Swirly’s Grand Day Out
Born October 2016, a caged bird – released, broken, dull feathers, betraying a breath that was almost extinguished. Parallel similarities to the mythical Phoenix. From flames comes death (you google it) to a pile of Ashes. The time between fully destroyed and dormant, until tiny glowing embers caught on the wind, enough to repeat the process once more. The difference was – that wasn’t quite ‘me’.
My fire had been gradually stolen. Time after time after time. My beautiful golden plumage, granting wishes and favours for others and receiving very little in return, often hoped for, but never received in the form of appreciative kindness and inclusion.
Once those beautiful feathers had been taken, the fragile bird was left, as always, alone and unwanted, as She was no longer of any use to anybody.
And that was exactly how I felt.
- Drained, depleted of all energy.
- I had nothing left to give.
- I was superfluous and no longer wanted.
That’s how I crash landed onto Twitter. Angry, hurt, frustrated with life and everybody in it. Mentally abused, physically damaged and finally discarded once the bloom of ‘innocent firsts’ had been tricked from me. Taken without consent, by an experienced, charming, older man who has been part of the BDSM scene for ten years or more (I really don’t know what if anything he ever told me is/was true/factual).
I’m still not sure who I was, no idea whom I was destined to become and clueless understanding who I was and rarely allowing many people access to hitch along for the ride. Longing to find mutually friendly and supportive companions.
When you’re used to being lied to, it takes a steel resolve to allow new people into your space. I don’t do this lightly. I don’t take people on face value. I assume most are chancers, fakes, users and deceivers. That’s all I know about people that have come into my life before I finally dispatch them – pushed away until they are left standing, dead centre upon that burning bridge.
Once I’ve learnt that I’ve been lied to or betrayed. That’s it. No second chances. You’re dead to me …. well, that’s how I used to be. Machine gun attack. Now I realise I wasn’t tolerant to other people’s personality defects. I didn’t understand that it WASN’T my fault. I realise now, I didn’t have any boundaries, people treated me as though I were a Bitch. So I behaved like one. Now (July 2019) I’m learning and evolving. Others don’t reflect on their actions. They generally lay blame elsewhere. Never evolving and never learning or growing … They’re not my responsibility to fix.
Fast forward to this month (June 2019).
I’ve now met two people from Twitter.
Both have been around almost from the very start.
I rarely follow first.
My timeline, in the beginning, an online diary purge.
Raw, violent, threads of inconsolable frustration.
I was in the depths of Grieving.
I’d not yet recognised the process and stages.
Thank goodness both these people could read the truth between the words, recognise signs of grief and my pain bleeding upon the timelines.
They didn’t harass me as I fell into an imploding online meltdown.
They recognised my life behind the written hemorrhages.
And so, last week. I clutched my advance saver Train ticket to Paddington.
I was a little nervous stepping off the train.
All the usual thoughts, concerns and excited trepidation.
People that know far more about me than the timelines.
Kindred spirits that understood the causes that belied the strength needed to dry tears and to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
I was more nervous of myself than them. What if they disliked me on sight ? A fraction of the awful things that I’ve experienced still much unshared with anybody anywhere, hidden in part of my life that they already knew. All my timeline silliness masking the deep inconsolable pain. The razor sharp humour and dry wit. It could only go two ways. What if they didn’t like me in the flesh ? I’ve accidentally turned people against me because I’ve not agreed with their ways or nasty comments, yet I’ve always been painted the bad person.
I’m the one at fault.
I had the most wonderful day of giggling, snort laughing and filling in the blanks of anonymity, being taken at face value for who I am.
They saw my face. A massive gesture and gift of trust from myself to them.
I initiated both separate meet ups. I would never have dreamed of doing this 12 months ago.
It was the perfect day
Thank you to you both
(I’ve not mentioned names as their privacy is paramount too. If they wish to share then, with my permission, that is their choice, not mine to decide)
There are quite a few people I would dearly like to meet, one day. Whether they choose to reciprocate is unknown.
@Swirlingfire, 19 June 2019