Telling Time

So here’s the thing. I really need to get better at writing this blog.The decision to start telling the story of my time spent in the “care” of the state was taken some time ago – quite some time. And then ignored for ever.

And then, a few months ago, I started up this blog so that I could start scribbling a bit after a long, long time spent doing anything but writing. But it’s harder than I thought it was going to be.  Somehow, the words forming in my head don’t come out the same when I type them. Maybe it’s a little bit because, once they’re out and I’m reading them from a stranger’s point of view, I don’t sound like the kind of person I’d like to know. Kind of like the drug addict that ambles up to your car at the local Engen on your way home, with their gaunt face and bad skin and teeth, spinning some story about how they just need 20 bucks’ petrol to get home and they’ll totally see you get it back if you just write down your phone number on this little scrap of paper….

I’m not a drug addict and my skin and teeth are okay. But when I look at myself from the outside, the impression I get is of someone somehow sullied. Someone unclean, someone infected. Not with disease, necessarily, or grit from not having washed for ages. Something deeper. Something rotten from the inside. Something festering and contagious, however intangible.

But it’s also a little bit because, having put it off for so long, it’s incredibly difficult to describe the unique brand of institutionalisation that only a child who’s been through the “clinic school” system will ever recognise. And sometimes, it seems to me that the things I remember couldn’t possibly be the truth.

Ah, fuckit. This isn’t supposed to be some sorry lament. I am not broken for having lived my life. Sure, there’s lots of it I don’t like. Lots that I’ve never taken the time to make sense of. But it is my truth, all of it; the good, the bad and the grey areas in between. And telling it is a bit like ripping off the band-aid, so I’ll have to ask you to bear with me if it comes out slowly and full of holes. I’ll try to fill them in as we go….

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