There have been a couple of times quite recently that Pete has said things about me that I have been really shocked and initially felt that he didn’t know me at all. One such time was his revelation that I loved Christmas. I wasn’t making myself out to be a Scrooge or anything but I wouldn’t have ever described myself as a total Christmas fan. Turns out, he had a number of examples where I have indeed gone all gooey at the sight of a bit of tinsel or the tell tale “Twas Christmas Eve babe…” start of a certain festive tune that if you don’t love you have no soul. I was washing up earlier and reflecting on this, as you do, and I have come to a couple of conclusions which I thought would be good to blog since I’ve been proper shit lately and it may jig me along to get back into it.
I was previously in a relationship for 8 years, I met him when I was 18 and he was 30 and when I was 22, we got married. Within that relationship I was never really fully myself. I think that may be because I was so young when I met him and was still working out who “myself” was and also because I was quite happy to slot into his life. It’s not that I was a totally different person, but there were certainly a lot of compromises that I didn’t even realise I had made until I left him.
He was a huge Metallica fan, and in turn after going to see them for the first time, so was I. And I really am, I do love them. But I became so consumed with being a “rock chick” that I pushed aside other musical tastes. Whilst my iPod was still eclectic, it was nothing compared to the epic selection of random it is now. Again, perhaps due to age but when I was a teenager I was big into gangster rap, hip hop and R n’ B. I really didn’t embrace that again until I left him. This is just one example, and I don’t really know why I suppressed a lot of myself, I think perhaps subconsciously I just wanted to be what he wanted me to be. Even though I was never really going to be as I am very high maintenance and he can’t be dealing with that.
A big thing for me was how I saw and described myself to other people. I thought I was a bitch; I have been told often that I am a bitch. Not bitchy, but a proper bitch. I would freely give my opinion and not care if that meant that feelings were hurt; I was straight down the line, no bullshit. I was hard faced; resting bitch face is my natural expression. I felt that I wasn’t a very nice person because I didn’t worry about what other people thought of me and if you didn’t like me or my opinion then that was your problem. I don’t believe in making an effort with people that I can’t stand, I really don’t see the point. Actually, on reflection, a lot of this was a defence mechanism that I put up after I got beaten up as a 14 year old. I’m not going to go into that as I spent 10 years living in fear from it and I really am ok now so to mention it is enough. I wanted to seem unapproachable, I didn’t want to be talked to. And my boyfriend and eventual husband at the time was kind of the same so it worked well to remain like that.
And then I left my husband. And I started to find myself again. And I apologise for this in advance but a lot of it is down to Pete. That cocky little fucker who came into my place of work in 2011 and made me start to question my relationship (he didn’t even know that until much later and for the record, I didn’t leave my husband for him, we got together a while later) and then started to take me out to clubs and bars. I hadn’t gone out at all really except to pubs as I was pretty troubled from my beating. I just didn’t feel safe. Until Pete. Whilst my ex was 6’2″ and 16 stone, he didn’t look after me like I need looking after. The attraction was a big burly bloke but the reality was very different. And then along comes 19 year old (at the time) 5’7″ Peter, with his cockiness and beautiful face. And he rescued me. I’m gagging at this myself so I apologise to anyone reading this. He allowed me to be myself in all my contradictions and ridiculousness. My independent, needy ways that must confuse the hell out of him but he deals. And after a few years of working it out, he knows me better than I know myself.
Hence the point of this post, I had forgotten who I am because I’ve been the other version for so long. In reality, I think I can sum myself up a bit better now. Whilst I am a bitch, I don’t say things to be hurtful, I think that truth hurts but eventually you’ll thank me. Or never speak to me again. Either way. I am quite a nice person. I am caring and compassionate and if I love you, then I love you with all my heart. But if you screw me over in any way, I’m done. Completely. There is no in between. I am a humungous contradiction. Pretty much everything about me contradicts another thing about me. And you can know me for years and I’ll drop a random bombshell on you that you never knew and it’ll make you question my entire being. Its ok, just go with it, you’ll never be bored. I am independent and outgoing but also extremely needy and insecure; that’s really fun to deal with myself, so sorry Pete.
I have learnt so much about myself this year and I thought that by 30 I’d be pretty much who I am. But no, I’m ever evolving. I often get told by people I went to school with that I haven’t changed. I think maybe I just am a little bit of a chameleon, more so that I ever realised and because that’s the me you knew, I am reflecting that. Or maybe I’ve just changed back to my teenage self. Which would explain a lot actually; the spots, the rage, the ridiculous trainers. Yeh, fuck it, I’m 16 again.