WHY (grandparents)

Dear Tom,

I’ve thought long and hard about writing to you but you leave me no choice really as I have no other way of contacting you. You don’t return my phone calls or emails. Do you know how much you have hurt me, and I mean really hurt me? Is this what you are happy doing?

I might not have been a perfect Mum but I did my very best to look after you and Claire on my own and loved you with all my heart and still do but your obvious hatred of me has started to erode that love. There is only so much pain I can take, Tom, and you and K, by your absence and by preventing me from having any contact with my own granddaughter, my beautiful S, are causing my heart to shatter into tiny pieces. I wonder whether I’ll even get to see your new baby when he/she is born?

You couldn’t even be bothered to phone me on my birthday this year. How do you think I felt? Upset? Disappointed? Hurt? Yes, all of those plus more. Why are you doing this to me, Tom? You are my only son; I love you but all I get from you is obvious hatred.

I don’t know what it is that you can’t deal with….is it my physical disability (are you ashamed of me?). Is it because I have BPD? Do you think I want this…the answer is NO, I don’t but I fight it and have built up a happy and successful existence for myself despite your cruel behaviour. My wheelchair or my BPD do not stop me from living a fulfilling life. I am still writing and am proud to say that my second book (published under a pseudonym) has just been released. My first book is now selling on Amazon, my third book is in the pipeline, being published shortly and I am now working on my fourth book. I have also had articles published in magazines and newspapers. I am also studying at college, three days a week and thoroughly enjoying it. I intend to do an Open University degree in Philosophy when college is finished. I also attend places where I do continued creative writing, art, mixed media and probably other courses you wouldn’t have a clue about so there is no point in my naming them.

I have every right to have a relationship as a Nanny to S. and she has every right to have me as her Nanny. Why are you depriving her of this valuable and precious relationship? How can you refuse your own daughter of knowing me? Do you know that one day, she will grow up and become an adult and be curious about my absence in her family and no doubt search me out. She will turn round and blame you and K. for depriving her in all her childhood years. How will you feel in the future when S. grows up and has her own children and she then denies you all access to your grandchildren? You need to think about that one.

I wonder what you will do with this letter? Delete it or destroy it in a cowardly way of avoiding thinking about all this? Or will you behave like a compassionate man and have the decency to reply in some way?

The anger I have for you and K. for deliberately hurting me this way doesn’t stop me loving you as my son but you even throw this back in my face. Do you have a conscience, Tom? Where, if anywhere, do I figure in that? You should also remember that there are always consequences for the actions we take and the way we treat others. One day I will die and it will all be too late. Will you regret your behaviour then? If the answer is ‘no’ then you have no heart, no morals and should be thoroughly ashamed of yourself. It’s not too late, Tom. My arms are still open for you…..there is nothing that could stop you from visiting me, either alone or with little S. to talk like adults and put right all the wrongs.

My Love Always, to you, my Son,

Your Mum xxx



I really, really don’t like being called or referred to as a ‘woman‘ or as being ‘female‘. This may sound strange to many of you. After all I am a grown adult. I much prefer to be referred to as a girl, a  young lady, a person, a character, an adult, even  ‘thingymebob‘!  I do not like being a ‘woman‘ or ‘female‘. To me, these two words have connotations: They imply a sexual being as in male and female or man and woman. And yes, I know all humans are sexual beings – if they weren’t there would be no such thing as reproduction of the human race or sexuality. But even the terms ‘sex‘ or ‘sexuality‘ makes me me feel uncomfortable and I’d go as far as to say “cringe”. I know they are both words which are commonly used and often a part of general conversation.

I was speaking with my therapist, *T* this morning about this and we concluded that because of what I’ve been through with so much sexual abuse as a child, I just don’t want to be a sexual being or to be referred to as one.

So…..Who am I? What am I really? Where do I fit in on this planet? Am i strange? Peculiar perhaps? Odd, maybe? I certainly cannot come to terms with being the age I am and I hate to have to say or even hear myself saying it out loud. I am 57 which immediately conjures up the image of being ‘middle-aged’ (tweed skirts and blouses) etc [no offence to anyone who is more comfortable with these things]. Middle-age also implies heading towards old age or being elderly and although I am not afraid of death or dying as I have my faith, I just cannot come to terms with these natural progressions of life. I just makes me want to scream in horror, “NOOOOOOOO”.

When I write my blogs, I think of myself (in my head) as a ‘girl’. I’m not sure of what age although after speaking with *T* at length when she asked me that question, my instant reply, without even thinking about it, was ‘eight’. Eight years old? Surely not.

Eight was the age that I was when my teacher started to sexually abuse me while my father was doing so at home from a much earlier age. That’s when I started to ‘split off’ in my head, to dissociate. That’s when I became aware of my first alter, ‘Chloe’. She was and has remained aged eight. Since then other alters have joined me but they play no part in this. I want to be a girl, NOT a woman.

young girl reading

But surely, my grown-up head fathoms; as a ‘girl’, therefore ‘child’, I would be more vulnerable so where is the logic here? I know that I need  to discuss this further with my therapist.


happy clown

As you see, I am a clown…..a funny ha-ha clown…..a hilarious clown…. a what-you-see-is-what-you-get sort of clown. I even laugh at jokes when they are not very funny, just to please the raconteur of the joke or story. I am perhaps, too eager to please.

However, I am in fact a very illusory type of clown. You see, my smile is not a genuine smile – only a streak of red paint slapped across my face. Don’t be fooled by my beacon-like nose for it is merely plastic and once removed reveals a snivelling, sniffing and rather plain flesh and blood nose. My colourful face gives the illusion of a bright and happy soul whereas, truth be known, the paint hides the falling of many tears. Strip away the layers, the glowing colours and the gleaming red nose and you are left with a totally different picture. Something more akin to this, I would suggest:

tears of a clown

The contrast is  extremely striking; they could hardly be more different. How can they be one-and-the-same person? If what- you-see-is-what-you-get with the latter portrait, it would seem unlikely that there would be a queue of people wanting to be the best of friends. The painted clown would win hands-down in the popularity stakes and understandably so, particularly for those people looking in from the outside.

However, from the perspective of the person on the inside looking out at the world, in this case that just does happen to be myself; ‘all in the garden is not rosy’, in fact far from it. So far from it that you would never guess that I currently have suicidal thoughts and ideas in my head and far too many of them and would go as far as to quote ” If I should die before I wake, Bless me Lord my soul to take”. And as selfish as it may sound, if I could go to bed tonight and know that I would not wake in the morning, then going to bed would be so much easier.

There will be those amongst you who will indeed be thinking that I am selfish, ungrateful, feeling sorry for myself. I am not. Yes, I am well aware that there are many, many people who are far, far worse off than me; that there are people who would give their eye teeth to be where I am now but I am not them, nor cannot be. All I want, all I truly want at this moment is for the pain to end, not the physical pain (that I can bear) but the emotional pain.

“Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord, my soul to keep;
If I should die before I wake,
I pray for Lord my soul to take. Amen”


Today is bleak yet I want my heart to shine.
My face, drawn. Better if it cracked a smile.
My mood is sombre, longing for light to break through.
I am in darkness but I pine for a sunbeam.

I try too hard. Go easy.
I’m battling alone. Ask for help.
The nights are dark. The moon hides her face.
A blackbird sings. Why does this not delight me?

How did I get to be in this place?
I stopped believing in rainbows, in wishes, in stars,
In fairies, in angels, in the majesty of this planet.
I questioned if there was indeed a God.

A page of my bible fell open. In it I read:

“Trust God from the bottom of your heart.
Don’t try to figure out everything on your own.
Listen for God’s voice in everything you do, everywhere you go.
He’s the One who will keep you on track.
Don’t assume you know it all.
Run to God! Run from evil!” (Proverbs 3:5-7)


May this bring comfort to others who suffer today..


When I started this new section of my blog, I intended it to be less serious but I need to write about this. I suppose life is full of ups and downs anyway and this just, unfortunately happens to be a ‘down’.

I was fine this morning; positive, bright and optimistic – looking forward to a full day at college. I stopped at the supermarket to pick up something for lunch and arrived at college on time. There was a large group of us, something I’m not very comfortable with at the best of times. The topic for that session was ‘An Introduction to Recovery’  (from a mental health condition). Those of you who know me will know I have BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder) and Dissociative Disorder.

All was going well. We watched a piece of film on the projector that I wasn’t entirely comfortable with and then there was a discussion between us after that. I tried to communicate but I know I talk quietly but I can’t help that at the moment. It’s just not ‘in’ me to be loud or prominent in anyway, nor very forthcoming (often to my detriment). There was one woman sitting opposite me who seemed to insist in talking over me and as soon as that happens, I just shut down. I tried to listen to what others were saying but the topic that were discussed were very ‘near to the knuckle’ for me. I wasn’t expecting that. The chatter turned to family and children/grandchildren and then childhood. As you may know, my two children refuse to  have any contact with me nor allow me access to see my grandchildren. So, that hurt to start with. But ‘childhood’ suddenly conjured up the nightmare experiences of most of my early life and suddenly I dissociated completely from the conversation and was in my own world or horror. It was just like someone had fired a bullet from a gun at me. I had to get away.


I shot out of the room in my wheelchair as fast as I could go and bolted from the college and don’t remember much about the journey home. Flashbacks kept stopping me in my tracks though – that much I was aware of. I came indoors and just wanted to hide (I don’t know who from at that moment). I grabbed my bear and held my hands up in front of my face as if to hide and also to try and block the images out of my mind. I’d had a panic attack.

face under hands drawing

When I’d calmed down a bit, I was then really angry with myself for abandoning college like that. I should have just taken time out and rejoined the group. How immaturely I had behaved for a woman of 57 (which I hate to admit to). I thought about going back but was fearful of the same thing happening again and also felt too ashamed . Maybe I should have faced my fears; confronted them at least. After all I’ve had enough therapy and still go.

I need to take a leaf out of my own book and next time that happens, instead of allowing myself to get the stage where ‘I’d gone some else’ in my head, I should have employed some of the tactics I have already learned in college such as the Mindfulness course coping strategies. I’m back there on Monday and am determined not to let that happen again. I need to take responsibility for my own feelings and actions and be a bit more assertive. The old and classic adage “I would do an Assertiveness Course but I feel I’m not assertive enough’ applies!!


Well, I have been away for over a week (not long I suppose…) and in that time, I’ve been taking a wander around my life and made some decisions. For a start, I thought I’d choose a new ‘Theme’ for what will hopefully be a fresh start. The stars in the night sky give me hope for the future which is why I chose this image for my new style blog. You’ll see I’ve changed the blog topic name to ‘A little bit of this and a little bit of that’ because that’s what I want to attempt to write about.

I chose this video clip as it shows Julie Andrews returning to the children and all of them remembering their favourite things and the tone of the song goes from being a little sombre to purely delightful. I wish, I hope, I pray that this joy reaches out to touch you all and to touch me equally, dear friends.

I know my past happened and I cannot forget it but I want to move on and write about other things too and not stay trapped in the misery of my past. And yes, I have to say that I can’t just run away from my mental health problems. I still, of course, have Borderline Personality Disorder and Dissociative Disorder (DDNOS) and these conditions play a big part in my life as they always have done.

I want to be able to write about ‘a little bit of this and a little bit of that’ and have some lighter moments and reflections to balance out the not so good days. Oh, I realize this may be no mean feat but I have therapy every week and that’s where I should be dealing with the skeletons of my life, rather than reliving them over and over in misery here,

So, a fresh start? I do hope so. I intend it to be one. I realize that some of my followers may no longer be interested in what I write about but then, I hope they’ll also be some new ones that hop on board for the ride along with, of course, my stalwart friends who have hung around long enough to see me return.

I’m way behind with all your emails and posts and realistically know that I cannot possibly catch up with all the news of your past week and more so apologies there and I didn’t intend to offend any of you. Hopefully, as my head starts to clear and the stars in the sky shine through the darkness of the night then perhaps both you and I can start to remember a few of our favourite things.

Have missed you and am sending *HUGS* to you all xxx :)


girl looking at reflection in glass

Apologies to all my friends and followers but I am taking a break from my blog for a while as I have a lot of problems going on in my private life and am not able to write at the moment, nor read, comment etc to all your blogs either for a while so I hope you will forgive me.

I am very stressed and overwhelmed by everything I have to deal with currently; endless problems and issues, added to which my mental health is not good at the moment and my psychiatrist has increased one of my medications as from today so I guess it’s not had a chance to kick in yet, if it does at all.

I will miss reading your posts but please know I will be thinking of you all and will catch up with your blogs as soon as I feel well enough.

Stay safe. Keep strong. Take Care and God Bless,

With My Love,

Ellie xxx

i'm sorry for feeling grumpy and mad


If I want you to, would you love me true,
like it’s going out of fashion?
If I cry a tear and you’re not aware,
do you think I’ve no compassion?

Did my embryo choose to live and grow
so it came to some fruition?
If I seem quite thin when you look within,
would you think it’s malnutrition?

If I ask you to, would you stick like glue
and be right there by my side?
If I seem too quiet, do you think you might
just wonder if I’d crept off and died?

If I can’t walk far and can’t reach the stars,
do you think it’s an accident?
If I shiver and shake, do you think that it’s fake
as I seem so diffident?

If I’m slow to get going, I wonder if you’re knowing
why I like my solitude?
Do you seem nonplussed, I have issues with trust?
Do you know I’m not being rude?

If it’s been a while since you saw me smile
do you imagine what’s in my head?
Will you stop and think why I’m on the brink?
Please be careful where you tread.

reach for the stars


I haven’t written my blog for over a week – I’m very aware of that. I am also aware that I haven’t responded to any of your blogs either and I hope you will forgive me my selfishness. This isn’t because I don’t care about you. Please don’t think that, because that is far from the truth. I’ve just been feeling so far down in my pit that I haven’t been able to see over the edge into the real world.

I first posted this YouTube video over two years ago. I know many of you will have seen this before and many of you, if you have BPD may have watched this at some time. I know it makes disturbing watching but can you begin to imagine what if feels like to live with this every day? Well, this is me. Welcome to my world.

(On the plus side is the fact that I have, at last  managed to change my care agency and now have the kindest, most considerate carer I could wish for, called *T*). Even when I am feeling at my lowest, she is like a breath of fresh air and always ‘lifts’ me, and however I am feeling, she always gives me a big hug. I love her to bits already which I know I shouldn’t, and I know I have become attached to her and am terrified of losing her. She has worked with me for one whole week now but of course, has to have time off like everyone else. At the moment, I don’t yet know who will replace her while she is on leave but I am already so afraid of losing her. I tell myself “I must not get attached, I must not get attached, I must not get attached”, but all in vain as it is too late. I am. I hear the questions that are so predictable: “Will she come back? Will she still like me? Am I going to lose her? I am already so afraid.

My family situation has not changed. I tried to contact my daughter to offer to go and visit her on Tuesday and she left a message on my ansafone this morning just at the time she knew I would be at church, saying she was busy (in a cool, detached voice). It hurt. I really hurt It’s like she is taking a dagger and plunging it through my heart. Rejection. Rejection. Rejection. Yet again; still. Why do I expect any different? Shouldn’t I be used to getting hurt by now? Why do I always get my hopes up, only to have them dashed time and time again. I felt so bad this afternoon, I resorted to self-harming (nothing serious; just a few scratches) but nevertheless my feelings ran so deep and I was full of self-disgust and anger, that was the result. I didn’t plan it; I didn’t think about it first. It was just an automatic reaction, my coping mechanism.

Now….Enough!! I have spoken too much already. I have let too much of myself out. I feel ashamed; I want to hide; I hurt; I hurt so much: I want that everlasting sleep to come.

Not a word more.