Pool in Chapter 3 : The Single Life

Things have been chaotic, manic, upsetting, devestating, heartbreaking , soul destroying,
We all know that I got made redundant?
Yes, we do, or we do now.
We all know that I went back to bar tending?
Yes we do.
I loved that job.
I’m moving back to Ma’s.
This we also know.
I move next Wednesday.
It’s causing me to reflect on a lot of things.
Especially my childhood.
And my parents divorce and the Hell that engulfed that.
I’ve been thinking about how I’m probably the one who knows every single persons side of the story.
As a child, and even now I had to listen to every member of my family bad mouth the other side, as an adult that’s fine, I don’t care, yet no-one thought it was an inappropriate thing to do when I was a child. Is it any wonder I wound up so messed up? In a life filled with never-ending dramas, destruction, confrontations and devastation, a constant stream of “you’ll do what we say not as we do…” is it any wonder that I sought control?

I have often felt that I was the black sheep.
For many varied reasons :
= I’m not as bright as the others
= I’m not as thin as the others
= I’m far thinner than the others
= I smoke
= I dropped out of school
= I left home at 17.
= I didn’t go to Uni when I was supposed to.
= I have tattoos
= I have piercings.

Well you know what?
NO MORE.
I don’t care what ANYONE thinks of me,
not friends,
not family,
no-one.
The only persons opinion that truly matters?
My own.

= I am NOT thick. I am Dyslexic. It just means I learn differently.
= Sixth Form was not the right decision for me.
= I left home because the situation I was living in was getting worse by the day, and I had nowhere to go except for the places that I found myself.
= At 18 my head was not in the right frame if mind for University, it would have been the wrong decision.
= I LIKE MY TATTOOS AND PIERCINGS. I like modifying my body. It is ART, it is beauty.

I am not a black sheep.
I am me.
I may not love myself,
I may not even like myself,
but I know I deserve the best,
I know I deserve a damn sight better than what I’ve been given these past 23 years.
I know that I can and will fight to give myself the best, in the hope that one day I will see myself in a positive light.
One day I will like myself.
One day I will love myself.

I am so goddamn strong that I think I’m weak.
If I was weak I would be dead by now.
I have fought to get where I was.
I got thrown to the ground by an incredibly feckless, irresponsible, selfish, woman,
she may have destroyed the little life I had built up,
but I will tell you all right now,
I will not allow that woman to destroy the person that I am,
or who I hope to be.
I can rebuild.

I have come through so much
I’ve been a child dragged on the run,
I’ve been homeless,
I’ve been sent pillar to post to be cared for,
I have lost so many people close to me.
I’ve been anorexic.
I am an anorexic in recovery.
I’ve been bulimic.
I am a bulimic in recovery.
I am a self harmer.
I’ve been physically abused.
I’ve been emotionally abused.
I’ve been molested by my stepfather.

You think I’m going to let this situation destroy me when I’ve come through all that?
Fuck my actual life.
I will never be destroyed.
I will always be in recovery.
I am always gaining strength.
I am always gaining knowledge.
I am always gaining power.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Last updated January 14, 2018