I wanted to start blogging again and I wanted it to be just a place where I can speak about everything positive. Reading previous blog posts you wouldn’t guess that.

The truth is, when you’re coming out the other end of a dark time, sometimes you need to talk about it. Acknowledge it and then you can move on. I don’t wish to portray this ‘ideal’ life, because the truth is, it’s been far from ideal. Of course, I always remind myself that there are people in far worse situations. A common disclaimer I say all the time before I complain about anything is ‘I know there are homeless people, starving children, war zones, animal torture’. I always feel the need to reiterate that I do not feel sorry for myself and I am fully aware of my blessings and fortunate circumstances.

However, this has really hindered me over the years of addressing my true feelings. I felt I wasn’t allowed to feel sad. I felt that I was ungrateful to be so depressed. I felt that having a true sense of perspective meant that I couldn’t feel scared or alone. After all, real fear is living in a war zone. What do I have to be afraid of? I have freedom, freedom of speech, food, shelter. But I suffer from crippling anxiety. I’m much better now, thanks to therapy and dare I say it, medication.

But not so long ago I couldn’t go to the checkout in a shop. I had to send my friend and my boyfriend to pay for things. This takes me back to something I struggled with as a child. I’d be so scared of going to the till and having to look at someone and pay. My sister would go for me, unless she was in a bad mood, I remember more than once being left in a shop. I can imagine I was annoying, after all, something that seemed so easy to other people was so difficult for me. In my mid twenties when I had the same difficulty it took me back to that place. I remember the first time my boyfriend noticed my friend would go pay for me. He said ‘why don’t you go to pay?’ (I’d give my friend my card, he knew my pin, and he’d go for me. He wasn’t an ‘enabler’, he was just a caring friend).

One time I was in a craft shop buying paper. A lady came over and started talking to me. I was ok, and then a voice in my head said ‘you haven’t had a panic attack, someone is talking to you, looking at you, you’re going to shake, you’re going to cry’…. and then, yep. It was pretty humiliating. The poor woman. Just chatting away to me and out of nowhere I just lost my composure and I could feel my cheeks burning. My eyes watering. I never went in that shop again. I was so embarrassed.

I’ve been ridiculed for situations like this by people that biologically are family. The person I am today, I feel that that saying ‘you can’t choose your family’ is BS. I’ve chosen mine.

My close friends are deeply compassionate and caring people. They hurt when I hurt. They love me when I least deserve it. They are my soul mates, and I know that we’ll be family until the end. Another cringe inducing but painfully true quote that resonates with me is ‘Don’t look down on someone unless you’re lifting them up’. Such truth in that.  That you shouldn’t look down on anyone, unless, of course, you’re helping to lift them. I love that my family today are these sort of people. I’m not afraid of them (biological family members, who I no longer consider family, a few of them were incredibly intimidating. My stomach would drop just hearing them enter our house, even their names made me feel uneasy). The people I am fortunate enough to regard as my family today though? I’m not so anxious my stomach hurts when they walk into a room. I’m happy to see them. I’m not always having to protect myself. I can be honest. Be real. I can make mistakes and know that I won’t be judged unfairly. These people. My kind of people. They rip me, I rip them. We are Archbishops of Banterbury. We laugh so much we cry. You know ‘ugly crying face’? We have ugly laughing face, we laugh that hard sometimes. (not just talking about the countless games of Cards Against Humanity). But there’s no malicious undertones with banter. It’s not from a hostile place. When my boyfriend mocks me I think it’s one of the hottest things ever. I love it. Especially when it makes me laugh loads.

Recently a guy I used to sort of dated, well, we hung out and I developed feelings for him that weren’t mutual (although he wanted to fool around, nice, I know), he said that I am ‘too serious’, and that he ‘doesn’t live his life in such a serious manner’. This irritated me. I think this is unfair. I love to laugh. I always try to find humour in the dark times. My parents, my stepdad and mother, laugh a lot. However, there are times when things are serious, harrowing, all consuming.

The same guy within minutes of me telling him my mother had a stroke, asked me to send him a photo of myself. When I pointed out how disgusting that is, apparently, I’m ‘too serious’.  When he left to go live in NYC, and I cried because I was so into him and I was in a pretty bad place when he re entered my life for a whirlwind month or so of laughter and adventure, apparently I was ’emotional and annoying’. No dude, it’s called you being a selfish prick and playing with a girl’s heart making empty promises.

I’ve had it said to me by people I used to consider family, that they have to walk on eggshells. Even though this was said among a lot of malicious things, i’m always open to constructive criticism and so I gave it some intense thought. The truth is, if anyone has had to ‘walk on eggshells’, it would be my boyfriend and best friend. They’re the only people I get irritable around and am my true unfiltered self around. I snap sometimes, I can be demanding, I can lose my sh*t over silly little things. So, they could truthfully say that they have to walk on eggshells around me.

But here’s the thing. They don’t.

They don’t feel that way. I’ve asked them. Several times.

The person who said it to me initially has a warped view on what walking on eggshells means. They’d mock me (not banter as they couldn’t be mocked in return), and if I got upset… apparently that was ‘walking on eggshells’.

Laughing at me being on anti depressants and joking about me ‘hanging myself’ and me pointing out how f*cked up that is and not remotely funny, meant they had to ‘walk on eggshells’.

And apparently this walking on eggshells allowed me ‘freedom to cause discontent’.

Thanks for ALLOWING me freedom, I wasn’t aware that was a privilege denied to me until you allowed me to have it. And discontent?  If I was an awful person I could have told them all what they were saying about each other behind each other’s backs. This ‘family’. But no, I didn’t. That would be hurtful.  However, calling people out on their lack of morals and their shitty behaviour is ‘causing discontent’.

I don’t think so.

Truthfully, my heart feels heavy that I cut those ties. I doubt they even miss me. I’ve always been blamed for everything wrong in their lives, ever since I was a little girl. I was ‘spoiled’. (even though I couldn’t do cycling proficiency as I was the only kid in class who didn’t have a bike)…. it doesn’t mean I was underprivileged, but I certainly wasn’t spoiled. I couldn’t even get braces on the NHS without being called ‘spoiled’. It’s so absurd to me now as i’ve been out of that mind game for a really long time. I don’t miss them as people, I never will. If i’m honest I am relieved. Relieved that I never have to feel intimidated by them again. I don’t feel constantly drained by the manipulation of some. I know my kids won’t have to grow up knowing them. I feel relieved for these reasons. However that idea of ‘family’ ingrained in me since childhood makes me feel like a failure on some level. A failure that I ‘couldn’t make it work’. You can’t make people change, especially people who refuse to self reflect. You can’t instil morals in people. You can’t forever plead with them to be kinder. So the healthiest thing to do was walk away. A decision i’ve never once regretted. I don’t wish any of them harm, but I know they feel negatively toward me still. I’ve been told some of the things they continue to say. It’s vile. It’s not nice knowing there are people who wish you harm out there. It’s not a comforting feeling.

The dynamics of a family and the issues i’m speaking about probably don’t seem important to many. Maybe they seem trivial. But isn’t ‘Love’ all we need? (well, that and water, oxygen, vitamins).

Doesn’t ‘Love’ make the world go round? I Love Love. However you can’t make people love you if they don’t. (Bon Iver’s cover of I can’t Make you Love Me, would be cheesy but pretty apt right about here).

They’d write ‘love’ in a birthday card, but that’s an easy word to throw around. Love isn’t spiteful, Love isn’t jealous, Love isn’t blame. Love is understanding. Love is compassion. Love is kindness.

So they say you can’t choose it? Well i’m choosing mine.

I was 26 when I first realised this. That I don’t have to go by the common belief that family is ‘blood’. That ‘blood is thicker than water’. Maybe that’s so, but water is refreshing. Water is needed by us. Water doesn’t stain the same way. (oh this is getting deep). Speaking of deep, water has depth. Look at an ocean. So fuck that ‘blood is thicker than water’. The family you choose loves you because they do, not because they’re conditioned to thinking they have to. If you and your family get along and love each other, that’s a beautiful thing. A blessing. But not everyone has that. Not everyone is as fortunate as me and finds their family.

It was the prospect of losing my mum that it all hit me suddenly. I didn’t want to continue with these toxic relationships. They were making me ill. I didn’t have to take it. I didn’t have to see these people. So what? we share DNA. No biggie. Does that mean I have to tolerate the unkindness? f*ck no. It was in that moment I decided I was done. One of them has cruelly said since to me (the one occasion we conversed) that i’d end up all alone. She seemed to enjoy the idea of that. My response? I’d rather stand alone than with those who hurt me. Just like i’ll continue to speak the truth ‘even if [my] voice shakes’. Fortunately though, I don’t have to stand alone.

The people I call family are my soul mates. They just radiate kindness. They laugh, a lot. We laugh. We don’t take life seriously too often, but there are moments when we support each other in times of sorrow. When we try to see the humour but understand sometimes you just need to be supportive.

I doubt that guy I once had feelings for will ever understand unless he goes through a really awful time in his life. I don’t wish that upon him, but if it happens I hope he realises that it’s unfair to criticise somebody for being ‘serious’.

If people I used to consider ‘family’ read this, I know they’d show it to each other. Sit in their kitchens and ridicule me. Slag me off. Try to find every justification for their hatred of me. I don’t think they’ll ever change. I no longer hope they change for my sake, I hope they change for theirs. They are part of the reason I am so nervous of other people. I’ve seen first hand how much hatred a person can have inside of them. I’ve been on the other end of intimidating behaviour. I’ve been suffocated by all of the lies i’ve had thrown at me.

You know what though, I hope they change. I hope they realise the intensity of the pain they caused me. How I was such a loving person toward them, and they not only rejected that, but they abused it.

My parents and family today say it’s ‘their loss’. That they think i’m a beautiful person (their words, not mine). I don’t think those people of my past will ever feel a loss regarding me, the only loss they feel is having a scapegoat. Someone to blame for everything. Climate change is probably my fault. Deforestation, my fault obviously. Them not winning the lottery, Stacey’s fault.

I don’t want to blog about them again, and I hope I never have to cross paths with them again (unfortunately the likeliness is that I will have to). I never want to converse with them again. I don’t even want to see them again. But I can honestly say, I wish them no harm. I just hope they also cause no harm to others. Including themselves.

Much Love,

S xx