I believe sharing stories that Inspire Connection and Engagement supporting everyone on their journey to Be Relentless Being You. With this comes a responsibility to empower yourself to be open and vulnerable while encouraging others to do the same in support of helping themselves, and to inspire a meaningful connection that empowers wider society.
When I look at where I find myself today having shared many stories of a journey to find my own new life horizons, I am now grateful for being able to connect with others to do the same. In doing this I can say genuinely, openly and honestly that nothing gives me a sense of powerful emotion more than reading and sharing the story of my beautiful partner Yasmin Barnard as she recounts her life full of courage, grit, determination, belief and gratitude.
I can write books on all the reasons for my love and thanks to Yasmin and the beautiful children that she has brought into my existence, without doubt they are the greatest gift ever received and far beyond my wildest hope at the beginning of my own journey into personal positive transformation, while I struggled to find a way to do more and be more in the world.
Today this is all about an introduction to the incredible person I have fallen in love with and we hope that as she shares her inspirational story it will inspire connection in a way that is open, authentic and emotionally engaging for others with an intent that they may do the same.
Positive transformation is simply a journey to change one mind, change one life starting always with ourselves and extending a hand up not a hand out to others.
The greatest gift one person a can give to another is a deeper understanding of life and the ability to love and believe in the self.
In the intricate tapestry of my life, where threads of hardship and triumph are artfully woven, I would like to share my transformative journey with you. This journey isn't just about sharing stories; it's a profound process of shedding the layers I've painstakingly concealed over the years. These chapters are windows into my soul, exposing the raw, unvarnished truth of my experiences. They've sculpted the person I am today and have also ignited a desire within me to share. Just as I’ve found solace and strength in reading the stories of others, I hope to do the same with mine.
My life has been quite a rollercoaster, I've ridden the thrilling highs, experienced many WTF moments and have also plunged into the abyss of despair. Loneliness, confusion, and the scars of abuse have left their mark on my soul. Yet, it's within these shadows that I found the strength to emerge, shining brighter than ever. The masks I've worn, the secrets I've held close, they were once my armour, my defence against a world that often misunderstood.
As the layers peeled away, I discovered the true strength that lies in authenticity. In sharing my unfiltered journey, I hope to ignite a fire within those who have felt the weight of expectations and the burden of societal judgments. Be true to yourself, and you'll find your own unique power.
As Oscar Wilde so wisely penned. "Be yourself; everyone else is already taken." With these writings, I aim to inspire, encourage, and empower people to embrace their own unapologetic truths. This has been a therapeutic journey for myself, towards healing and self acceptance, and I hope you enjoy reading these snippets. It’s not everyone’s cup of tea and if not, have a great day!
Part 1
I was taken away from my father before I had reached my first birthday. My mum was so scared of the repercussions of having him arrested that she moved me and my sisters a number of times over the county and changed our surnames, fearing what he would do when he left prison. She often reminded me that if he found us he would set fire to our house, while we were in it! I also remember the newspaper snippet she kept in her purse - 'Crazed Gunman of Medway' was the headline. Clearly an unsavoury character.
She remarried when I was six - he was the best thing since sliced bread and brought a lot of warmth to our home. Apparently, I started calling him dad before he'd taken my mum on a third date! (How awkward for my mum!) And when they finally got hitched I was overjoyed to have a 'Dad'. Unfortunately, he left just as I entered my teenage years. My heart was broken, my adolescent brain couldn't comprehend why one dad would try to hurt me and another to leave me. What was wrong with me? It's safe to say I had abandonment issues also derogatively known as 'Daddy Issues'.
At the tender age of 16, I left the nest, convinced I was a fully-fledged adult, ready to conquer the world. I often felt very misunderstood as a kid and was known to be somewhat of ’problem child’. Scolded by teachers, “friends” and other various people in my life for being ‘too sensitive’, weird and not conforming to whatever ‘normal’ was/is, it was inevitable that I would grow up trying to be accepted.
School wasn't exactly a stroll in the park. I was the target of bullies and the girls' toilets became an impromptu art gallery showcasing what could only be described as avant-garde interpretations of my existence, coupled with an array of imaginative insults. Someone decided to take it upon themselves to mass produce photos of me on A4 paper and distribute them to every classroom throughout the school. The relentless verbal onslaught I endured daily as well as the occasional physical threat added an extra layer of dread to my daily routine.
Dance classes weren’t much better, the studios were filled with mirrors which I often caught girls pointing and sniggering behind my back with their little posses and occasionally slating me in the locker rooms. Amidst the isolation and the relentless mental toll, I summoned every ounce of resilience to keep my chin up.
However, I did have a kindred spirit residing just down the road. Almost like clockwork, I'd knock on her door day after day. Our afternoons were an enchanting blend of choreographing dance routines on the front lawn, trying different outfits and indulging in her mum’s irresistible homemade chips. They became a second family to me, whisking me away to poolside adventures and welcoming me to their soirées with open arms.
Until, one day when that all came to an abrupt end… I had just turned 15. My friend was showering whilst I was sitting watching TV with her dad in the living room. We sat on opposite sofas and I had no clue what was about to unfold. Within minutes of her being vacant from the room he forced himself on me. Utterly traumatised by the event, I never went back after that day. I felt a multitude of emotions and a number of sleepless nights followed. Nightmares had become the norm waking up with a wet face and a sense of shame was regular occurrence. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the first time I had encountered an older man putting his uninvited hands on me. The first time it occurred, I was just 11 years old when a 60 odd year old DJ slid his hand up my dress at a friends party whilst smirking at me. The thought of it still makes me shudder.
Having had enough of all the bullshit I started staying out at peoples houses - basically anyone who would have me. Days of sofa surfing turned into weeks, weeks into months, wearing my vulnerability like a beacon - I became prey to a number of predators. Despite my facade of maturity and confidence, deep down I was still that little girl yearning for love and acceptance.
Any mates that I did have were older than me. I started staying frequently at a girlfriends house in a neighbouring village and we became quite close. That didn’t mean I got a free pass on rent/bills and my waitressing job at the local pub wasn’t cutting it. She and I ventured to London regularly and on a sunny day whilst traipsing Tottenham Court Road we clocked a Gentleman’s Club. Our playful jests about becoming one of the “girls” got the better of our curiosity.
We sauntered inside the dimly lit mini palace; gold flecked ceilings and walls were adorned by large pieces of vintage artwork and black leather cushioned chairs surrounded stately mahogany tables. The bars and stages were embellished with golden trims and poles accompanied by the most beautiful women seductively curling themselves around them. Before I knew it, having made yet another foolish decision, I was on the stage that I had just been glaring at - facing the most daunting audition! I timidly approached the pole and wrapped my sweaty palms around it with legs trembling like a baby dear trying to stand for the first time. The brightness from the spotlights was practically blinding me, and it felt like a multitude of eyes were drilling holes into my very being. I was petrified and felt incredibly exposed.
What was I thinking? Frankly, I never tried to comprehend my impulsive, reckless behaviour until recently. At that time, I was still a kid, my vision limited to what was right in front of me. Nevertheless, my friend and I were embraced into the fold, enticed by promises of wealth and extravagant living, all wrapped up with a generous serving of Dom Perignon to both celebrate and temporarily numb the sense of degradation.
I had always been somewhat of an extremist, got myself into a lot of sticky situations and made a shit load of dysfunctional decisions. I lacked trust, self esteem and was desperate to find belonging. I had barely turned 17 and became a pawn in a very dangerous game, regularly exploited by both men and women. Before long I was in a myriad of men's magazines, jet-setting to exotic locations, and gracing celebrity parties, all while barely legal to drink.
Let me assure you the glamour of it all was a total illusion, a mirage of a captivating life. I frequented a number of West End clubs most nights of the week, burying the pain, shame and self loathing in a number of less than desirable ways. Alcohol, drugs, and toxic encounters enveloped me. My reality was just too painful to confront.
I had a break from it all for a while having sparked a long term relationship. He and I were both troubled souls, drugs were at the core of our relationship and we both had deep seated issues which inevitably meant it was never going to work. We moved in together, got engaged and tried to push through. It became quite volatile and I remember calling family and friends a number of times to pick me up. I would always end up going back, until one day when I couldn’t take it anymore and just vanished.
I soon returned to the insanity of working in London, now living with another girlfriend, travelling the world with more cash than I knew what to do with. Self destructive and reckless I ended up in the same shit, being the same hot mess I was before. Various kinds of abuse had become the norm and I was living on the edge with an empty soul. I wanted to run away and that’s exactly what I did.
Having just turned 21, my bestie and I booked a flight to Dubai in order to get away for some chill time and generally - just breathe. I was tired of being a puppet for other peoples amusement and being treated like an object. Broken and lost, I got on that plane with no expectations other than to relax, reflect and get my shit together. Little did I know just how life altering that flight to the Middle East in 2008 would be….
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More to come and in the meantime to Yasmin my beautiful soon to be wife I say this. You are an amazingly beautiful soul, delicate yet powerful, loving yet strong, and you deserve all our respect and admiration for being a beautiful soul risen in courage.
When beautiful flowers struggle to bloom, we should be focused on fixing the environment in which they grow, not the flowers.
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