FORWARD – (inserted April 12th 2012)
The following piece is not the usual HB/NW article… It’s something that I wanted to say after reading someone else’s blog – and sometimes, things just need saying, whether it ‘fits a brief’ or not. It’s something that might get moved around should I start another, more personal blog but for now it has to stay somewhere – so it stays here.
The link within this article leads to an incredibly painful, graphic description of abuse. I personally think that it’s an important read – distressing and upsetting but powerful and heartfelt. Please be aware of the difficult journey that you’re about to take alongside someone… it might be too much… it should be too much… it is too much… and that’s largely the point of directing you to those painful pages – so that you can stand alongside someone and hear their voice. I don’t know how much of the story that you will read has been developed as a theraputic reflection of inner pain… It doesn’t matter, because the author is clearly working through immense trauma caused by abuse and has had the bravery to allow us into her world. You will thus encounter truth should you decide to read on. And truth sometimes hurts. By agreeing to read some of the linked text, you have the personal choice to stop when you reach saturation point… which, I’m sure the author will agree, is a huge blessing. I encourage you to click on the link, listen and grab that blessing when you need to!
One more note: I felt that I needed some dutch courage to help me write and publish the blog below. Being ‘unashamedly drunk’ gave me a handy get out clause – I could always run away, deleting the post and cowering beneath my HB/NW persona, blaming the whole post on ‘Uncle Whisky’. It’s easy to run… to pretend that horrible things don’t happen and to avoid the pain that listening might involve… Kyllingsara, the author of the blog that I have linked to, has asked me not to erase my thoughts so I won’t – keeping every word that I wrote intact and now standing by them in sobriety… (Except the bit about cynically blog surfing for more hits – that was the HB/NW caricature slipping through again for a moment… the cheeky scamp! I’ve loved reading everyone’s stuff!)
Business as usual in the next article that I write… and I hope that my normal output creates plenty of laughter in a difficult word…
But for now… a moment of pause…
I’m an idiot. A borderline obese, grey haired, fortysomething fool, wrapped up in delusions of self importance. OK, so most of it is an act, perpetrated by my need to be seen as a creative and clothed in caricature. I came on WordPress to share sad tales of disillusionment, wrapped up in funnies and topped off with a cynical twist – partly to make you all laugh and partly to have a portfolio of work online.
And so I find myself surfing other blogs in a cynical attempt to drum up a bit more traffic. Surely if I comment on those other bloggers, then they will come and have a look at my work, right ? So simple and easy… as long as one doesn’t stumble upon a real issue… something so heart wrenchingly painful that it makes one question one’s own downbeat attitude to life.
I’m drunk… unashamedly drunk…. and this blog post might not be here tomorrow – but if you happen upon it, then read this and weep with me… and her.
Some things are worth breaking the mould for - I have crafted a persona on here that needs to die for one night, so that you can read this story and stand next to the author. Dear god, is this what the world is like ? I make stupid jokes about politicians and the media, while people slowly die inside…
I’m sitting by my computer wondering whether or not to post this online – whether or not to open myself intimately, letting you in to me inside… Hell, some people, through abuse, haven’t been given that luxury of choice… their tender souls have been forced out without permission – so I’ll publish and stand with them in my tiny way…
I can always retract all this tomorrow, with a clean head and mild hangover – I can delete – rework… can the victims of abuse ?
Lots of love,