For almost two weeks now i’ve been going to sleep before midnight. This is a huge deal for me. Even at school it was rare I’d sleep before midnight. One night, within the past fortnight, I went to bed at 8.30pm and slept by 8.45pm. Unheard of.

Most days i’ve been up by 6.30am. One day I was up at 9am after a rubbish night of nightmares and constantly waking up. But for the most part i’ve been in a good routine.

Even as a tiny child I remember being unable to sleep. I don’t think it helped that I saw ‘childs play’ at the age of 5. I wasn’t supposed to watch it, but laying in bed at my dad’s house I could hear the movie and that scared me enough to go and sit on the stairs so I wasn’t alone. (my 10 and 12 year old siblings were allowed to watch, but I was ‘too young’). The stairs were in the living room. I watched it through the banister. I’ve been afraid of dolls ever since. I dread if my future kids ever ask for dolls. I had a doll as a kid that was battery operated. I joked to my friend, when it spoke, that it didn’t have batteries in. She opened the back and IT DIDN’T HAVE BATTERIES IN. I was hysterical. Served me right trying to scare my friend. My mother explained that can happen. My sceptical little ass wasn’t so sure that without batteries in it could still work.

Whenever my cousin asked me to sleep over her house I dreaded it. I knew I wouldn’t sleep. She had a doll called ‘Buddy’. I was 3 years older than my cousin. I’d seen ‘Childs Play.’ I knew who Chucky was. I envied her naivety to the dangers of her beloved doll. For comparison, here is Buddy… and here is Chucky.

My aunt, after calling me silly, would put ‘Buddy’ in the closet in my cousin’s room. I was a very shy and polite kid around my elders in the family but in my head I was like ‘B*tch, haven’t you seen Chucky? He can get out of a locked cupboard and that shit hasn’t ever got a damn lock’.

I mean, I didn’t call her b*tch in my head, but it’s how I imagine my sassy little shit of a brain back then.

I remember when i’d stay at my nan’s house I never slept. Unless I had my cousin sleep over too. I think because the house was old and I was therefore convinced it was haunted. I grew up in a family with so many ghost stories. (none said by my grandparents), but we’d apparently had some weird shit go down in the family over the years including one house that was on top of a crypt. I’m assuming it’s true because it was ‘confirmed’ by a lot fo different people. Even the most skeptical of people in the family spoke of the weird things that happened. I’m a skeptic for the most part, but there’s definitely been places I’ve been freaked out.

I remember going with my dad and stepmom and older siblings to view a house that was very old in a little village and it used to be a bakery. In one room I felt really freaked out. Up until this point I wanted them to buy the house because it had a private woods. My fairytale loving ass loved that. My stepmom had horses so I think they were looking at houses with land. Or maybe this one house just happened to have land. The house had a hatch to the street that was the old bakery window. The was a glass corridor and a window seat and then a master bedroom. I remember feeling unwell and all of a sudden freaked out. If I remember correctly the previous owner passed away. Not sure whether at home or in the house, but I was glad they didn’t buy it. It could just be the decor that made me feel uncomfortable. To this day I get really uncomfortable around 70s decor. I’m a weirdo, I know. I think the movie ‘The Box’ with Cameron Diaz freaked me out for this reason. Carpets in bathrooms freak most people out, but for me it’s a level of discomfort that’s all encompassing. I still don’t like carpet. I can’t wait until we can remove all the carpet from our house. I think I have weird ‘triggers’ form childhood. I also hate rockery’s in gardens and gravel. I cannot stand succulent plants. There’s just some weird things that make me uncomfortable. For my sister there are songs that give her a similar reaction. I won’t go into all that because it’s depressing and dark, but it’s definitely a life long issue I feel.

My close friend joked that I should write a book, or screenplay about childhood but it wouldn’t be able to be made/published. That it makes eastenders look like care bears. I think it’s good to laugh. Even at the most f*cked up of situations. I think laughter has saved me. There were times I couldn’t laugh for a really long time, and that truly sucked.

At a dinner party we were all playing a ‘get to know each other’ game. It was my party that I threw before christmas and there was a big table full of friends and friends of friends. One of the questions I drew was about childhood. A scariest memory of something. I felt it was ok to mention the time I found a snake under mu mum’s bed. So I told the story of how I was with my ghost teddy ‘Boo’, my best friend as a small child, he went everywhere with me. He was like casper but he was called boo. He lost an eye early on. He was so special to me. Knowing this, my sister and mum let me throw him a birthday party with all my other teddy bears. My sister make a butterfly cake with a twin as the body. Such a happy memory for me of my big sister. I have some really nice memories. Not as many as crap ones, but I choose to focus on the lovely ones. I looked up to her so much.

So boo and I wanted to play our care bear board game. A carried my best buddy under my arm up to my mum’s room. I looked under her bed as I knew it was under there. There was a huge pile of belts. My mum had SO many belts.

I pulled one belt and a bunch came out. One belt darted across the floor. I screamed but was curious so went to look. It was a snake. I shit you not. I lived in England and it was a snake in my mum’s room. Hysterical I ran downstairs. I like to imagine I took Boo with me and didn’t leave him behind. Let’s go with that. I can’t bare the thought i’d selfishly leave him behind.

My aunt who was babysitting and big sister obviously thought I’d imagine it. Unable to calm me down my big sister started to believe me. She asked me to draw it. My aunt eventually said she’d go upstairs to look and prove there was no snake. I’m laughing as I type this. I know I shouldn’t laugh, but I’m giggling.

My aunt followed by my sister, followed by me. I would either have been clutching Boo, or terrified for him that he was in the room with the monster snake.

So my aunt goes in, and says ‘Stacey, you’re imagining things’. My sister says ‘see, it’s ok’. Then we hear the most horrific scream and my aunt runs down the stairs screaming. My sister’s face was like ‘oh shit’ and I can just imagine as scared as I was feeling a smug satisfaction that they believed me now.

Long story short, a man who was obsessed with my mother, a family friend, got a copy of her key cut and put a snake under her bed. Of course I was the one to find it. Of course it would be me FFS. I am grateful it didn’t slither up to my mum in the night. I’m sure that was the intention of the guy who later was arrested outside our home for spying and went into a mental health facility.

It wasn’t poisonous as far as I can recall. I had a cool story to tell the kids at school. I even had a friend come over to see it. We had it for a few days until an expert came. Our neighbour had snakes so my mum told me it was one from his house. He has pythons. I believed it until I was a teenager and told the truth. I’m not great around snakes, i’m worse around spiders. But when our neighbour was away he said my sister and I could feed his snakes. Being a curious kid I was really excited. Until I saw they were frozen mice in the freezer. I was certainly not Tom Green in ‘road trip’. I never wanted to feed them again.

So 2 decades later i’m telling the story at a dinner party and one guy, who always seemed to look down his nose at people who weren’t in the same wage bracket as him said in such a shitty tone ‘You found a snake’…. ‘in your mums room’…. ‘under her bed’…. It was such an accusatory tone. At this point in my life my confidence wasn’t great and I felt everyones eyes on me. I felt my cheeks burning. I knew panic attack was coming so I pretended my braces broke and went to the bathroom. My boyfriend followed me and I burst out crying.

I wasn’t super secure around this friend group and I felt like they thought I was a liar. I also felt embarrassed and ashamed about my childhood. I felt really uncomfortable and it took a while for me to come back to this meal I planned for everyone. People who’d been having a tough time and I wanted them to have a nice Christmas dinner. The guy was my boyfriend’s housemate’s friend.

I think maybe that’s why i’m so unapologetically open now. I’m so tired of the feeling of shame. I know some feelings will be life long. I know some trauma will haunt me forever. I’ll continue to try to be ok with it, but I know at this point I won’t. I hate it, but mustn’t dwell. Just blog it out and joke with close friends. Hope maybe someone else may stumble upon my blog and feel less alone. The snake story is a tamer aspect of what i’d call ‘trauma’ but even though i’ll never speak to 4 of my 6 siblings again, I feel a deep love for my older ones. One of my younger ones I know hasn’t had it easy either and I’ll always worry about them too. I’ve heard they’ve been through some shit and my heart hurts for them. My older siblings have caused me so much pain. I have exhausted myself trying to get along. They don’t hold themselves accountable for anything and it’s so one sided. But I know they have so much deep rooted pain. I hope it heals. I love them to my core. I pray for their happiness and inner peace. I gave up wanting to be loved by them a long time ago. I get angry at times when I think about the bullshit and injustice and how f*cking unfair so much is. I know. ‘Life isn’t fair’. but that’s an understatement of epic proportions.

I hope they’re ok and at peace and are on their way to true happiness. I fear they won’t ever reach it because if i’ve learnt anything, it’s tat ‘locking it all in a box’ is incredibly detrimental to inner peace and the pursuit of happiness. I also know jealousy, envy bitterness is so toxic too and I definitely saw that was more than present in their soul even now.

I always beat myself up and say ‘let it go’. It really isn’t that easy. I try. I try so f*cking much. I know that when some people have to have limbs removed and they have phantom pains. (I’m sure this analogy with offend someone, but i’m sure everything I say offends someone). I feel it’s relevant though. The pain lingers. It comes back at times. Searing deep pain.

I also get anxiety about this blog sometimes. I’ve quite certain some people from my past found it. I won’t go into how I know, but I know. I don’t get how me pouring my heart out being painfully truthful can anger anyone. Maybe those who refuse to self reflect or have a relaxed policy with the truth. I don’t know. I need to remember that’s not my business but I do wish people would leave me alone when they don’t have good intentions. Let me have this, this outlet. Let me speak to others who have been through similar experiences. Maybe you should let it go too? Or at least let’s talk about it and find common ground? Then again, I feel that’s impossible with some people and i’ve exhausted myself trying.

It’s my birthday tomorrow. My friends have booked the day off work to spend it with me. (I live with friends before anyone starts getting angry about lockdown rules being broken). I have a white chocolate raspberry cheesecake with my name on it. Hand made by my friend every Birthday, Christmas and mother’s day (for my mum). I’ve been eating my feelings the past two days in the for of malteasers. Easter eggs are such a b*tch. I can’t resist them. I always share, Thank goodness as i’d have even more chins if I had one all to myself.

Today I noticed I look different. I haven’t lost any weight (yet), clearly, but the dark circles under my eyes aren’t as prominent. I hope I stay in a good routine. I hope I stop eating my feelings for good. I’m re reading a really good book about it at the moment. The emotional connection with comfort eating. I know exactly when it started. Almost my entire life i’ve either over ate or under ate to deal with uncomfortable feelings. The latter approach, less often, evidently. I’m obese at the moment which I am not ok with. Especially during a p@ndemic. I need to get fit. I need to eat clean again. I need to get outside. I also censor some words when I talk about sensitive topics because I don’t want vitriolic groups of people finding my blog and forcing their bullshit opinions on me). If I see one more small business pushing their political views and being insufferable in their ‘moral superiority’ suggested in my feed on instagram, maybe i’ll finally delete it. I’ll miss it. I don’t miss facebook at all. But I do love so much about instagram.

Lame.