Proud.

I’m proud.We made our first dinner for friends.

Reframing trauma is starting to work.

I created some christmasy ingredients with a twist -dishes.Turkey breast in a tomato, spinach and Chorizo sauce. Chocolate cheesecake with sweet cranberry sauce.

He made Thai soup and delicious sides. We danced around each other, sharing our cooking space elegantly. A symbiosis of kindness meets kindness.

What a team we’re becoming! Our guests loved being waited on and it was a total pleasure.

The Prosecco flowed and the laughter reigned. Long may this continue…

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Drrrrained

Thank God I’m going out tonight. Hoping to find some positive energy to turn that down pression toward light and sun.

Winter is seeming to drain the life blood out of me.

This week feels like its put alot of us on the back foot

Days are hard and night seems to be the most inviting. Itching for unconsciousness to take me far away.

Ofsted under the brand spanking new framework put the whole school on heightened alert and tension.

Failing hot water drove me and the kids to biting one liners, filling up kettles and buckets with boiling water, incessant moaning and endless calls to the Council.

Proving I should retain child benefit that my ex is trying to take from me, find witnesses for an oncoming court case and fight for benefits that are my Right: enveloped me in mounds of hard, unsympathetic, blank, crackling, white paper – the canvass for hard evidence, I Must Find.

This is too hard.

It’s All on me.

4 hours of driving each day in a derelict car that needs daily top ups of water and oil filled me with exhausted numbness.

Couldn’t even write a blog. Couldn’t enunciate the sadness fog.

Can’t even find it in me to care if the Conservatives get in again, or look forward .. .

Broken

I am with my dear friend.

Have you ever felt like the broken you can only reveal itself in front of very special people?

I don’t even reveal this self to me.

Somehow, the honesty and realness of this connection means the painful stuff just oozes out.

I find myself behaving in strange ways that I don’t recognise…from the strong,independent, black, conscious, single mother I have been told I am.

I find myself filled with fear, a little girl, a baby sucking my thumb, I’m scared of being used, I’m scared to voice my feelings, I’m trembling to say ‘no, I don’t want this’.

Somehow, connecting with this traumatised child inside me is healing me, piece by piece.

Hearing her, holding her, accepting her is eschewing a new serenity.

Thank you Nikolas.

New You, New Me.

I love to celebrate craft, pursuit of excellence, Quality with a capital Q in whatever field.

Well we all know how much our hair means to us. All of it or none of it. Hair plagues the image-conscious- confidence.

My hairdresser has taken me through many life – hair styles. She knew me when I was living the lie- of Happy Families and ‘holier than though’ church.

She saw me try and assert Me in a coercive church and relationship.

She witnessed me go through many breakdowns…she witnessed me leave my family and crawl back in a suicidal state.

She watched me get help from Mental health workers, domestic abuse support, Judges, Social workers, nearly end up in a refuge, sofa surf and be finally housed for domestic abuse by the council.

Then she saw me start to listen to my intuition, my soul, my Politics, my Purpose in a cocoon of new and old loving friends and equilibrium.

Check her out. She does hair of all races, all styles. Dawnette, North London, UK
Mobile 079-563-30484

Free at forty…

I had the best night last night.

Just what I needed after a terrifying session at court and drowning in yet more admin around future court cases, benefits,police requests and the like.

Hanging with great people who were foot loose,fancy free and forty plus!!!

Just like me…

I must say…as a recent divorcee with children to care for, life is taking off,taking shape, taking me….

I love it.

I love picking and choosing, musing, ignoring whatever I want with no one to answer to. No muse, mentor, oppressive authority figure.

Just me and my conscience.

It’s invigorating and enlightening to learn how capable I am, with none of those voices of the past telling me how incapable I am.

It’s the best high to see my children slowly coming to life as I am too: resurrected from the religious prison we were dying in.

And it’s super special to bond with other single parents living, loving and hurtling toward our 50s.

The conversation richocheted from cows methane, to fatherly roles,to mixed race politicking, to work stress to mental health to …laughter reigned.

All over Malaysian delectable and wine. Cheers to the first of many.

Blessed bonding.

My babies…

Yes I’m proud of my achievements and of course the phenomenal contribution of my Black South African brothers to Victory…

But I just need to take a minute and remember the amazing contribution to humanity of my children…

They have been through so much as I walk this journey of abuse, depression, homelessness and recovery.

Yet they’re strength of character literally confounds me…

My daughter’s passion for trampolining humbles me. Her dedication and resolve to improve is the stuff of Great athletes.

The way she and my son care for her therapy rabbits brings out the loving, caring side that they’ve buried for years, to protect themselves in an abusive home and church.

The conscientious way my son tutors his pupil Maths and English is so inspirational. He is finding his voice and learning to speak up and that’s a massive achievement. The way he happily and enthusiastically sorts all things electronic and gadget like in the home- is a massive support as a new single mum! It’s the way he shows love.

They’re moving on and I’m so proud…

In time I hope my eldest son and I will be close again. I hope…

But We Are moving on…

Rabbit’s Christmas dinner.
My daughter’s cookies!!!!

Well done me!

I celebrated my achievements with ‘All of Me’ to quote a Billie Holiday classic.

Yes me and some fried bread, bacon,runny poached eggs and salad…soon to become part of me!!!

I celebrate:

Escaping a cult by the skin of my teeth

Protectingmyself from nearly 2 decade abusive relationship with the help of Judges,police, social workers and the like

Doing EVERYTHING in my physical, emotional, spiritual power to heal my kids

Cutting out people who make me doubt my intuition

Moving away from people who my soul is squashed by

Initiating with good souls who care

Fighting for my mental well being whatever that means on that day

Getting benefits when my ex prevented it and people around me doubted it

Working as an English teacher

Getting back into grass roots activism

Starting this blog and the chance to speak out on any ting!!!!

Trusting Myself!!

Please share what you celebrate about YOU XXXXXXX

Live in Hope

Feeling a serious bout of sadness today after having to relive traumas infront of a police camera yesterday…

The feeling is indescribable… like the wind has been taken out of my sails… the smile wiped off my face… sensed numbed, sensibilities erased…

A walking emptiness….

I tell myself I have to ride this… Wait it out… feel the pain of abuse…

Don’t deny myself this agony…

So the healing that I crave is whole and true and thorough

I live in hope… and those fluffy PJs I bought on Monday are coming in handy…a physical, soft, cushioned, fluffy, comfort.

Finally threw out my abusers PJs… it took me this long🙄

Like my soul knew what I needed when I cancelled everything on Monday to go PJ shopping…

Listen to your soul…

Grenfell… who will fall?

Failed. Those court findings fail.

They flail at putting the right people to resign, be publicly mocked, and punished.

The blame put on the Fire Brigade today makes me physically sick.

When all the money has been sucked out of public services in the name of Austerity,by the very idiots who call Brexit an effective use of public funds. mmmmm

When the fire brigade can only do what their funds dictate…. of course set by our government. Like the police, schools, hospitals how are they supposed to operate on no money?

The government are putting the working classes to death in this country through starving them of what they deserve because the only people who suffer in this public- service- starvation – are the penniless masses, not the decision makers, who probably have private health care and a skiing trip round the corner to look forward to.

It makes me sick that I volunteered at Grenfell for weeks and weeks and weeks helping in the community, wrote about it, yet none of the truth was leaked to our prestigious press…

Nothing was heard of the many more bodies that were seen by locals but not officially counted, of the mounds of victims who were illegally in the UK, of the weeks it took the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea to give the survivors food; my mates were doing it!!!!! Of the joke – public meetings where the top people at the council behaved like they were fresh out of a 1920s aristocratic film set.

They had no empathy, they were wooden, they didn’t know what they were talking about, their posh accents were just one of the painful reminders of the chasm between the Lord of the Manor and the Poor … How do such Etonites end up ‘representing’ those struggling and drowning in the poverty trap.

It’s a joke 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄