A Note From The Writer

Welcome to the archived blog posts (when I was a wee blogger, wet behind the ears and not aware of spell check and various other gramatical structures!) I have kept the writings unedited or reworked as I am in the process of doing a massive rewrite of my entire life, many posts I have yet to publish and this blog was merely writing practise for the massive job of sorting out my emotions whilst retelling the story as cuttingly real and dramatic as the real memory was.. some of the posts contained are raw, streaming emotion.. many posts although painful to write, had a tremendously cathartic effect - cheaper than therapy one would say. I welcome new and old readers to keep in touch via my author email (sensualexplorersatHotmaildotcom) if you have any questions or wish to share the feelings and emotions raised by my work.
I will announce the publish date and title whenever it happens and I have been clean now for three years. It is possible.
But it is never easy. It's a lifelong journey, I will always be an addict, but I must stay one step ahead of myself and protect all that can be ruined in the eternal struggle to be
at ease once again, comfortable in this skin.
Thank you for being a part of my story.

Friday, March 11, 2005

Summary (of sorts)

You can see HeroineGirl's entire Wish List at:
Mamacita asked me for the link that works - and here it is.
I found out who sent me the books and I now have a new mate.
Totally awesome XXX

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[lovelies this is a post for Literally Speaking as we are studying how I write but I thought I would post it here, for my family and friends]
Some it you may already know ... if you are a regular reader.
You can go to Literally Speaking if you wish to read this on a white background.

My birthday is the 5th of May, 1978. I'm a taurus, 175cm and I weigh 52kgs. I have shoulder length brunette hair, blue eyes and fair complexion. I do have freckles on my face and arms, but not on my body. I am known to be animated, dynamic, child-like, stubborn, open-minded and intelligent. I speak Japanese and have traveled to Japan as an exchange student. I have one brother (half-brother) and a younger sister (also half) . I also have a stepbrother from my stepmother's first marriage. I live in Queensland, Australia.

My father and mother separated when I was four. It was decided by my dad that as I was a girl, that I would stay with my Mum. Around the time of seperation, Dad was involved in a car accident consequently losing sight permanently in his left eye. The compensation he was awarded (he was working when this occured) was substantial for the seventies, half a million dollars. My father gave most of this to my mother, on the proviso that I would have anything I needed growing up and my education provided for. Then, for work reasons, my Father moved to Queensland which was a three hour plane trip away.
I was told much later (although I always had inclinings) that my mother was addicted to heroin at the time. In hindsight, I think this is what led the break-down in their marriage. However, this hasn't been confirmed, my father doesn't like to talk about it. So we don't.

Initially, she was able to keep her promise to Father. In fact, she bought the cutest little puppy and a kitten and built a animal shed that had hay and everything. Even though I recieved an endless amounts of toys and books, the drugs took precedence over child-rearing. My mother, 26 at the time and struggling to make sense of having a child, was back into the drugs. Most days she would simply forget I was alive. I bundled myself off to school in the mornings and served her breakfast in bed and we ate dinner in bed as well. My favorite times were when we would bathe together though. That was nice and warm and special, I still remember how clean she always looked to me.

So I was happy, with gifts and love and the thrill of being with at least one parent, it was enough to make me bonded to her for life. Sadly though, it was too much for her. After repeatedly placing me in other people's care, my father made an executive decision that a more stable home for me was needed. Extremely dissapointed and angry, he ordered my mother to move closer to him in order to supervise her parenting skills. I hadn't been to school for three weeks and my teachers had contacted him. Although I taught myself at home, reading enid blyton books aloud to mum as fell asleep in her cornflakes. The final straw came when he found out that I had fetched her a syringe. We all cried that day, even Daddy.

After that I was told that I would be leaving our home. I was going to be catching a plane to meet Daddy's new family. I cried so much but Daddy was not going to change his mind. I had to do what I was told (young lady, lol) As you do, when your five and a half and thirteen quarters.

I wasn't allowed to bring any of my toys on the plane and Mummy took my pets to the shelter. All I had was a small photo-album and a head full of promises to remember her by.
My mother promised to send my toys on the very next flight. However, when I went to the train with The Stepmother six months later ,only a small metal clad box was pulled from the train. With tears rolling down my face, I picked my way through smelly and dusty toys, some old favorites but it was not the same. Many things were missing. I later found out that she had sold my toys for drugs. It stung and I'm not a material person and never was since that day. I salvaged a few dolls, wiping the soot from their smiling faces and I clung to them, wishing they were her.

Full of nervous excitement and hope, I got off the plane to meet my dad and his new life - which was going to be my new life. I still remember that plane trip was the longest trip of my life. I was allowed to sit up the front with the hostesses and I remember my birth mother had just bought me some funky little girl jeans and I felt very grown up. I had a sticker placed on my shirt, so my new stepmother would tell who I was.
The pretty, slender air hostess walked me down the tarmac, my little hand trembled in hers. I cracked jokes and made them laugh, even though my insides were jello.
I remember the hostess smiled gently down at me from the heights of glamazon, and I had a feeling that would be the last time I would be my own little person.

I could see my stepmother stiffen behind the glass, an older lady (her mother) hunched beside her with an expression that she would rather be anywhere but here. We didn't embrace and they busied themselves more with my bags than they did with me. In fact, the airport meeting is not something I choose to remember because it was simply not special enough to warrant a memory. What I remember feeling at the time was these strange people were not the people I loved - these were the people that stopped my family from being together.
I was only five and a half and my parents - just like yours are - they were my gods.

I do remember reuniting with Dad. I still have a stillshot of subconcious as he sat on the steps, his plaster spinkled shorts and beer in one hand. Beaming with happiness, I bounded out of the car and flung myself with all I had into his strong and shielding arms. At least this was something. That's what I remembered, The one thought that will always stay with me about my dad is loyalty. I always knew that my Daddy had my back.

That's the last time that I really hugged my dad with all I had. The stepmother was not an advocate of Daddy and I having any time alone. In fact, I immediately sensed our emotional bond made her feel upset. In private, she quite calmly informed me I would not be loved as much as her own children and that I should understand that it is hard for a woman to take on a child - she had said yes to keep dad , not to get me away from Mum. I tried to understand but came up short - I wasn't tough enough yet.
The new lifestyle was very different. I've always been an extremely well-mannered child, the kind that is always welcomed back when staying at a friends house and always makes the bed or folds the linens after sleeping in your spare room. However, I was very much on the outer of the family. I had a makeshift room that was near an old fridge, it didn't have any trimmings to make it feel like a girl's room or that it was mine. The Stepbrother and I didn't really talk, he was 12 when I came to join him and mum and my dad. I don't think he liked Dad and he definitely didn't like me. I was told it was I was a girl and that's how it was with step siblings. He was never introduced to me as anything but Adrian. It hurt me cos daddy treated him like a son, the son he never had.
I already knew from my own loving parents, that something was not quite right with Adrian. He just looked...nasty - even as a child.

I missed my Mum tremendously. Mother was a free spirit, I felt that no-one in the word understood me as much as that woman did. I missed her smile and her smell and I missed just having a mum ! I was delighted to hear her voice on the phone. I listened as she spoke hopefully about visiting me soon. Mum had entered a detox program and soon we would be reunited. Soon. Soon. That's all I heard but I believed her with all the determination that a young child has. Kids... How in god's name are they so strong ?

I was sitting in the loungeroom one day watching cartoons wth my Stepbrother. As usual, he had shaped the loungechairs into a cocoon shape, from which he draped a thick pink acrylic blanket to make a cubby-house.
He would order me to sit on the floor while he would watch cartoons from inside his cave. I didn't mind.

Suprisingly, one day he invited me into the cave. Naturally, I was pretty chuffed to be invited into the cave, cos what little kid doesn't want to go inside a gigantic cubby. I went inside and the sky went red and through the shadows I could see he was doing something. It was a still kind of heat under the blankets and I don't recall to much of it. I just know that that's when the incest started. It began with light petting, as it normally does and when the abuser sees that you can maintain the secret then they begin to try other acts, oral sex, fingering and then penetration.
It's all very carefully planned so your trust is slowly eroded , but you still believe that they are not doing "all that much" to hurt you.

I wanted to fit in to the family so much. The stepmother didn't like to kiss or touch me, I suspect that I represented Dad's past life. I don't think she has ever been a strong woman with a solid sense of self and I'm amazed that I figured this out at the age of six. Children are very clever, I knew that I threatened her connection to her potential husband and potential future. In fact, she is everything that my mother is not and vice versa. I understand Dad learnt his lesson from dating a free spirit and chose a matronly, cold and no-nonsense replacement. She was young, she explains to me now, but she is selfish.

Then..Mum came back into my life. Overjoyed ! The sun had appeared from the behind the clouds. I still remember her face, so beautiful as she giggled driving her snazzy red convertible. Smoking her fancy cigarettes and laughing that beautiful laugh... My laugh. Boy, she was the lemon drop. She looked great, really happy to be in a new state and off the junk, it just radiated from her. It didn't last for long but I kept hoping.
She met a guy that was into dope and soon things went back to the same old disappointments, same broken promises and the same push and pull routine. I was ok with it though - it was a welcome escape from home and I think this is when I began to romanticism the whole heroin notion.
I saw my mother as a rebel, she didn't like The Stepmother one bit. She felt bad for me, but promised every weekend she would whisk me away. It was important I stayed in school and Dad was the best to provide a routine. " You're a character " she said ruffling my mousy hair.
I remember thinking I don't know what a character is, but if she is saying it with that smile...Then that's all i want to be right now... I wanna be a character. And here I am still, such a character.

I tried to hint that he was touching me, but I was scared it would make her mad and then maybe my whole world would fade. Daddy would be angry with me and then if mummy got sick , I would go to a home. So, I stayed quiet about the abuse, it didn't spoil our weekends. Then, the weekends started to get spaces between them. I never knew of course , and I would spend eight hours , standing at the front window waiting to see my mother's rental car crunching down the driveway.
The Stepmother would gently try to pry me from the window, luring me with cakes and cartoons, but I remained steadfast - I wanted to believe she was worth it. That meant I was worth it.
But, she would never come and no phone call. I would cry myself to sleep, clutching little gifts that she had given me for the last time she has let me down. The stepmother said no more gifts.
It wasn't fair that I was treated differently and got things that her son didn't. I don't know where his dad was - I just think she was jealous. Sadly, I have lost everything my mother gave me and I don't have a photo of me and her. I have it here...In my heart - aching with loss till I die.

Dad took my mum to court for custody. She didn't show and when she put forward her defense it was nothing for dad to convince the judge that he could offer me more , I was never asked what i wanted. I wish I was ... That decision nearly ruined my life. I say nearly cos I still have life to lead.
So, now weekend visits were fortnightly, I think we did about three months of visits when I noticed Mummy becoming sadder at the end of our time together. It would often end tears, from both her and me.

Finally one Monday she dropped me back at school and turned to me in the passenger seat. I was tiny. a little mouse dwarfed my floppy school hat. She smiled ever so sadly, tears falling fresh in the morning sunlight. I did not understand why she cries - was I beautiful ?
"I have to leave you" She managed to choke out the words, only by looking in the distance.
I dropped my eyes and began to fidget, I was more worried about her than me...That's the kind kid I was. "Ok" I said in a high pitched voice, which trembled with fear.
"How long you goin for Mum" I patted her leg with all the wisdom of a sage and smiled a tiny smile.
Her body convulsed with sadness and the tears fell much faster now...
"Forever, you're not going to see me again..."
"Oh...ok" What more can a child say? I knew that she was serious, she was my blood and I knew this was the hardest day of her life.
Then..She kissed me and I was totally numb, not blinking and not wanting to say goodbye.
I couldn't believe this was happening... I was a good person.
But sometimes, life is just not fair.

"bye Bye baby" she said.
"Bye Mummy" I said.
I was so shocked that I forgot to say I love you. But I'd say she knew from the way, I stood like a soldier, daring not to blink as her car disappeared into the sunset. My eyes did not hover for an hour from that spot. In shock, I walked into the classroom and dissolved into a ocean of tears.

I haven't seen her since and she did send letters but The Stepmother tore these up as I used to fall asleep with them, soggy and crumpled letters from the tears that just kept coming.
She stopped the letters but she never stopped the tears.
She has never stopped the bond that we have and she never will.

Sometimes you don't have to see angels in your life, to know that they exist.
Please go and embrace a child, the best feeling you can give them to survive is love.

Ok, now don't you all forget to comment on what parts you liked and what emotions were raised.
be honest - I'm genuinely curious as to how my writing effects you as a reader as well as a writer.