This is my Becoming

05/09/2016

This is my becoming.

After Lauras book ‘Becoming’ had me in fits of laughter, floods of tears and frozen in awe, I dug deep and tried to find me own ‘Becoming’ story. Laura's is how she shagged her way to chastity: how she sought love and validation from others until she realised she needed to seek it from herself - it's one of those books that will forever be on your bookshelf. You know the ones that are timeless: the ones you read again every year and take something new and different from it. A book with hidden treasure between every page, revealing different jewels every time you read it.

After thinking long and hard about my own Becoming story, I came to realise I haven’t got one. I’ve been through a lot in my 21 years of life, I have lots of stories to tell: both good and bad, but not one that has brought me into myself. I think I’m still living my Becoming story, it’s not as wild and wacky as Laura’s but maybe that’s because I view it as normal whereas you might not. 
That being said, I do have a becoming story of my Becoming – the story of how I entered my journey of self-love and acceptance. This is the story you will read today.

2011-2012 I was in an emotionally abusive relationship. Now, I hate saying that because it feels like I’m attention seeking, he never physically hit me or anything but by the time he was done with me all of my confidence, self-esteem, money and happiness was non-existent.

To paint the picture, he turned all of my friends against me, he used to message my friends telling them I’d said horrible things about them, which I hadn’t, and then tell me they’d said horrible things about me which would obviously start arguments. He also guilt tripped me every time I said I was going to see my friends: his favs were “but you told me you’d hang out with me but fine, don’t worry. I’ll just go see *insert random girls name here* because she ACTUALLY cares about me” or “ok whatever but I don’t see why you hang out with them when they said *insert horrible comments* about you.” He told me didn’t love me anymore and I smiled so he smashed his room with a baseball bat and set it on fire then somehow blamed me. He told the people he lived with lies about me such as I took all of his money and wouldn’t let him leave me (?) so no one would speak to me and also told people I had a smelly vagina lol I don’t btw.

April 2012, he dumped me. I accidentally gave his number to debt collectors, cause apparently he gave them my number instead of his own, so he chucked a chair across the room, grabbed my arm and physically threw me out, I later found out that he was doing the hanky-panky with someone else earlier that day. Looking back now, it was a lucky escape. I was free.

It was a strange feeling, obviously I didn’t see his true colours at the time so I was devastated. I was crying every day, until some random 30-year-old bloke asked me what was wrong and I replied with “my boyfriend dumped me” and he laughed and walked off, I had all of this free time that I didn’t know what to do with and my self-confidence was in shatters. Within the first week of being single I slept with someone. An old friend of mine, he rang me up and took me to the cinema to cheer me up. I haven’t heard from him since maybe it was my ‘smelly’ vagina hahahah. I started to go out every night: to gigs, to night clubs, or to my friends flat, yes, I managed to keep at least one friend woohoo, and I started to drink a lot. It was the only thing that made me feel fun, confident, pretty, and worthy. It was my comfort blanket in this dismal, confusing time.

I lived at my friends flat for a little while, only going back to my mums for fresh knickers or to steal a pack of super-noodles when we had no money. I can’t tell you how long I lived there for because the days all blurred together. We went clubbing and drank pretty much every other day, and if we wasn’t doing that, we were in bed (well, I was on the sofa) watching films eating garlic bread and chocolate cake cause we put vodka and tobacco before food.

One morning, I woke up in a hotel. I had stayed there with my male friend whom I was seeing, but he wasn’t there. I left and wandered down to the beach, still drunk from the night before. I got strange looks because I was wearing my welsh rugby shirt (god knows why, I think I just missed home) and I sat down by the beach. The refreshing wind blowing on my face with light rain hydrating my skin. When I’m drunk or hungover, there’s nothing I love more than feeling a icey cold breeze on my face. I sat and I watched the waves crash against the shore. I thought about life, and what mine was becoming. I didn’t want to live this way. I didn’t want to drink my problems away. I wanted to feel valued, worthy and loved. I knew deep down my family love me unconditionally: especially my nan and bamps, but I didn’t speak to them that much at this time in my life because I didn’t want them to be ashamed or disappointed – I knew deep down they wouldn’t be, but I didn’t want them to see me like this. I didn’t want them to see me broken because it would break their hearts and that would break mine. 

I needed to change, so I stood up and made my way to the bus stop. I managed to find some money in the bottom of my bag and got on the bus home to my mums. I got in and went to bed. I was hot and cold, shaking so much I split rice krispies all down myself and my heart was trying to escape my ribcage. I honestly thought I was going to die. I managed to fall asleep, I slept all day and night – it was the best night sleep I’d had in a long time. I woke up and made myself some coffee – I’d been drinking asdas own so this fancy stuff my mum buys was heavenly. As my taste-buds tingled I made a list of what I needed to change and how I was going to do it. I figured out that first, I needed to stop drinking. Second, I needed a change of scenery and third, I needed routine. I rang my nan and bamps – I was meant to be going there for Christmas anyway so I asked if I could come early, they obviously said yes and so I packed my stuff and got on the train a few days later. I didn’t drink the whole time I was there – I had half a glass of vodka redbull on new year’s but I didn’t even drink all of that. I stayed until just after January 7th.

I felt happier, healthier and ready to jump into changing my life. I needed routine so I went and saw a youth worker about college. I had already been to the local college to study art and design but dropped out within the first 3 weeks. She gave me the details for EYS – a college for naughty children. It homed delinquents the same age as me, people trying to turn their lives around and learn. It also homed some of the most brilliant tutors ever. Mari, an older south African lady soon became a second mother. She’s the reason I stayed and completed my course, she’s the reason I gained some confidence back. Every morning she greeted us as her ‘beautiful babies’ – she was how you imagine a nan to be: warm, smells of cookies and compliments you at every given opportunity. She wasn’t a weirdo though, she genuinely wanted to see us succeed and she understood we all had issues. She made me realise I was good enough, that I am intelligent and I am beautiful. She showed me the good inside my soul and it changed my life. 

From there, life has been up and down. I found my darling Shane and he was the person who introduced me to my first self-help book. That self-help book created a snowball effect making me more and more curious about self-improvement, self-love and the psychology behind it all.

I am not quite the person I want to be, I am not quite the person I know I will be, but I am getting there – slowly but surely.

It won’t be long, but for now, I am happy. I am happy learning how to love myself, I am happy learning not every day will be a good day, I am happy learning how to open up and be vulnerable and I am happy learning about who I am and the magic I hold between my bones waiting patiently to shine through.



What's your 'Becoming' story?

2 comments

  1. Well done on getting yourself together at such a young age, I've been there and it's a slippery path when everyone around you is going through their own crap but the bloke you were with sounded like very bad news! Be glad you've seen the back of him forever!

    Mel ★ www.meleaglestone.co.uk

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you, it is definitely a slippery path! yeah glad hes out of my life for good now bloody hell haha

      Delete

INSTAGRAM

© Arora Appleby. Design by Fearne.