The Scars Are Real… and I. Will. Never. Forgive…

TRIGGER WARNING : THIS POST DISCUSS SEVERAL TYPES OF ABUSE.

Abuse of any kind stays with you for a very long time. Even the kind of abuse that is committed by one of the people who is supposed to love and protect you beyond anything else. You can remember some of it. You can remember the first day that it actually happened. Every touch, every smell, every taste. Then the hand patting the top of your head like you were a freaking dog and telling you that this was our little secret and we mustn’t tell anyone, and especially not mummy because she will only get hurt and I will make her cry.

No way on this earth was I going to do that to my simply amazing and wonderful mum because she did not deserve to be hurt because I was being naughty. This went on for years until I became fourteen and all of a sudden it stopped. I was never sure why, but I was so relieved. But I realise why now. I was too old for you wasn’t I? Too old and too past it in your eyes. I didn’t offer the same set of thrills for you anymore. I wasn’t “fresh meat”.

My wonderful mother died when I was 16 years old after a long battle against breast cancer. I spent a couple of years after my mum died drinking and taking every drug I could swallow. I applied for my nurse training. I got accepted but my head kept on telling me that once they knew what I was – something dirty, something tainted that they would rescind my offer and send me on my way. One morning I woke up and realised that I had to get clean otherwise I would never be anything in life. So I went cold turkey and sweated it out for that was the only option open to me. It was hell but I did it.

I had a job and was doing it to kill time until I started my nurse training. It was only waitressing but it was a job and it kept a roof over my head. Being kicked out at 16 makes you grow up pretty damn fast, it really does!

I met my ex husband on a night out with some friends from work. He was 11 years older than me and incredibly charming. By the end of the night he had managed to isolate me from my friends and manoeuvre me into a corner all by myself. I guess that should have been the first red flag that something was not at all right in this whole situation

He basically, for the first six months of our relationship, treated me like a princess. He put me on a pedestal and gave me everything that I wanted. Within a week of us meeting, he had persuaded me to give up both my job and my apartment, getting me to move in with him. He was effectively isolating me and I never saw it happening. I had to depend on him for food, shelter, money – everything. He had me totally under his control. He started to apply pressure on me about my friends. Why did I need them he would ask me. Why did I need them when he was everything that I could possibly need? I began to talk to my friends less and less and before too much longer, I had none. He had me totally isolated.

This was when the gaslighting started. He was slowly engineering sets of circumstances that would make me doubt my own sanity. I began to think that they were all my fault and that I was starting to lose it. He would make a point of telling me that I would never cope on my own and that I needed him. That I needed him to survive. I believed him so totally. One of his favourite tricks would be taking my door keys off the key hook and putting them in bizarre places like the bathroom, next to the toilet, or in the kitchen cupboards. I believed him so completely. I had done that. He would never do something like that. Maybe he was right. I was crazy and I would never cope in the world without him. I needed him to survive. Before too long I was utterly convinced I couldn’t function unless he was by my side.

The verbal abuse was so subtle at first. He would criticise me for wearing too much make up when we went out. My clothes were too slutty, my heels were too high. Soon I was going out in baggy jeans and long sleeved jumpers and trainers and no make up. The plainer I looked, the happier he was with me.

The closer that I got to starting my nurse training, his attitude and his behaviour started to change. It was so subtle that I never even noticed it. There were lots of snidey remarks about doctors and nurses and the things that they “got up to behind the scenes”. He constantly accused me of having affairs with doctors and also of having bisexual affairs with women as I had “dirty filthy queers” as friends and they rubbed off on me. (Yes, I had some properly amazing friends in the LGBT+ community and they kept me sane) but I never once had an affair with anyone.

The first physical blow came when I had been on my first ward placement about six weeks. I came home from my shift and he was hurling abuse at me and screaming I was a whore and I should admit my affairs. I burst into tears. How could I admit to what I had not done? The pressure became more intense, until he struck me with the back of his hand right in the mouth and knocked me flying back onto the bed. That was the first of many times that he raped me.

From then on in, the verbal abuse was a daily occurrence and the physical abuse occurred at least three or four and sometimes more times a week. The sexual violence was slightly less because a lot of the time I was simply too scared to say no to him. A no meant a beating and being forced.

I simply could not understand why this was happening to me. I had never done anything to deserve this treatment and I just had no idea why it was happening. I tried to think why. Was it truly me? Had I really done something so very wrong to deserve all of this? Many nights I lay awake whilst he was in a drunken stupor and I cried for the girl that I had lost.

When he proposed I accepted without even thinking. I thought that agreeing to marry him would calm him down and convince him that I was somebody that he could trust. Sadly not. The abuse picked up and became worse. It was a daily thing now.

Even having two beautiful babies did not convince him of my loyalty. Several more years went by and slowly the abuse got worse and worse. Many times I have been asked why on earth I didn’t just leave him. Nobody who has not been through this kind of abuse can ever really understand the answer to this question. I could not find the courage to leave because I was so utterly crushed and dragged down by his abuse that I believed every single word that he said. I was stupid, dumb, a moron. A fat, ugly bitch who would never ever cope without him to guide her.

Then one day came the straw that broke the camel’s back. He threatened the lives of the boys. He threatened them both with a ten inch long machete. That was enough. I waited until he was passed out blind drunk in the early hours and grabbed my bag and the boy’s coats and we ran. We left every single thing that was owned behind us, fleeing in only the clothes we stood up in. I don’t think I’d ever been so scared. I kept on thinking that he would find us and stop us. It was when the train was about 40 minutes out of the station that the “where the fuck are you?” phone calls started.

I fled to the house of a very good friend of mine. She protected me, made sure that I got the right help and was always there. In the end, the police took my mobile because my idiot ex actually made death threats and left them on my answerphone. Those messages were evidence in my court case.

Eventually I decided that I needed to return home. To make sure that my boys were safe and happy. I decided to come back to Scotland. I was raised upon the largest of the Shetland Isles until I was 8 years old. My ‘father’ one day decided that he was going to take us back to where he was born, just outside of Manchester in England. I missed my homeland so very much that I could not have truly considered settling anywhere else and knew that it would be the safest place for the three of us to begin to heal.

Luckily for me, I had a friend in Aberdeen. He was one of my friends from Shetland and he now lived on the mainland. I contacted him to let him know I needed his help to flee and he gave it willingly. He drove down to where I was staying, helped to pack up the meagre possessions that we had into a van and he drove us back to Scotland. He let us stay at his place until I was able to find the house that I live in now.

My life is safer now. The kids are no longer at risk from him and that is all that I care about. They have good lives which is all that matters.

I carry a great deal of scars both physical and mental from my 25 years of abuse. The mental illnesses illnesses that I have to live with as a result of the abuse are never going to go away. That I have accepted now. But I fight hard to keep my kids from seeing any more tears or pain from me. They have seen enough. They don’t deserve to see more.

I’m moving slowly through my life and I’m doing the very best that I can. I can think of two people I would stick my middle finger up to. My ‘father’ and my ex. They both told me that I was useless, fat, ugly, pathetic and would never cope without them. I have coped. I have escaped and we are moving on with our lives. My story is not over yet. ;

I guess that’s why I’m trying to write this piece. Fuck the piece of shit monster who abuses you. You can get out. When you feel the time is right for you, you can work. You can fly free.

But one thing I will say is this. I. Will. NEVER. EVER. Forgive. No fucking way. I’ve had therapists a plenty tell me that I should let go. Fuck that. I want to remember. I want to hate them. I want to loathe every single pervert who put his hands on me. I will never give them the satisfaction of knowing that they have gotten away with what they did. Suffer bitches. Just like you’ve all made me suffer. Burn in hell. Fuck you. All of you. You will never ever know peace while you know that you are not forgiven for your crimes.

To my fellow survivors (I refuse to use the word victim), I salute you. You can escape. You can fly and be free. I promise you. Be safe beautiful people.

Be kind to each other.x

Queens Drag Trump in The UK…

I read an article today that made me immensely happy. There are rumours that at least 1000 drag queens will sashay on down to London and looking their most fabulous will all join in with the wider protest at La Donald’s arrival in this country.

Basically, the sensible part of this country are shouting loud and clear that he is not welcome in this country and he never has been. He tried his best to ride roughshod over the people of North East Scotland with his vile excuse for a golf course and for a little while he got his way. Then he found out that there was a plan to erect a series of wind turbines to create a “wind farm” – akin to La Donald if you will. He’s a hot air farm. He stamped his feet and sulked and tried to get the plans for the wind farm overturned. I’m happy to say that he failed miserably and construction on the first turbines has already begun! How fabulous!

So, back to the queens and the reason for their protest against the fat Fanta faced cretin. They are voicing their disgust at the vile changes that La Donald is imposing. The most prevalent one being the issue of trans people serving in the armed forces. These people have as much right to serve their country as anybody else does! Trump has tried so hard to reinstate the ban on transgender people in the military.

Yet despite every attempt by La Donald and the bleating half wits he has in his cabinet to ban transgender people from the military, they just keep on failing. Every single time they try, the whole effort is quashed by a judge, and that is really pissing off Donny and his band of morons. Two federal courts have now ruled against the ban which is wonderful news. Let’s just hope that they keep is doing so. Trump is clearly not the LGBTQ ally that he claimed he would be.

With reference to the drag queen protest, there is an event page created on Facebook. So far, one thousand people are down as definitely coming. There are however, seven thousand people marked as “interested”. Oh please let that happen. 7-8 thousand queens in all their glory to show La Donald just what they think of him! That would be the best thing ever, it really would!

We can all learn from this though. We can all stand up and speak out against Trump’s hypocrisy no matter where you are. I urge you, if you are free on the 13th July, get down to London and stand shoulder to shoulder with all the protesters and say no to Trump and his hypocrisy!

One Pissed Off Pansexual…

A little while ago, I took the plunge and I came out to all my Facebook friends as bisexual. I got a hugely positive response from the vast majority of my FB friends. I got the best support a girl could ask for from my wonderful, wonderful friends. All barring one homophobic fuckknuckled cunt. Now this homophobic prick has taken some time to let me know that my coming out was totally unnecessary and there was no need for me to do it!

Really??? How so? I got told that the world didn’t want to know what gays did in the bedroom. Now let us just take that sentence and examine it a little more closely. I don’t need to tell the world what I do in the bedroom? Really? Seems to me that all I did was say that I was bisexual and that was that. I certainly didn’t shout out about what I did in the bedroom with anyone!

Then let’s take this even further. This particular person goes out every Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Now that’s fine, if that is what she wants to. I couldn’t care less. She will get with a different guy at least once a week, maybe more. Good for her! Why not? She then proceeds to share the gory details of each and every encounter she has in blow by blow style. So it seems the world (at least according to her) wants to know how straight people’s sex lives are. Urgh! But don’t slip and slide all the way to the bottom of the moral high ground and then point up at me, who has been in a monogamous relationship with a guy for twelve years. A relationship that is private and stays between the two of us.

Now I don’t care what she does. What I do care about is basically being called a pervert by somebody who goes and does exactly what she accuses me of doing!

That night I sat and thought a lot about the whole situation and I realised that I was more than bisexual. I was pansexual. Gender does not matter to me. Attraction is what matters, and gender is in your head not between your legs!!!

So there we are. Her and I. I don’t judge her life style. She can do what the hell she likes! What she doesn’t get to damn well do is judge mine. Uh-huh. No freakin’ way Jose!

Be kind to each other.x

Things You Think a Spoonie Won’t Notice – But We Do – And it Hurts…

Being chronically ill is absolutely draining and it can leave a person utterly wrung out to a degree that you can’t imagine. We can be wiped out for most of the day after we have cleaned our teeth (true story – I was literally crawling back to my bed with tears in my eyes). It is a truly shit experience.

Now if you have ever felt this way, you will understand where I am coming from. If you have no clue what I’m talking about, it’s going to be a head scratcher for you. 12th May is Fibro awareness day. Fibromyalgia is the bane of my life. It has destroyed me in so many ways. So I will happily sit in my wheelchair and stamp my booted feet to raise awareness of this utterly vile shitbag of a disease. If you are newly diagnosed then there is a really rather brilliant piece written by a rather fabulous lady called Christine Miserandino. The piece itself is called “the spoon theory” and you can find it here…

https://butyoudontlooksick.com/articles/written-by-christine/the-spoon-theory/

Seriously, if you really ache to understand why your partner/best friend/colleague feels the way that they do, then I urge you to go ahead and read this piece of writing. Of course, there are many other pieces written and available on the internet, but I have found Ms Miserandino’s to be the best about.

Where do I start with how my illness has decimated my life and just how certain I am that I know people look at me when they think I’m not looking and mutter some poisonous bullshit under their breath when they think that I cannot even hear them. Well guess what bitches? It’s my body that doesn’t work. I have one ear that can hear just fine and that is more than enough to hear you (if you wanted to know, I sustained hearing loss in my left ear after a firework was thrown at me and exploded near my head).

I was a qualified nurse for 15 years. I worked long and hard shifts and spent many days trying to advance my professional ability. I ended up working as a Macmillan nurse before I escaped a very violent marriage. I ran back home with my kids to Scotland and then mcy diagnosis of Rheumatoid Arthritis (received in 1998) began to make life real hell for me as a nurse. The time came, after that , for me to take a different career pathway.

I had to give up the career that I had loved for fifteen years and that just hurt so much. But my body just was not able to cope with the physical demands of a career like nursing. We had been through a hellish time and I needed to be around for my kids. I took up a part time job in my local food mini market (Co-Op for anybody British).

The kids settled after a while and I was able to extend my hours and earn a little more for them. However, my body had been pushed beyond its limits thanks to the pressure of being a carer and then a nurse as well as all the years of physical abuse that I endured, and in February of 2009, my body finally knocked me on my ass.

I woke up one morning and I couldn’t move. I could only just about flutter my eyelashes and that was it. My partner was amazing. He got me to a doctor who sent me straight in to hospital. After a butt load of tests and scans, I was rocked by a long, long list of diseases. As well as my rheumatoid arthritis which I knew about, I now had osteoarthritis in my spine and neck. I had Fibromyalgia and Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, I had osteoporosis, Ehlers Danlos Syndrome Type 3, and had also had a stroke and a cardiac murder as well as a small congenital hole in my heart.

This list of diseases has changed my life for the worst. I am now wheelchair bound and need a carer to help me do pretty much everything that I used to be able to do for myself.

So here are the things you don’t think that we notice but we do: When we park in a disabled parking space and our carer comes round to our side of the car with our wheelchair, we see you looking at us like we are just lazy and we don’t need to use that space. Believe me, if I had a choice, I would push my wheelchair into the North Sea if I could! I need that parking space and have more right to it than the yummy mummy in her Chelsea tractor who has just popped in for croissants and coffee on the way home from dropping little Tommy at school. Where is her dirty look? Is it because you think I look too young for this chair? I see your dirty look, and it hurts.

We see you give the dirty look to the young woman or man who desperately dodges into the disabled toilet in the queue at the cinema. You judge them as lazy or not deserving of using the disabled loo. Well just think… that person may be in desperate need of changing their colostomy bag before it bursts all over the cinema foyer. Think people!!! Your selfish judgement can really cut like a knife!!! When that person gets into the bathroom with tears stinging their eyes, they feel ostracised for their illness. As they open the bag to empty it, someone from outside yells, “Eeeeew, what’s that stink?” The person in the toilet? They notice what has been said.

You look at me in my wheelchair. You judge me. I’ve heard people whisper “She’s too young to be in a wheelchair” (I’m 45 – what age do have to be before my butt cheeks can kiss the holy grail of a plastic cushion that is going to make me sweat like a pig all day?) You think I like being stuck in this chair? I hate it with a fiery passion I really do!

So next time that you see someone that doesn’t belong somewhere in your judgement just stop and think. That Spoonie may have a damned good reason for doing what they did. We are invisible illness warriors, but your words can cut us down. THINK before you speak! We hear you every single time… and guess what? It hurts.

Be kind to each other.x

Our Mental Illnesses Are NOT Your Cute Personality Quirks…

Seriously people. The next time that I hear”Oh I must tidy up, I’m so OCD today” or “Oh she’s up one minute and down the next – she’s so bipolar!” I am going to stuff my walking stick right up that person’s asshole and turn them into a fucking lollipop. I swear I am.

Listen up people. Suffering from mental illness is no triviality and neither is it a fucking joke. I have struggles with several mental health issues, OCD and bipolar being two of them, so it really does set my teeth on edge when I hear someone coming out with an off the cuff, totally fucking moronic comment like that.

When we said we wanted mental health disorders to be spoken about more, we didn’t mean for you to appropriate them into your everyday conversations.

Lately (and unfortunately), it is becoming something of the norm that mental health disorders find their way into everyday discussions, and not in the way we’d like them to. I can’t count on my hand how many times I’ve heard someone who’s had a minor inconvenience or mishap go on to complain about how ‘depressed’ they are. Not only is it infuriating, but it’s hurtful.

For those diagnosed with depression, you’ll know it’s not something that suddenly happens after something goes wrong, or you’ve had a ‘bad day.’ It’s a constant state, you’re trapped in it, and it is definitely not something that can be used as an adjective.

No, Sarah, just because your boyfriend hasn’t texted back in three hours, doesn’t mean you’re not depressed.

You are upset, sad, down, blue (see ‘unhappy‘ in the thesaurus for more synonyms) but you are certainly not depressed.

However by comparing your sadness to a mental health disorder, what you’ve done is silence the kid three seats down from you who’s been dealing with this disorder for months, who’s struggling to wake up every morning, who’s on medication just to get them through the day.

You’re comparing a moment of sadness in your life, to a lifetime of theirs.

But it’s not just depression that is used as an adjective, it’s next to all mental health disorders. I remember sitting in class once whilst a group of teenage boys were stalking a girl’s Instagram page. They reached a picture of her where she looked skinny, slim, and thin, and all they could think to say was, “Wow, she’s so anorexic!” I was thinking to myself, “Really? Out of all the words to call her, you had to relate it back to a mental health disorder?”

The list goes on; calling someone who organizes their work neatly on a table ‘OCD’, calling someone who’s mood has changed from the last time you saw them ‘bipolar’, not getting a good nights sleep and complaining that you must have ‘insomnia.’ They are not adjectives, they are our real mental health disorders that real people face. We have not come forward about them for you to simply misdiagnose yourself after one incident.

So next time you feel the need to compare your sad moment. tidying of your room or unexpected mood swing to a mental health disorder, open a thesaurus. There are plenty of synonyms; use a different one.

Get a Grip!!!…

Seriously what is wrong with people at the moment? Why are people acting like there will be no more milk or bread in the entire world for at least about around an entire flippin week! Really people you need to get a grip of yourselves.

 

I know it has been a while since we last had any decent snow, but surely we haven’t forgotten how to cope with deep snow?

 

I can remember having to walk to school in knee deep snow in waterproofs and then get changed at school. We could see our breath and there was ice on the inside of the windows. Yet now? Three snowflakes and school shuts for a freakin’ week! Laughable!

 

This whole “panic buying” is yet another sad aspect of the consumerist greed that now enthrals society. Why can’t we see that we don’t need to behave in such a way? There are so many people who go out and buy what they know they don’t need and for what? To see it go mouldy and then have to throw it away.

 

I get so cross when I think of this. There are so many people in this country who are now on or below the breadline and they are lucky to get a piece of toast to eat. Yet selfish greedy consumers who cannot cram enough food into their shopping trollies to then cram into their kitchen cupboards to then have to throw it all away because it has all gone off. That is all food that could have been given to hungry people!

 

As poor as I am, I always buy a couple of extra tins of human and animal food (yes, there are hungry pets too) and pop it all into the collection point at my local supermarket. It’s easy to do, and could take the place of all the extra freakin’ bread you bought that is going to go mouldy!!! *shakes head*

 

Seriously people, get a grip. This is snow. Deal with it like a grown up. You do know that in Canada they are howling with laughter at the way we are behaving, and rightly so! Let’s get ourselves back to normality. When did you last bake your own bread? You could do that instead of buying six loaves at Tesco!

 

Take care of yourselves.x

What makes people so mean?

No, seriously, what does? We are not born with hate and mean feelings in our heart so clearly as children, our children learn how to think and how to feel from observing the behaviour of the adults around us. We should not be exposing children to maladaptive thought patterns and hate speech when they are so malleable. We should be teaching our children that there are many races, creeds, colours, religions, sexualities and genders that we should all be treating with the same love and respect that we treat the people in our families. Hate is not acceptable.

There are many different ways for us to hate and be mean to one another and we seem to be adept, as humans in finding all of those ways and meeting out some truly horrible ways of making other people hurt and and feel like they are less than human.

What is it that causes hatred? I have a sneaking suspicion that a fear of the unknown/misunderstanding of a topic or group of people has a great deal to do with it. Then people are so scared that they don’t want to learn more about the topic that they “hate” because they think that these other people are wrong or evil in some way and giving in lets them win! It’s not about winning for fuck’s sake! It’s about proving a safe environment for all peoples to co-exist peacefully.

People need a reason to hate, and hate is an incredibly strong word. Jealousy can be often one of the biggest triggers of hate. That they can hate the followers of a certain religion. Do they hate them because they are jealous of the calm and spiritual attitude and life that these people have? It’s certainly possible.

Can we actually understand why so much hate is floating around the collective consciousness? In most countries in the Western world there are now anti hate laws of one form or another in place and still people are prejudiced. Still people hate. Still people are beaten and much worse because of the ignorance and hatred in the hearts of others. The laws are there but they cannot dictate to the human psyche. People will still hate no matter what we do to try and stop it.

LGBTQ people are one group that particularly treated so badly that it makes me cry. A gay person is no different than a straight person apart from who they lay down in bed with at night. Hate of a whole race of people, a whole religion or a group of people with a different sexuality to your own is just hate projection. These people are so insecure within their own skin that they have to project their hate on to other people so that they feel less afraid of their own feelings.

Hate of difference says everything about the person who hates and not the person being hated. These narrow minded haters cannot take a second to just ask themselves exactly what it is that makes them this way. In most cases (not all, but most) you can trace it back to the person’s upbringing and the people around them when they where growing up. I stress in not all cases as I am one of those cases. My so called ‘father’ was a violent racist, fascist, bigoted homophobic scumbag. Yet me? I don’t have any hate in my heart. I just wish I could help people wake up and ditch their hatred and prejudice.

Haters can hate for as simple a reason as you have something they want. From a piece of jewellery to a partner… they covet what you have. Moving on from that, they can also hate you because they are convinced that you do not deserve what you have but they do deserve what you have. They can see themselves losing in life to you and that is something that really gets under your skin. There could have been something that happened between the two of you in the past. Not necessarily romantic, maybe a fight. While you have grown up and moved on, they have not. If you were a partner to this person, they may be obsessed with hating you because of the very thing I just said. You have moved on yet they have not.

It could be something as simple as the fact that they have nothing better to do with their lives. That is to be pitied. They could be jealous of the fact that your life is going well and yours is not. They could be craving attention. For all of the nasty little comments they write bring them attention of one form or another and they think that “I’m doing this just because I can.”

They are possibly hate filled bigots who have been indoctrinated into hate by those around them. They see themselves as self righteous and being on the moral high ground. They are little more than nasty little jealous creeps and are so unhappy with the things in their own life that they make it their mission in life to upset yours too. They can have a pathological need to put other people down in order to feel good about themselves.

How can we stop people hating? Well in reality we can’t. All we can do is counter the darkness with light wherever we find it and work hard to educate as many people as possible to think for themselves and accept people for who they are.

Be kind to each other.x

I see through you, you son of a bitch…

So tonight my man shape gets a call. A telephone call from out of the blue. His darling mother (who sees me as the nasty little pagan with tattoos and piercings.) played a nasty trick tonight.

She called MY number (not his) which indicates that she wants me to know and wants to cause me maximum distress.

She makes some small talk about his brother who has had a biopsy taken of a nasal growth. Then moved to “Guess what? Your estranged son who hasn’t even sent you a fucking birthday card in ten years. No birthday, no Father’s Day, no Christmas. No fuck all!!!

They are estranged through thr fault of his ex-wife. She has kept them poisoned for all this time. So granny dearest has to stick her snout in and cause all this stress.

My kid aren’t his blood, but they give him gifts and cards every Yule, birthday, Father’s Day any other day!!!

Now it looks like they are going to be swept aside. Well fuck that.

Get a grip! Prioritise what you freak out over…

After having been online this morning, I have noticed the world seems to have its collective panties in a bunch over the break up of Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie. Are you kidding me here people? Get a grip!How can you possibly be so het up about the state of a marriage of two people that you never did and never will know? It has nothing to do with you! With everything that is going on in this world, even papers like The Guardian are glorifying the separation of a family. They also bring up Jennifer Anniston and rehash a decade old feud. This is so wrong!

People really need to reprioritise. The current crisis in Syria is enough with anything else.

Calm yourself people and worry about something that might actually affect you and that matters!

This is my blog…

I’m really grateful to every single person who reads the book reviews/blog posts I write.

I just need to get this point out… This is my blog. It is my little space of the Internet where I can say what is chewing me out. If I come to your blog, I respect your space, even if I don’t agree with what you have to say.

So please, have the same respect for me. Thank you.