Blog Archives

Mercy for a chancer




When I say I want to disappear

By God, I truly want to conjure dark sorcery

never come back to this planet.

I’ve tried  to take my breathe  many times

 This might sound like Self -pity ( perhaps it is).

But I’m not here to get into it.

These are about my feelings.

I’m not a poet. I’m a person who has feelings & thoughts I need to express.

I’m not trying to hurt anybody.

I’m trying to live the best way I can,

I’ve tried to take my life many times (and) yet, here I am.

I do the best I can.

Deep pan Pizza, Fried Chicken,Sushi, Prosecco.

Get my fringe trimmed,

My daughter, a mermaid’s tail.

My husband.

Yes, I have sinned!

But I’m still here.

And all I want to do is disappear because I know that


Everyone I love,

Everyone I know is going to be gone.

And I wouldn’t have made the bonds with who I brought into this Life

Mor the people  I’ve met or come across.

I won’t have secured any bonds.

I am lost

I am always forlorn.


I wear my

heart on my sleeve and

I cry. I

pace this kitchen over & over

And no I don’t have an excuse for relapsing

And I don’t have an excuse for what I have done.

If there’s one thing I am certain of my heart was invested in it all.I’m trying to do the best I can!

I wish I wasn’t here. I have plans- is this a death threat?

I don’t know.

All I know is there is pizza cooking, and I’m on my last tether

Overdoses don’t do it.

Maybe hang myself?

I’m (just) so far gone. This is not even a poem.




I am sexy and I finally feel it

“Sex is a part of nature. I go along with nature” – Marilyn Monroe


We are all adults- at least I hope you are and if you are a teenager reading this post, it should empower you.


I am not shy to speak about sex, my sexuality and my experiences. I won’t go into to loads of detail. So this is not a post that needs a adult only rating.



I’ve not had any positive male role models in my life who have shown me how a  woman and her sexuality  should be treated: with respect.

My Dad and I had a distant relationship. I mean this in a role model way.

I can say that almost all of my life, I have felt like I have had to serve men. I’ve never thought about my own pleasure.  I always found myself needing to fake it ,to get through it as quick as possible ,so that whichever partner I was with at the time got what he wanted.


I have never, in all my years experienced a sexual experience where I felt safe, sober,sexy,adventurous for my own gain and respected.

It is no secret that I have been exploited by men from the age of 5 years old. I’m not going into this now because this is not what this post is about.

However,  at this age , was  the starting point for where I set my bar for what I would allow a man to do to me sexually. I have never enjoyed being touched. I  have always felt unsatisfied.

 Before G,I can recall one occasion when I had sex and felt connected and fulfilled and respected

.One of those moments where I woke up naked in the arms of this person and all our parts fit together. Each body part found a way to be not two but one.

It feels like I have had this sexual exploitation radar switched on for 15 odd years.


I didn’t know what I liked or how to enjoy myself. I attracted men who didn’t get me. In all fairness I  was a  a mighty glacier to contend with.

Some men tried to be patient but I gave nothing of myself. I didn’t know how to give anything. It all felt unnatural. They tried to chip away the ice but mostly ended up chipping away more of my self esteem and confidence.   Their words always sounded  a bit like this to me




 I forced myself to buy into to it but I never felt the urge to just go with that feeling.

In all honesty, the feeling of losing myself and expressing myself sexually terrified me, in some ways it still  does.  Saying that, these days I am not so afraid to express myself.

We are all different.


What I thought I enjoyed sexually, was aggressive and all for the taking. I gave and the men took everything they could. This power over me usually trickled over into the areas of my life.

I found that because I was not treated as an equal in bed.  Men picked up on my lack of confidence  and this automatically took away more respect they had for me as a  person, outside of the sexual arena. I was constantly mind fucked and used.


I allowed all this.

If sex were likened to golf .I didn’t know my handicap score  – I didn’t know where or how to measure it so, I lost frequently.

In ditches,

sand pits,

places that went way yonder in a forest somewhere.

Forever lost.

It became  harder and harder  to even think of trying to find my sexuality.

So, I shut down.


I’ve realised that respect and patience can’t be time limited with me.

I am that really difficult oyster that refuses to be prised open . I finally realise I  am the one with the pearl inside that has the most potential to mould and solidify into  a Somebody to be valued.

We all have varying degrees of states of sexual confidence.

All oysters have the potential to become a fully formed pearl so do humans. It is a process and a process cannot be rushed. That is unnatural . I don’t like anything fake.

 Trust and true love can’t be rushed.


so here is what I have learned about me and my sexuality

  • I can’t enjoy myself knowing there are heavy expectations on me with sex as the end product. 

  • I get turned on by the mind. Banter and talking and allowing another to open up their mind and emotions to me is sexy. It turns me on.

  • Laughter and not taking sexual innuendos too seriously is my kind of foreplay. This fore play is not time specified.

  • It is more of a build up. It has no expiry date or use by date on it. 

  • I need too feel relaxed and I need to feel safe and this takes time. 

  • I don’t use drugs or alcohol when I want to be sexually satisfied.

  • I don’t want to miss a thing (thanks Steve Tyler) I want to be fully present.

  • I only enjoy taking control when I feel like I am taking control to make sure I fee I am getting something out of it by making love or a quickie and then I find I naturally become a flirt and a bit of a tease – I do deliver but on my terms. 

  • Taking control in my way makes me feel sexy.

  • Sex doesn’t have to be aggressive. It is more fun when it is playful. 

  • I don’t enjoy gadgets and movies and lying motionless.

  • I want to move .

  • I love to be dominated.  

  • I am not turned on by  TOO much  oral sex. It is not for me. As my sexuality and experimentation grows things may change.

They may not.

I know I am having sex for me when I am asked if we should carry on. If I kiss back -pull away and kiss back and then pull away  again then I’m usually turned on and the foreplay can start moving forwards.

I didn’t realise how hard it would be to write this post.

The body and mind is a fascinating machine. It can  re learn to trust and respond.

I love to close my eyes and lay back and just enjoy the direction of  where my  body takes me.

Yes, I have had issues but all the other men (bar one)have made me feel an oddity because of it.

 The sad truth is some women never get to experience what a truly equal sexual experience is.  They may think the way they play out their sex live is truly what they want.

I have felt this too in my life. my gut instincts told me I was wrong.

If you are not getting an orgasm or somewhere close to it – bearing in mind that an orgasm doesn’t always have to be physical ,it can take place  in your mind.

If none of this is happening most of the time,then in my experience, the sexual pleasure is one sided.



To want to reciprocate for myself has been my biggest indicator yet that I am owning my sexuality and enjoying the reaction  I get from getting naked and being touched.

 I know I am loved  unconditionally.

There have never been bribes or guilt trips or “let’s try this” to elicit some response(even if it is pretend on my part) so it feels like “we” are both getting something good out of the experience.

I’ve had to go through my share of men – consented and not –to get to this point in my life.


I never ever thought, I would desire and lust and  want  to  look and feel in control. I’ve never felt sexy until now and it has been worth  been 100% worth it.

Fuck me, this was a hard post to write.. 😀

If you reading this I kind of hit publish !








The ‘if you need a new perspective’ post

So, I ended 2015 in a state of stupefied drunk despair. Regretting every action I committed on New years eve. Just over one month has passed. I’ve kept far away from the alcohol. I had my dip with my Anorexia. February life has started to pick up where I left it in December. 

Waving my hands in the air like I just don’t care! 

I’m gaining my self-confidence back. My diary is filling up – idle hands all that jazz. The wedding is coming together. I’m am delighted and a tad ‘on edge’ at the same time. 

Positive people are gravitating toward me again. To say I have to peel myself from the roof is an understatement. Lionel Richie and me are busting out some moves on the ceiling. Oh yeah, baby. Has anyone ever seen him being interviewed? He is such a dick head! There is no way someone like him could write such beautiful songs. Who remembers ‘Ballerina girl’ ? Google him in an interview and then you will get it.


 I am doing my -co-production awareness training workshop on the 16/02. All of these workshops brings me closer to getting the Eating disorder recovery group up and running. As a person in active recovery from an Eating disorder, to be able to realise this and watch it germinate and blossom like a flower 😀 and be a huge part of the process off it-is like -not being God- no, I am not Kanye Wet ( Yes, I will keep that last spelling error) delusional.  It’s more self-validating. What I mean by that is, it shows I am on a good path. A well-lit path. Like this dude. There is light in my hands I am responsible for keeping that light going and I am in charge of where I end up. Does that make sense? 

 I’ve recently posted some seriously depressing posts and I will continue to share my past with you; but their needs to be some writing room to rollick in the present. I need to  feel the quiver of fluttering,

the beating of butterfly wings, reminding myself I am indeed alive and have purpose. I think my posts need a bit of balance. I don’t know if I am the only person -I suspect I  am not. I sometimes finish writing posts that send me lunging backwards to my past and I am reaching out for the Diazepam- I can have full-blown panic attack.

The cure?    ( Great band. wrong context- or is it?)

Stop writing Daisy. 

No! I won’t!

I have a purpose.

I am a human being.

 I have a story to tell.

A past, a me right now and a bright and vibrant future.

Without me trying to get all Disney ‘Lion King’ on you  (cue African music that makes the heart swell); I believe our lives and experiences are full circles. Sometimes you are at the top and then inevitably you need to go round that circle. Of course, there will be many times when you are at the bottom. I always say

‘Look for the silver lining’.


That is my way of saying: I and you will come full circle again (eventually) . We all will get to the top of that circle of life again. The only thing I can’t tell predict is how long it will take to come full circle.

I have this belief, that if I use my time at the bottom of the circle, productively and push ahead and not do too much damage interfering with the flow. Then, I won’t slow down the time scale it takes to get back to the top again. I need to learn the lesson, feel the pain or whatever happens but I must move on. Easy words to type. Harder to put in action. However, it is possible. 

Possible is all  I  need to hold onto and go and do great things.. 

To get off the whole philosophy bandwagon. My man and his rumbustious friends 😉 are coming round to ours for ‘SUPER BOWL 2016’ night. It is a tradition in our home. I don’t want to watch a bunch of dudes watching another bunch  of dudes ‘tackling’ and touching up one another. I DO want to know who is doing half time this year. 

I don’t know if anyone saw Katy Perry and her foam mascot sharks last year?  


So here is to a fresh new week. (Great shit is happening. Everything is coming together, not at the pace or even exactly how I plan it to go, but that’s cool with me. Stuff is getting done! 

My mantra, I have used for a few months now is working. Mantras work!  Mine is:

‘I am a success in everything I do’ –

I’m fulfilling my thoughts- the ‘mini-like prayers’ that I tell myself. Find one that resonates with you. It works! I am the most analytical person I know – I wouldn’t lie to you .


Time to buzz off and get reading some of your awesome blogs and thoughts. Word reader is a bit crap. I don’t ever get to see all the posts that I follow. I don’t know if anyone else has the same problem but I will read as many as I can. 


Namaste, Soca, peace, light and love until next time.

HAPPINESS TIP:To be different is what makes life spectacular

SECRET TO HAPPINESS: Accept yourself and others for being different and embrace who you are

TRADITION:La Vela de las Autenica’s  Inrepidas Buscadoras del Peligro – (bit of a mouth-ful, roughly translated as ‘The festival of authentic, Intrepid Danger-seekers)

DATE: November

CELBRATED: Juchitan, Mexico

Being different to others can suck balls! I know from my own experiences growing up. There are all these stereotypes of how a person should fit into society. You know, like that popular girl that everyone gravitates to with the blonde/ black hair and blue/green eyes -the perfect figure. Everyone wants to know her. Then there is the Emo who wear eyes liner and grunge clothes and never smiles and gets odd looks wherever he/she may go. People stop and stare and gasp. People call him/her  a freak. Then you get the straight A student with a bad case of acne, skinny, pale and is an easy target to bully. I know I am generalising a  bit but you get my drift.


I know the world is getting it’s head around the fact that gay people , lesbian people and Trans-gender people do not have a kink in their nature, and as a culture we are more accepting of peoples sexuality choices/ race and religious choices. This step  is not enough because their is still a lot of prejudice around being ‘different’. Many people are still segregated from society because of these reasons. In a world of never ending war – British Muslims and American Muslims are being ostracised and blamed because they supposedly share the same faith as terrorists/suicide bombers. An intelligent and learned person will know that these cowardly terrorists hide behind the Muslim religion and distort and warp this faith to justify their horrific actions. There has been a lot of debate around African Americans being over looked by the movie industry. A lot of people still think that all  people who identify themselves as black, are gangsters who want to mug people or deal in drugs.

In Juchitan, the the zapotec people of the Isthmus of Tehuantepec believe and celebrate a ‘third sex’  This group or class of people includes both Gay/Lesbian and Transgender people. They are referred to as ‘Muxes’ ( pronounced Moo-shays). Muxes people are given divine sanction status and are considered a blessing to their families and within their community.  They are respected and treasured for their beauty, tranquillity and their domestic talents. 

Forget about San Francisco’s  annual ‘Gay pride parade’ being a cutting edge and bold culture in celebrating diversity. These awesome people in Juchitan were celebrating  different sexualities when G.P.P. was not even a seed -in germination mode.

At this festival -the muxes  Zapotec people dress up flamboyantly proudly  sashay around in brightly coloured clothes. They have a full on fiesta- with plenty of food, drink and revel in the whole towns attention.

What a glorious world we would live in if everyone no matter how different was accepted and got their very own party to celebrate their differences. Can you imagine it?

The message is simple: Love who you are -you are not meant to conform to one ideal of what a community or a society dictates you should be.


The final message is:  if you live in some part of the world and are not accepted for who you are, have hope, take comfort and remember there are places’people in the world  who think you are  awesome! 


Okay, this is probably the hardest post I have felt compelled to write. Where do I start? I wish I could express it in a poem but alas, I cannot.  Some people I may know might go -HOW CAN I WRITE ABOUT THIS? SO PUBLICLY? Well, feel free to stop reading right now and go and carry on living in your perfect world of whispers of your true thoughts behind covered hands. Embarrassed to be authentic to you or anyone else. – Go gossip. Does this face look bothered?


So, here it is. When I was young and innocent I naturally, like most people do, experimented with finding ways to pleasure myself. I can still remember the orgasms I  had. The pulsating in my vulva. The beating in my heart,  blood racing furiously around my entire body.


As I grew up I came to know that I was abused by my stepfather and I can’t remember all the details. One memory is all I have: I remember being tied up -hands bound together with a ball if string and someone/him pushing pens up my private parts. I only have this image and I sometimes think I made it up or did it to myself. Something must have  happened because one night,I was getting undressed to take a bath and  my mother saw there was blood all over my tiny 5-year old sized knickers. There was an investigation. Faces coming in and out like breathing in and out of a paper bag. Mouths moving. No sound.A deaf mute. I could not speak. My Mum and I fled my ex step father in the middle of the blackest night. Why couldn’t Muffet come with? Why did she have to stay with that man who used to beat us?

I cried.I love animals.  I spent a few years living with my Nan in South Africa when my Mum was too ill to look after me. This was in the days when she was a ‘manic depressive’ -so ‘crazy’ that the only cure was ECG. It wasn’t her fault she was so ill. I had normal friendships. I had my first kiss and felt the butterflies. The pulsating throb to explore some more.  Experiment.



Somewhere and at some point I started using drugs and seeking out Anorexia. My family bar my Mother and Nan turned their backs away from me. I was a problem. An enfant is terrible. Incurable and incapable of lifting my brides veil to protest to a union with the devil. I read somewhere that lace seeks to expose and reveal at the same time. I just like that statement so I  have put it into this post.

My teenage years were ones in which I stumbled in a haze of drugs and men. I was raped three times and sexually assaulted many times. I was too drugged up to know or care. Some may say I had it coming but what can I do about that now? Accept it and move one. The last time I felt able to orgasm and completely let my wild sexual being let loose, was the night I had sex with J in the swimming pool.  15/16 years old.


Anorexia was creeping it’s way in, like wet clay, into my mind. Each hour, each day it hardened and became more cemented and difficult to shift. I was lucky enough to have a few  men  who wanted to be with me/date me in my 20’s. I couldn’t reciprocate. I was an ice queen. Detached. I didn’t want to be used. All men were out for themselves and would hurt me. Ironically,  I could only get drunk and gravitate towards men that I knew  could abuse me, to the very core of my being. It got to the point where I got stuck in a vicious, degrading and a ‘make your bed you lie in it’ situation.

Yes, their were a spectrum of lovely blues, purples and yellow colours punched on me like a stamp to pretty me up. I couldn’t see the colours in my black and white world as much as other people could. People gasped when they saw me. Looked away. What is wrong with these people?


Things got messier one night. I was three months pregnant at the time. We had been out drinking ( that’s the truth- judge me I don’t give a shit) The ex got it into his head that I had been flirting with other guys and  he assaulted me in the street. I wanted to go stay anywhere  as long as it wasn’t with him but I had my cat at his house. This was one of the million times we tried to live together. I was terrified he would torture her or take out his anger on her.

So, I went home with him and he went upstairs and got into bed and I got into bed. I was trying to tell him: I didn’t do what he thought I was doing. He threw me off the bed and got up and opened the wardrobe doors and started ripping the clothes from the hangers and onto the floor. I begged him too stop. To love me again. To forgive me for what ? I don’t know. I couldn’t handle him freezing me out.

His idea of forgiveness was to grab and throw me onto the bed and take me from behind and with each thrust he counted from 10 down to 1 -I needed punishing, he said. Once the sun had made an entrance. We were sat at his kitchen table and I told him it felt like he had raped me. I said STOP. He was shocked and started to cry. He didn’t mean for it to come across like that.

He had warped ideas of love and sex and because I had forgotten what love and respect and sex was truly about, I indulged in his fantasies – hard core porn and a bunch of unnatural shit that doesn’t interest me. I was always drunk when we slept together. I was always the one who couldn’t relax and felt I had to pleasure him -all the time.

Sex was brutal and mechanical.

I remember pouring my heart out to him one night. About my past with men and drugs. His cure!

His advice to help me‘let loose’ enough to enjoy sex again was simply this:

Use my body as your temple’ 

Cheers, great advice. So much happened I can’t bear to carry one writing about what went on.

The truth is no matter who I slept with or didn’t, I  couldn’t arouse anything but a dull knock of a hammer nailing me into a state of numbness. I never sweated, I never felt my heart drumming in my chest. I told men to stop –  when the feeling of what could be an orgasm had started. I got it into my head that every time I tried to just be in the moment and I could feel some kind of stir, some kind of bubbling, a feeling, I couldn’t enjoy it and I had this sensation to go to the toilet.


I gave up on the whole idea that sex could ever be enjoyable. I have felt like some carnival freak for many years. Why can’t I let go? Why can’t I enjoy one the most natural and purest feelings that sex expels so exquisitely from the body?


I don’t want to embarrass anyone. I have to write what is true to me.  What is in my heart and mind.  I found my husband to be. The one I am marrying in June and he has been so patient with me. I still sometimes turn into a skittish deer, every time I think he wants to make love.

Make love? My brain won’t stop analysing to enjoy it.

Slowly, very slowly we are building up a  more equal and loving sex life where I’m not treated with kids gloves.

I’m adored.

I am loved.

I am alive.

I am made to feel like a goddess.


My mind has started to take a back seat. My body moves with his- so natural and primitive. I’m finding that by my true sexual self being basked in true love and respect. I radiate with pure desire and want, My soul is willing to be dominated in a way that doesn’t make me feel like a whore,in a vacant toilet cubicle, with a hole carved into the side wall of the cubicle -a perfect place for a whore to such any anonymous cock for a few pennies.

I’m working on myself.

I just want to be wild, free – to sweat,  embrace the musky scent that emanates from two bodies – writhing,   to their made up rhythmic, hypnotic beat. Each body part finds an instinctive way to place itself and just fits. I want my body to remember that sex is about me enjoying the act too. I’m getting  there. No drugs, no alcohol, no manipulation but true patience, love, trust and instinct.

Shit am I brave enough to post this?

Well, I guess so because you are reading it. I’m sure I can’t be the only person alive that has experienced a feeling of nothingness when it comes to sex….. Well, I’ve put myself in the most vulnerable position ( excuse the pun)  than  I ever have with writing.

Am I ashamed?



Why shouldn’t I discuss something as natural as sex, emotions and orgasms? I’m not living in the Victorian era. I am a woman, a proud feminist with my own sexual needs. I’m learning to let go. Stop clock watching. Stop making sure the only person to get pleasure out of the act of love is someone that is not me.


I am reclaiming my repressed sexual self -Wild, untameable, aroused and unashamed.