me myself and i
They say that we all have a "Guardian Angel".
Someone with our best interests at heart, "watching our back", ready to step in and fight our corner the minute that things start to get tricky.
Except that when I was drinking, I didn't need a Guardian Angel. I needed a full time carer. Preferably one who didn't sleep and who was happy to work 25 hours a day, 8 days a week.
"I'm gonna pick up the pieces, and build a Lego House.....if things go wrong I can knock it down...."
He's a clever guy Ed Sheeran - writes all his own material, sings, plays several musical instruments and has a house made out of Lego.
Funnily enough, so do I.
Because Lego is cool. Lego is the future....and my Lego house rocks....
I didn't have the best of weekends.
I got chatted up, which was nice....
By a homeless, drug dealing alcoholic which wasn't quite so....."nice".
On the plus side, I was stone cold sober. So he didn't manage to get my number....Although it did take me slightly longer than it should have done to see right through him and send him packing.... mainly because I try to see the best in people, which is why I was even talking to him in the first place.
If you asked my male friends to sum me up in two words they would use this as a description.
Big hair. Nice arse.
I have a sparkling personality, nice eyes and white teeth too but "Big hair" and "Nice arse" are the dealbreakers....
I stand out a mile because of these badboys. Which is something I didn't think I'd ever be able to say again - Because my addiction took the lot.
Living with an addiction is horrific.
It's Groundhog day. Where the only thing that changes is the amount and severity of bad shit that happens to you.
I still can't believe that this is how I used to live my life.
Or that a typical 24 hours went something like this.
And that, believe it or not, this was what I would class as a "good day" ....(because I really don't want to talk about the bad)....
Welcome to a day in my life back then....
I've had better. But I've also had a hell of a lot worse.....
I don't like my head today.
I don't like the way that it feels, I don't like the thoughts that I'm having, and I really don't like the way that it is talking to me right now.
Today my head is telling me that I'm ugly. That I'm fat.....and, horror of horrors, that my depression is coming back....
My depression is coming back....
Once upon a time there was a girl who lived in a caravan.
She used to have a house but then she used to have a lot of things. That disappeared, like magic...."Poof!!"....
When her husband left her to "go and find himself " which, the girl later discovered, involved hotel rooms in Brighton and a mysterious other woman.....
I remember how scarily brilliant this film was when it first came out. It scared the shit out of me. I was on the edge of my seat with a cushion over my face for at least half of it.
Can you imagine that?? Like if that actually happened to you??
Because you've just happened to cross paths one day with someone who decides that they want what you have. And so they decide to take it....with or without consent. And fuck the consequences...
But then that would never happen obviously. Because Single white female is just a film....
Earlier this year, a very clever lady gifted me this website. She designed it for me herself. Because she wanted me to write.
She said that it would help me to make sense of the stuff that was going on inside of my head. And that once I made a start on trying to get this stuff out of my head and into the open, that a story would start to emerge....My story. Because she thinks that it needs to be told.
Birmingham New Street train station main entrance is not the place for a meltdown. This is what I am telling myself as I wave goodbye to the taxi driver and attempt to drag both myself and my bags through the automatic doors towards the turnstile.
I'm tired, wired and just really need to catch my train today. So, tempting as it is to just sit on a step with my head on my knees and make the world around me go away right now, it's not really an option for me at the minute.
My Barbie was a Super-Model. No matter what I dressed her in, what accessories she wore, she always looked amazing. Because I had no doubt at all that she could rock any style / any colour / any combination - I believed in her.
In my eyes, Barbie rocked. I actually wanted to be her. She set the bar and all of the other dolls followed (in dolls world anyway)....
It's pissing down.
I'm lying on my bed listening to the rain.
In the distance someone is playing the guitar and there's a magpie dancing on my roof. I'm in the middle of nowhere in my new little house. In my backyard are sheep and cows, buzzards, owls and a peacock.
I'm attracted to chaos like a moth to a flame.
I always have been. Since I was a child - Subconciously re-creating car crash scenarios.
I know where I am with chaos. I know "what to do". It's all I've been used to. Noise and uncertaintainty and drama. So I've always had a plan B for when plan A goes wrong. Which is most of the time.
12 months ago I was unemployable.
I wore the same crumpled clothes for days on end, rarely showered or brushed my teeth and my hair was matted and tangled. I weighed just over 6 stone and was so thin and malnourished that I struggled to walk.
My friend Nathan knows me pretty well - We spend a lot of time together. A lot more time than we used to actually, now that I'm sober and capable of stringing more than just the odd sentence together.
Tonight we are talking about my drinking days. I don't really want to have this conversation but it's Nath and he was worried for a while and so I know that I should.
I take a sip of my drink, grit my teeth and prepare myself for a bumpy ride...
Before I became ill and way before I became a writer, I had a completely different life.
I was a fixer. A magician. A person who performed miracles and made magic happen. If people said that it couldn't be done I would prove them wrong by being the person to do it.
He's home alone.
For 5 days. His housemate's away. Do I want to come over?.....
That should have been a stupid question. Normally I'd be there like a shot...But right now I don't know.
I'm mulling it over in my head. Pro's and cons. Fantastic sex on tap versus potential emotional fallout. Because as much as I want this guy, I'm not sure I want to play this game any more.
Six months ago when I met him, this would have been top of my wishlist. He's cool. I love hanging out with him. But a lot can change in six months. And I have changed beyond all recognition.
My inner fox is begging me to do this. In the bedroom we are fluid. We know instinctively what to do to blow each others heads off. The last person to make me come was him. In a hotel room. Booked last minute because we couldn't bear to wait a second longer than we had to before we got naked. Just us....our massive desire for each other, and two novelty toothbrushes that we grabbed from the Co-op along the way....
Check-in took forever.
And then it was just the two of us. In the same room. Unable to keep our eyes or our hands off each other.
We didn't make breakfast....
It was awesome.
A repeat would be incredible. More of the same and God only knows what else. There's only one problem.
I'm not a booty call. His or anyone else's.
I would love to do this. He knows my body better than i know it myself. And vice versa. But after my journey through detox and rehab and looking back at all of the wrong turns and "not quite right" men that have got me to this point, where I am now sat here writing this, I've realised that I don't want it.
Because the next person I get naked with is going to want more than just five days. I don't want to be strung along, promised the earth and then be left dangling. It's insulting. And bad for my self esteem. I've been through enough now. I'd rather be by myself.
I've never been able to say that before. But it's true.
He's messaging me as I write this. Small talk. Chit chat. Building up to the main event. Which would involve me and him getting naked and picking up from where we left off...I can't say I'm not tempted....
Except it's not going to happen. He can call all he likes. It doesn't mean that I have to pick up the phone..for the first time ever I'm putting my emotional needs first.
Because if this is a booty call then I've done myself a favour....I don't need the headfuck, and if it isn't, well....he needs to raise his game and show me that it's more.
God, this feels weird. Like I've been swapped. With someone who actually has some self-respect....
Wow. Go me....it's only taken me 30 odd years to find some....
Before I met M I was a fox.
That's not me being big-headed. I just was. I was confident, outgoing and liked to show my seductive side.
I used to have flings. Wear pretty, girly playsuits and dresses with sky-high heels. I Drank Champagne; dabbled in Class A's in swanky hotel rooms. I was careless and fearless. I knew who I was and where I was coming from..
Then I let somebody steal my sparkle.
He was drawn to my face, my figure and my confidence. But then used them as weapons against me.
At first I didn't notice the signs. But then they became unmissable. And inner fox went down the rabbit hole - having found herself surplus to requirements.
My pretty dresses became jeans and leggings. My heels became converse and ballet pumps. My make up went from elegant and girly to muted, then faded....then non existent. My beautiful, crazy cave-womanish hair that always drew compliments was hidden in buns and side ponytails. So that I wouldn't attract attention.
It wasn't enough.
Every man who glanced at me wanted to take me to bed. Most of the women too....according to the way that M's mind worked. In his head I was constantly out shagging the world the minute that his back was turned. I couldn't keep up with his accusations and escalating violence. Because of course I needed to be punished for being so "available" to everyone who crossed my path.....He drained my vitality and left me with ashes.
Anyway, that was a year ago.
I left him. Although not before significant damage had been done to my head and my confidence.
I've been trying to rebuild for a while. And now I'm taking my power back.
Despite his "encouragement" and suggestions that I "donate" my "old" wardrobe back then to the charity shop, I didn't. I kept hold of my pretty dresses and my shoes. Well, the ones that he didn't manage to wreck anyway....
They are here, now, in my wardrobe.....
I unpacked them today...
Because inner fox has been missing for too long, and I want her back. I miss her. She completes me.....
So today I have made what I used to call an "executive decision"....and I am going back down into that rabbit hole. But I'm not staying long. It's just a flying visit. And when I come out I will have both my inner fox and my sparkle back....
And this time I'm keeping hold of them....
Last night I went out for dinner with my friend Nath. We come from the same town although we didn't cross paths there - We met hundreds of miles away in Cornwall about 4 years ago when we were work colleagues and I recognised the accent.
He wanted to tell me about his latest love interest. Bound to be interesting, as Nath is as good at choosing women to date as I am at choosing men. We regularly catch up to swap our dating horror stories. His are pretty good, although to be fair, I usually win.
On the way to the restaurant we narrowly avoided an accident. A car missed us by seconds coming side on as we crossed the roundabout. Luckily, there was no accident but it was an incredibly close call.
I messaged the guy that I am currently sleeping with about half an hour ago to tell him about our near miss. He hasn't replied, despite reading the message.
So that's probably all I need to know really.
A simple....oh my god, hope you are ok would have been great...but nothing??? Wow. That's bad, even by my standards.
So that's that then. Another one about to bite the dust. Because I am all out of making excuses for a guy who can't even tell me that he's happy that I'm still around, but is more than happy to be sharing my bed....
I'm done with pulling the short straw every single time.
So if and when he does actually bother to reply to my message, I'm going to tell him exactly where he'll be sticking his straw from now on.
Right Up his a**e.....
Because I am royally "fucked off".....and as of about 4 hours ago now, so is he.....