my experiences with living  in a brutal and disturbing relationship.  I guess, it is easier for me to write  about what happened to me because I can detach myself from the experiences .

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LOVE IS BLIND SILENCE IS DECEIVING

NO,this may not be a good way of dealing with abuse but at least I am still writing and talking about it.

This person is my most cherished friend .  I feel I have failed to be a good enough friend. I have know this person for over 20 years. She has the most tender-hearted nature, a charitable  heart. She is strikingly beautiful. Heads turn. Looking into her eyes is like looking into a Caribbean ocean. The colour is startlingly beautiful . It’s comfortingly hypnotizing . In many ways she has always reminded me of the late princes Diana, she has the same grace and class, and is not  even aware of how alluring  she is.

We went for a coffee today and when I walked out of that coffee shop and said good bye- it felt like I was stumbling about in some ghastly trance. It was like I had floated up into the air like a bubble; I  was looking down at myself -I could see myself walking -in a dwell. Each breathe I managed to gulp down was molested with the vision and words I had heard, come out of my friends mouth. I couldn’t hear the cars nor people’s  murmurs. I went shopping and bought things in an attempt to prick this possessive bubble that had  learned how to become impenetrable.   I dumped a bunch of items in my trolley. I needed to distract the haunting picture of pain  on my friends face. Frozen- a click , a flash. A picture captured for all eternity. I had to eradicate it- censor it form my mind. 

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ERASE THIS PICTURE FROM MY MIND

Abuse as you may or may not know is not going to just go away – I’m not going to stop writing about it and talking about it. When a friend you think you know inside out,  confides in you, then you suddenly realise what this person has felt like. Feeling isolated so much that  she felt had  no one else to talk  to  because she felt ashamed. Her mind has tormented her for years..

Here is a  part of her story:

She met a man over 12 years ago. In a night club. He was the type to wear a thick gold chain and a leather jacket. Not her type at all. He said he was Italian. He spoke the language of love – He zoned in on my  friend – he had my friend marked. I saw him approach her. He bought her  a drink. I immediately  loathed this pervert. I  pushed my self through the crowd of dancers went straight up to them and I knocked the glass from his hand. I tried to get my friend away from him. I can’t control everything can I ? they swapped numbers.

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THE LANGUAGE OF LOVE

 

They started going out. For 10 years their relationship consisted of seeing one another  1 night a week. My friend was completely possessed by him . He showered her with affectionate words. She felt like a woman again. Maybe just maybe this man was going to turn out different than her previous  mis-creations. She would cook him meals and set the table – buy him slippers and a change of clothes and toiletries. She treat him like a king. A super star. No, a super hero. 

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Yes he was a king, a fake king  hiding under the robes, would in time reveal  a savage.

Let me try and get on with this post….

Um….a few months into the ‘relationship’, she found out that he had lied about his name and nationality. He was from some Arab  country and was in fact a ‘faithful’ devout Muslim. That was cool. There is nothing wrong with two cultures mixing together. In fact there is  a feeling of peace in this synthesis of different cultures  coming together -bound by love .

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AN ELEPHANT NEVER FORGETS -ESPECIALLY THE FEELING OF TRUE LOVE

Over a period of 10 years they kept on making up and breaking up. Every time my friend said she would not get back with him.

  •  One time she slept over at his house and his ex wife came was getting out the car  with balloons in her hand(it was valentines day or his birthday). She saw him with my friend and told the bastard they needed to talk. The taxi pulled up at that moment and he ushered my friend into the car as quickly as possible- turns out his ex- wife  was ‘crazy’ about him and wouldn’t leave him alone.  Come on, he reasoned with my friend,she was fat and ugly. Not refined like my friend. He only used his ex to gain access to work in the U.K.

My friend took him back.

  • A few years passed and my friend wanted to move things forwards in the relationship. She wanted him to move in with her or her to move in with him. He refused -time and time and time after time. She was enamoured  with him. She would do anything to keep him and if that meant only seeing him one night a week then she agreed to it. He never ever took her out. He never introduced her to his friends. Why? they were dodgy and he was jealous, they might try something on her.

She accepted this.

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I’m going out to play, you must stay safe in your home . the world is full of monsters.

  • My friend has an eating disorder like me . The bastard suddenly told her her body was horrible and he hated touching her. He hated thin women she needed fattening up. All she wanted was to be loved and accepted and so she grew bigger and bigger. This messed with her mind so much.Her confidence was solely in custody of this man. He played her like a puppet.

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    PIECE BY PIECE I OWN EVERY PART OF YOU

She accepted this

  • He would go off the radar frequently. He never text  or rang  my friend unless he wanted something sexual from her. Then it was  all words of armour and flattery. What woman doesn’t want to be complimented? He never helped her clean the dishes or bought her a meal. He would go back to his native home and bring back the odd false perfume. He never once offered to take my friend on holiday with him, to meet his family. Many of whom he has burnt his bridges with. She was not to know this until it was too late to save her heart and mind from a torturous misery.

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YOU MAKE UP THE COLOURS OF MY LIFE. PLEASE BRING BACK SOME SUNSHINE WHEN YOU COME BACK

 

She accepted this.

  • On one of their ‘bust ups’ he decided to try it on with my friends nemesis. He wanted to take her out. My friend found the news out from her Nemesis. The shame, the degradation. She fell further down that never ending abyss of wretchedness. Banished her to a never ending hell of lies and mind fucks. He wouldn’t answer her phone calls , texts, he punished her. He went off the radar for a few months. My friend became obsessed, she would ring him all the time. But all she got was silence. Until one day he got in contact with her and the relationship was back on.

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WHY WON’T YOU SPEAK TO ME?

One unfortunate  day , he rang her – She was over the moon to hear his voice. He had something to tell her.

What could this news be?  

He wanted too marry her?

Move in with her?

He had a surprise for her?

Oh hell yeah, he had a surprise for her:

He was  getting married to a young girl who was pregnant with his child,  he hoped that they can still maintain their one night a week ‘relationship! 

How many times can a heart be broken? how many times can it be mended? 

She accepted this betrayal  but she refused to see him. She would not. She was not some whore! An after thought. After the phone call ended  she sank to her knees heaving -sobbing. She was on the floor desperately trying to collect all the shattered fragments of her heart.  A few months later she saw him once again, in town, for a coffee. He wanted her to meet his baby. She bought the baby some outfits. This is the type of person she is, gracious and forgiving. 

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I GIVE YOU MY HEART. DO WITH IT WHAT YOU WISH BUT DON’T LET IT GO

She accepted this.

To be perfectly honest, they must have broken up 100’s of times. My friend always promising  she wouldn’t take him back. We used to have vicious arguments .

She said she was in love.

I said she had bad taste in men and needed to get help.

She got pissed off with me. It wasn’t as bad as she had made out, she would reply.

She had over exaggerated things.

I retorted:  

You mean like the time he told her to lower her eyes to him when she was speaking to him and then laughed and said he was joking?

He knew she was vulnerable that is why this serpentine creature chose her. She  was easy to control. He knew a lot of things about their relationship that my friend didn’t know. He didn’t exactly share this insight of their relationship with her, but it went something like this:

  • He knew he could abandon her and she would always take him back

  • He would deprive her of contact and she would always take him back

  • He would humiliate her by trying to flirt with her friends and enemies- even me!

  • He controlled her by making her put on an extraordinary amount of weight, in full knowledge,  her confidence would be at base level. A woman with no confidence couldn’t possibly be  attractive a man  ( this was probably his  warped strategy )

  • He knew my friend was an introvert and it was so easy to isolate her. He didn’t have to do a thing -she already had done the hard work for him.

  • He always took from her. If he had asked her  for her the  shirt on her back, he knew she would give it to him. Every week, for one night, my friend made her home cosy, turned down the lights -low,to give off a soft romantic glow. She would cook for him , serve him, rub his feet and then make him a packed lunch to got to work. She spent a lot of money on him that I suspect  she didn’t have.

  • He never once asked my friend about any issues she had and how could support her. My friend took a massive overdose,one year,  I thought she had finally succeeded this time. Her Mother was still alive at the time. He came to the hospital with a kitten stuffed toy with blue eyes, just like the colour of my friend’s eyes. He acted so concerned. Since my friends mother passed away – the money well has dried up and he lost interest again.

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THOSE EYES ARE GOING TO GET YOU IN A WHOLE LOT OF TROUBLE

I had to stop writing last night. I  couldn’t go any further with what I was putting down in this post. I don’t want to betray my friend, no body will know who this friend is. I’m speaking up for her because she is unable to speak for herself. To tell her story. She needs a lot of support and confidence building.  Care and possibly counselling.   

There is probably a bunch of stuff I don’t know. I do know that what came out of my friends mouth   yesterday- blanched me. I must of walked  out of that coffee shop, my hands immediately  felt icily cold, I had forgotten my gloves.. I was trying to fight my way through the fog in my mind . I had become numb.

This is what my quiet friend told me:

After two years of not seeing this ‘man’. She moved to a new home to start afresh, he got in contact with her a few months ago.. He said all the right things. 

  1. You are beautiful

  2. I will divorce my wife from you

  3. I should have never split up from you…

All that superficial crap.

I could go on and on. There are a lot of beautiful and courageous women in the world who feel so alone.  Women that put on there clothes and make-up everyday and smile and give as much of their time and heart to as many   people as they can. She was no fool for taking the bait. She is angry with her self – furious. She wishes she could stop loving him. WHERE IS A GENIE WHEN YOU NEED ONE?

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FINALLY THE TRUTH -YOU ARE FREE -THE HEAVENS ARE YOUR TRUE HOME

I couldn’t be angry with her for going back to him.

I haven’t slept  – I have had awful nightmares of what has been going on  for years in their relationship. My friend is naive and shy and not some dominatrix or kinky in any way at all.. And that is fine. He bites her all over and takes her from behind.

 each thrust,

each bite,

bleeding out her soul like she is some kind of piece of  halal meat. My friend always says ‘NO, PLEASE DON’T BITE ME! DON’T DO THAT, YOUR ARE HURTING ME.’ 

I could see through her and saw a vivid image of her heart -patched up haphazardly like a child’s favourite toy. Sewn up, swung about, it loses an arm, then a leg , then a tail and still she finds a way to sew back the pieces. 

He has been RAPING  you. I told her. We looked into each others eyes. She knew it felt wrong but he told her that is what people in love do!

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STOP! HAVE MERCY.

All this time and I didn’t know any of this.

She is left bruised and sore for weeks after being raped.

How can someone you love rape you?

It happens. More than you know. I came home and cried my heart out. I was shaking with anger and shock. 

I don’t want my friend to stop confiding in  me -no matter how much it kills me inside. Please people, don’t suffer and quietly die like a beautiful plant that someone forgot to tender to.

YOU ARE WORTH MORE THAN YOU THINK. 

ABUSE COMES IN MANY SHAPES AND FORMS.

Use your mouth or if you can’t speak -write it down and show someone -anyone! 

I had to write this post. It is something that I do that brings me comfort. it helps me focus and cope with life’s madness and senselessness . 

I’ve written what I can. I’m going to be a better friend.

Last night I rang her and she thanked me for ringing. I mean she didn’t need to thank me! I should have been around more often. Her voice was distant, remote. I switched off my light and put the duvet over me and all I had in my dreams was  the image of him biting her all over and raping her.

HE EVEN USED TO  ASK HER TO PISS ON HIM. 

 He is a dangerous and seriously afflicted man. 

How do I end a post like this? I don’t feel I have done justice in telling her story. I can only hope and encourage her to tell her story herself, one day. 

Domestic violence- my reflections

  • Once you’ve been knocked about and taken a couple of punches to the face DO NOT run after your partner and console him and say ‘We will work it out’

  • Do not have sympathy for his anger/ low self-confidence issues and his ‘justified’ reasons. Just because he got bullied in the army, it does not  give anyone the excuse to abuse someone

  • Don’t kind of) move in weeks into knowing the guy/gal

  • Drinking may seem like fun at the time but if you wake up and you take a good look around you and see the house is a tip/ filth everywhere, and you are a neat freak. Don’t offer to stay and help sort out the house

  • don’t allow yourself to be manipulated into ‘liking’ his sexual fetishes. If you feel dead inside while you are screwing, then it may be a sign that you are not in a relationship with healthy sexual boundaries

  • Don’t use all your money to keep him going

  • Don’t stop looking after yourself – if you love to wear make up. Don’t stop. If he loves your hair up, don’t stop wearing it down sometimes

  • Don’t fall pregnant 5 weeks into the relationship.

  • Do not allow yourself to be coerced into taking your on/off partner with you to get an Abortion. He will make you feel like a murderer for the remainder of your days with him

  • Don’t start drinking heavily after the Abortion and sleep with on/off ex days after the abortion -you may just fall pregnant again

  • Do not feel you have to take the blame for the reason he can’t keep hold of a job/ house/ or pay the bills- this might lead you to taking him and his two son’s( who he sees on weekends) to set up bunk beds in the living room  and use your your one bedroom cottage as a ‘family home’.

  • If you take a serious overdose and your partner does not seek help in the 4/5 days you are unconscious -it is not a good enough an excuse to say he knows ‘First aid’ and didn’t feel the need to ring A&E

  • If he knows you have an eating disorder and he starts to call you ‘affectionate’ names such as ‘elephant feet’ – you will probably feel shit about yourself and rate yourself a zero

  • If your cat won’t leave your side and growls and runs under the bed every time she senses your partners presence – Your cat/dog/pet might be on to something

  • If you want to get married and your partner is already married but separated and has no money to afford a divorce– maybe you need to assess your priorities

  • Don’t drink and take drugs or benzos – you will probably black out and stories about you being violent may crop up.

  • If you want to move and get out of a room and your partner blocks the way, don’t cower away

  • Don’t let your partner threaten to make you homeless if you don’t buy him a new car, because you apparently lost the keys to the car. You then find the ‘lost’ car keys in his sons drawers, after you have bought the car,with your student finance money.

  • If you need to have micro surgery on your arm after your partner smashes your arm into double glazed window. Don’t allow him to stay with you at the hospital, especially when the doctor wants a private word with you and you only

  • If you suddenly start losing all your friends and ignore their advice then you are probably firmly  tangled into your partners web.The predator’s  rules rule. You are more likely to believe your friends are false and affirm you are not likeable

  • If you have an argument on Christmas eve, when you are both drunk and you black out, and then find yourself in a cell on Christmas day. Don’t just believe your partners version of events and what he tells the police.

  • If your partner keeps on making you homeless. DO NOT  write emails back and forth begging him to let you come home and begging him/her to love you. It is a mind game. One of many that your partner chooses to control you. rendering you weak and inferior

  • If you are in a crowd with people socialising don’t look at your partner. He may give you looks like what you are saying is stupid,  it may make you stop talking because you think that his manner and expression is what every one else is thinking

  • If your partner threatens that if you ever try to leave him he will make sure your child will be taken away from you – you need to do some serious thinking

  • If you are arguing and he punches you n the stomach when you are 3 months pregnant – think about the life inside you and what his motives are for punching you where you baby is growing

  • If you go out and come back home and you get the silent treatment. Don’t fall into the trap of asking him what is up with him. He may use this as an excuse to throw you around and accuse you of flirting/ kissing another guy/s. It may also give him the excuse to ‘punish’ you sexually.

  • If your mother sees red every time his name is mentioned or when they meet up -maybe your Mom has a good reason. Ask her.

  • The first time your meet his mom and have a girlie natter over coffee and his own mother warns you not to give up your home and questions you about his drinking habits. She may be telling you something – In fact this is a BIG RED WARNING SIGN THAT THIS MAY NOT TURN OUT WELL.

  • If he sits in a corner rolling his eyes while you are in labour screaming and grunting and pushing your baby out of you -he is possibly the biggest dick ever

  • Don’t tell him he has a small dick when you are drunk. You will probably pay for it somewhere down the line. Mental abuse is pretty potent.

  • If you have to stay in hospital for longer than necessary due to mental/ physical health issues and he won’t leave your side -not even to brush his teeth or take a shower- he may just be worried someone will want to talk with you.

  • If he has to leave your side to feed your cat and the midwife asks you questions about your relationship. Talk to her!

  • If you are afraid to leave him with your child,or even for him to hold your baby -trust your instincts. Something is probably seriously wrong with this relationship

  • If you are advised to put your surname on your child’s birth certificate -maybe ask why. Someone may be trying to tell you something

  • If you keep on over dosing regularly in the relationship. Perhaps you are not happy and need to think about your options

  • If you find your partner talking to  other girls on-line and leaving the laptop wide open for anyone to see – you are been played and there is some serious mind fucking going one

  • If you have given up your home and have had to find a new home, seven months pregnant, because you have been thrown out AGAIN – perhaps this partner doesn’t give a shit

  • If your partner lets you do most of the painting in your new home  and carry most of the shopping bags in the latter stage of your pregnancy – this says a lot about his character and his views on how he sees females

  • If you are watching the ‘X factor’ with him and Nicole Sherzinger comes on in dancing and singing a provocative dress and he slams his beer down and starts shouting, that she deserves to be raped, No child of his will be allowed to dress like that- RUN!

  • If he puts his other two sons before your child -this too says a lot about his character and possibly what he thinks about the female gender

  • If you splurge out on loads of gifts for his birthday,. say you get him a watch with the names of his children and the date of  each of their birth dates engraved on the back. When you present him with his gifts, and if all he has to say is ‘you got S’s birth-date wrong’ -He is a cunt.

  • If you are in the worst place mentally and physically and are finding it hard to cope when he is around. You carry on drinking too cope when you are around him and have another blackout. You may wake up in a cell again and be told you need a lawyer.

  • Why? because your partner may have said you assaulted your child and shook her. Then he goes  to seek legal advice the next day to try and get full parental responsibility over your child-  due to your poor mental health:it is time to get your armour on and prepare for battle

  • If social services become involved and it looks like he is losing the battle and he agrees with social services to have your child adopted at 12 weeks old. Try hard not to pay a sniper to take him out

  • If you get your child back after 16 months of fighting social services and your ex-partner -and he then wants nothing to do with your child ever! THANK THE BASTARD  for finally doing something positive in the entire relationship.

Finally can I take this opportunity to tell you about the global event on 05/03/2016 –ONE BILLION RISING CAMPAIGN  . Do try and get involved wherever you live in this world of ours. I’m trying to get to London to be a part of this revolution. Money permitting. 

And finally…….