In between madness, living in Bedlam 

( unpolished chapter 8, of my memoir)  after leaving a horrendously abusive relationship of 7 years, I went from frying to the fat)  My age was 21-23 ish. I chose the above picture to share, I retrieved my innocence. 🙂 

During my bedlam period, I develop a kind of body dysmorphia.  I believed I’d gained 6 inches in height, making me the same height as my imaginary supermodel mates.  To reinforce my glamourous identity, I purchased a couple of cheap figure-hugging dresses and enormous heels, to appropriately arm me for exploring, nightlife.  I missed the rave scene, while my peers got off their faces and shagged each other senseless, I stared at four walls talking to my imaginary supermodel mates.

Missing those crucial years of socialisation during adolescence, left me a shit head cabbage, oblivious to social rules. I was vulnerable and inadequate as a consequence of my incarceration. I overcome this, by hastily developing a persona as a bad girl, that I facilitated by licking amphetamines at the same speed as a sex toy. Listen, I’m not proud to admit this, but you know shit happens, and we fuck up and do shocking things as a result of our misery, and inability, to understand life and ourselves.

Minor crimes become a delicacy with shoplifting a constant source of fascination. An embryonic heap of clothes in the corner of my bedroom grew faster than the pile of bills sitting beside my front door. I wish I could have nicked a wardrobe, if I could, I would have.  I do have a bed now, Toby took the sponge to his sister’s, where he’s staying.

I brought my bed on high purchase from a store called Crazy Georges, I ripped those fuckers off to they deserved it. My skill at shoplifting became sophisticated as did my ability to blag tricky situations with charm and flair.  I’d walk into a changing room with 6 items and return one and walk out with my head high.  it was addictive.

My new friendship group would remark on the holes in my clothing,

 “Did ya nick that dress lex

I’d grin with pride.

I grew a pair of gargantuan balls literally overnight and they liberating me. My balls were truly splendid after being such a spineless shitbag, I felt invincible and acted it well with my new mental armour.

show no fear, stare any shit in the face” was my motto the years of dissociating and hiding emotions came into play offering many benefits.

At this point, I had achieved an assault and a  shoplifting charge on my record.  I nicked a bottle of Jack Daniels in the supermarket; the assault was for the little minger down the road who set me up like a kipper after screwing Toby.  Anyway, I have a bed and curtains and the walls remain partly plastered.

 

Spending 7years under Toby’s iron fist left me bewildered by the freedom, it literally blew my mind. I explored the vast space of freedom with alcohol, drugs and new friends and went nuts.

 

A party was in full swing at Mad-Pete’s, Mad-Pete was utterly absurd in an adorable fuck the world kind of way, the only thing I didn’t like about Mad-Pete was he smelt of ammonia.  I made friends with Mad-Pete thru Eric. Eric was my paraplegic angel who hurled himself into my life one night, with his soft northern accent and a huge smile. I felt safe with Eric he couldn’t hurt me from his wheelchair.  Eric and I had a bond, he’d lost his legs and I’d lost 8 babies, I shared this with him and he replied, “it’s all relative Alexia” and squeezed my hand.  I spent the rest of the night hating myself for saying such a ridiculous thing and cried to Eric about my stupidity,  he invited me to a party after the club finished.

Feeling honoured sitting in the front of Eric’s minibus filled with strange looking beatniks,  including Mad-Pete and Chris the bouncer. Chris is a big chap which is probably why he worked as a bouncer, he’d slip in the backdrop of a wutang clan video, well.  Chris was the antidote against Toby he was an exceptionally kind thoughtful giving black man, I needed that reminder.

Chris was another angel who’d appear from nowhere in the early hours of the morning and scrape me off a nightclub floor, he delivered me home like a true gentleman.  Me and Mad-Pete bonded via gibberish and massaging each other’s heads, which was easier for him than me, his dreadlocks were ancient, untouched and a bit smelly, I massaged his head regardless.

Mad-Pete always welcomed me to his house with an enthusiastic smile and corresponding whirling pupils. Stepping through Mad-Pete’s door was a portal into a new world, that existed in the strangest tiny terrace house on the outskirts of the city. Once you step through the door, you are greeted by a blazing open fire and big tele in his front room.

Chris was frequently positioned in the corner of the room playing the drums or mixing music on the decks.  Numerous musical instruments lay around alongside really stoned humans, I rarely left the front room; the rest of the house was dark and other rooms were occupied by different crowds. Mad-Pete, Eric and Chris always stayed in the front room, as did I.

It was during this time me and a couple of lunatic girls i had hooked up, drove to Nottingham powered by amphetamines.  They were both ginger-haired, pissed and obnoxious and extremely funny.  They cackled together like witches and pulled Moonies to passing cars on the M1. It was funny, they forgot, I was driving without a  license, road tax, Mot or insurance.

We parked the nail outside the nightclub on double yellow lines and swanned out of the nail like celebrities.  We met some guys at the bar who we initially thought were super cool, before realising they were just,  your bog standard cocks who sold drugs to fill their vacuous lives, they weren’t proper gangsters.  We snorted their stash, drank their champagne, blagged them with promises, before escaping in the nail.

Shortly after this night, I got roped into a relationship with a guy the same age as me. I wasn’t bothered about him because his eyes were too small. For some reason, he was obsessed with me and begged me to joust with him,  my feisty lack of interest towards him encouraged his persistence. He told me I was pretty and I melted after a kiss which acted like passing an infection upon me, within 24 hours after that kiss, the purpose of my existence was for this man.

I drove him crazy which he hated and devoured. My desperation turned him on, he was messed up too and the copious steroids he stuck up his arse, didn’t help. I think he wanted to escape from how he saw himself;  a snotty nosed, posh skinny kid, who’d been tortured him at school.  He feasted on steroids and grew and grew and grew.  He smelt weird smell too, again a bit like wee, steroid fumes maybe. He was a real mummy’s boy.

Mummy had given her small eyed angel lots of money and a flash car. Small eyes wanted his money to come from drugs, not his mummy, he fantasied he was a bad man, while he listening to Notorious BIG loudly whilst driving his convertible BMW with one arm on the top of the wheel.

Small eyes was possessive and I was too wild to tame me, he tried but I couldn’t help myself.  We had many fights and he punched me too many times in the face and met someone else, who he liked as she was normal. I was angry with him for not wanting to continue with our toxic setup and slept with his best friend. I regretted it immediately. His best friend went all doe-eyed and clingy towards me. I sharpened my claws on him and our friendship ended with a firm ‘fuck off’ from me, and guess what? Yeah, he punched me in the face, and I punch him right back. We all fell out after that and never spoke again.

A friendship with a guy in Nottingham was simmering in the background, he reminded me of a turtle which made finding him attractive, impossible.  He was attracted to me, I liked how he spoke alongside his organisation towards life. I had no reason not to trust him, when he offered me a solution to my dying car.

“ If  you store some gear for 3 weeks, I’ll get you a new car with tax and MOT”

It Seemed a reasonable deal until the offer broadened to hiding a Bang & Olusen television, gun and the gear turned out to be heroin. Believing I was invincible alongside developing greed, I looked forward to my new car.  6 weeks passed, and Nottingham turtle retrieved his goods without handing over a car.  I was angry but couldn’t really do much but give him as much abuse as possible.  Until I met a man who’d recently been released from prison for murder. The murderer was weird but kindly gave me a baseball bat to protect me from Toby, who was, of course, was still harassing me behind the scenes of the many new dramas I created.  Toby was not happy about my relationship with the murderer but kept this distance.

Me and the murderer did a few deals and racked up a few quid between us, he decided he’d enough cash to buy an ounce of cocaine and started selling. he often left his stash at my house, which was safe with me until I found out he was seeing another girl, learning this  I sold his gear to a man called Otis who was fascinated by me and I became enthralled with.

With Toby in jail, and the murderer knowing of my involvement with Otis, he kept away after a few abusive phone calls which were pretty standard for me, i didn’t care I was climbing the criminal ladder and ready to enter a porthole that was weirder than I had experienced. This is how I met my second Guru.

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