More About My Life

Hmmm.... Well, for anyone who has seen my pages before, they will probably be familiar with how this page used to look. It was basically a run down of the best and worst days in my life, the events, the protagonists, and the feelings associated. It was, however, written quite some time ago, and things have changed. Another good reason to update me thinks, so here goes.
Best Days
Ah, a tricky one. See.. before, this was an account of 2 events, my 21st birthday in the Cat in Nantwich, and a trip when i was 17 to Alton Towers with my sis, her wee one, and various others! But... I've gone n gotten myself married since then... what to put, what to put...

Ok.. I think all 3 can be here. Aspects of Ali, so to speak. I'm the same person, but different too, and so they all deserve the mention.

Earliest first. Alton Towers. For those who don't know, Alton Towers is a theme park not to far from where I was brought up, having zillions of rides, and loads of gardens to look at, though being 17 gardens were not really top of my agenda. With me, were a selection of people, my sister Su, her daughter Heidi-Rose, (aged 7) her then chappie Ian, (a doorman at the local night club), Chris from Brighton, (a strange chap with a mitsubishi gallant and a penchant for smelly chest emanations), and Sally, also from Brighton, (aided by her legendary moustache!)
The day started entertainingly enough, with Meat Loaf blasting out from an impressive mitsu stereo on the drive down there, with Su and my good self providing additional vocals. Ian, being by the window, was doing the casual arm outside thing, when H, being 7, thought it might be a smart move to press the up button on the electric window. Not so sure that Ian saw the funny side, but everyone else did. Then there were the rides, memorable especially for Su bellowing "Who's got Heidi-Rose", Sally shouting "Me", and my good self yelling, "Who was that who just flew past then..?" lol. And then the ride home again, with more Meat Loaf. I was hoarse from laughing and singing and it felt great to be part of something. Family and friends I guess, albeit 2 were Su's friends not mine.

Next, my 21st. Here's the original text I wrote for the first version of here :

It was my mothers 60th birthday too and it was kind of a tradition to have my tea with her. Just her. I'd been living with Lisa by then for closing in on 2 years, and when I arrived at mothers Lisa was already there. I supposed that this was fine really, as Lisa and I were a family as such, and this was just another way of incorporating her. But, unbeknown to me, my brothers had made the trip from their various out of area abodes to wish mum n I a happy birthday, though I suspect this was more aimed at mum as I have never really been close to my brothers, them being so much older than me, and never seeing what I saw when our parents split just meant that they had no concept of who I was, or why. As a family I have no recollection of all of us in the same room.

So, I was surprised when Andrew appeared from the bedroom, and a little miffed, as I had plans for the evening and this meant to be polite I would have to be late for my friends. Perhaps I should have known better, but the comment "At least Iain hasn't turned up" had left my mouth before I'd looked into the kitchen.. to see Iain with a video camera pointing my way! Oooops! Cutting a long story short I was an hour and a half late meeting my friends, who were more than a little annoyed after what had been arranged for weeks had been put down the pan by my no doubt well meaning brothers. That aside though, we hit the Cheshire Cat, which had been my local haunt for a couple of years, and turned into my work place through some of my time at Uni, and had an amazing night. Maybe it was because I wasnt as drunk as I would normally be, maybe it was because Hamish and Su had promised to come, and didnt, which meant it was just me and my friends and Lisa, but the night was incredible. It was the people who wanted to be there, no being there cos it was expected of them, just a bunch of people I related to, cared about, and in a place I felt I belonged! Kilkenny, Newkey Brown, a rock night, my friends, and a coming of age! I was glad to be me!

And then of course, there is the wedding. Although, and this might seem stupid, I think it wasn't just the day its self which was special. It was the time heading up to it. from the point where we'd decided to get married, right up to actually doing it, there was still the possibility for both of us to say, "No.. this isn't what I want", but instead everything was the exact opposite. The idea of a reciprocal commitment, considered, and agreed upon, and then reaffirmed daily by just being... gave me such a feeling of being loved and accepted, and wanted. Tis all I have ever asked for! How could these not be the best of days?
Worst Days
This subject always goes down a treat with the readers! Provocative? Moi? As if! But, like the best days, things have changed, with more to be added as I've grown older and experienced more. Here again is my original take on this, and I shall add to it an extra paragraph :

"I'm not sure that I can pin any specific day down. I have several again. Leaving oz for the second time, wondering if I'll ever see Jack and Glenda again in person. Being on the street in Crewe, and watching my father turn his nose up and walk away. Christmas day 86 with Dad living downstairs, mum in the bedroom upstairs, and me sat alone to watch Ghostbusters with dad having gone out and mum too proud to move from her room. All of these play on my mind when I'm low.

I think the worst moment was the realisation that my parents, who id spent my childhood years convincing myself were really good people, with my best interests at heart, were after all, not who I thought they were. I remember years of thrashings when I was young, being too scared to go to the toilet after bedtime, so that I had to urinate under the carpet, in a tin, or somewhere else I thought would go undiscovered until well past the age of 11, being vastly underweight, questioned by my father as to why I'd not grown breasts yet because he thought I was Anne, his daughter from his first marriage, amongst many other things.

I was sure that, although I didn't agree with the way I was brought up, they did what they thought was best for me.. Now I no longer believe that. Having researched cognitive behaviour, and knowing that my parents sought help over how their marriage was going, and were aware of the affect their treatment of me was having (I had several councillors assigned to me, plus concerns about my weight and bed wetting which continued till about age 15, so they must have known what they were doing was wrong.

More recently, their actions lost me not only a serious amount of money, but far more importantly ruined my plans to attempt to move to Australia to start a life with my son and his mother. This was cold, calculated, planned and devoid of reason. I now harbour a hatred for them which, given that I know it is an emotion totally controllable cognitively by me, is something that I actually take pleasure from. I despise them, everything about them, and the sooner they go to meet their Gods retribution the better the world will be for it. I'm not proud of my feelings about them because I know that negative emotions only cause pain, but I use that pain positively, it motivates me, makes me aware that I must never let what I want to see obscure my vision of what's actually there. This can only bring good things my way and so this is a great example of how good can come from bad, where the negative is controlled, contained, and recycled!" **I should note, since I wrote this, my father died from cancer. We had not spoken in years, and I feel no sense of loss for him, only an occasional flicker which says something like "I wonder, if he'd had more time, would our relationship have healed?". I doubt it**

And so, more recently, the newest event to add to the pot. Deborah, and her abortion. having spent nearly 3 years trying to recover from the failure to move to oz, I found myself engaged to a lass who seemed intelligent, was obviously pretty, and we became engaged. We talked about kids, and futures and similar, and decided we would have a child. I ploughed all I had into the "Us" that we'd created and so I thought that this was right. There were times even, when she begged and pleaded with me, make me pregnant, and so, I thought, I did. However, upon confirming she was pregnant, the first words from her were, "I cant do this, i'm not keeping it", and she then proceeded to completely block me out of the issue completely. I had no say, was allowed no input, no contact with any doctors / councillors and I found out she was taking her engagement ring off to visit them. now i'm not against abortion, far from it in fact, but this was a planned pregnancy, and planned by more than one person, yet only she had a say in what happened next. And, April 4th 06 the deed was done. I was destroyed. Only later did I find out, I was not the only one in the frame for being dad, but by then I had accepted and moved on from what had happened that day, and in truth that news just made things easier.