Tag Archive: Failure


I lied.

I’ve only got one rule on here. Just one. Tell the truth. I designated this as a safe place. Its why I don’t ever want people that know me to have access to this place, so they can’t judge, can’t know how dark I am inside… well I broke my rule. I lied. I lied to myself. I lied in my words on this page. I said I didn’t know when deep down I did.

To try and move forward? I’m going to right that wrong, or try to… this might jump around as my thoughts spill and I’m not going to correct the order if it does.

The beginning.

I had this friend. She was amazing. You know those women that instantly light up a room and they don’t even know it? That was her. Her laugh and her smile. I can hear her voice now in my mind. It hurts to write about her. I miss her greatly. My friend got ill. Badly ill. This was 4 years ago. She’d already been ill and then it got bad. Lots of hospital visits. I was friends with both her and her husband. We’re Londoners in a place that is far North from London. We were from different times them being in their late 60’s at the time but we knew the same places, even a couple of the same families.

When two people have been married a long time, they become a part of each other. They become balanced against life. When one can’t give as much the other gives a little more until they can. It’s a harmony that makes the relationship strong. They know each other. They have those solidly built foundations. But when something happens to one of them, the other is left to give and give while worry eats at them. Their perfect foundations are being lost a brick at a time. They start sinking. The oncoming rising waters start to suck up their happy and that person is left floundering and trying to grasp onto anything that can give them normality. From the outside it’s heartbreaking so see. One slowly dies through illness and the other flounders in the depths of what they have no control of. Despair comes out of every pore. It affects their words, their tone of voice, their sigh, their walk, movement, eyes, the very vibe they give off. When two people have been together that long? One may be going to lay in the ground, but the other? The other disintegrates and becomes the ghost.

So… my friend was ill… I visited her lots, at home and at the hospital. I later found out she thought of me as a daughter, that made me cry buckets. At her funeral I openly cried because she meant so much to me. I go to her grave 3 times a year and cry every time. For the first year I got up and thought I’d message her before being hit with the knowledge that she’s gone. Knowledge I refused to believe. Denial. I know that now.

Where’s the lie in this? I know you’re thinking it. Its there. You just don’t see it yet. There’s another side to this. One you’re not seeing but I know you’re thinking, you’re thinking and believe me, it’s not that but… its close to it. Am I to blame? Did I do wrong? Is it all my fault? See, I’ve blamed myself consistently for this. I’ve said it’s my fault because of the way I naturally am. If you knew me you’d know. I hate me but how can I change what makes me… well… me? So I’ve blamed myself for this entirely. It has to be my fault because thinking that it might not be? That’s why I took 2 overdoses last year and wanted to die. I don’t want these nightmares that torment over this. Am I to blame? Is this my fault? Is it?

I care. That’s me. I don’t like people hurting. I don’t like them sad. I noticed my wordfued player only playing sad words yesterday and spoke to them through the chat function doing my best to make them smile(they told me they burst out laughing and were looked at funny), I’ve never really spoken to them before other than “good game.” ” Well played.” “Last play, good night.” You know… simple stuff but we’ve played against each other a fair while now 1 of my 4 regular players, My fifth is taking a break from the online world. Anyway… gives you an idea of me. I always want make a sad person smile, I want to be there and support friends going through hard times. I care.

I’ve dropped words about my past on here over the years, I’ve been honest about the nightmares, abuse, I had in my childhood and that my biological egg carrier and sperms donor are NOT my parents. My dad? He was my second Foster dad called E… and it’s incredibly rare I talk about him. He was my dad. There’s a poem on here for him. As for a mum? She died 2 days after my 6th birthday(when I was taken into care). I went to her funeral when I was 9(when I was made a full ward of court and all her rights were taken away and the last time I ever saw her as a kid). My childhood broke me, it crushed something inside and ground it to dust, can’t fix that kind of broken but can live with it.

My friends husband has always given me a vibe to be wary. But I loved her so ignored it. I can’t remember how it came about, but he knew I’d been abused as a young child. He’d ask questions or make remarks when he knew only I’d hear. It used make me uncomfortable and red flags up all over the place. He would pay me compliments and just general make a point to talk to me. I’d usually talk about his wife. I want to point out that they have 3 children. 2 boys around my age and a daughter. I never even knew they had a daughter for the first 2 years of knowing them. When saying goodbye to his wife? I’d always hug her, remember I absolutely adore this lady. I’d feel I was being rude if I didn’t hug him goodbye to so reluctantly I would. So I guess because I started it I made all this my fault… at some point he started asking for kisses. I have always refused. I’m taken. Taken by a fucking Saint who has loved me despite me being tainted by my past. He’d say do you love me? I know you love me. I’d said love you to his wife, My friend. She was ill. Seriously ill. Really seriously ill. Looking back he was breaking then. I just didn’t quite see it enough. When she was finally admitted to hospital with no coming out, I saw her regularly and rang often and messaged every single day and we’d message back and forth when she was up to it or one of her sons would type for her or message me to say she was sleeping. I will never have a bad word to say about this lady. I love her like you love a family member. I adored her. Her husband I’d see maybe a couple of times a week as our social circles intertwined. First thing I’d always ask is how is she? I could have seen her the day before and I could have just had a text message conversation,but still first thing I’m asking. I’d ask how he was? I’d could see this man breaking and needing just someone to be there that wasn’t his boys. I’d always give him a hug. I didn’t know his pain but I knew how I felt about his wife and it was hurting me. Somewhere through this, he started trying to kiss me on the cheek, tired on the lips. He’d ask for a kiss. Always I get out of it, I’d move, I’d say no. You need to know this… I didn’t want this. Alarm bells would be screaming everytime he was around. It got to the point where I spent an hour in the toilet at an auction to hide because he only turned up to the auction looking for me. He would ask me to come round to his house by myself for a couple of hours. The phone calls started, things he’d say, things he’d ask. He’d ask who was there and who could hear him talking to me. I’d later started to ignore it when he rang saying sorry I was busy when he’d ask. All the time I was still going to see his wife,My amazing friend. This beautiful kind hearted amazing lady that I was so damn lucky to be able to call a friend. Then came the day of that phone call… I was walking to go pick my youngest up from school, she loved seeing me at hometime and that smile on her face when she saw me would make butterflies and rainbows and sunshine explode from me in happiness. Didn’t matter that she could walk by herself. She liked me there. So I’m walking to the school and my phone rings, I didn’t even look. Why didn’t I look? I just swiped it and said hello? Then his voice asking where I am, who am I with? Then he started talking about his wife. I asked if she was ok? How is she? I’ll come see her tonight if that’s ok? Then he starts talking about his wife in a different way, something they “did” then says that he hasn’t had it in over a year. Then asks for something from me and explains in great detail what he wants and how I’ll enjoy it as its what I want and after we can go back to before if I want to. I said no. No. No.

Ok… so if you’ve been reading this blog for a while? Then you’ll know the deep effect that had on me. It opened something up and now the words I’m scared are here. Now I feel scared. I’m afraid deep down. But did I cause this? What did I do that gave him these signals? I tried to be a friend. How did I do so wrong? What was it I did? I need to make sure I never do it again. This is my fault, I gave him some green light into thinking I “liked” him. I most definitely NEVER have. NEVER. I just wanted to be a friend to a man that was losing his wife. My talks were about her. She was my Beautiful Sweet kind friend that would light up rooms with her mere presence, without knowing. It was just the way she was. Its my fault isn’t it, I shouldn’t have tried to be a good friend when I saw him breaking and crying and falling apart. He was breaking, floundering, trying to grasp onto anything. This shit spins around in my head where I say I didn’t ask for any of it but I must have mustn’t I? Otherwise none of this would have happened. The darkness inside me was finally starting to win about this time. And that day by his car when he spotted me and called me and told me to walk to his car with him in the car park as he wanted to ask me something about the Bluetooth in his car. Why didn’t I say I couldn’t? See? It’s my fault. I should have said I couldn’t. But no. I connected his phone to his car again. He put his arm around my waist and again tried to kissed me as I pushed

I can’t do this any more. I want to sit here and cry but every damn feeling is locked and I don’t want to touch that door. I’m here afraid and scared and I’m here alone. I don’t want to write this any more. I tried to push him away. Yeah he was like 68 or 69 or around that. He was bigger, stronger and I felt like a rabbit. I got away and told him no. Always saying no.

His wife died at 9pm. Not that same day. A couple of weeks later. A couple of weeks of avoiding calls and turning off voicemail. Of him learning to text and messaging me and me straight deleting them without reading. Then she died. I sent a message addressed to him and his sons and the daughter that was never spoke of. That only visited the hospital once the whole time she was there. The daughter that didn’t even sit with her dad and brothers at the funeral. But she looked like hell and she didn’t cry and didn’t go to the wake. I sent a message because I’d lost my friend and she meant so much to me and I was crying loads and I wanted them to know how sorry I was that they’d lost not just a mum and a wife but a truly rare beautiful sweet kind person. After about 4 days the phone calls started again. I turned my phone from buzz to silent. Even now my phone doesn’t have sound. Didn’t stay more than 20 minutes of the wake. Both their boys came up and gave me massive hugs, these boys are built like their dad and intimidate the hell out of me,they are around my age. The husband tried to call me over but I pretended I didn’t hear and someone came over to him stopping him. After I’d left he rang and wanted to know why I hadn’t come to him at the wake and why I’d left? I said that I was emotional and I’m sorry. It’s been a hard day and I hope he and the boys are ok. They all have my thoughts, him the boys, their wive’s and children. I actually met the wives for the first time at the wake. They sat in the pew behind at the funeral.

There were 2 more times he actually succeeded in getting me alone, one of which although he only tried to hold me scared me the most and blew away any hold I thought I had on the darkness inside. I don’t want to talk about either. I changed my phone number and didn’t give it out. He originally got my first mobile number from his wife’s phone.

I haven’t seen him since he got far to close and tried to give me a kiss me at the cemetery on her birthday last year. He’s told me that I hurt him and owe him a big apology. He’s asked why I keep my love away from him and he’s asked if he can take me out for a meal, specifically to a Chinese restaurant. What did I do wrong? Because I need to make sure I never do it again. I hurt him and I don’t know how to say sorry for being a horrible person. I’m so confused over this but under everything? I’m scared of this man. So 4 years ago, all the cracks started in me because of everything that was happening. Now I don’t want to go out. I get panic attacks, I sleep terrible, I have nightmares nearly every night. I’ve put weight on. I don’t see anyone if I can help it. All my friends are gone where I’ve pushed every one of them away. I don’t want to leave the house and I hate myself. Every memory that my mind uses the emotional block to protect me of my past,my childhood torments me on repeat. I quit writing on here my blog. I don’t do anything that I used to do. I don’t even take care of myself like I used to. Can’t remember the last time I did my nails that were always long and decorated, my nail kit is in the shed. Rarely wear makeup anymore. Live in comfort clothes, big baggy t-shirts. I don’t want to be touched by anyone. Even giving the kiddos a hug is so much harder than before. Shopping is an utter nightmare that I just don’t want to do. I can not shop in tesco at all, even the one closer to me. He shops in the bigger tesco. Any thoughts with regards to intimacy, just the thoughts of it I mean, make me want to be sick. I have more dark days than good. I cry way way to often and I don’t even know why. A lot of days I don’t want to be here. A lot of days I believe I’m a bad person that I only deserve to not be here. Life would be better if I weren’t. I tried for so long to say that everything that happened wasn’t the reason for this well of darkness to open up inside of me but in my truths? I know it is. So there’s my lie. That’s the lie I told on here. I said I didn’t know why things had got so bad. I lied. I did know. I do know. I just have never wanted to admit it. Because I can’t pinpoint the thing I did wrong. I know I’m at fault, why would he have told me I owe him a huge apology if I wasn’t at fault? Because I did wrong. I gave him some green light that I didn’t even see was green. Where is that point that I went wrong? I need to know it so I never ever ever ever do it again.

I know I’m writing this on here but irl? I never want anyone to know. This man is an upstanding man in a community, well known and well liked and very much used to getting his way. He scares me and the fact of anyone knowing frightens me. But at the same time? I need a safe place to let it out. I can’t deal with it all locked inside me anymore. I am being consumed by darkness and its eating my will to live. I am a bad person, that’s how I feel. I feel dirty and tainted and defective and like I shouldn’t be here. I’m confused. How do I fix this? Can I fix this? I just want to be me again. I want my mind to stop. I don’t want to be afraid anymore.

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Hope is a “cap de pula”

“Hi! How are you?”

Those words… those words mean I have to bend the truth. I have to find a way to tell you what you what to hear. That I’m ok. That I’m doing good. Because you don’t really want to hear that I’m not. Again. So I show you that I’m good and I spend the day with a stupid smile and a happy positive vibe for you to see. And then later? I’m exhausted. I’m exhausted from the pretence. The 1 woman show that I’ve put on for everyone to see. From where I’ve worked so hard to have everyone thinking that I’m ok and that I’ve not failed again. And then despite feeling exhausted? I’m awake at night clawing at my mind like I claw at my skin. And the anxiety builds and the self doubt builds and the darkness wins a little more and I smile for everyone to see and I’m ok. And I fail. All I do is fail.

It’s not supposed to be like this. I’m supposed to have been able to kick it into touch by now. I’m supposed to have snapped out of it and stopped moping and whatever other words I’ve heard people say… the past is in the past, I’m not a child anymore… grow up and get on with it. I’ve heard it all. But some scars run deep. They fracture you and physically break something deep inside. Some broken children heal and others don’t. The ones that don’t turn into broken adults. And it’s not their fault they’re broken. It’s not my fault I’m broken. But to me? To me it’s my fault. I don’t want to be a failure. I don’t want to disappoint. So I’m ok. But I’m not… I’m tired of the games that my mind plays. I want out of it. I want to be rid of the thoughts, the memories, the flashbacks, but most of all? I want to be rid of the nightmares. The things I see when I sleep. Or the terror I feel on the odd occasion I go to the shop and hear someone with that tone of voice. I want to stop being afraid of everything and everyone. Sounds stupid? Yep I know. But it’s the truth. Looking back, I never used to be like this. This bad I mean. It started getting worse about 7 years ago. I don’t know what the catalyst was. But now I question every thing I do, think, and say. I judge myself so harshly that I don’t leave any of myself left for anyone else to judge. It’s said that we are our own worst critic. I rip myself apart before anyone else gets chance to realise just what a failure I am. Because if others found out that I was less? Then they would stay away. People hurt you. No one gets in therefore they can’t hurt me. Only I can hurt me.

Honestly? I’m tired of the whirlwind that is me. That is my mind. My thoughts. My feelings. My emotions… I’m tired of me. I’m tired of fake smiling. I want so desperately to give up and yet, there’s this tiny stupidly annoying little thing inside of me… this tiny little spark… its called hope. And as much as I loathe myself? Hope keeps shining. Hope refuses to give up. Hope keeps me going…

…sigh…

Depression/darkness/anxiety/whatever you wish to call it… they are strong and powerful things. But hope? That tiny little sparkling glimmer of hope? It’s the most powerful thing there is.

So… I’m going through bad days(again), My poems on here have stopped(again). But? I’ll be posting soon because? Hope doesn’t let me quit life.

  Yup that’s how I feel…. I have failed….
So I guess I should lay it out from the beginning….
  My landlord wanted their house back, they gave us an eviction notice, it wasn’t/isn’t  anything I’ve done. She wants it back for personal reasons and I know the reason why. The first eviction notice was invalid so she had to give me a new one.
  I’ve done every thing I can’t think of to find a place to live but as I’m also a carer, I’m on benefits.
   Being on benefits is hard, nope I don’t want to be on them, I’d much rather be working but I can also see it from an employers point of view…. your not gonna higher someone who needs loads of time off. Being on benefits I can’t go to a letting agency as they want a guarantor,  don’t have one of those. That leaves me private and council. I’ve been to the council and they say yeah, you’d qualify for a 3 bed house but, we don’t have any at the moment. There are no private houses for rent within the area I’m looking that will take people on benefits or pets (honestly all those lazy cats do is sleep!). I’ve thought about it and went for a 15 mile radius of my children’s schools, that’s a big area. But zilch….
On the 29th of May, we have to leave that’s the big “E” date. Still I’ve found nowhere. On the 29th I’ve got to go to the council and present myself and children as homeless. They’ve said there’s a very good chance we’ll be put up in a hotel for at least a week.
My eldest son starts his GCSE’s tomorrow. One of the biggest stresses of his life so far, and now add to this stress the uncertainty of  “where are we gonna live”.
One of the things I remember most is that my mum constantly let me down. I always vowed I wouldn’t do that to my kids…. let them down…. and here I am proving I am just like her…. I’ve failed at providing my children with a very basic need….the security….the stability of a home.
  I sat in a meeting last week to discuss all this and the housing officer reminds me that it’s not my fault, I’m handling this well, doing all I can, holding it together good,  blah, blah, blah…. All I can think is that No. I’m not doing good, I’m failing my kids. No uncertainty there, that’s clear cut. They are going to be classed as homeless…. I as a parent have failed them….
I’ve spent the weekend moving furniture into storage, I’ve done over half the house. Big furniture wise I’ve got 3 double wardrobes, a large high sided oak sideboard, the bigger half of a very large wall unit, a table, drinks cabinet and huge oven. Plus mattresses. Everything else will be small.  This afternoon I cut my hand on dirty glass, it’s deep and my kids dad said I should go to the hospital for stitches but to be honest after you’ve sat waiting for and hour or more in a waiting room…. that’s not for me. So I tipped a bottle of tcp all over it after cleaning as much as I could. Now its all taped up. And the house doesn’t look like my hand was slaughtered (seriously? How much blood!)  That’ll teach me to be more careful.
  I feel Shit and mixed up and emotional and more than anything like I’ve failed…. There is nothing anyone can say that will change my mind on that. Part of me wants someone I can just let it all out to but the other part says, hey Nem you have to do this on your own. I don’t know which part to believe any more…. It means I’m pushing more people away and coming off as rude and cold, even though I want them in my life and it just makes me feel more emotional….
  All I can think is even though I’ve failed them…. I’ll get through this and as a family it is so good that their all close to each other. I have failed them, of that no one will ever change my mind….We’ll get through this…. Hopefully….

 

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