This is Not a Safe Space

Hello. It's Me. I was wondering if after all these years you'd like to meet?

There's one problem. I don't feel safe at the moment. Nowhere is a safe space.  The places I used to found sanctuary, I now find scary.  I'm constantly anxious and fearful.

Because he's still out there. Living his life. Getting on with things.

Well I can't move on until I feel safe.  There is a lot of help out there.  I'm using the help.  I'm accepting it now,  That's been the part of this whole process I've found the hardest. I have always prided myself on being independent, self-sufficient, and not needing other people.

Because forgiveness and acceptance are not the same thing.  I forgave my ex-boyfriend the moment I walked out of the door.  I looked him in the eye, and I said to him, 'you are a domestic abuser, and you will never be able to live with what you have done, until you have accepted it.'  Forgiveness was surprisingly easy.

I forgave my family for not being there for me in the way I needed them.  They are doing everything they can, in the only way they know how and I have accepted that. All families are different, and there is no rule book for families, or for love.

What's been hardest for me is accepting what has happened to me. As my counsellor said, 'you have to clear the wreckage of your past, before you can move on with your future.

Because my past is Ground Zero.  It's the gap in the landscape where the Twin Towers used to be.  It's the blackened blocks of Grenfell Tower which although they are ugly, we have to look at them. In media reports, in photographs.  You have to face the trauma.  You have to.

At some point, the music will stop, or your phone battery will die, or the club will kick out, and you'll be stood on the street, at closing time, wondering what happened to what used to be your life.  Because I've been let down by every organisation that should have helped me. Nowhere is a safe space for me right now.

But I'm a strong person, and I'm dealing with things. I'm facing them head on. It might be a bit of a train wreck, it might not be pretty, but you have to face the black mirror.  

Because, as Russell Brand says, in his book, I'm -pardon my French -a bit fucked up.  Who wouldn't be ?  Who isn't?  We are all  a little broken, to varying degrees. And to take anti-depressants, or eat the cake, or get wasted, may help some people.

But it doesn't help me. Writing is my therapy. If you never fix yourself you will keep repeating the bad patterns. 

I don't want to look back on my life and wish I'd acted differently. I want to have a head packed full of memories and a heart full of love.  It's happening.  There isn't  a quick fix.  But I'm hoping, soon, when I've been able to put certain measures in place -can't be any more specific for legal reasons- soon everywhere can be a safe space for me.

And if you're still reading this, then thank you. I passed 2000 hits on the blog today.  My misery might just become my meal ticket.

Love&Peace Blogosphere

Reading: You Get so Alone at Times that it Just Makes Sense, Charles Bukowski

Watching; The Dawn Chorus -Squirrels, birds, cats -just call me Dr Doolittle

Beauty: Urban Decay Vs Primark

Food: Pizza(cold pizza for breakfast, so wrong but so right!)

Drink: Cappuccino

Travel: The Road Less Travelled By

Current obsession: Writing, reading, performing -generally being a writer rather than just talking about it.

Word of the day: Eclectic

Independent Chester recommendation: The Scented Garden Retreat