I’ve not been writing as regularly as I’ve started working two new jobs. It’s been a strange couple of weeks as I’d become used to my routine of writing, walking, solitude and general self care activities, all of which were necessary whilst I was writing my memoir on addiction and attempting to reconcile some struggles I was having over the death of my partner. Since the anniversary of his death on the 21st August I’ve been letting all the emotional reworking take shape, writing about my guilt and shame over his overdose has helped, I can see that I was punishing myself, something that I often do.
Trauma impacts me through this sense of responsibility for things, I often feel things are my fault or as though I’m to blame some how. My recovery involves seeing things with a more balanced perspective and writing helps with this, it creates clarity and allows me to be a bit kinder to myself when considering past hurts and struggles. I don’t write much about my current life as I’m aware how quickly my thoughts and feelings can change and I’m aware that things written in haste may well be regretted, I like to allow time and reflection before committing myself to an appraisal of the situation. All I can say is that I’m at a significant place in life, working out what’s important to me and what I want the future to hold. Working again in the outside world has been a shock to the system but positive too, I’m aware that I’m craving solitude and time to just be, I’m enjoying being physically active as my job in the local shop involves lots of lifting and carrying. I’m also enjoying the variety of work as I also work for a healthcare agency and get the opportunity to move about different settings, I’m enjoying being of service to others and extending care and compassion. That said, I’m missing my writing time a bit, I’m missing day’s at home with my dog and the freedom to take each day as it comes, part of me wonders if I’m being so busy as a distraction, are there things I’m scared to admit about my current situation. Somebody told me once to not make permanent decisions on temporary feelings and I feel this acutely right now, my emotions are very up and down, sometimes I’m sure and others I’m filled with doubt and uncertainty. Anyway, enough waffle, I turn to my journals and the entry from nine years ago is as follows:
Just waiting for Si to arrive, another new client and another nervous one like Dave from last night. Work is going well, I’m going to have to tell Steve that I can’t agree to his ideas. When I talk with him I get upset and I can see what he’s saying but I also don’t agree with everything, he says things like I’m not normal and my perception is distorted which may well be right but then what is normal, maybe I don’t want to be like everyone else, maybe I know thats not possible for me. Maybe I’m happy being different, maybe I accept that my thinking is altered as a result of the life experiences I’ve had. Striving to be something I’m not could be just as harmful, I am a victim of many things but I’ve tried to turn them to good use and I am surviving as a result, even if in a strange way.
Me and Charlie had a very windy walk across Kipling Tors, I was day dreaming the whole way, imagining being a journalist or writer, getting a book published one day and finally getting closure from the abuse investigation and court case.
Had a nice time with Si, he was 27 years old, smokes lots of weed and grows his own too, I think he’s a tree surgeon or similar, he paid me in weed and cash, such a nice smoke, all home grown and organic, such a treat. I’ve been trying to organise something for my sisters birthday and have asked if Tobias, Joel and Jo can visit, would be so nice and a good opportunity to catch up, I’d love to show them the flat and views, we could all go for food somewhere, maybe the Palladium Club for a bit too.
Just been texting Tina, she had the cheek to ask Marcel to score for her, tried telling him some sob story about her work and staying in her pj’s and how she didn’t mean to upset me..
End of day, some things to note, little observations on life and society.
Police officer was searching a homeless guy, he had his beer taken away and the police lady attempted to open and search his bag, he explained that she needs a good reason to do that, a real suspicion and she had none. She told the chap to go home, ‘this is my home’ he replied, ‘I’m at home now’ he said to her. ‘Not this again’ the young, fresh faced PCSO stated, ‘just go home, move on’ she kept repeating for him ‘to go home’ taking for granted her interpretation was the same as his and not stopping to really consider what she was saying. Communication is a funny thing!
I wondered up the street and could hear fast footsteps catching up with me, heels hitting the ground with a click clack sound in a rushed pace and with it heavy breathing. Then in a high pitched voice full of attitude and a tone of disbelief ‘ I can’t believe you’ve done this, you annoying little bastard, you’ve made me late for the fucking bus now’. I turned to what I thought would be a couple arguing and to my shock I could see the woman was clutching a tiny little hand, being bounced and pulled behind her, attached to the little hand was a small boy, no more than four years old, legs a whirlwind, cheeks all flushed and patchy, a shiny wet lip with a bubble of spit, he looked so sad. Someone close by remarked ‘that’s no way to speak to a child’, the woman whipped her peroxide blonde bob over her shoulder and shouted ‘who said that’. A lady tugged her boyfriends sleeve saying ‘don’t, she’ll take it out on the kid’, he remained silent and the air was thick with apprehension. The woman then grabbed the boy by the wrist ‘come on’ she growled and the boy was whisked away. So this is our world I thought, it reminded me of my childhood and biological mother, the sadness on the boys face was familiar to me, I’d seen through those eyes, I’d felt invisible and of no importance at that age, poor little boy, so many children with parents who are not equipped for the role. It’s sad, so sad.
I then turned to see a young couple sucking on a milkshake whilst playing with their little dogs, they kiss, they laugh, they hold each others gaze in a moment of love and affection, they seem in a rose tinted bubble, a world of their own, it made me smile, there is beauty and horror everywhere, life is many different things.
I’ve always been an observer, quietly watching life happening around me and considering what it shows about human nature and society in general. I always giggle when I read in my journals about wanting to write a book, it’s been a constant ever since I started journaling. The encounter I detail with the sex work client above seems insignificant but many years later I would meet this chap again in a very different setting, I was out with friends and one was keen for me to meet her friend and boyfriend, yes, he was the boyfriend! To start with I didn’t recognise him and he kept trying to speak with me alone, when we did get a moment he asked if I remembered him and suddenly I twigged. He told me how he’d never done anything like it before and was desperate for his partner to not find out as he was with her at the time. I thought it was funny that I’d been naked and intimate with this chap and yet I struggled to remember. That was the thing with sex work experiences, they were in the moment and as soon as over I returned to being junkie me and would normally use heroin immediately after the booking as my reward and to move me on from the experience. My mind would put those experiences in the sex work box and I wouldn’t talk about them to anyone really, seeing him again alarmed me a little but his alarm was much greater, his secret was safe with me, he told me how it was the only time he’d been unfaithful to his partner but also suggested it would be nice to indulge again, I said no!
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