Is everyone alright
if I give up the fight
just ‘cos I’m tired
of fighting tonight

It may be the fashion
to lack in compassion
but it hurts like hell
and I’ve had my ration

In a tight ball, I’m curled
and I won’t be unfurled
‘cos I’m not coming out
to this horrible world

And it just isn’t fine
and I don’t feel divine
being deprived of love
from those who are mine

So I hope it’s alright
if I give up the fight
just ‘cos I’m tired
of fighting tonight.



Why do I do it? Why in the hell do I do it? What do I just go and stick my big foot in it again?


I’m angry with myself and upset and cross and all because I said the wrong thing….Why didn’t I say the right thing? I’m always doing it and I hate myself for it.

I phoned my mum and my sister, a while ago, today. Mum was busy washing her hair so I spoke to my sister J. Well, when I say ‘spoke to‘, I think ‘spoke at‘ would be a more apt phrase! I did it again….I talked too much because I was on a BPD high at the time. I talked about me. I talked about my day. I talked about what I had for lunch. I talked about my blog. I talked about my book….I even read two of the articles from it, out loud, I just talked about me! I didn’t think at the time to ask how she was, how her family back home was, had she spoken to them yet today, what did her and mum have for lunch? How was mum etc, etc, etc. I talked non-stop until J interrupted by saying,”we’re going round to see cousin R now so I can’t talk anymore. Have a good rest of the day…lots of love…byeeeeeee”! Bang! Gone!

As soon as the phone went down, I realised what I’d done and promptly burst into tears. “I’ve f**ked up again”! “I’m so selfish”. I should have asked more and said¬†less. I hate myself. My sister doesn’t love me anymore! Mum’s angry with me for holding them up! She won’t love me anymore either. Everybody hates me. Why can’t I do anything right I’m useless, I’m selfish, I’m fat! This is my head! I feel rejected, abandoned, lost, scared, angry with myself for being so selfish.

Suddenly I’ve dipped into a BPD hole in the ground. It’s dark, cold, muddy, empty apart from me, I’m scared. I’m lost in my own world. Why am I writing this? Who the hell wants to read my rubbish, my rant. I just needed to get it out. The alternative would be harming myself in some way.

I’m sorry you’ve had to read this garbage….just delete it please. x ūüė¶




It’s three o’clock in the morning
When most of the world is sleeping
I stare at the moon in the navy sky
While out of the curtains I’m peeping

I draw back the deep red curtains
And fold back the throw on my bed
I plump up the somewhat squashed pillow
Where I’d briefly lain my head

I glide down my stair lift slowly
Trying not to wake my neighbour
I, with my hand on the joystick
Requiring no manual labour

I stumble across the kitchen
To make a hot mug of tea
I’m sneaking like a mouse on wheels
Disabled, I happen to be

By then I wish I’d made coffee
To wake me from lacking slumber
If I shut my eyes, I can still count sheep
So one by one, I number

Shall I go back to bed?
No, it’s already five in the morning
My carers will be here at six
But I hear my bed still calling

I hear the key in the lock
“Good morning”, they call, all cheery
While me with my eyes wide shut
Still sit there looking bleary.





My mum never ceases to amaze me!

Having written about my offspring who are so cruel and negative, I have to say that I think my mum has got to be the human being I love most in all this world, (running in equal place, I think, with my sister J). Over the years she has gone out of her way to help me, give me¬†guidance and wisdom too. She’s the first one I pick up the phone to if I’m upset or especially happy. She can read me like a book, and me, her too. She has got me out of financial trouble, propped me up through failing and broken relationships and picked up the pieces when I’ve laid shattered to smithereens at basement level. She puts up with my crazy Borderline Personality Disorder, all my disabilities, my waxing and waning anorexia and every flaw I have (of which there are many!).

We weren’t always this close…as a child, she was quite cruel and unkind to me at times. She suffered a mental health problem which rendered her a less capable mum than she could have been. but she is a million miles away from all that now. I guess we’ve both ‘mellowed’, like a good red wine. We talk on the phone every day though we can rarely see each other as we live in different parts of the country and neither of us can get to the other on our own.

I have so much admiration for her – she packs more into a day than I could pack into a very large suitcase, and she’s 84 so ‘getting on a bit’, not that she lets that affect her one bit although she’s not so sprightly on her pins as she used to be. She does her own shopping, thorough housework (puts me to shame!), gardening and even still lugs the old lawnmower up from the basement steps to mow her lawn.

Her mind is as sharp as a pin – she does The Times crossword everyday and finishes it and can even do the cryptic one which has always defeated me! She remembers all the documentaries she’s ever seen; refuses point blank to watch ‘soaps’ (but then I agree on that one).

She lives alone, having divorced my evil and very cruel father who sexually abused and raped me all through my childhood. He has now passed on (thank the Lord). I forgave briefly before he died, as a Christian because I believe that is what is right (for me, anyway). Mum’s humble abode is a somewhat ramshackle, ancient house which she keeps spotless.

You may be asking yourself, “Well, what has all this got to do with ladders?” ¬†Well, she has a habit of not thinking about the risks when she’s climbing ladders which is quite an odd but frequent task for her. The living room ceiling is 10 ft high and has a light fitting with five bulbs in it which are forever blowing. She thinks nothing of climbing a ladder which reaches this ceiling at regular intervals, whether it be to change a bulb, hang a curtain (or dangle from the chandeliers!). well, perhaps not the latter but I wouldn’t put it past her! She’s the same in her garden, pruning high bushes or cutting hedges and in the kitchen, searching for lost items in the top cupboards, then forgetting what she went up there for! I think we’ve all done that to some degree. when I try to tactfully tell that it¬†is a tad dangerous at her age, she carries on regardless!

So, I worry about her all the time.. I’ve tried to talk her into wearing an alert alarm on a pendant like mine or as a wrist strap for my peace of mind if nothing else. But no, she steadfastly and stubbornly refuses. I dread the days when I get no reply on the phone. The worst case scenario plays over and over in my mind and then when i finally reach her she nonchalantly says “Oh, I was in the top room/basement/garden” and there’s me having ‘kittens’!

So all things considered i.e. a hearing aid in each ear, strong glasses, severe cataracts, a stick for walking as her legs have never been the same since she got hypothermia while up a ladder in the freezing cold, pruning the Pyracantha bush which is 8 ft high! She has so much grit and determination! (I wondered where I got that from!!).

I can’t imagine surviving my life without her, and I know it is inevitable eventually and I know my world will fall apart; I will have lost my best friend and the greatest Mum ever!



Firstly, I would like to thank¬† for this nomination. Please go over and pay her a visit. I really love her blog and I’m sure you will too.

I am very honoured and very proud to accept this award for the second time. I write my blog in the hope of reaching as many people as I can who have been through similar experiences in life, particularly traumatic ones, so that they feel less alone. Through writing my blog, I have made many blogging friends who I follow and chat to regularly. I can’t thank enough for giving me an opportunity to be heard and to help others.

Apparently there are rules to this thing, I found them here:

Well, here we go!

11 questions about myself:


1. Why did you choose your current career?

My current career is doing my best to be an author of true-life experiences which others¬†in a similar situation can relate to. I also love writing, spending most of my day doing this which particularly helps me to keep my mind active and alert as I am disabled, don’t get out much and don’t have very many ‘real-time’ friends. Also I write because it keeps me sane and keeps me out of mischief!

2. If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be and why?

Although there are many places I would consider living for various reasons, such as Australia to be close to my sister, my choice would be…exactly where I am living now; in the same house, in the same town and the same country, the UK because I am very happy and settled here, having lived at my current address for 34 years! I have no desire to live anywhere exotic or far away.

3. Who is your greatest hero/heroine and why?

I would have to say they would be Maya Angelou and Nelson Mandela for the change they made to so many peoples’ lives in this world.

4. Can you remember the name of your first primary school teacher?

My first primary school teacher was called Mrs. Atroshenko (which is a bit of a mouthful!). She was Australian and always so kind to me as I was a very quiet, shy child. She left though, to go back to Australia and I was brokenhearted!

5. What is your favourite thing to do to pass the time?

The activities I would choose would be, writing as it is my passion, reading (love my Kindle!), and drinking coffee with close friends or family.

6. Can you sing?

Actually, I’m not too bad (but also nothing special) as I can hold a tune. I have been in three different choirs and usually sing Soprano.

7. What is your favourite book and why?

Strangely, I would have to say my favourite book is Roget’s Thesaurus! I am fascinated by words and language and can spend hours pouring over all the unusual and little used words.

8. What is your favourite sport?

To be honest, I hate most sport especially football, cricket and golf (which will make me very unpopular, I know!!). I do like to watch the athletics, gymnastics, swimming and diving when the Olympics are on.

9. What is your favourite four-legged animal?

I would have to say elephants. I have always been fascinated by their gentleness, the caring way they bring their young up and I found their pure size quite awe-inspiring. There is a wonderful book called, ‘Sacred Elephant’ which contains the most beautiful photographs and poetry about these creatures.

10. Can you remember what your last dream was about?

This is a difficult one. I tend not to remember any pleasant dreams at all and have absolutely no recall of them. Unfortunately, I do have my fair share of nightmares and sometimes night terrors virtually always connected to my child abuse and rape and the loss of a child.

11. Name your five favourite foods.

Hmm! Not easy, this one – we are lucky in this part of the world to have so much choice. I think I would have to say, in no particular order, coconut, marzipan, spring greens, milk chocolate and cashew nuts.

I nominate the following five bloggers to also receive this award:



Families!! You either love ’em or you hate ’em’! In my case both. Those of you who have been following my blog will know of the problems I have regarding my family and for those of you that haven’t, here’s a taster!

My sister is visiting from abroad for three weeks. We get on really well and I will really miss her when she goes back. Because both my children T and C want to have virtually nil to do with me and are depriving me of seeing my grandchildren, my sister, ‘B’ decided to organize a family reunion. When she told me she had arranged for both my children plus spouses, all three granddaughters, myself and her all to meet up and go out out for a meal together, I was absolutely gobsmacked!! I couldn’t imagine it. (I haven’t seen T and C in the same room together for 20 years!) I couldn’t imagine it….all of us, nine in total, seated round a bench table and actually talking to each other, playing ‘happy families’. Me and B went in a taxi, me in my wheelchair, of course. We arrived first and as usual, my offspring were suitably and predictably late. The greetings were so brief as to be almost non-existent. So there we were, all sat round a table which felt very odd, if not a little uncomfortable.


(photo credit:

My family were all very happily chatting amongst themselves and eating good food, and me and B were left talking to each other. My kids are so rude sometimes! I felt hurt that they didn’t even bother to introduce me to my grandchildren. ‘Happy Families’ continued till the end of the meal (good food at least). Then, little S, who is now one-and-a-half (my son’s little one), was allowed to get out of her highchair to have a look around and play in the open area nearby. She was dressed in a white, flared dress and looked like a cross between a bridesmaid and a little princess. She ran straight past me, not recognizing me, of course, not having met me before. I was this strange woman in a wheelchair at the end of the long table, her having been at the other end so there had been no smiles and eye-contact etc.

I looked at this beautiful little girl, running about and giggling and felt nothing but pain. This was the granddaughter I’d never met and here she was, in flesh and blood, running back and forth passing me without even a glance. I felt so, so hurt. My son hadn’t even made any attempt to bring her over to me to tell her that I was, in fact, her Nanny. I tried to catch her attention but she was too wrapped in running about and playing with my daughter’s children who are 8 and 5 now who were too occupied with little S, that they totally ignored me. They were strangers to me and that really hurts. As for T and C and their spouses, they more or less acted as if I was invisible.

The meal ended. S was sat on the floor, absorbed in looking at a book. She looked so sweet any yet I was a no-one to her. I longed to scoop her up in my arms and hug her close to me, telling her that I was her Nanny and that I loved her very much but I wasn’t able to.¬†



After that, T and C and respective families, headed for the exit having said a brief goodbye and they were off somewhere else. That left me and my sister. I looked at the deserted table, still littered with crockery and leftover food, and then burst into tears. What had been the point of this so-called ‘family reunion’ ? I was none the wiser and could have been invisible for all the notice they took of me!

So how do I feel now? Well, to be honest, I feel crap, shit, hurt, disappointed, resentful, angry and mostly devastated that my children could make me feel this way (mind you, not for the first time and I daresay not the last either). That’s my ‘family’ for you in a nutshell.


Tomorrow, I should be celebrating but for me it will be a bittersweet day.

My sister who is over from abroad is coming to me in the morning. That will a lovely time, I know, spending the day together, but oh, so hard to let her go at the end of the day, saying goodbye until she comes and visits again in a few years time, watching her taxi drive away into the distance.

More bitter than that is that my estranged children and grandchildren are coming over for the first time for at least a year or more. They live only an hour away from me and I would so love to see both my children and of course, my grandchildren (now growing up fast). They are coming to my house but not to see me but to meet up with my sister before she flies back.

Admittedly, we are all going out for a meal together, locally which is a rarity in itself. My wheelchair won’t fit into either of my children’s cars (so they say), so they are going together while I have to make my own way to the restaurant in my wheelchair (and it’s set to rain tomorrow as well).


However, I’m fully aware that my children don’t particularly want to see me and yet I’ve been pining to see them and meet my grandchildren for years. I will just be a spare part, that’ll all when it comes down to it. My littlest granddaughter is now one and a half years old and i’ve not seen her since she was two weeks old! My children don’t ever come down to visit me at any other time so I barely know my own grandchildren.

However, on the plus side, at least I get to see them all. I don’t know what the family problem is. My children won’t discuss it. I strongly suspect that they can’t/don’t want to face up to my mental health problems and my physical disability. They are ashamed of me…..but I will wait for them, I will always be there for them and I’ll always love them.



I am sooooo ANGRY!!! ….. Yesterday, I had to go to the dentist with my Support Worker, H, obviously in my wheelchair. I don’t have a fear of dentists anymore…I’ve had so much dental treatment over the years, I’ve just got used to it. Nevertheless, like most people, I don’t find it a pleasurable experience either. But this wasn’t about an unpleasant experience in the dentist’s chair; more about being able to even get into the dental practice in the first place!

I’ve been a loyal NHS patient at this particular dental surgery for 34 years. I wasn’t disabled at first, although the very early signs of my condition were just becoming evident but now I am confined to a wheelchair as most of you know. My dental surgery has a step up to the front of it which I am unable to use and there is no disabled access anywhere else to the building. Up till now, it’s always been a couple of dentists and maybe a couple of unfortunate patients in the waiting room who have rather ungainly lifted my wheelchair over the threshold. Now, suddenly, no-one there is allowed to help me in any way because of insurances reasons which I can appreciate as H. isn’t insured to lift or move me either. I have been asking for months if they could get a cheap fold-up ramp to give access to their wheelchair patients but no, nothing so far.

I was sitting by the entrance door, waiting for someone to come up with a solution. In the meantime, I was blocking the entrance door so no-one could get in or out (I felt like an exhibit in a Victorian freak show). Eventually, the head receptionist decided that she would get me in over the step! (Where the insurance regulations went at that moment is anybody’s guess!). I felt totally humiliated being hoisted over the threshold as if I were a piece of luggage. It was most undignified. She pushed me into the waiting room and said, patronizingly, “There we are, I’ve put you by the window in the sunshine!”, as if I were a plant pot!

I eventually got to see my dentist (by which time I was in tears), he was really kind and apologized on behalf of the other staff. I was in and out in ten minutes. Then he said, “You’ll need to come back next week”. Aaaaargh!!

In the meantime….I have contacted the Equality, Advice and Support Services who have assured me that I was correct in my thinking. All public service providers must, by law, provide access for people with disabilities. I now have a template to write the correct letter to my dental surgery advising them of this and I am being backed up by the EASS who are an official body. OK. I know I won’t be very popular with the staff after this but hey, I have the satisfaction of knowing that every disabled person who attends that surgery will have dignified access and will not be discriminated against.


For those of you who have been following my story of my nightmare therapist and the damage that she has done (see my last post ), this is an update although not quite the update I had envisaged by any means.

I have been consumed by this whole issue and the unjustness of it all for some time and laid out in my above-mentioned post,  quite clearly what my intentions were. I had applied to have access to my medical records and was prepared to search for any evidence I could find in my favour, i.e. going through eight years worth of diary entries, digging out gifts and cards that this therapist, J, gave me and getting statements from family members and my GP etc to back up my case.

Yesterday, I had my therapy appointment where we talked at length about this whole situation. After a lot of discussion about what type of feelings would be evoked in me by delving into the past again and about what the long-term gain would be; also listening to the feelings and opinions of my family, I eventually came to the conclusion that, in actual fact, going through this process would have an extremely negative impact on my mental health which I’m not prepared to risk, having fought hard to get as well as I am. She just isn’t worth it and even if I succeeded in my goal of having her struck off the BACP register, It wouldn’t stop her practicing privately which I have no control over.

Sometimes, winning the battle can have negative consequences. As a wise old Indian Chief quoted: