I am just a person whose life got turned upside down, ripped apart, and almost destroyed.
My brother died. Everything around his death, timing, how I learned was indescribable… I still cannot grasp…
If that wasn’t enough, I was bullied at work (Pret A Manger) on top of this horror, tricked and trapped by superiors and HR during the most difficult, vulnerable and darkest time of my life.
I am now writing about it as creative but clear as possible. If I wouldn’t have all this in written evidence I would go insane in disbelief that this can actually happen! That is why Pret is not responding to my public confronting them and can only report me to Twitter to “shadow ban” my Tweets. (More about Twitter shadow banning I write on my Home page.)
As I was pondering on what to write in an “About” page to tell my story and why I am sharing it, I thought about my introduction as “I am…”. I was about to start with “I am a writer…” when I thought about all the other “I am’s” I am and have become in the span of 3 years.
I am a writer who used to write poetically, poignantly, encouraging people from all walks of life.
I am a writer whose gift has become so out-of-sync out of tragedy, trauma and turmoil. A strength can become a weakness, a blessing can become a curse.
I was and still am angry, that is a big “I am”, and my anger I could not channel in a safe way. The friends I had, some for many years and decades were overwhelmed and left me “hanging” in the worst time. This added to the trauma, but I am learning to let go and not give them a hard time anymore.
All the “I am’s” I have become, even though I am NOT these things, they don’t inhabit or own me, they have been a huge part in my life since the horrendous loss of my brother, destroying a lot of things, closing as well as opening doors.
I am passionate about fairness, justice and treating every person with dignity and respect, and yet I have become the opposite of this in my grief and pain, and the horrendous treatment I received at work during the darkest time of my life. I wish I could say I was like Mother Theresa or Mr. Mandela in their trials which exceed my imagination nor am I worthy to even compare myself and don’t need to even compare myself with anyone, but you get the picture that I failed miserably.
Now I am slowly trying to find my way back to the encouraging person that I used to be before my world fell apart, or rather find that new person I have become, chipping away the anger to make space for who really is behind it.
As you read my story, which is a load and reads like straight from a Hollywood script, except that it is true, you will want to stop reading again as it will be very depressing, dark and maybe bitter in some areas. But bear with me, it will change in time.
And the beauty of the Internet is we have a choice on when and what to read, watch and listen to. This website is just “here”, it can be visited or avoided any time. It also keeps me from sending unnecessary emails which you will come to understand what happened to me as you find your way through these pages. When you read part or all of my story, I sincerely thank you for your time. Time, I heard once in a seminar, is a four letter word spelled L O V E. Time to me is more precious than money. Money comes and goes, but time just passes by and cannot be recaptured, it cannot be put into a bank account for rainy days. We live in moments, go from moment to moment. Only memories remain, and I want to reinvest in time and life again to “gather” better memories. Memories are the only thing I can “store” into my mental bank account and leave behind with others.
And in time I hope my story, and with it this website, will turn into a place where the reader finds encouragement, humour, lighthearted writings among the serious business of life. I used to be very private and discreet, hardly ever sharing my hard times, but after all that happened, it takes a lot more strength to keep up a facade than to share what curve balls life has thrown at me and how I dealt with it.
At the moment I am still in a lot of pain and anxiety, even though the darkest times of anger seem over. And as I work through a maze of grief I hope that the wounds become scars, and the experiences become learning curves, and my perception of people becomes trusting again with a good dose of healthy caution.
Thank you for dropping by and not just taking the time to read, but giving whatever time you have, it is a gift I do not take for granted.
I end this part of my pages with a song from Will.i.am, starting with a remix that I listen to when I need a gentle reminder that life can be good again.
With kind regards,
– Late Night Girl
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