One Of Those Days

SWIMMING

Up as usual and went to the pool as usual. However, I felt rough, my left arm went numb again and I found it really hard to swim. Felt like I was in treacle. I didn't push it as I am going to a show tomorrow so I got out after only 36 laps. I now feel quite knackered but cannot go to sleep until this evening so that I sleep plenty before the show.

BEREFT

I had those feelings again this morning. I was listening to my Ipod in car and Spanish guitar music was playing. Made me feel bereft. Not sure why Spanish music has this effect. It either does that or makes me feel 'homesick' but for where I have no idea. I got to thinking, whilst in the water, about trust and how much difficulty I have with trust. Not surprising considering my primary relationships-parents and brothers- were all destroyed by betrayal. Once you know you cannot trust your family, trust becomes a really serious and difficult feeling to have. I am not sure I trust at all today, certainly not 100%.

HAPPY TIMES

Between leaving Singapore and going to Australia, I spent several months living in Gibraltar with my mum and two brothers. Although I know we were all there, I don't recall my elder brother at all during this period. Mt father was not with us. This was the happiest time of my childhood. No abuse from anyone. No being yelled at, shamed, name called, hit. No daily reminders of what a disappointment I was. Nothing. It was heaven.

It was not entirely without incident. I remember having a crush on a bearded man, who was probably about 20. Hard to tell as I was only 12. I went out for the day with him on my own. It was great. Until something happened which made me feel very ashamed. As we were walking up the sheer face of the Rock, I became ill and I vomited. I was mortified. I don't recall him saying anything at all but I was sure his reaction was one of disgust, just like my dad would have reacted. Of course this man probably did not react like that. I don't know. I never saw him again.

My younger brother and I were also befriended by two female teachers from the Channel Islands. I liked these two women very much. They were kind and generous. I do recall clearly being shocked at them not hiding nudity from us. We were in the shower and one of them came in to the bathroom, naked, and took a pee. Upon seeing my shock, she pointed out that there was nothing to be ashamed of in the naked human body. I do not know, even now, if this was appropriate or not but all in all this woman I recall fondly. She didn't hurt me and she didn't touch me. She treated me with respect and warmth.

The first day we were there, my younger brother and I went down to Camp Bay to swim. There was a sea pool on the beach, as well as the sea itself. I dived str8 into the sea pool and got a really painful shock. The water was freezing cold. Despite the hot temperatures. However, I was used to the very warm sea in Singapore and this was the Mediterranean and very much cooler. My skin felt like it was on fire. Really quite unpleasant.

Then it was over. We flew to England before flying a couple of months later to Australia. My father had met us at the airport. I recall vividly the way he greeted my mum, with an open mouthed passionate kiss which made my stomach churn. He barely said anything to us, his sons, and certainly did not hug us.

This brief time in England before setting off on what I was promised was our last move, was my first depression. Of course I had come from 4 years in a hot sunny climate to a dank dark and cold winter. My father was also back in my life.

We flew out to Australia in Nov 71. I was delivered str8 into the hands of a child pornographer. I have already written about him in a previous post. Of course, I wasn't delivered to him but it felt like that. I had hardly set foot on Ozzie soil before I was his victim.

Today, with the advent of the Internet, it bothers me that film and photographs of me may well be on child porn sites.

WHO KNEW?

I had no idea what I would do with a blog when I first set one up. Little did I know then that I would find what I had always wanted-an outlet for my story. Nor did I think I would have the courage to write it. I certainly did not know that I would benefit so well from it. Nor that it apparently helps others see their own demons.

I have often been encouraged to write a book of my life and I have always resisted the idea. I do so now especially. Memoirs of Misery have become so popular now that the supermarkets have given over a whole section to them. This makes me very uncomfortable. The only one I read was by David Peltzer. I had my doubts about that book, especially it's New Age message and it's insistence on forgiveness. The whole thing had an air of a story having been made up in order to sell a point of view. I hope I am wrong. I have no proof that I am right. Just my feelings of something not being right. However, he then went on to publish a string of books on abuse and then his brother got in on the act and I really did have strong doubts then. Then all these 'misery memoirs' started to appear and I realised they had become just another genre, like Thrillers, Horror, Romance, Crime etc. It makes me feel very queasy and I wonder at the people who lap these up. Perhaps some of them are as desperate as I was in looking for answers.

Perhaps I am a classic case of the pot calling the kettle black. I do hope not. I do hope my writing here is not just another misery memoir. I still don't want to write a book. I think I reach more people read me here than would read a book . You'd have to go buy a book. This you get for free if you are fortunate enough to have net access. I also think it is clear that whilst I do indeed have my own view of things, I don't think I am pushing this view as 'the right way to think and if you were well enough you'd agree with me'! That is definitely the impression many such books, and New Age gurus, give.

I am not writing to convert anyone to my way of thinking. I am writing purely for myself. After years of silence, I feel free to tell it as I see it. I have no wish to debate with anyone. My ideas and views are fluid and I hope they remain so. Nothing is so dangerous as a closed mind. I know from the comments section that some people are offended by my ideas or object to them or disagree with them. I am only surprised more are not! However, I don't argue and I let the comments stand as they are. I don't censor. I also do not as a rule, argue a point, and only comment on a comment sometimes, to clarify my own point, not to try and change someone else's' point of view.

If someone is helped along their path by what I share here, I am pleased. I doubt very much it will stop an active abuser or indeed change anyone with a closed mind, fundamentalists for example.

The more aware we are, the less fear we have, the less misery we create.