I have been informed by various sources that “you're no one if you don't blog” and
since I'm quite tired now of being a “no
one”, here is my effort.
I am 27 years old and want to become a writer.
Writing has been my dream my entire life and now I am finally accepting that I
really can do anything if I put my mind to it as my partner keeps telling me.
So, here I lay on my bed with my cats (climbing on
me as I type). Here's the thing, I know that deep within me there is a story
which will sell, which will make readers laugh and make me proud but; and this
is my big secret. I can't find it. My idea for this blog is to use it to bat
ideas backwards and forwards with myself and to get the creative juices flowing
as well as hopefully, entertaining readers along the way and perhaps obtaining
some advice from you?
Firstly, I feel that if I wish you, reader, to
continue to peruse my blog then I should perhaps share a little about my life.
I had a wonderful childhood; I realise that so-called "interesting"
people never state this, but it is nonetheless completely true and besides, I
have too much respect for my mother to elude you to anything else. Anyway, I
grew up in Coventry; not the crappy part, not the well-to-do part but a nice
suburb in Coventry, with my sisters who, at the time of my birth were 16 and 2
and a half. My parents divorced when I was 4 years old which, again, unlike
most "interesting" folk, it did not affect me in the slightest other
than the fact my mother, sisters and I moved to a different area of the city to
a much smaller house with two bedrooms and that we were unable to take the cat.
We were happy though, we had hamsters!
My eldest sister moved out not long after the
relocation and I was too young to know whether this was just to gain her
independence or whether there had been a falling out, and eventually my
common-law step-father moved in. I think we were in The Toy Box (our tiny house
filled with children's belongings) for 3 years when we moved back to the
original area which my sister and I were born in. We moved into a much bigger
three-bedroomed house and the thing my I remember most about the move is that
we were on holiday in America with our father and grandparents. We found it so
funny that they moved while we were away and often joked about it. My childhood
was full of love, cuddles and family jokes.
When I was 14; and at secondary school, I began to
suffer with stress. I had always been a worrier, as my mother put it but this
was different. I began to shed my almost waist-length, curly hair in clumps and
was diagnosed with alopecia areata by my GP. I failed to cope with this and
declined into depression. I ended up in a medical recovery unit at a special
school to finish my GCSEs which I still did surprisingly well at, but know I
could have achieved more with a better level of concentration at my disposal.
Through my teens, I partied hard and thought I was
a grown up, traipsing the streets of Coventry after nights out, handbag
swinging from one hand and a B&H
Silver from the other, sneaking into the house so I didn't wake my parents.
Only once do I remember my mother waking and coming to the top of the stairs as
I attempted to manoeuvre a "Men at
Work" sign into my room although I cannot remember her reaction.
I would dress in see-through tops and slashed jeans
only to be too pleased to be told by mother that I looked "Dead trendy". I had my nose
pierced, my lip pierced and a tattoo and her reaction was always positive. I
think the relationship we formed when I was ill was an asset in these years
when a lot of teenagers would have rebelled.
Luckily, for my older self, drugs never appealed to
me at all and I considered (and still do consider) people on the most
fashionable drug of our time, cocaine, to be the most arrogant, unreasonable,
violent scum of the earth imaginable.
Eventually, my condition made me a much stronger
person and although I have had failed relationships; some admittedly ended
because of how highly strung I was. I am now settled and living in a small town
outside Coventry with my fiancé who supports me in no matter what I want to do
and who gets exactly the same in return. Ours is such an easy relationship.
Yes, we have screaming matches and cry but we make up and are stronger for it
each time and as the few years we have been together go by, we get closer and
happier and find one another easier to live with.
I still suffer; if you can really call it
suffering, from alopecia although I now no longer feel at all stressed by it
and as I stated previously, feel it has greatly improved my life. Had I grown
up without feeling the frustration, anger and confusion of being dealt this
misfortune, I would have remained the quiet little mouse in the corner and
perhaps not have grown to appreciate good fortune as much as I do now. Of
course, this is speculation, I have no way of knowing that these things are
true but I strongly believe that it is and perhaps there is a Faye in another
dimension whose immune system did not decide to attack her hair follicles and
she is as confident, or more so than I but until that fact can be proven or
disproven, I am as agnostic to it as a true agnostic is to religion.
