I decided at the beginning of the year to cut out negative people. People who brought down my mood, and judged me for aspects of my personality I can’t change.

This is all well and good until I realised this brought along a load of loneliness. It also brought around a whole lot of guilt. My parents are my rocks; they support me emotionally, financially. Love me unconditionally, despite my major flaws.

However, due to cutting out negative friends, one of my best friends being in Australia, the other moving away from my hometown and working shift work, it means my parents are the only ones who I can offload to. This brings a lot of guilt – I just had a major blowout with them. They have had a shit hand of cards dealt by having me as a daughter. I can only talk to them about my problems, and I hate that. I want to be self-sufficient, have a laugh with them, not have to cry to them most days.

I am in such a good place, but it doesn’t make my daily fight easy. My job is great, I am enjoying creating self love for myself again. But I am still dealing with two extremely traumatic events. They play on my mind every day, and as much as I pretend to be okay, I struggle. I struggle to call my house a home. I struggle to be stuck there because I haven’t got friend’s houses to escape to. I struggle to tell my parents this, because they’ve created a home for me there, and it is their retirement home and pension pot all in one.

I feel like this post has had a lot of contradictions, but I just needed to off load my mind to spare my parents for a while.



Tonight I rubbed Deep Heat on my own back.

See, Becci? You don’t need anyone else.



I did then rub my eye, and had to deal with solo temporary blindness.

But I dealt with it and came out the other side with eye sight in tact.

You got this, Bex.





I hurt

Quitting smoking and drinking is tough.

Quitting love is tough.

Quitting my old self is tough.

Discovering who I am is exciting.

Knowing I have privileged opportunities is exciting.

Having such supportive family is amazing.

2018 will be my year. I will not waste yet another year of my life on worthless people. People who bring me down to make themselves feel better will be cut from my life.

I will fight for what I want from life this year, I will get my tattoo, I will work my arse off at this new job to completely better myself.

This year, my resolution is to be the best version of me.

It’s too complicated

Dear You,

You were my saviour. My knight in shining armour when I needed one the most. You were my only friend and confidence. You woke me up from night terrors and helped me remove my head from shit situations. I fell for you. I fell for you so hard.

I said I was fine being friends. I so badly wish I could just be your friend, but when we are together I am completely myself; comfortable, fun, care-free. You bring out the best in me, and I care so much about you for that.

Today you go on a date with a different girl. I act like I’m okay, because you warned me this would happen. You warned me I wasn’t enough for you to fall for. I knew this day was coming, but it hurts. It hurts so much. I wish I could detach myself of emotions for you, but I’m sat at home keeping my fingers crossed the girl is awful and the date is a disaster.

I hope she doesn’t see your flaws as wonderful things like I do. I hope that she doesn’t find your odd sense of humour hilarious.  I hope she hates your dog.

But I’m being selfish. Above all else I want you to be happy, and if you can’t be happy with me, that’s just something I will have to get used to.


A bruised but not broken,

Me x

It’s Complicated

The following events sounds extremely far-fetched, and in some ways I wish I was lying.  However, I am a self confessed Queen of Awkward situations, and so I feel like this could only happen to me.  Let me fill you in from the top…

I mentioned in a previous blog post about this angel of a guy who helped me out with my difficult situation.  We got together about two weeks before I was raped for the second time this year; he was a rock.  Strong when I needed him to be, firm when I was acting crazy, and listened when I was ready to offload.  Unfortunately, about two months after we decided to be ‘official’ boyfriend girlfriend status, he decided he had major ex issues, and that he didn’t want to lead me on with false hope.  He had messaged me earlier on in the day saying he needed to come over to chat.  I replied saying that if he thought it was necessary he should bring over wine and cigarettes.  He arrived in the evening.  With wine and cigarettes.  I feel like I was very cool about the situation until the bottle of wine was empty.  Then I did the crying.  All the crying.  He left, and inevitably I self harmed again.  For the first time in so long.  I don’t blame him for this at all; I used him as a massive distraction for what happened.  I didn’t give myself the time to process everything emotionally, so thinking that my major support system was just gone, was terrifying.  I called him up after it happened, and he came back.  He was subjected to my cuts and I regret that every day.  He stayed the night, because he is just an angel, and made sure I booked a doctors appointment before he went to work the next day.

Anyway, flash forward maybe…one week?  I had a bit of an alcohol fuelled night, and decided he was the enemy.  I accused him of treating me as bad as the two guys who raped me.  In the drunken moment it felt like he had used me.  In the sober moment, I recognised that I had just said a horrific thing.  I phoned him up as soon as I saw the messages I had sent him, and made some bullshit excuse to go over to his that evening – he was obviously reluctant, but I went over anyway because I can be pushy as hell when I know I have some apologising to do.  He let me into his house later that evening, I apologised, we hung out for a while, and I thought “maybe I can do this friends with benefits thing”.  We have good sex, so why waste it, and also why put myself at risk in moments of hypersexuality?  I don’t want to sleep with anyone I don’t know and trust implicitly.  He eagerly agreed.  I have never gone from relationship to casual before, but in all honesty, there was no difference; I would stay over four nights a week, it slowly became more couple-y, and (surprise surprise) my feelings returned very quickly.  He called me up a little over a week ago to pick him up from a drunken night out in town, which I obviously agreed to, thinking “ohhh he needs me!”  Wrong, Becci.  Very very wrong.  He eventually opened up to me again, like ohh but I still love my ex blah blah fucking blah.  He passed out, and the next morning I slept with him one more time (for my benefit only), then told him not to contact me again.  Flash forward…three minutes.  It had snowed over night, and as I was driving out of his village, I skidded in the snow and crashed my car.  This man drives a van, and I was panicking so called him to rescue me.  So much for no contact.

I have figured out that I can’t actually cut off contact with him.  We now are genuine friends who fuck and taxi the drunk other person from A to B.  I give him relationship advice and what to do about his ex, and we Tinder/Bumble for each other.  It is the most bizarre situation I have ever been in, but also ridiculously hilarious.  My feelings haven’t completely gone, obviously, but I do want the best for him; if the best for him is a game playing ex, and not a drama-filled-yet-super-fun person who gives amazing blowjobs, then I’m not going to stand in the way.

This is what would be under ‘it’s complicated’ in the dictionary.

The End.

I promise this post isn’t going to be as depressing as the title makes out.

Things have been very tough for me recently. I got raped for the second time in 2017, and the third time in my life. After this, I thought that maybe I was supposed to die after the first violent incident, so tried to kill myself (thankfully unsuccessfully) as I assumed I would just continue to be raped until I did die. I know that is stupid, but my brain processes things in a negative way at the moment. There was a silver lining though; I found an amazing man just a couple of weeks before the most recent rape. He was genuine, caring, would wake me up from nightmares and supported me through everything that has happened recently. Things were great, but unfortunately I was just a bit too much for him. A couple of weeks ago I relapsed badly after spending my first night back in my house where I was raped recently, since it happened. I self harmed. Badly. And the amazing man saw and freaked, and completely don’t blame him.

I have made good choices since though; I decided to quit my nursing studies for now, as I don’t believe I’m strong enough to support vulnerable people through difficult times. I need time to focus on me – I used my exboyfriend as a distraction from coming to terms with what happened recently, and now have to deal with it.

For now, I am going to be writing a lot about my recovery, whilst trying to find a way to work in the media, as an apprentice, intern, or anything in between where I can end up with a platform to share experience an raise awareness for issues similar to what I have been through.

Watch this space. I will survive this.

To date a girl with Borderline Personality Disorder

I don’t use my diagnosis as an excuse for my behaviour, but my diagnosis dictates my personality.  Borderline Personality Disorder.  Bit of a mouthful.  It makes me irrational.  It makes me act impulsively.  I get extreme urges that, from time to time, force me to make decisions that some people may see as unacceptable, and make decisions around my life that I truly don’t want.  BPD heightens emotions, and the actions that surround emotions.  My sex drive can go from needing ten dicks in my mouth one week, to wanting my hymen resealed the next.  I get angry; not just a burst of anger, but a need to hit, kick, verbally hate on a person or a thing.  It makes me throw things, slam doors, force away the people who care.  I have a chronic fear that I am never going to be enough for anyone and that my end game is complete and utter loneliness.  I joke around saying I would be so happy to live alone with a few hundred dogs – I would, but it is only because I am so scared of my behaviour.  I skip through men, have multiple sexual partners, push away those who care because, despite my fear of being alone, I also believe, so truly, that I am not enough for anyone.

One day I hope to be so in control of all of these feelings and emotions, but for now, I think it is only safe for me to barricade myself in my head, and try to win the battle that occurs every waking hour of the day.  If I lose the war, I know my trusty old sharp edged friends will come back into my life.  If I win, life will be successful and I will be in control of everything that is thrown my way.

I really don’t want to lose the war in my head.