I didn’t know why when I was growing up I felt different to the rest of my family! From as young as I can remember, I didn’t feel as though I fitted in. Sadly I never had a good relationship with my mother, from day 1 it seemed to me that she didn’t like me and to be fair I didn’t like her much either.
Now I was no angel I admit, growing up into a tom boy.
You would find me up a tree, in the stream, covered in mud. Dad taught me how to box in the garden shed with me wearing his boxing gloves on my tiny little hands. Now keep in mind I was knee high to a grass hopper and as skinny as a rake! What a sight it must have been!
So me, who am I. Well I’m 46 years old, born in the summer of ’69! See Bryan Adams must have had me in mind when he did that song! I was brought up in a small market town in Wiltshire, England, one of those places where everyone knew some one who knew your parents! Especially when you were up to no good! And that certainly was me growing up!
I think i was about 11 years old when I was finally told that I was adopted. I remember it as if it were yesterday! I was in my bedroom, the usual place you would find me either reading or cutting the hair of my Cindy dolls, I didn’t have a Barbie as she was to girlie for me! My mum came in and stood between me and my dressing table that was under my bedroom window. I do remember she didn’t look at me much, she seemed to prefer the view out of the window. She told me that I was 6 months old when I was adopted and that they had met the social worker on the roof of a building somewhere when they were given me and that my birth mother was young and had not wanted me. I’m not quite sure just how true the roof top bit was but it made it sound exciting! At that moment everything seemed to fit into place and the realization that I’d been right about my feelings of being different lit up my mind like a lighthouse!
From that moment I knew things were never going to be the same again!
So why am I here?
Why write a blog?
Since I was a small child I have always wanted to write books, to set stories of childhood dreams and thrill the reader.
Well since I am not a famous writer it is plain that I never followed my dream, too many things were allowed to distinguish my dream, so I’m here to reignite the dream.
I’m not going to talk about pixies and elves at the bottom of the garden, though maybe they may pop in now and then!
I could write a diary that only I read, one that would get put in the bottom of a box that would gather dust, that when I die is found, where upon the reader may flick through a few pages and then put the diary down, will they ponder, will they be enthralled?
I won’t know because I won’t be around to find out! So here I am!
I hope there will be laughter, without laughter I may not have survived this long, there maybe tears! I hope not too many as there has been more than enough over the passed 40 years!
I was adopted when I was 6 months old so I will be talking about how I felt, how I searched for my birth mother and why and how things worked out and everything in between!
So hang on to your hats!
Well if I thought this was going to be easy to just start typing my blog with whatever I felt like at the time I was a tad wrong.
So far I have added an Gravatar, changed the theme several times, changed the colour several times, added widgets and so forth and so forth.
I’ve managed to delete my draft before I’d finished it and so have had to start again. I thought I was pretty okay at this computery stuff how ever I seem to be not quite as okay with it as I thought.
I’ve been told I have a mind like a butterfly, I flit from one thing to the next as quickly as I change my pants, (which is every day I hasten to add), mind you I have been known to change my clothes several times in one day just because I am bored with what I am wearing, so changing my mind is nothing new!
I start one hobby and within days I’m on to something new, I will start one job around the house and before you know it I am in the middle of doing 6 things all at the same time, and in truth probably none of them get finished.
Mind you I am quite proud that tonight is my last day of an evening class that I started 13 weeks ago and most weeks I did go, apart from when I fractured my rib, which by the way was rather painful especially when one sneezed.
So that could be a good place to sign off as I need to go and change my clothes for college!
Bonsoir until next time. x