Welcome to my blog

My new website landing page is now LIVE

My website
I have started this blog because I am writing a book and of course, I want people to know about it. I see the whole thing as a journey and it’s very much therapy for me too.  This is where I’ll share updates, run polls and competitions (decent ones,  promise), and exclusives! Most importantly, I hope to be able to reach out to others affected by the subject matter. Specifically those that have come to realise this later in life as I have. I’m 40 (but going on 12 most of the time).
I am writing a book about me. Not in some grotesque narcissistic “oh look at me” fashion, but in a poetic one. I enjoy the state of catharsis that writing poetry puts me in. It calms my mind. My mind is a ridiculously noisy and busy place.  ALL THE TIME. I have anxiety disorder.  I do not want or expect there to be any reaction to that other than “oh ok” because it is…OK.

It of course means that at times I go batshit crazy for seemingly unimportant reasons over apparently insignificant things that most “normal” folk wouldn’t think twice about – like having to speak on the phone, like having to navigate a town center or shopping, like meeting people, like whether everything is just so all the time – because any of those situations and a fair few others can send me into emotional and then physical meltdown at any time. Anxiety is not just feeling a bit scared of something or worrying about something….It’s a systematic failure of appropriate emotional reaction to everyday stresses. In a nutshell. Our brains and subsequently our bodies become overwhelmed with the flight or fight reaction….Allow me to demonstrate through the medium of gifs….

*A Decision* hello

*Anxiety Disorder* …

*A Decision* I’m still here….

*Anxiety Disorder*

*A Decision* …..

*Anxiety Disorder* 

*A Decision*

*Anxiety Disorder*

You get the idea….

It’s ridiculous to be honest. And yes, I’m well aware I may get some flack for that.  But seriously, you do not want to get me started on the subject of “a medical diagnosis” … But I digress.

The subject matter of my book:

I’m a survivor. Of childhood sexual and emotional abuse…But I’m not really a survivor. I have anxiety disorder. I’m still a victim. I’m still affected by the things that I have not been responsible enough to properly face. I’m still running. I’m still hiding. I’m still faking. I’m still running off an old and corrupted operating system. 

“Survivors” Are Vista. 

We break easily. And if we’re honest we get just as exasperated with it as everyone else does.

My story is about my life as I remember it, from those earliest of moments to times  of change, to dark places, to happy places, and finally to where I sit now, strangely, frantically typing this blog on my keypad. 

It is not all words and scenarios and dialogue….Very little of that to be honest.  It’s a book of  verses interspersed with brief wanders down memory lane and the realisations that spring from them. It’s personal but might apply to others?

I am getting better every day for doing this and I am massively grateful for every single soul that cares enough to pay it a moment of their time. I have made some amazing connections with some amazing people lately. People who have been there. Seen it. And are still here….Because that’s what matters now…We’re still here. I’m still here. So thank you all. 


I’m fine…

Anxiety is shit. It really is. But do you know what else is more shitter? Being a shitty person with shitty anxiety.

I’m a shitty person. I try so hard not to be but at the end of the day I always fail.

Issues I think are important never seem to be and things that are important seem to flash by me. This tends to leave everyone around me either pulling their hair out or trying not to pull mine out.

I disappoint all the time and I truly hate myself for it. I try to combat it with positive thinking and watching my actions and stopping that voice in my head from taking over, but at the end of the day, I always seem to crap out. 

And this book….Appears to be nothing more than just another way for me to pretend I’m a decent person by doing something that appears to be decent. But when the keyboard is gone what’s left? Me. Just stupid selfish precious little me that hasn’t got a clue how to function normally…Whatever that is. But it has to be better than being this all the fucking time which is pathetic.

I’m still writing the book. I’m still going to do this because I promised myself I would and even if no one else has a spot of interest (and there are many) I’m doing this for me. To prove that I can. And when I do I’ll be able to hold my head up proudly if only for that.  I fail at most things. Always have no matter what I do. People go all Yoda on me, stop “trying” and start doing. Thing is they have no idea how much I try and how I stumble when it comes to knowing what to do. For some, it will never be enough no matter what I do. And some will never see change because they prefer not to. 

I’m fine. But not. Onwards……?


Yep, that’s me up there. Hi!

It’s bank holiday Monday here in the UK. Which is basically a national day off – except most businesses are still open and it always rains. 

It is raining today. 

As a child I loved hot weather. The sun. Beaches. Pools. But I could never really enjoy them because I have Vitiligo – 98% coverage in fact, which means I’m pale all over and never tan. I just burn. so actually being in the sun for me is a hazard. Yes,  I could cover myself in carcinogenic suncream  (no thanks) or I can cover up, or avoid it all together.  My choices aren’t great. And I miss out on a lot. Plus,  I have no idea how I would look with “normal” skin. Not even tanned skin, just a normal even tone that doesn’t make me look like I’ve been dead a while.

Yes, I also know it’s a silly thing to complain about. it’s only skin and we all know how harmful sun exposure is for our skin (which is odd if we are indigenous to the planet 😕). So I ought to celebrate my English Rose complexion and be thankful for my non affected by chemicals or tanning products skin….And I suppose (with a slightly heavy heart, for curiosities sake) I am. It’s another thing that makes me unique.  And unique should always be celebrated!!


I felt super sad the last couple of days.

I’ve been trying so hard to just crack on and do at least something each day. But my many and varied issues keep getting in the bloody way. I’ve spent some time regrouping…and crying (seems to be a requisite of self improvement) and I’ve made it out the other side….Even so, it’s harder work than I anticipated.  

I beat myself up about something stupid. Which is stupid. So I beat myself up about that too. I’ll just shoot myself now….

But….Writing a book is about opening yourself up to the story and letting it take you where it will. If you try to control the direction too much, it will only fight back and be awkward.  

But sometimes,  that process of opening can leave the writer vulnerable.  I’m not sure if that makes sense…??
I feel vulnerable right now. Stripped bare and on show…And more than a little alone. But I can accept that. Its a lonely road, writing, But im still on that road. And I am eternally grateful for all of you who take the time to read my words.  Thank you!! Have a blessed day. 


Oh…And to the bastards that want to bring me down….Try harder.


Sometimes,  when one stumbles upon a new perspective it can throw your entire world into disarray…Albeit briefly. 

My biological father left.  My mother never seemed to have the time to notice my cries for help (attention….but who’s keeping count, huh?), and to be completely honest it was all so damn fucking easy. 

My mother married #2 because he was solvent. He could bring her a better standard of living.  Something she felt she was more deserving of.  A council flat and cleaning other people’s houses was beneath her delusions of grandeur. With #2 she was able to buy a 3 bedroom house. Something she never could have been able to do as a single mum. 

Do I sound ungrateful right now?  Read on…

You see, my mother never loved #2. He creeped her out.  She would confess to me how his nightly sexual advances with his “creepy fingers” would make her skin crawl. She would proudly tell me of times she had laid back and thought of England and he’d still had a “good time”. 

She neglected him too. I remember a time after he had had a massive car accident and totalled out his pelvis and femur and had to learn how to walk again, she came home late. I had been in bed. She was covered in flour. She’d been making pasta at a friends house.  She’d been out playing hide the meatballs with potential #3’s in reality. There was an argument. My mum pushed #2 backwards when he was on the stairs…she encouraged me to laugh at him along with her. She called him weak. 

So, my new perspective question  is: should I be surprised that he sought out some form of comfort from the one person that didn’t shun him? Let me know in the comments. I appreciate honest opinions all the way please 😊

He was a weak man. Far weaker than my mother ever imagined. 

I’m not excusing his actions.  He was an adult. I was a child. A desperate for some attention child, but a naive, innocent child nonetheless…But that brings up anoher perspective I’m not comfortable considering yet…😕


I remember my dreams. And they’re in colour. 

I say this because I know not everyone is as lucky.  Some never remember their dreams. 

There are nights when they are so disjointed and make such little sense that they fade the instant I try to remember them. But I persist.  I believe our dreams are more than just crazy rewiring of the brain during sleep.

I’ve received many answers to many questions I’ve had through studying my dreams.  Much poetic inspiration too. 

My dreams are a mixed bunch. Sometimes happy and insightful. Other times,  dark and ferociously upsetting. I wake up crying a lot. The nightly emotional rollercoaster can be overwhelming at times. I feel shame and guilt…Elation and joy….Desperation and frustration. Sometimes all at once. Those are fun nights 

But there is always a message to be garnered from them somewhere in their depths.

I tried keeping a dream diary once. But seriously, who wants to wake up and immediately start scrawling down nonsensical jibberish before they’ve even had a wee? Now, I just gently remember. Allowing any images,  sensations or feelings to come of their own accord. If they flow freely then I’m meant to learn something.  If they remain elusive then I don’t worry about it.  Now is not the time for that lesson…But it’s coming  😉

Pay attention to your dreams. They are a part of who you are and what you have been through and where you are heading. Or maybe we are always dreaming…

A dream within a dream…?


I’m having issues with WordPress. No gifs on text.  The tech gang are on it…Apparently. Meanwhile….

So having tried writing this several times mostly to make it look grander and the universe saying “I don’t think so.  keep it simple stupid.”

So here I am.  Being simple.  

It’s a red flag day for me. I’ve finally done it.  I made the decision to let someone love me. And love me their way, not the way I think it should be done as per my fantasies.  

You see, like a lot of other people who have had the sort of past I’ve had,  I live in a dream world most of the time.  I make no excuses for it. I’m a day dreamer.  I got in trouble at school for it and still get in trouble for not paying attention now.  it’s an issue I’m dealing with. but it’s also intrinsically part of who I am. I like my daydreams. 

Thing is, when you have many fantasies, you tend to forget that others can’t see them. No matter how strongly you wish for it, or how much it saturates your every second,  no one else can read your fucking mind.  If you live by your fantasies you’re always going to be disappointed.  And that’s when people  just “make do”.

You’ve seen it. you know what I’m talking about.  Just making do.

Make DO with the loveless marriage.

Make Do with the unfulfilled life.

Make DO with the crappy job…

And so on…

Live honestly.  You can have your dreams. But don’t expect others to have them too. You can stop love that way. Simple as that. your expectations can never be reached if they’re based in dreams. You’ll always be disappointed. And if that’s aimed at someone who loves you, you’re blocking their love. 

I’ve decided to let my  partner love me in his own way.  To stop trying to be what I think he wants, to stop competing and demanding. To just be me so he can be him Now, I see it in everything he says and does. And I believe it….And the universe has smiled at me for it too. In its own little way. 

So Yeh,  be yourself. Let others be themselves too. Let love in. stop blocking it. 


I have something to figure out. There is something I need to give my permission to within myself. I’m not sure what it is, but it’s at the core of ALL my issues. 

I don’t much like myself if I’m honest.  I’ve been destructive. False. Deceptive. Dishonest. And mostly to myself all my life. It of course bleeds through to the rest of my life. Everyone I come into close contact with is affected. My self loathing.  My false behaviours. My anger. My cover up stories. I never mean to hurt others.  I’m trying to protect them from me. But even that is an excuse. 

So what is it I’m not giving permission to ?

By permission I mean, what part of me, what aspect of my being am I NOT allowing to BE?

I know it’s linked to my sense of worth.  My sense of being good enough…Of not being good enough. D’oh….That’s it. 
I need to rewire myself to KNOW i am enough. 

Not even just good enough. But just, enough. 
You’ll always be not enough for some people. That’s their problem not yours. Those are their expectations and it’s not your responsibility to meet the expectations of others all the time.

Other people’s happiness, is not your responsibility. It’s not mine either. 
For those whom you are enough you will never need to change or hide who you are to any degree. Those who need to change your really need to change themselves but are too afraid to do so. It’s called projection or some shit..

Anyway….Yes. I hereby give myself permission to be enough. 

If I’m not enough, let me remember that I still AM,  but not for everyone. And that’s fine.  As long as I am enough for ME. I must be content with myself.  
That’ll do for today me thinks. 😊


Sometimes are easier to write than others.

Sometimes the words  just flow and ease themselves onto the page.  And sometimes they are stubborn and refuse to even materialise in my mind.

Sometimes the inspiration to write something comes out of the blue. I may not even have been thinking about whatever I end up writing about in the first place. But the universe knows best.  I take my lead from my gut.

Sometimes I write from the heart. Sometimes I write from the head. Sometimes I write from a completely different perspective.  

Sometimes I understand it. Sometimes I don’t.  I don’t believe it’s my place to undrstand it anymore. So I just go with it. I don’t believe in writers block.  Although I’m sure many writers will disagree.  I think it’s just that sometimes,  writers get so focused on the goal of completion that they never open themselves properly to the start. If the tale is in you then the words will always flow. If it’s not really in you then you’ll have to find the words. Like when you redirect a river to run a mill. The water will still flow – eventually – but not on its natural course. 

Keep it flowing 💚

The Universe intervenes…

The Universe,  I am convinced,  is an actual thinking, feeling, processing entity of some sort. Crazy huh?

Thing is, it intervenes with everyday life ALL the time.  Whether you recognise it or not. 

If what you are doing or thinking is somehow out of balance with what you should be doing or thinking,  you can guarantee the universe will scupper your plans in some inventive way. 
For instance, I have a huge personal issue with how much quality time I get to spend with my partner. He works a lot and I’m tied at home with our son. I believe putting  aside “us” time is vital. But the universe doesn’t always agree.

Writing this book has opened my eyes even further to the divine workings of the universe.  No, I don’t believe in God.  I do not equate the universe to God. It’s something much cooler. But just as unknowable (if it so chooses).

I guess what I am trying to say us this: listen to something other than your own desires sometimes. You don’t know best. And if you don’t play nice the universe takes your toys away and puts you in the metaphorical corner for time out.

You may scoff…But take a look. You’ll see it. And when you do you’ll realise you’ve been playing by the wrong rules all along… The universe can both provide and taketh away. Learn it’s language. It’s worth it. 

PS: The earth is not flat. Just saying  😉



The more I think about it the more I realise how much I am selling my soul just by adhering to the “accepted norm” when it comes to self publishing.  Yes, it may be good to prostitute yourselves out to gain email subscribers therefore securing better chances of good financial gain when you actually do publish. Which is also, good. 

But is it right?

I can’t honestly profess to be comfortable with doing it if I’m honest.  So let’s do this instead….I’ll stick up a newsletter here. All details of polls and competitions will be open to ALL!

Enough of this divisive elitist behaviour from me just to look the bloody part. At the end of the day, if people buy and read my book it will be because they want to. Not because I have sweet talked and bribed them into joining a “special members only club”. It offends my morals.

If you want to enter the upcoming competition or would like to contact me you can do so here on my FACEBOOK profile


So Yeh, that’s how I’m going to be now. Honest to myself. If I only sell one book (the one I buy) at least my integrity is intact. And that’s more important than people realise these days.  

Most everyone has facebook these days so I’m hoping people will be more comfortable connecting that way.  👍👍👍👌✌