Hi, I’m Beth, and I don’t write, I talk. I like to talk a lot. Too much, sometimes.

My friend is a writer, maybe you’ve heard of him? @raymondspeaks? I’m always saying I’d love to write my life down. He also said I should tag @arbitrarykitten, @shawnamawna and @cali-girl in this post, so there we are!

So here I am, starting to put pen to paper (eek, I’m scared). I have always found an excuse for not writing, I can’t spell, I am dyslexic, I write everything back to front etc. I’m, 46 years old, and I’m going to write from my memory and about my experiences, trying to not muddle up too much. I have a lot to muddle through

I am going to be honest here, my whole life I have had to keep secrets and have been forbidden to talk about my childhood else I was threatened, or manipulated. I can’t remember a great deal as it’s more like the adults in my life telling me what I was like. This was mostly in front of others to ridicule me, and for the other adults to laugh. Sometimes I would feel like a performing monkey, but I’m putting up with it no more. They all played their part, and that’s ok as it’s only made me stronger and more determined not to turn out like them. I am an amazing person.

I have tried therapy a couple of times. The first time I was told if I did not stop asking questions about my past, then my family would disown me. I was bullied and manipulated into not taking any more sessions. I told my therapist I would not be back as I loved my family and was afraid of losing them. I accepted what I had been told. I was an attention seeker and just too hard to love, so I pulled my big girl pants up and put the past behind me, telling myself that the past did not matter anyway. I could not change it, and could not really remember much as it was all muddled up in my thoughts. It’s a bit of a jumble up there, which I plan to untangle through writing, hopefully.

I worked hard to build a better life and I tried to stop asking the questions that kept popping into my head. Those questions are still here rattling about. I tried therapy again, by then my family had already disowned me and it did not matter anymore, what did I have to lose? A lot of money on bottles of gin apparently as I just could not face the past I so longed for answers on. Why did I hate me? Why did I always feel I have never fitted in? Why was I always the people pleaser? Why was I always scared to speak my own opinions? Well it’s time to find out without a bottle of Gin this time. I hope all of you can stay with me for the ride.

Tackling my issues one step at a time.

stover.daniel