Daddy's Little Girl....

In the beginning, when I first decided to start a blog, I spent a long time looking for a subject. I couldn’t think of something I could give, that was unique to me. But then I thought of something – Me! I could give you and insight to me, because as silly as it may seem, nobody really knows me all that well. Not even my best friend. So, that’s what I endeavour to do – to give anyone who decides they want it, a little insight into the workings of my mind.



The reason I say this, is because today’s blog has a rather large and slightly unpleasant dollop of just that – Inside information. I was thinking about a simple phrase a fellow blogger of mine used the other day.



All he said was 10 years ago... I thought that was fairly unremarkable, but then, when I really think about it I was a little 6 year old. 6 years old! It would be a further 6 years before I would even move to Dorset. It would have been around the time I went to live with my dad. And then I mentioned this to a good friend of mine, the one whom I mentioned in my last blog, and she said I must have loved that period of my life, being so young and utterly care free, and It saddened me to point out this wasn’t true.



But you were daddy’s little girl; it should have been lovely? Well yes, it should have, and there were times where it was, but not all of them.



To understand this, you have to know that my mother and father broke up when I was five. For a short while I lived with my mum, but then, because my dad was all alone, I decided that I wanted to live with him. So after a very, very big tantrum, my mum gave in, and let me be.



Now, when I was growing up with my family, and had a brother and a sister, I was aware that they were not my full brother and sister. I was not aware of my fathers past, or of what happened to my family when I wasn't looking. To this day they wont explain fully, but I can make an educated guess.



My father was from a.... troubled background, from what I can gather. His father was abusive and my father was a fan of excess in... Many things.



And see, because I was his only daughter (for all I knew) – the only one who he could really say was of his own; he treated me very well, or as well as I could hope for. I never really saw or understood what happened to everyone else. Or perhaps, I did, but I simply blocked it out from plain denial.



But so, I had no real Idea what my dad was like. He was lovely and caring to me, so I simply thought the people around me were overreacting and slandering him, and I protested this, because I loved him of course, he was my daddy after all.



So around about the time I turned six, I moved in with my dad, and I received quite a culture shock. He wasn’t who I thought he was. He had a dark past, a complicated one, full of difficulty and in some cases, heartbreak. He relied on me heavily, which is not something that should be forced on a child. He made me feel guilty and he suppressed my view of who I should be, and he did many other things that I don’t care to mention.



And so, when I said this to my friend, she went just said that she could see why I left. I was affronted; I told her I didn’t chose to leave, not really, just that someone came and got me and moved me elsewhere.



So she asked me if I would have stayed, and I tell her of course I would have then, because he needed me. But then, I wouldn’t on reflection, with the benefit of hindsight, because I can see who I would have become. And I don't like that person.



I wasn’t allowed to interact with boys around my father, so perhaps I’d be a little better off. But I would have been suppressed; he wouldn’t have allowed me to grow up or change who I am – No make up, No boys, No different music. I wouldn’t have been able to mature, because the more I did, the harder he would have made it.



And as much as I wish I could have stayed, I realise sometimes, with stunning clarity, just how much better off I am here. I have done better than I ever would have if I stayed there. I am happier than I would have been, I have met people who have changed my life, and without whom, I couldn’t imagine being.



I’m not saying I don’t miss the people I left behind, I do, more than they might know, but sometimes, to move on and be who you need to be, you need to let go of something else.



These days, I feel safer and more comfortable about the idea of going home. I feel like I could handle it now, where as I couldn’t before.



I cant thank the people I’ve met enough, for everything they’ve done for me, everything they’ve taught me and coached me through.



To my friend Martha, who was the best teenage health advice guru anyone ever had, and a great fan girl relief at times.



To Christopher, My best friend and comrade in arms, who has terrified me with his sheer scale since I was a child, and continues to do so today. My adopted brother, who has helped me through so much I wouldn’t even know where to begin.



To Jake, my brother, who although irritates me more than I can say, I still love him, and he’s still there when I really truly need him, and I like to think I reciprocate.



To Ziggi, my beautiful sister, who I understand has been through a lot, and possibly some of it is my fault. I’m here, if you do need someone, I swear.



To Jennifer Twist, because you’ve always been there to stick my broken confidence back together, and put a smile on my face.



To Mrs Twist, who has been a great mother figure, and taken me under her wing, making me feel truly accepted somewhere.



To Abbey, for being there as a friend, through all my silly phases and shortcomings, and still supporting me at the end. Thank you for teaming up with me, and I promise you, L will come out of hiding some day!



To Sarah, for being a quiet counterpart, but still someone who enriched me and made my time at school bearable.



To Dominic, for still being friends with me, even in the circumstances in which we met, and for being such a gracious, supportive and long standing friend.... (10 years, 6 months, 13 days and ..... god knows okay!).



To Luke Howie, for dragging me into anime, and for enlightening and comforting me in ways I never thought possible. I value your continued friendship more than I show, and more than I think you know.



To Zara McQueen, for being such a creative, spiritual, sensible, emotional and brilliant guidance along my road through life. I’m sorry I wasted so much of your time with silly trivial dramas.



To Tamara Essex, for having faith in my maturity, even when it didn’t shine that brightly, and for giving me the compliments and confidence boosts when they were needed. All  the little pushes have helped me come a long, long way.



To Tom Crockford, for coming out of absolutely nowhere and saving me from myself.  Thank you for sticking by me, through every silly little thing, and you know I’d do anything for you, even if saving you sends me to heaven...



To Budgie, Ben, Matt and all the rest of the 2FM gang – thanks for doing what you do, and giving young, incredibly bored people somewhere to go and something to enjoy. We all know how difficult it is to have nightlife in these parts.



To Budgie specifically, for keeping me calm and serving me many, many bowls of onion rings – and eating them with great comic dexterity! – And to Emma as well, for keeping him safe, and not so sane, keep up the good work! :)



To Joshua, for also coming out of nowhere and turning everything back to front – thank you for inspiring me to blog, and for still being my friend, despite how crazy I may seem.



Thank you to Nikki, my godmother, for keeping me safe and sane, for taking care of my mother and stepfather when they needed it, as well as the rest of the family. Thank you for loving and accepting me, despite what I’m responsible for and associated with. Thank you for all the hugs, and the musical inspiration.... but I will never forgive you for the sofa.



Thanks to David, my amazing stepfather, who puts up with so much rubbish, nonsense, bull-crap and stupidity (from all of us!) that I don’t get how he’s still standing. Thank you for being my friend, and for taking care of my mum and my family (a lot of the time at your own cost). Thank you for all the advice I ignored, and the little that I did listen to. Thank you for teaching me so much, and coaching me through maths when it made me cry. Thank you for not being too harsh when I did bad things, but for also teaching me the lessons I needed to learn..... Like all boys are knob heads!



To my ever patient mother, who copes with all my tantrums, tall tales, food thievery, messiness, tears, cuts and bruises, burns and scars – both mental and physical – Thank you for teaching me so much, and bringing me to where I am today. Thank you for feeding me, clothing me, entertaining me and sheltering me, even when times were hard. Thank you for lifting me up when I fell, and for pointing out how stupid I was being. Thank you for loving me, even when it’s hard to show it. Thank you for guiding me, even when I wasn’t paying attention. I love you so much, and I will always, always be here if you need me at all, a shoulder to cry on and a warm hug waiting, because after all you’ve done for me, and been through for me, it’s the least you deserve back.



So really, I was daddy’s little girl, and I think that I still am deep inside – there are things that haven’t changed about me at all, and I can still see traces of him when I look in the mirror. It’s fair to say I’ve got his blood in my veins, but I hope it’s the good bits; the bits that no-one saw but me, the bits that he hid away and was ashamed of, and the bits that no-one believed was there. Because I still like to think that deep down, somewhere within all the messed-upness that we both suffer from, and that most people suffer from, we’re still fundamentally good people, even if it’s only a smudge. It would still make all the struggle worthwhile to me.



I think that people seem a little shocked when I tell them I love my daddy – I tell them that I’m shocked they think I wouldn’t. Whatever he’s done and said, to me or to anyone else, I can see right through that, because I saw the loving, caring, vulnerable and carefree bits underneath.



Because, flawed may be the object of your affections, but love them you will, for the rest of your days.



There’s nothing wrong with being daddy’s little girl – I love both of mine unconditionally, and equally. I couldn’t Imagine who or what I would be without either of them.

 
So yeah – thanks, to everyone, for everything.