STOP! Hey Hey Wait a Minute Mr Postman

The night before my big operation last November I was so petrified of being cut open that I couldn't get to sleep. I was emotionally all over the place. I had been dreading this day for months and despite trying my hardest to think positive, my stomach was doing somersaults. It sounds dramatic but I had a deep fear that I might not make it through the procedure. I have had a few operations over the past couple of years but the thought of a four hour one was more than a bit daunting. I kept thinking about my past and the things that I wish I had done or said because I have always believed that it is the things we don't do or say that we regret in life. My previous counsellor had suggested writing letters to the people in my past who had been significant to me either in a positive or a negative way, not necessarily with the intention of sending them but just to release my feelings during times of stress. Four hours is a bloody long time to be under a general anaesthetic and I was having abdominal surgery which carries one of the highest risks for blood clots. Ridiculous as it sounds I wanted to do what my counsellor had suggested in case I never got the chance to. There were certain people I felt had been really influential in my life and I wanted more than anything to tell them and thank them for helping me. So, in the hours before I left for Birmingham I sat in bed scribbling down words, thoughts and feelings in the worst handwriting imaginable and at 3am I put several of what I would loosely call 'letters' into envelopes, morbidly thinking that if anything happened to me someone would send them. I wrote addresses on two of them but left the others plain as I had no idea where the people they were written to worked or lived. I also wrote a lot down in my notebook in a rough non letter format before falling asleep pen in hand. I hoped that my letters would never have to be sent because I would recover and be ok but it felt good just to write it all down before facing my worst nightmare.

The operation went well. I had my boyfriend and my Dad there to support me but not my Mum as I had asked her to stay home and look after my beautiful doggy. Well, imagine my shock horror when laying in a hospital bed unable to move a text came through from my Mum saying 'I posted your letters for you'. I felt my heart hit my mouth and my stomach drop reading those words on my mobile screen. I felt like I had fallen a hundred feet and I couldn't get up. My head was suddenly a hive of buzzing questions. How could I have been so stupid? What the hell was I going to do now? What would these people think of me? Could someone give me a time machine? One letter wasn't too bad and I probably would have sent it when I got home but the other was never under any circumstances going to be posted while I walked the earth. If you want to imagine how I was feeling then imagine writing down your innermost feelings in your diary, being totally open and thinking that nobody would ever read what you had written. Now imagine someone ripping out the pages and printing them in the local newspaper for the whole town to read. There I was miles from home and powerless to do anything, in fact the recipient was probably reading it right then in that moment as I freaked out.

Basically, like many other teenagers I had a crush on a teacher at school. I was vulnerable and lonely and I used this crush as a form of escapism because my life was difficult. There was nothing sinister about it and there was certainly no encouragement from the other side. I was just a seventeen year old girl with my hormones and emotions flying about and in desperate need of a positive role model in my life. This person was everything I aspired to be and they were the only person I could open up to and be truly honest with. I was fake with everyone my own age because I was scared of being bullied again. This person was attractive, intelligent, honest and most importantly, confident. I wanted to be all of those things but my self esteem had been battered so badly by bullying that I just hid behind a false, gregarious persona, wanting so desperately to be accepted but fearing that I never would be. I was frightened by people my own age and that school had been a scary place for a number of years. I turned to this person and they listened and I felt that they understood.

The worst thing about it is that the content of the letter is really sketchy in my memory. I wrote it in horrible, rushed, scribbly handwriting and oh my god I wrote it on notebook paper that had cartoon minions all over the bottom! It was 2am and I was exhausted and rambling on. I can never keep things short. It could have said anything. I didnt even have a copy to analyse and ask my closest friends opinion of, just a rough idea in my mind of what I had written. Unfortunately the one thing I do know is that I admitted my crush to this person. The letter was originally just going to be a 'thank you' letter but a few years ago I was friends with someone who was a 'shit stirrer'. I was trying to think of a more eloquent term for it but 'shit stirrer' is the perfect description of her. We told each other things we hadn't told anyone else because at the time I trusted her but sadly I have since found out that my trust was broken. Basically she is a storyteller and I guess my worry was that she had somehow spilled this particular secret out and inflated it to make me look like a weirdo because that's what she does. I've been told things about her that made me realise I should never have trusted her so I thought that slipping the truth in casually would make it look less intense and light hearted whilst giving my side of the story. Now I realise this bizarre admission would have looked just that, bizarre. The poor recipient probably thought I was crazy and was after something romantic in return for my declaration! I just hope that I explained why I was writing, that this person was a positive role model in my life when I needed one the most and how very much it meant to me to have that.

I don't claim to be 'normal'. In fact I don't think there is such a thing and if there was I would hate to be described in such a way. It's a word that I associate with boring or dull. I like to think I am unique. I refuse to grow up, I can be silly at times and I think that life would be yawn inducing if we all acted like 'mature adults'. The people who know me would never describe me as creepy, stalkerish or strange but given the fact that some of the worlds most notorious psychopaths were described by their loved ones as kind, 'normal' and caring I can understand how that in itself may not be reassuring. Seriously though I am too honest for my own good and I hate people who have a hidden agenda. Aside from spending a few years in the same school this person is essentially a stranger so I can imagine a letter of this kind arriving out of the blue from someone who you last saw over a decade ago would be confusing and extremely weird. During my recovery I watched the film 'Single White Female' for the first time and I thought 'holy shitballs...what if the recipient of my letter thinks I am like the main character?'.  I considered writing again to explain that the letter was never meant to reach them but I couldn't decide if it would make matters worse. I was so worried a reply might come through the door telling me to politely to leave them alone but I never got a reply....and in some ways the silence was worse!

Its over six months ago now but because it was such a mistake it still plays on my mind. Nobody wants the person that they used to idolise to think bad things about them and I haven't a clue how my letter received. It is a small world and there is a strong possibility that one day I could bump into this person in town and if that happened I think I would die on the spot. It's not the fact that they now know I had a crush on them. That doesn't bother me. I'm quite open about things like that and I would hope that my young self could be excused for having those feelings. It's the fact that I look like a nutter because what kind of person writes to someone who is already married and tells them how they felt 15 years ago?!  I guess that there is a high chance that this person might not even remember me which would be a bonus. However, you only need to type in my name on social media and up pops a photo of me with my bright red hair, hair that makes me far more recognisable in the flesh. Oh the joys of the 21st century! Seriously though, so many teenagers pass through that school each year, what makes me so memorable? I am in contact with another former teacher and she too suggested writing another letter to explain and apologise for my Mum's error. She is such a wise owl and I fully trust her judgement but I just don't know what I would say. I couldn't exactly write a letter just saying 'hi again. Just so you know I'm not crazy' and I don't want to risk making the situation even worse. Like I said at the beginning, I think that the things we regret in life are the things we don't say or do. This however is definitely an exception. My Mum's innocent act of kindness has definitely left me with a regret and jeez I wish someone had invented that time machine ..... 

Does provocative clothing invite rape?

People judge a book by its cover more now than ever before. We are surrounded by fakery, a nation of plastic surgery enthusiasts inspired by the false image of perfection projected by the media and it's obsession with airbrushing. A variety of experiments by Princeton psychologists Janine Willis and Alexander Todorov have revealed that it only takes one tenth of a second to form an opinion of someone. People get victimised for their looks so frequently in today's society so in this blog entry I want to talk about why people shouldn't be so quick to judge people on their exterior appearance and the possible consequences of doing so. 

Those who know me will immediately question why I am about to compare aspects of myself to Katie Price because in many ways we are inherently different. Say the name Katie Price and the image that springs to mind is a huge breasted glamour model with orange skin, fake hair and surgically enhanced features. You either love her or hate her, there is no inbetween. I have had four boyfriends and I chose to stay a virgin until I was twenty five whereas Katie has been married three times and has five children by three different men. I am not saying that is a bad thing, I am merely pointing out the differences between us. Miss Price is known as someone who fires off expletive laden tweets on Twitter and warns people not to 'mess with the Pricey' so when she entered the Celebrity Big Brother house last year and met her nemesis Katie Hopkins people were expecting fireworks. However, when the public was confronted with the quiet Kate who gets so nervous she hyperventilates and her body trembles, they were confused. Underneath the Jaffa orange tan and three pairs of false eyelashes lies a very different Kate. She was labelled as 'boring' and despite winning the show people complained that she hadn't done enough to warrant receiving her fee for entering the house. People even questioned whether she was being nice in order to boost her fledging popularity with the public and to reinvent herself. Maybe if people had dropped their negativity they would have realised that Katie was just being herself, she wasn't being Jordan. Katie's alter ego Jordan was a character she created in order to get her fame. In my previous blogs I have briefly touched upon the fact that I am someone who had to create an identity to hide behind. Most people do this to some extent but it is far more common in people who have suffered some form of bullying and or identity crisis. I use mine as a protection because it was formed specifically for this. Katie has often said that behind Jordan lies a quieter slightly insecure girl.

One thing Katie didn't disappoint fans with is her discussions of a sexual nature, discussing in detail her sexual exploits with ex husband and cross dresser Alex Reid. Some people were mortified at her revelations on national TV and questioned why she would do it but Katie has always been an open book when it comes to her sexuality. It's lewd, crude and incredibly personal but it's honest. Personally I think that she uses her sexual innuendoes and gossip as a  defence mechanism.  I think that because I do it myself. People use defence mechanisms as a way to distance themselves from full awareness of upsetting thoughts, feelings or behaviours. It's a kind of distraction technique and a way of protecting yourself from emotionally connecting with things and it's usually used unconsciously (the person doesn't always know that they are doing it). Dissociation is one of the more commonly recognised defense mechanisms. This is where someone finds another representative of their self in order to continue in the moment. An example of this is the class clown who takes on the comedian role to hide his insecurities or to divert attention away from his . People who have a history of childhood abuse often use this kind of defense mechanism. Katie Price has admitted that she suffered sexual abuse when she was young and she herself even questioned whether that was why she went down the career path she did. She felt that in becoming 'Jordan' she could exploit her sexy side and make money by portraying a more hyped up version of herself and fair play to her for that. She has amassed a fortune by playing a character and because of that she has provided her children with financial security for life. Jordan was also a mask that she could hide behind. My close friends know me as someone flirtatious with a naughty humour who likes to hear about their sexual exploits and who loves to fill conversations with innuendoes.  This doesn't mean that I am promiscuous, it just means that I find the subject intriguing.

When I was in the sixth form I had an experience that made me question the way I dressed and my whole demeanour. I was seventeen and I was innocent. My naughty humour and my sexual innuendoes may have led people to think otherwise, but I was pretty naive back then. I loved to dress for attention but it was never about getting boys to fancy me it was more about showing the girl bullies that they no longer controlled me. He was handsome yet arrogant, popular yet lacking substance. He was in the Sixth Form yet his mind frame was stuck in year 11 because he didn't really want to learn or take things seriously. He was well known to the teachers as someone who would mess about and get shouted at because despite choosing to stay on for his A levels, it was clear he didn't want to be there.  I already had a fear of men/boys because in Years 10 and 11 I had previously experienced what my counsellor suggested was sexual abuse but I still feel was just inappropriate behaviour. This guy tripled that fear the day he intimidated me in a very sexual way. We were nearing our exams. I remember the early Summer day because of the heat from the sun as it glared through the large full length Windows in the drama studio. I was wearing my white stone washed denim jeans and a tight fitting vest top yet I was so hot my make up had begun to slide off my face. There was a disabled toilet at the bottom of the staircase that led to our Drama room. The girls often used it to get changed. Today I was using the mirror in there to put my make up back on. I had left the door open.  I saw him walk past then suddenly he was in there with me, sliding the door and locking it behind him. I felt the butterflies take flight in my stomach, I felt unsafe, knowing that this was inappropriate. His face was deadly serious but I couldn't read it. I'm normally very good at reading body language. I felt his eyes on me and it freaked me out being trapped in this small space with him. He made some comment out how sexy my body was and I ignored it. His hand moved to the flies on his jeans, beginning to unzip them and suddenly I could hear my heart beating in my chest.  'What are you doing?' I managed to ask, diverting my eyes quickly and meeting your intense ones with a panic. 'Don't you want to see it?' He asked with a smile on his face. So brazen, so bizarre yet so intimidating. He began to move towards me, unzipping as he got closer. He was blocking my exit. I remember many different scenarios flashing before my eyes. I don't know how I packed my make up away and pushed past him to escape but thankfully I did.  I ran up the stairs as fast as my legs would carry me and rejoined the class with my head spinning and my face burning red. I didn't say anything, I felt like such a fool, wondering if I had done anything to encourage him. There was one teacher I really trusted but I was too embarrassed to tell her. I remember knocking on her classroom door and saying something random about needing help with exam timetables because I couldn't get the words out. Sure, I could joke about sexual things but at that point in my life I couldn't talk seriously about them. I was worried about what people would say and I felt stupid. In fact I didn't tell anyone about this guy until years later when I confided in a male friend who had been friends with him at school. Apparently he had told him a completely fabricated version of the story that involved me performing a sex act on him. I was furious but it was too late to change history now. To this day I still feel a slight unease around men, particularly in certain situations and it has certainly added to my lack of trust in them. Previous to that day I had barely spoken to that guy so I often wondered whether my tight clothing had led him to assume I was promiscuous because of the prejudices towards women and their sexuality. Now I know different. No women should be made to feel that she can't wear what she wants to for fear of being judged or attacked.

It is true that how a woman chooses to dress unfairly leads to conclusions being made about her character, her willingness to have sex, her vulnerability etc but it doesn't make someone rape or take advantage of her. Women should not be slaves to unjust perceptions or frightened by the opposite sex. Sexual abuse can happen to anyone, man or woman, gay or straight. It doesn't matter if you are a virgin or even like Katie, a glamour model. Forced and unwanted sexual activity is assault full stop. It is simply a myth that provocative clothing or flirting invites sexual assault. A girl wearing a short skirt is not asking for a man to put his hand up it, a topless woman on a beach or posing for a magazine shoot is not asking to be groped simply because her breasts are exposed. A man may feel sexually attracted to a woman because of her appearance but sexual arousal does not lead to sexual violence. Not all men are dangerous to women because they 'can't help themselves'. If looking at an attractive woman made men think 'I must rape her' then all men would be rapists. Rape is a terrifying, humiliating act of violence not sex and a rapist is someone who wants to dominate, violate and control a woman. A rapist is not a horny man who has taken a look at a woman's outfit and been convinced that she wanted sex. Statistically you are more likely to be raped by someone you know. Only 10% of rapes are committed by 'strangers' (info provide by rapecrisis.org) and one in five women are raped by their partners or husbands. Provocative clothing does not incite rape or sexual abuse. It is simply a form of victim blaming. A rapist will try to do or say anything to discredit the person that they attacked because he needs to justify the act in his own head instead of accepting that he is a criminal.  Blame should never be placed onto victims because many of them already suffer from the shame, flashbacks and unjustified guilt that may be associated with 'rape trauma syndrome'. There is not other crime where the victim is analysed so cruelly in order to try and shift blame.

I have always been judged by my appearance and people tend to make very quick first judgements of me. If you have read my other blog entries you will know that at school I was called a 'tart' or 'slag' purely based on my apperance. It not ok that it happened in 1998 and it is still not ok for it to be happening now, either years later.  Just recently a lady that I work with was astounded when I told her that when I was 12 I had one of the highest IQ's in my class. In fact, it took a while to convince her that I wasn't lying. I feel a constant need to prove to people that I am not some dumbass. I can be ditzy, unorganised (every single school report said 'unorganised and talks too much instead of listening'...no change there then) but that doesn't mean that I am lacking in intelligence.  We must stop judging people on the way they look because it can have serious consequences. I for one will dress how I like for the rest of my life. I can't stop people having negative opinions of me but I can change the way I deal with that.