Archive for year: 2023

“Life can be only what you make it

When you’re feelin’ down you should never fake it

Say what’s on your mind

And you’ll find in time

That all the negative energy, it will all cease

And you’ll be at peace with yourself

You won’t really need no one else…”

My Life ~ Mary J Blige

I started writing my blogs with 2 main purposes in mind, and that was to share my cancer journey and the tale that ran alongside it. It’s been a lot to say the least, and over the past couple of weeks I’ve had reminders of just how damaging, destructive and far reaching one persons actions can be.

I promised you and those involved that one day all will be revealed and I’m a woman of my word! So we go again! My attitude has changed since writing these but the memories remain so the tale will still be told but there might be a little less expletives…👀…maybe!😂 I fully expect judgement and all of the things that comes with exposure but you know what, fuck it! I had to live it not y’all, and it’s my truth, so love it or hate it imma be true to me and purge this fuckery once and for all.

I used to think that I was a hurricane but I’ve come to realise it wasn’t me. I, like many others, was caught up in the storm he created. He sat calm and comfortably in the eye of it whilst we were spinning and spinning, twisting and turning on each other.

Thankhfully I found the light to guide me out of it, but now it’s like I’m sat on the outskirts watching the rest still caught up in it and trying to show them the way out, but like most things if you keep at it for long enough you get comfortable and it becomes the norm, and that includes negativity and hate.

There’s only so much you can say and do to show them the pathway through. I’ve tried and now it’s down to them and I pray that it comes sooner rather than later so they don’t waste anymore precious time in it.

All that being said, now is my time to put this chapter of my life to bed – and what better way than with a tale! I will leave links to the disclaimers below and then you can get into Part 1 in preparation for the podcast which will be coming soon!

Disclaimer (Part 1)

Disclaimer (Part 2)

Disclaimer (Part 3)

The Root Cause

“The problem is and always will be that since David and Dawn have been awarded control of our Mothers money, something that we had not agreed to, that there has been a scam going on with regards to what they are doing with her money. They state that there is no money to assist with rent/mortgage, therefore my mother is living in the house rent free, however they have been saving money in a savings account to pay for their own flights to Antigua upon my mothers death.

Should my Mother be placed in a care home, she would not receive any of her pension and the government would have to subsidise her pension to meet the cost of the home and her care, so my point is, why shouldn’t she contribute towards the rent/mortgage of the house she is living in?

There has also been accusations made against me, that are completely uncalled for and unjust. The situation between myself and Dawn Williams has always been an issue, for whatever reason she has chosen to create problems for me, therefore her presence in my home/the house is not a situation I particularly like nor want…”

The above is part of an email sent by my brother Dale. Quite frankly if I had any doubt he is a sociopath (which I don’t), the above and more confirmed my thinking. So seeing as he has no issue with calling my name and telling others about me, yet difficulty in understanding how our relationship came to be what it is now, let me enlighten you.

Really and truly some people should not throw stones because they can rebound and knock a fucker out!

We’re going to come back to the above statement as a whole further down the line, but for now I’d like to draw your attention to the last paragraph. The “for whatever reason she has chosen to create problems for me” line in particular. To do that we have to go back – waaaay back! Back to the summer of ‘74!

This was the year my dad decided to bugger off, leaving my mum 5 months pregnant with twins. At the time Dale was 16 and instead of going on to college after leaving school he decided to get a job to help our mother out. Little did we know then this was a gesture we would be invoiced for later; but little did he know, on November 21st what he would deem to be his arch nemesis would be born.

Let’s not get it twisted, naturally I wasn’t born hating him, but I was born fighting from the very start. My twin was born first with no problem. I however was breech, and by all accounts it wasn’t an easy ride! But I made it, and the same fighting spirit I was born with still remains!

One of my earliest memories is being in my cot in Dales room, banging on the wall and hearing my twin bang back from the other side in our mother’s room. We’d be separated at night sometimes, I’m guessing to give our mum some peace, but I would always be in Billy’s room.

I’d never addressed my brother as Dale until five years ago. Until then he was Billy. It’s not unusual for West Indian’s to be called by different names, but I never knew and still don’t know why he was given that name. I can hazard a guess now though. Billy Bullshitter would be an adequate and accurate description.

Being little my senses hadn’t quite kicked in yet, but there were some things that couldn’t be ignored. For example, the same siblings who have now chosen to put on a united front and show me such contempt, didn’t speak to each other for years. I grew up with them literally not talking to each other at all from as young as I can remember until about maybe 10 years old. I have no idea what their beef was and vaguely recall asking my mum about it one time when I was little and her saying she didn’t know.

Maybe she didn’t or maybe she didn’t want to explain it to a child, but again purely guessing, I could see Dale being the cause of whatever went down as this was at a time when my sister had some form of sense and hadn’t drunk the Kool Aid. I know from experience he has a habit of being the root cause of many a circumstance.

But before I came to that conclusion I was the most doting little sister you could hope for. I truly loved and idolised him. He was good looking, super fit, popular, talented, drove a funky car and he was MY big brother. He stepped up when my dad didn’t and I loved him and appreciated that.

I used to have these episodes of shivering when I was small and I remember one time mum not being around and going downstairs to the garage (which he had converted into a gym) and telling him. He took me upstairs, wrapped me in a blanket, made me a cup of tea and told me I’d be ok, and I knew I would be because he was my big bro and he made me feel safe.

The love I felt for him was real and I would do anything he asked me to. The only time I can recall really disrespecting him was when I was a about 11. We didn’t have a lot of money and pocket money wasn’t really a regular like others had. He use to have a big old whiskey bottle he would save twenty pence pieces in. Back in the day 60p could buy a can of drink, chocolate, crisps and enough change for a few penny sweets – and the temptation to indulge my sweet tooth was too great for me to resist.

The bottle was at the back of a wardrobe and he never really touched it except to top it up so it wasn’t on show, and as a youngster I wasn’t calculating the fact that I was spending and it wasn’t being replaced or of what the consequences might be. I got busted when he went to get some money and the majority had gone. He went ballistic but in fairness it was more verbal than anything else. I got off lightly as it must have been a fair amount if I think back on it now.

Naturally I apologised and I can honestly say I felt thoroughly ashamed, guilty and disappointed in myself doing it and having him think less of me. If it helps him, I believe my love of sugar was the top factor in me having bowel cancer. He can take some comfort in knowing karma came around and slapped me hard!

Fast forward to age 17 and the relationship between myself and my siblings was good. By then Dale had married and was living with his wife and 2 sons. My sister had also moved out so I at last had my own bedroom!!

This may not seem like such a big deal to most but it meant a lot to me. Life could always be better but I had my own little sanctuary. I was young, at college and living as much of my best life as I could. It was the early 90’s and in my opinion one of the best decades to be young and free! I’d always been sporty and would usually wear tracksuits and trainers, but I’d not long discovered the wonders of Lycra, batty riders and relaxers and it was game on!

Although Dale had moved out he spent a fair amount of time at the house as he had converted the box room into an office and he still had the gym set up. From as far back as I can remember it was a regular occurrence to have people in and out of the house who would come for workout sessions.

When I mentioned earlier that he was good looking make no mistake he knew it. He worked out a lot so had a good physique and it would seem, could charm the pants off of most women despite being somewhat follicly challenged. To say he had a lot of female attention is an understatement. Even at a young age I remember feeling a bit sorry for his wife. She was a lovely woman and you knew she adored the ground he walked on and the same could be said of his sons.

In most Black households back then a child knew their place and I knew mine. I would see shit and between myself and twin we’d discuss it, but there’s no way we’d have the front to address it to ‘big people’. In the future I would have conversations with other family members about it, but at the time it wasn’t an option.

Well it turns out it wasn’t just a workout but more a ‘wuk-up’ some were getting. Then again when you come training fully equipped wearing heels, mini skirts and reeking of Poison it’s not purely iron you’re pumping, and a particular “session” performed in the dark with the door locked came out in the light.

He’d managed to get one of them pregnant and that put an end to his marriage. Naturally he would move back home, and it was at this point I finally saw the wolf out of his sheep’s clothing. #TheDawningOfANuDay

At the time I had 2 single beds in my room and he saw fit to come cotch in MY room. Obviously I was a tad perplexed. There was never anything untoward, it was purely an invasion of privacy. It wasn’t just a sleeping situation. I’d sometimes come home in the afternoon and he’d be lying down so I couldn’t just come in, put on my tunes and relax or whatever the fuck I wanted to do.

I spoke to my mum about it. Now the thing you need to understand about my mum is she was a small, relatively quiet and easygoing woman until you pissed her off and then she’d tell you all about yourself. Except that is for her golden child.

Please don’t mistake this for some form of sibling jealousy. Anyone who knows my family will tell you that’s the way it was. She felt indebted to him for stepping up when her husband left her and I totally understand why she felt that way.

She, like myself, would do whatever she could for him in her own way, be it whipping up food for him and his friends, giving him use of her house for his own interests and allowing him to live there rent and bill free when he returned home – she was grateful so said nothing. Did it bug the fucking life out of me? Yes, but it was her choice to do it and it wasn’t my house.

She would later see the light but alas it was too late.

I suggested to her he give up one of the other rooms he was occupying and she told me to ask him, which I did. He straight up asked me why? I was astonished I had to spell shit out but I did, and even suggested having the box room, giving him the bigger room. I’d say that was more than a fair trade, right? Wrong! Unfortunately he thought I was being unreasonable and disrespectful for even asking.

I remember sitting there thinking who does that? How does he think it’s appropriate for a big hairy arsed 30 something year old man to share a room with a 17 year old girl? Who the fuck would want to? How is he so selfish he wouldn’t give up one of THREE rooms he was using for his sibling? It was either put up and shut up or get to stepping, so I decided to leave.

Ironically, the day I left I was going to his old home to babysit his sons. I sat waiting for a taxi with my suitcase and bags and when it arrived he left me with a few parting words. He told me to go on about my business. I was a slag and a slut and a whore and all I wanted to do was go and fuck man.

The cabbie helped me get my case and bags in the boot and I got in and broke down. The cab stunk to high heaven but he was kind enough to ask me if I was alright and seemed concerned. I couldn’t stop crying so he thankfully didn’t talk and left me to it. I remember arriving at my sister in laws home a complete mess and trying to compose myself and failing. She was sympathetic. I’m figuring by then she’d had no misconception of what he could be like.

We didn’t realise at the time that this was step one in his master plan and a real eye opener as to who we were dealing with. By we I mean me, because as you’ll discover it was as if I’d breached some form of protocol I wasn’t privy to in having the audacity to address him. His majesty is not to be questioned or displeased or off with your head – or out with your bags, whatever works!

He’d failed miserably at being king of his own castle, so he was coming back home to claim his throne and I was the first obstacle. I realise now his loving, parting words to me were nothing but transferring his own self worth on to me. I may have shown a lil’ ass, leg and cleavage but I was a virgin the day I stepped out of that yard with my bags in tow. He was the slag, the slut and the ho’ and all he wanted to do was fuck. Fuck women and fuck about.

Within 2 weeks of me leaving he’d decorated the bedroom and bought himself a double bed. Mission accomplished! #OneDownTwoToGo

I came back home after a week or so and stayed on the sofa for a couple of months until I moved out fully with a couple of friends and never looked back. After some time we got talking but our relationship was never the same again. He never apologised or felt any kind of way, it was simply forgotten by him and chalked up by me.

Referring back to that line at the start, we never had an issue until I dared to question him, and I didn’t create any of the problems he has since faced. He created all of his problems with his shady, shitty, cuntish manoeuvres. I am not the reason and because I won’t allow it I’m being classed as a troublemaker. Oh well! What you sow you reap, and I’m going to tell the world about his particular harvest.

Maya Angelou said when someone shows you who they are believe them the first time. I heeded her word.

R.I.P to all those who have lost their lives this week.

Bahamas we feel your pain and are praying you get the relief and support you need ASAP.