A Badge That Says ‘I’m Different’.


I was given this badge. This nice blue badge which, now that I mention it out loud, is appropriately coloured. On this lil blue badge is the London Underground sign with a phrase stating: ‘Please Offer Me a Seat’.

I was born looking normal, I grew up looking normal (well to the extent I hid my arm) and I definitely still look normal. No body can see the pain I’m in. Friends wouldn’t really know the extent of the pain I’m in on a daily basis.

Why? Because I don’t want to be that one who complains all the time and nor do I want to feel like a burden to anyone. So I smile and get on with my pain treating it as and when I need to.

I wish that method could apply to my mental pain, but I digress.

Standing up on a packed tube where I’m too small to reach any poles to steady myself is painful. All my effort goes into trying to balance and it hurts. My leg is throbbing from morning all the way through til that tube journey home.

And so I was given a badge. In the hope that people wouldn’t question my invisible disabilities and allow me to sit.

And most of the time they do. The rest of the time, I’m probably way too small for people to even notice me in the first place and that’s fine. What’s also fine, is those who don’t give up their seats because they could be like me.

It hurt me though, when I got it. I felt like I was given this great big blue badge that screamed ‘I’m disabled!!!’. I felt ashamed that people would look and question what could possibly be wrong with me that warrants me having such a badge.

I felt broken.

It represented this huge feeling of being broken. Of having something wrong with me. Of not being normal.

It reminded me of those feelings of shame for having physical issues growing up. The feelings of hurt when no one would believe I was couldn’t do things or was in pain. The memories of being bullied for being different.

I still get embarrassed. I see people staring but I know they’re going to. One person was cruel but that was one in god knows how many hundreds I’ve come across on my tube journeys this past month.

But being able to get a seat for most of my journey has really helped reduce the pain I get in my leg. Just like writing helps reduce the pain in my head and heart.

It’s nice to feel less pain in my legs.

It’s nice to be writing again.

I can’t believe it’s been so long since I last wrote anything and it was an unexpected message that actually got me wanting to write again.  It’s not been plain sailing since then but I’m sure I’ll start telling you all everything that’s happened soon enough!!

Thank you for that message ❤

Instagram: @elenipapa92
Twitter: @elenip92

 

 

 

Raindrops



The rain was so heavy last night. It just endlessly poured and poured. It drenched me through, past skin and bones but I wasn’t ready to go home.

The voice at the other end of the phone cracked a feeble excuse of ‘hello’. I could hear her tears begin to fall before I could say my own ‘hello’.

Crying over the man she has to go home to. Crying over the situation she says didn’t want. Whilst she can’t control his actions she chose to remain and so off to home, she goes.

I needed strength from someone that wasn’t me. Support for the two feet I could barely stand on. So I leant with my back to a broken fence trying to stay tall. I tried to find that strength within but my own tears began to fall.

And the rain kept pouring. It poured and poured. It was never going to stop.

It…this…all of it. It’s never going to stop.

Every tear that falls, makes me take irrelevant things to heart. But although I know it’s different, the scars I have convince me that more are due to start.

They say I’m strong but I’ve never felt so weak and last night I just wanted some arms. To wrap around and hold me close and take away this storm.

This storm that gets so strong, it knocks me to my knees. Why can’t they see what they do to me…what they’ve done to me…

They don’t see the scars they’ve dug so deep.

My head pounds with contradictions and distortions: present, future, past. Pick them up and I carry them all, the ground cracks beneath my feet.

The rain almost started to soothe me. As if the world could feel my pain. Not alone, never have been. With my heart calmer and one deep breath I brought myself to my feet.

In that moment, I had no greater need than the FaceTime call that came barely 30 minutes later. Her face and mine connected on a screen but that’s all I ever need.

The tears came strong but so did laughter and crippling tears of joy. Get to see her in two days’ time, to celebrate all weekend long.

This post has hurt so much to write. Sat with tears burning down my cheeks. God knows what they think, the people who can see.

I’ve never been so happy either, with him, with her, with me. They say you can’t pick your family but I choose to disagree.

Instagram: @elenipapa92
Twitter: @elenip92

Raw

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Hands tense, gripping what they can. Trying to stand tall but everything is crumbling.

Heavier weights to try numb the even heavier pain.

But it’s falling away. It’s being ripped away.

It hurts. Oh it god damn hurts.

The pounding starts. The voices come running. Whispers turn into screams.

Walls back up but still spiralling downwards. One step forward yet five leaps back.

Lift even heavier. Push through the pain. It helps the hurt.

But why does it still hurt?

Tears stinging. Why is it still so raw?

I’ll never see him again but why am I scared that it might happen accidentally?

How did one person take away all my strength? All my confidence? All my self-worth? Why did he have to take it, just to have sex with me for a few months?

I can’t do it right now. I can’t fix myself right now. Somebody please pick me up because I really can’t stand on my own right now. Anyone. Please.

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Worthless

I feel as if I’m in a constant state of numbness. Nothing is getting me out of this rut I’m in and so many thoughts are running through my head. It’s starting to get clearer but that doesn’t mean the pain goes away, in fact, it makes it hurt more.

He tried to convince me that I, myself, wasn’t the problem. Rather, it was the expectations of a relationship that were the problem. It’s still so hard because that doesn’t make it feel much better. He said it was things he couldn’t change about himself, not me. That little voice whispers in my head, if I was perfect he would have wanted to do those things, that the root of the problem was still me.

I just want to be looked after. So many years of hurt, mental abuse, being used by friends, boys, family and the like whilst always being there to help others has made me into the person who doesn’t appreciate her self-worth.

I always feel like I don’t deserve to have someone who goes above and beyond to show me how much I’m worth but deep down I really want that. Don’t we all want that? Am I wrong to want to be shown how much I’m worth? Is it wrong to like romance these days? Am I expecting too much?

Will I never be good enough or right for anyone?

Surely I’m worth something? Surely I’m worth someone’s efforts?

Maybe I’m not. Maybe I’m stupid to want some romantic treatment. I don’t need to be treated as someone’s princess, I’m not like that, but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be nice for someone to go that complete extra mile.

Don’t I deserve that type of effort?

I thought he was perfect for me. I tried to show him, I cooked and cleaned, I tried to find free stuff to do, I don’t think I pressured him to take me out, I wanted him to but I tried not to ask too much and I never cared he was financially struggling and so I tried to suggest cheap things. I couldn’t bear for him to constantly have wet feet with his ruined trainers so I got him new ones. I tried to balance my money so I didn’t have to ask him too much but that meant when I did ask we were both financially stretched. I tried so hard to get into football so I could enjoy it with him. I got him a card for our 1 year but never gave it to him because I knew he hadn’t got me something and I didn’t want him to panic or feel bad, so I ignored that and just hid what I bought because I loved him more than a card. I knew he was stressed for some reason back then but he wouldn’t tell me. I actually thought he was the one for me and I feel really stupid for letting myself think that.

I feel like I should have known better. I was so dubious at first because he had told me he didn’t like relationships and I was scared but I ignored that because I thought he was perfect for me. I fell in love so fast and I fell in love with someone who I do believe genuinely loved me but who doesn’t like relationships. I should’ve known it would end badly. That we would both end up hurt.

I know he cares about me, I know he’s not lied about ever loving me or that he still does. There was so much good in the relationship too, he wasn’t like the others, he was so much different. I don’t forget how much he helped me, how he reacted to my eating disorder, how great he was. I think that could be why it hurts more, because he’s a good person, just not a relationship person.

He’s trying to be so nice to me. He’s trying to tell me its not me, that there’s nothing wrong with me but its so hard not to take such a comment personally. It’s so hard to not feel this pain. The pain of feeling worthless.

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