The Christmas I was named

The tree was shimmering, the house smelt of turkey and wine flowed as Mum kept busy in the kitchen on that magical Christmas Eve.
My mum was holding Christmas that rememberable year, all the family were coming to ours, for plates full of turkey and all the trimmings.

As we prepare to go to Christingle, followed by Christmas drinks and nibbles, Mum puts the freshly cooked turkey in our what seemed to Jane, Alex and I our huge shed.
How we loved that shed, we would spend hours upon hours playing happily in there, we would crush petals and make perfumes, bottle them up and give them as Christmas pressies to our grandparents and other unlucky relations. 😂
So off we went for an evening full of Christmas joys, carols, party games and way to much alcohol. 🍷
On our return home, Jane and I ran to our shed to carry on the game that we had unwilling left.
On opening the door we weren’t met by the smell of turkey that should have been cooling inside, instead we were greeted by every cat from our neighbourhood as well as some other cheeky buggers that gate crashed the feline Christmas party which was in full flow around our turkey 🦃
As they fled from the scene, leaving behind bones where once sat our Christmas dinner. 🤣
Jane and I roared with laughter as we made our exit from the underground feline Christmas party 🎈 Running as fast as we could to tell Mum all about the naughty kitty’s, my feet skid from under me as I fall face first down the stairs of our shed, smashing my nose as I hit the icy path below.

Christmas Eve turned manic as John (my step dad) chased cats out the garden, Mum became my own personal nurse as I covered her party dress in blood and our turkey sat in the roasting tin, naked.
It definitely was a sight to see.
Tears flowed, giggles exploded into ear-piecing laughter and Christmas was declared, cancelled.
So off to bed I go, feeling sorry for myself with my bright red nose.
As I awake to the, ho, ho, ho of
Christmas morning, Santa has come and gone, milk, mince pies, carrots have been consumed, presents filled our front room.
As we sat opening presents, an unexpected ring of our door bell sends us young ones to the next level of excitement. Standing on tiptoes, I manage to pull open the door to be greeted by a gathering of our neighbours, friends and family with dishes and dishes full of turkey and the words that would stay with me a lifetime.

“Happy Christmas Rudolph”

A Christmas nickname that would stay with me a lifetime but more importantly, memories of the not so perfect Christmas becoming the memory that first comes to mind when I think of Christmas past, the Christmas I was named Rudolph.


When perfect goes wrong, those are the memories that last forever

Two posts in one day, it’s been a while since I have done that.
I know I often write about how memories are so important, that’s because they really are the most important thing in life.
Making them is easy, you don’t even know you are.
Every simple moment with the people you love, every smile, every laugh and every song, they all turn into the most beautiful power memories.
They are so very precious, so unbelievably precious because when they are all you have left of someone, they can fill you with so much joy, love, warmth, they become everything. Even though they are ours and ours alone, someone out their has written them with you, though they may not see them in the same light as yours, they still have their own version, their own memories.

All I have left are the memories of the most incredible time of my life, the time I was the happiest I’ve ever been, the time I felt while, complete and even though the memories break my heart, I’m so glad I have them. Because without them I would be totally lost in darkness, I would have lost my soul, I would have given up on life a long time ago.
They are in some ways my saving grace because with them I know I can still feel, I can still love when I tell myself I don’t/won’t. While I kid myself that I’m no longer broken, that I’m no longer in love, that I’m stepping along the right road to recovery, my memory has a funny way of telling me even screaming at me, that without a shadow of a doubt that my heart still belongs to him, that no matter how much I try to push those feelings deep within my core, he will always be my one and only love, the kind of love that never fades.but still I will keep pushing those feelings down deep and pretending they are not there, putting one foot in front of the other, staying as strong as I can, while trying my up most to build a different life for myself and Marley-Kate.
And even though it sucks that those memories, those feeling have a funny way of hurting me, somehow they bring me some kind of peace.
How can it be, that something so very powerful be a blessing and an omen?

Memories really are funny things.
I was sat here, trying to blank out my thoughts, trying to clear my mind of all its rambling and a song just appeared in my mind. (Song below)
That song took me back to my childhood, to Sunday mornings, to the smell of roast dinners and music blasting from the kitchen. To my mum singing to her heart’s content.
The feelings that came with that piece of music, with those lyrics took me back to yesteryear and I was once again a child, playing teddy tea parties with my sister in my bed room, music and singing filled the rooms, along with the warming smell of our Sunday lunch. Even though my childhood was far from perfect, I was glad to be there once again.
That’s why to me memories are everything.
Hold on tight to them.

Flashback Friday

imageWhat an end to the week, tears, tears and more tears.
Marly-Kate has cried buckets for the last two days and there isn’t anything I can do to help her.
Why does she hate school so much. It’s breaking my heart to see her sob so deeply.
And the worst part is I have to watch her every morning when the teacher prize her off my legs.
I hate that I can’t just say “that’s it, no more school”

On a happier note, our little kitten had his bits chopped off this week and he has transformed into a different kitten.
I now have one big soppy lap cat. It’s a far way from running at our legs jumping and claiming up that happens every time he want food, lol. 😜

So it’s that time again the rewind time and look back on old blog posts.
So here it is and it’s kind of perfect for the way I feel today.

What do you do with a bully???

It been a week of mixed emotions, from anger, hate, disappointment, disgust, love, compassion.
My baby girl, started school and she hates it.
She cries every morning to the point of being sick. She exhausts her self to the point she can’t breathe because a few children have taken a dislike to her because she is different from them.
Because she can’t run as fast, and play for as long as her.
Because she likes to sit and colour or read her books.

So what do you do with a bully ?

I think I have gone through every emotion possible.
From wanting to tell the children off, to making Marly-Kate stand up to herself and hit the little bullies, to feeling sorry for the children.
To disappointment in the children’s parents for not teaching them the meaning of compassion and that everyone is different.
The school haven’t been great, and I’m at the point of taking her out because I hate, hate, hate seeing her in pain.
But then it clicked that these poor children are not to blame but it’s the sick world we live in, it’s the media, their up bringing and how maybe they are treated at home.

All I can do now is try to have compassion for them and somehow get my daughter to understand that they just haven’t been brought up the way she has.
That not everyone has a pure heart and some people are just angry at the world.

All I hope right now is that they ease off her and they don’t change the beautiful caring loving soul that she is.
Getting her in the door of her class room is the hard part.

Flashback Friday

imageGood morning and happy Friday.
Do you have that Friday feeling?
Well what a stressful week I’ve had.
Mainly down to others bad moods, that seem to be spiralling out of control.
They say a smile can spread easily so can a frown. It’s surprising how fast moods rub off onto others.
I say to you grumpy sods who have stressed me out this week, “Slap on a smile, even if you have to fake it”
Remember if the wind changes your face will stay like that. 😝
So what’s been going on in my little world this week.
Firstly its tax bill time, how I hate handing over my hard-earned money to the tax man but it has to be done, £3500 lighter and I’ll have to do it all again in January, the joys of being self-employed.🤑
Secondly, its school holidays which has to be my favourite time of the year. So this week has been full of fun, games and creating. Throw in snuggles on the sofa watching Disney films, picnics at the park and short but sweet bike rides.
Add the normal everyday tasks and a few hours work here and there and daily trips to have my blood tests and venesection if needed.
All in all, life is good, when you step past the grumpy faces and the mood swings of my cousin and others.

So once again it’s that time to share an old blog post with you.
This one was one of the hardest I have ever written and the shame I feel hits like a ton of bricks.
Thankfully I have turned a corner and I haven’t done this for a good few years now, you’ll understand what I’m on about when you read the post below.

It’s very hard to post this again as the shame and judgement eats away at me but if it can help just one person it has to be worth it.
So without further ado I give you……..

The first cut is the deepest.

My mum has asked me to write a blog, to try to explain to her why I self harm.

She asked me to try to make her understand why I would put myself at danger and why is it so hard to express my feeling in any other way.

I have self harmed since I was about 10 years old, I have always had it under control.
I’m sure reading that, you are thinking “under control, how on earth is that controlled ?”
When I say controlled I mean, I used a clean blade, made sure someone was always at home, incase I cut too deep.
That I cleaned and dressed the cut.

So maybe you are thinking freak, well you would be within your right to think so.
But please bare with me while I try to explain this the best I can.
I believe this will be the hardest blog I will ever write and I am putting myself out there to be judged by you all.
A huge risk for me to take, but if I can put my Mum’s mind at rest and even help someone out there understand a little, I believe that it is worth the risk.

I will always remember my first cut, the pain was incredible, and seeing the blood, made me feel sick and if I am honest I looked at myself and thought ” OMG I’m a freak”
I now can not remember why I made that first cut or why I did it again.
One cut I remember above all the others, I was 12 years old.
I had been through an awful chapter in my life and I felt so much emotional pain that I did not know how to deal with it.
I felt totally alone in my life and I had no one to turn to.
I picked up a Stanly blade and without any thought to it I cut my wrist.
I didn’t even notice the pain, I felt a release of all the emotional pain built up inside, leaking with my blood.
All the hurt and anger pumped out of me and I felt free for the first time in months.

After that with every cut I made, my pain drained out, my soul was free, and disappointment was gone.

But Cutting is an addiction that you cannot stop once you’ve started, that’s why its such a tragedy.
You cut to feel better but the whole time you are risking your own life.
What if you cut too deep and you can’t be saved ?
Last year, this nearly happened, I was lost and I cut too deeply and ended up in hospital. I nearly died.
If it was not for two certain people I would not be here to tell this tale. I thank them for keeping me alive.

I still didn’t learn and I cut again and again
Its was EASIER to deal with the Physical pain then the Emotional pain
But then I saw the light, I saw a different view on life and now I hardly cut at all and when I do, it doesn’t give me the sense of freedom, it hurts and I am disappointed in myself.
It’s adds to the problems, and you know what, those problems are nothing compared to others. So why am I letting them get to me.

My scars may have faded with the help of laser treatment and the depression suppressed but the urge will always be with me.
I am sure as sure that I can beat it.
Instead of looking at the bad I’m trying to see the good that surrounds me, every day is a new beginning and a new page in my book of life.
And as I have said many times, ” life is for living, a gift.”
So when I go to hurt myself, I step back and think about what if it goes wrong, what am I leaving behind, and I know that life is worth having the bad days for.
With out the bad your can’t see how good the good really is.

Life isn’t meant to be easy, it’s meant to be lived..sometimes happy, other times rough. But with every up and down you learn lessons that make you strong.
That’s what living is all about.

Self harm may help you for a split second, but the long-term damage is not worth it.
Please if you ever feel like it’s the only way, count to 10 look around you and see something beautiful, a smile, a picture, a flower, a friend, remember a perfect memory, think of your dreams and tell yourself, to be strong.
And if all else fails, remember you are loved and not alone. There are people to talk to.

And if you still can’t shake the feeling, remember this blog and throw me a message, maybe I could help.

Flashback Friday

imageAnother week has turned to dust, only to live on in our memories.
Boy I’m glad that one is over, sadly though, the memories from this week, I would rather forget. Watching my dad break, my mum pottering around like she has not got a care in the world. The deep conversations and the pain, fear and tears from my family has been damn right emotional. This week has been hard, we have cried, we have been strong, we have felt nearly every emotion possible.
But we are still standing and still determined to fight the good fight and get through this heart-wrenching time.
So I guess this weeks flashback is a little reminder to stay on top, to take one step at a time.
So here you have it “Flashback time…….”

imageA little note to myself which is so much-needed today.

Don’t be ashamed to shed a tear.
To me tears clean the soul so you can once again see the beauty around you.

Being vulnerable only shows that you’re able to face the truth.. even the hard truth.. with dignity and with heart.

Open yourself up. Allow yourself to feel no matter how hard or torturing it may be.

Take down any emotional brick walls you have built around yourself and experience every emotion, both good and bad.
This is real life, you can’t hide from it, you can’t hide from the devastation, the hurt, the pain, the sorrow,the lose, the emptiness.

For what are we if we don’t feel?

We become cold-hearted, lost souls with no heart.
It really is ok to break down once in a while, you won’t be weak because of it.
And even though no amount of tears, pain and heartbreak can fix you or change anything, it’s better than closing down and denying what you feel. (I’ve been doing this a lot lately, not even admitting my true feelings to myself because the emotional pain is to great, to intense, to good damn painful.)

Your emotions are part of you, they are you.

Flashback Friday

It’s Friday, whoop, whoop
Time to reflect
So without further ado, I give you……
Our hearts are drunk with beauty, our eyes could not see.

I read something today, which made me think about beauty and image.

If Barbie was an actual woman, she would be 5’9” tall, have a 39” bust, an 18” waist, 33” hips and a size 3 shoe. Her head would be the same circumference as her waist, meaning she’d have room for only half a liver and a few inches of intestines. The result: chronic diarrhea and death. Also, she would not be able to menstruate. If Barbie was a real woman, she’d have to walk on all fours due to her proportions, her feet are so disproportionately small, her chest would pull her forward onto her toes.
Barbie calls this a “full figure” and likes her weight at 110 lbs. At 5’9” tall and weighing 110 lbs, Barbie would have a BMI of 16.24 and fit the weight criteria for anorexia. Because Barbie’s neck is twice as long as the average human’s, it would be impossible for her to hold up her head.

And yet this is the ‘person’ almost every teenage girl longs to look like.

I have worked in fashion for over ten years now, but I hold very different views to many others in the business.
I don’t follow trends and dress to please me and not others
To feel comfy is the most important in my books.
Why dress like everyone else just to fit in.
Why be a sheep, just to feel like you are on the same level as others around you.
Each person is very different in personality so why not show this through what you wear.
Show the real you.
If people are going to be your friend, shouldn’t it be for who you are and not what you wear.
It should be about inner beauty, that shines from your soul.

As for what makes us beautiful, what is it that people see?
Do they see just your shape, your size, your bottom or your bust, and make their judgement, just on these?

Is it your face, your bone structure ?
Or do they look deeper ?
Your smile, your eyes, the way you play with your hair, or stick out your tongue while thinking.
Is there something more than we first see ?
Is there an energy that draws them to you. Inner beauty maybe?

For me on first glance it’s the eyes that capture my mind and heart.
Looks do not mean anything, your just a shell of bones, muscle, fat and skin.
What lies beneath this shell is what I call beauty.
This is you.

Not the clothes you wear, the make up you plaster on, in an aid to make yourself more beautiful.
Strip away the make up, and you are already more beautiful.
Look deeper at a person to see who they really are, who you really are.
For Beauty is not in the face; beauty is a light in the heart.

Rejoice in the lines that grow with age, as each have a story to tell.
Dress how you want, be as wild or as plain as it suits you.

As my dad tells me often
“The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched – they must be felt with the heart”

So why is it, that some people can not see past skin, body shape or the clothes they wear?
Why do we feel we have to follow trends and fit in ?
Why have we become clones of each other.
Why are we loosing our own personalities to fit in ?

I hope to blog about this at a later date, but it’s food for thought for you.
And please remember, these are just my views. They could be wrong or right.
It’s up to you to find your own and grow as a person through what you believe in.
Never give up your own views or personality to suit others
Be head strong and true to yourself because only you have to live with yourself .

Stay safe and free
Be you .