"Writing My Life- With The Handbrake On!"💗
[FRIDAY 13 JUNE 2025]- 🤍CONFESSIONS of A Triggered Worrier🤍
If you like your newsletters without politics or preconceptions or seeking a break from the norm you may have just found your new hangout
13 JUNE 2025 - Uh Oh It’s Friday The 13th (what better day to be walking on eggshells?)
“A Thick Skin Is The Last Thing A Writer Needs”
― Laurie Penny
Dear Chasers💗
He’s not the sharpest knife in my back but he still manages to twist my insides the hardest reaching parts of me where nobody else has ever reached (or even tried to). I’m never sure of where to begin and always approach with caution as far as how much raw information I am able to share in each situation, knowing full well that once the words start flowing the floodgates open and I let it all out with full reckless abandon.
This letter might be a bit different because it’s about time that I start to think about how, my actions, traumas, mental illness, habits, and thoughts, might be wrongly trying to divert his natural navigation (which is unfair) and instead of staying below deck this bullshit inside my head is trying to drive the entire damn ship in stormy seas of our relationship therefore creating huge waves and an ocean of conflict.
That face says it all.. not to mention picking my skin to pieces creating sores all over me, but that’s not what I’m talking about today. I’m not bothering delving into disorders or self destructive coping mechanisms. I’ll just rant or write or both.
One constant is the I always begin with this notion of sharing everything that is important to me without it coming out like I’m bad mouthing the other person or people involved. By the end of this letter I will have derailed, unraveled and failed with that initial intention - it sometimes takes those unfortunate events to occur in the creation of something so beautiful even I could never have imagined, my mind doesn’t have the capacity for my imagination to stretch far enough for me to understand my own heart.
I intend to focus merely on my own reactions, thoughts to, feelings during and stick to speaking about my own perception - also wishing to try to skirt around the edges to avoid my reader’s the embarrassment of baring witness to some of the most shit and trivial parts of my life - which to me are the meat, bones and veg of my entire world and life force to my soul.
Although, for others around me, (including you reading) it could sometimes come across like you’re secretly stuck in a room watching another couple’s argument unfold and unable to go or do/say anything to divert the conversation, change its direction, assist or advocate for one side or the other.
It’s like threesomes - we are able to join in with a willing couple’s sexual activities but it’s classed as not being socially acceptable to join in their arguments (which they’re willing to conduct right in front of us). Both parties looking over at you at one time or another - willing you to take their side, agree, confirm, laugh or forgive them.
THIS letter is probably going to be EXACTLY like that situation if I’m not very careful.
The reason I am writing this, or trying to, in a more conscientious way than I usually do is because I have figured out - since said incidents of ‘betrayal’, ‘disrespect’,’heartbreak’ and ‘piss-takes’.
I’d already held my hands up and recognized that it wasn’t the act which had been the problem, it was the reaction that wasn’t consistent with my needs or expectations. Inadequate responses were also like adding fuel to the fire, but the initial problem was on me. I had been triggered, I had put all of that mental suffering onto myself. I was over-reacting, I was in the wrong, I was unreasonable and irrational. I admit I was surprisingly (even to my surprise) really emotionally triggered. I didn’t cope well.
However, it was in the aftermath where I realized that I still deserved some of my own ideas of what I consider nurture, respect, love, and reassurance whatever format it could be delivered in. Regardless of whether or not it was up to me to control my emotions and deal with my thoughts, my mental health IS my own responsibility. (I do honestly agree and understand this fact).
I know it’s not his job to heal, help or appease me. He isn’t required to do anything - but I had HOPED he would want to.
Do you know that feeling when you go so numb that it’s hard to communicate in any format?
Yesterday was another failed attempt at getting my ‘news’ out to you and I was unable to put my thoughts into words on the page.
I’ve had this trouble since Sunday 8 June 2025. We arrived at our ‘holiday’ accommodation which is gorgeous and a luxurious change from our own humble home and surroundings.
I had big ideas of spending quality time on my work with my loved ones beside me. I was going to make the most of a new environment and hopefully create some of my best work so far. I had been looking at AirBnB properties in nice locations for months with this same image in mind - new environment, better space to work, less stress would equal happy writing, happy times, happy mind.
It was never going to happen in reality as money was in shortage and my partner was lets say ‘less interested’ in holidays than I was and EVEN if he was up for it his plans on how he wanted to spend it would involved beer gardens (without me or the dog present), pubs, bars, maybe a club or two. Meeting new people. Long walks with the dog, we’d be compatible on one out of three of those activities.
I’m not against day drinking, beer gardens, pubs and stuff. I’m just ‘not allowed’ to drink because ‘I am a cunt when I do’. I’m never included in those things so I have accepted my lot but can’t help be bothered by people enjoying them whilst I’m left behind to rot and/or forgotten about with a bottle of J20 on the sidelines.
So when this opportunity came up to look after one his family member’s properties (his Dad’s house) for ten days whilst they went on a cruise, we jumped at the chance of going together. There was a split moment where I considered staying at home, with or without the dog. I knew he had plans to take her on a massive field with a 30ft (roughly) long leash for her to get some good running exercise in, so I didn’t want her to miss out on that.
I just had an icky feeling that I would be making a mistake to go along with them. He told me if I didn’t come he would leave the dog with me, after a little resistance and consideration, I thought about just keeping her with me. I didn’t. I agreed to go.
I had been anticipating spending time in the garden writing on my laptop whilst enjoying smoking a cigarette at the same time (something that I’m unable to do at home). Writers of my era who have the unfortunate affliction of having smoked for years and cannot don’t want to stop doing it will understand how there’s something of an energy force that sparks the imagination.
Just lighting up and typing, especially if, in mid-flow of writing something brilliant can be accompanied by a smoke. It’s similar to celebrating with a glass of fizz. It’s akin to eating popcorn while enjoying a movie at the cinema. Like chewing on candyfloss at a funfair. Those silly little things that add to the moment.
I was NOT disappointed! When I arrived to find a lovely garden ‘set-up’ where the WiFi reached and the position of it was a suntrap. Perfect!!
What happened that was ‘Sooo bad’ to trigger me?
It was something so small or trivial yet unexpectedly became a trigger on a large scale making me feel, to understate it somewhat, slightly indignant and in the end the ‘act’ in itself became an absolute significant marker for me self-analyse my worth and importance (or lack thereof) in our relationship.
In other words it was like a ‘waking up party’ with a 99 red ‘flags’ blocking the daylight out on a never-ending roll of cautioning - red-flag-bunting!
The minute we had the place to ourselves he did no more than to get up and tell me that the drink he was planning to have with his brother whilst in the area would be happening right there and then, that first day, and I would be alone the dog. That’s all he did. No big crime scene.
I had even previously agreed and was excited to get some ‘alone time’ to spend with the dog and get some work done, sort of settle in and explore* the garden. It was all fine and good and I took the knock on the chin (the knock being that I’d thought that ‘having a drink with his brother’ would be happening the day after or maybe mid-week. Not on the first day.
*When I say explore, it’s a beautifully petite garden, you can take it all in with one glance. I meant get a feel for it and maybe make the most of having it to myself for a bit.
What is the point of me telling you all this?
It’s now Sunday and I’ve been through the ringer and back out again since originally penning this letter. I wanted to talk about my feelings of being unwanted and maybe that I was ‘triggered’ by my childhood ‘abandonment’ issues. I felt surplus to requirements and pissed off and let out on the sidelines.
What happened next was that for the first few days we were here, I couldn’t get my head out of my arse. I couldn’t write and I didn’t feel my usual bubbly ‘dissociative’ happy-go-loopy self. I was swallowed up by my depression. Frightened by my own shadow and sudden hyper awareness of my position within the relationship.
I was feeling and thinking things like; I was nothing but a, I want to say a commodity?
I provide the ‘services’ and pay the bills, take care of the dog and make life a little less challenging in doing so but I’m not loved or respected and can be thrown away and replaced in a heartbeat.
I’m not worthy of the man who I have chosen to be my life partner. He tolerates me at most. He can’t stand me… and the list goes on and on.
I was sinking into utter despair and keeping all these feelings to myself (so out of character as I can spend a full five minutes talking to anyone about how my toenail hurts or a freckle that I mistaken for a blackhead that I tried to rip out of my skin, or how I’m sad and the reasons why and what I think about those feelings and reasons and blah-fucking-blah..). I am usually relentlessly annoying with the amount of ‘opening up’ I do.
In this case I was trying to protect the people around me from the misery which was myself and in my own sentimental or semi-mental way, I thought that I was getting stronger ‘healing’ myself if you like. I was bottling shit up as opposed to halving it on unsuspecting ears that weren’t interested in, capable of or under any obligation to hear it, help or anything else. That might be the reason I kept quiet if truth be told. I know how alone I am.
This is why everyone around me notice the change in me and blamed me for ‘not being myself and making everything shit’.
Even in my desperate and fragile condition, I tried my best to keep it all in an even to put on a brave face and enjoy the company of my partner who I believed hated me, so love thy enemy was a lot more difficult that I imagined in this instance.
I did have a genuinely pleasant time when his sister and niece visited. It was like a bit of normality, it was breath of fresh air but as soon as they left to go home, my mood took a plummet again. Even being on edge,scared, suspicious and like my illness coming back I felt worried a little bit of paranoia creeping in too.
I was beginning to wonder if I was going to have another schizophrenic episode!!
It came to an abrupt halt, my allowing my trauma to control me that is, when one night after his family had left and I gave him a dirty ‘paranoid’ look out of the blue for ‘no reason’ he finally lost his temper at me. Snapped and shouted and the only way to resolve everything was to leave. I didn’t want to leave. It didn’t seem like it was in his mind for me to leave (to go back home).
I was shocked at his outburst, it seemed to me to have come out of nowhere. I am as much responsible for this as he is. We both acted inappropriately and passionately because of our inability to handle the situation and lack of self control and loss of resilience needed to overcome / overlook what happened or was happening. We were both locked in our own heads.
We both fucked up.
What Next & Lessons Learned:
I’ll be writing a follow up letter and sending it out very soon. Please look out for it. You’ll notice because I rarely send you two letter in the same month these days, let alone, the same week.
Thank you for going through all this with me.. now I need a drink! Just a cuppa (coffee).. and I bet you need a breather now too.
Take it easy everyone. I send you all my warmest love (I do have some of that stuff somewhere I hope!) HaHa laughing so I don’t cry. Have a lovely evening. This was prepared on Friday 13th and sent out to you Sunday 15 June 2025 so HAPPY FATHER’S DAY to those who are, including single Mothers who take on both roles. You do oa great job! ..x
Yours Sincerely,
from your mate,
Chasey...💗
