#they also told us recently to stop using hot packs unless they pay $10 but they've been free for like 12 years so we have a lot of regulars

[blueside-hobi]

I love it when my job adds specialties that we have to do but they don't explain to us what they are or how to explain to clients the difference between services

[seriouslyblacklikemysoul]

Until Forever - Sirius Black

MASTERLIST Warnings:My English and pics aren’t mine. This one is a stepping stone.  Word Count~ 3k Prologue |  Mercury | Delicate | Blue | Running | Aftermath | Stardust |December | Nightfall  Chapter 10. Revelations. 

      Being on her own, a bit of a loner anyway, felt like a breather – even for just mere days. She never thought that she needed it as much as before. She hadn’t been chasing one relationship after another – perfectly content on her own. She smiled at the memory that popped into her mind; her best friend, heartbroken after a breakup that had costed her an entire year. The thing was no one had to be in a relationship and she meant it when she had told her that. It was an idea, forced down people’s throat until they choked on it. Women weren’t pretty unless they’re wanted. Guys weren’t men unless they had sex. People weren’t lovable until they were dating each other.          As wonderful as romance was — it wasn’t the only love that existed. It was not the answer to everything. She was constantly bombarded by the words “nobody loves me”, words escaping from the mouths of people who happened to be single. Love didn’t diminish just because someone didn’t want to have sex with another. In fact, it made that love more real. It made it into something that surged beyond physical attraction and surfaced level companionship. It made it unique.       She knew it all too well, it was pretty to be in love. However, it was also wonderful to stop for ice cream in that beautiful dress after a wild night with three other girls. It was also wonderful to drive in the middle of the night with a bunch of people who were family. Being on her own, never phased her and this time was no different. What was different, however, was his maturity – in the age of eighteen he was more mature than almost all of her previous partners. And just like that she realized that maybe, instead of looking for other halves, people should really be piecing themselves together.  And maybe, she wasn’t born unfinished.       She had said her goodbyes and walked them down to the castle entrance. James and Peter hugged her; Lily kissed her cheek while Remus smiled in a way that told her it was a bit too soon. Sirius even though he did want to hug her, he winked at her as he was the first to walk away with Marlene. She had to stop worrying about him. She turned around and walked toward the kitchens, hungry and ready for the therapeutic few days in front of her.         She was mumbling a song that had stuck in her mind without paying attention where she went, resulting in a collision. She apologized but he waved it off kindly until he saw her face – even without her robes, everyone knew the girl who fell from the sky. He grew distant and cold; she didn’t have to look at his robes to know that the boy was a Slytherin but what she hadn’t been expected was that particular one.       “You’re the Gryffindor everyone talks about” he pointed out. She shrugged, already gathering the ingredients and preparing a big Caesar’s salad and politely asking the elves not to help her, causing the boy to smile.        “…and you are?” she chimed, not really interested in his opinion. He was intrigued and grew reluctant of storming out.         “Regulus Black” a simple answer made he mind freeze and think that made she had been sent to hell. Her personal hell… She shook it off fast and cooked the sliced chicken in to a hot pan – thank Zeus this place had everything.         “I gain from the silence that you know my brother and you now feel awkward” he described her attitude in a nutshell. Trying not to burn her food, and remaining calm, she put the garlic, bit of olive oil and two anchovies in the food processor that had magically appeared in the counter and beat them until the garlic had completely broken down. She hummed as she transferred the sauce into to a large bowl and added the parmesan, lemon zest, lemon juice, mayonnaise and lots of pepper.           He enjoyed how simple she was being, how down to earth and self-sufficient, so much so he got comfortable near her – and she noticed.          “True, but still not my problem. Care for a bite?” she offered him as she was already setting two plates on the table, two glasses filled with her favorite sparkling wine and the big bowl of salad in the middle. He was startled. She was fast when she was hungry. Also, not having to wash the dishes was an added bonus of relief. He knew he had to say no, but no one else from his house was there anymore – everyone had already left and he was supposed to take the train tomorrow – and he was a bit hungry himself.        She sat down next to him, dressed in a simple pair of jeans and a grey shirt. He pulled of his robes, remaining in his sweater as he took the salad tongs and served her plate first and then his. She was impressed but then she remembered the way all those manners were imposed on him and took that back. She raised her glass without making a toast, waving it just a tad, and taking a generous sip.          “How come you haven’t slept with my arrogant brother?” he asked nonchalant making her laugh loudly. He was entertained as he ate the tasteful lunch.         “I made lunch, I should be the one asking the questions, don’t you think? But, it’s not from the lack of effort, if you must know” she answered, leaving him startled yet again. She was indeed, something else. He took notice of how unafraid she was and envied that.      “Alright, it’s only fair, I suppose” he agreed. He found himself very happy – as if all of the sudden he had a sibling again and that left him shallow. She had plenty of question to ask but didn’t want to make him hurt again – he saw that and felt grateful.      “What are you doing New Year’s Eve?” she asked innocently enough. If she could just change one small detain in the story… just one. Their conversation was refreshing and nice… McGonagall had almost interrupted them but her quick thinking saved it. She knew that her professor would like to discuss this with her and she also knew that she wanted to discuss something herself. She was determined – she would tell her the truth.       The evening chill begun to creep inside the kitchens as they sipped their freshly brewed hot cups of tea. He had opened up in ways he never thought possible for him and she had been the most accepting person he had met. She hadn’t been sure before, but she was most certain now – she had to save the pour child. He was fifteen years old and had been surviving in a sick environment. She knew how that would play out. He was smart and she could tell but what if she could prevent all the bad things from happening? She already had the knowledge that those bad things had brought on – what if she used that in the first place?         She waved him goodbye and walked towards her room – she would have to face her demons and talk to Minerva at some point, but tonight, she wanted to lay in bed and read one of her favorite books – the little prince. Maybe she would find all the answers she was looking for in the few pages of the most enticing story she had ever read.

      Waking up slowly, indolently stretching, not worrying about the day before it begun, felt refreshing and new to her. She could see the freezing blizzard outside the tower but she was perfectly content with her soft, warm and cozy bed. She would take it easy, one step at a time – and today was all about blowing off steam.           She got up and went to her bathroom with a very interesting idea in her head. Making sure to seal everything properly, so no steam would escape, she lighted all the candles around the room, creating an enticing atmosphere. The aromas started spreading, capturing her senses. She ran a hot shower and drenched herself in the water, which helped relax the tension in her muscles. She could physically feel the steam softening her skin.          Thankfully she had everything she needed, right next to her. Applying a thin layer of black soap all over her body, she closed her eyes and remembered the hot summers she spent in the sea She let the product worked its magic for about twenty minutes – the most relaxed minutes of her recent days. Beautiful beaches, blue waters, white sand, hot sun, cold cocktails, chilled music blasting from the megaphones of the bar and sunbathing – she loved her life and she didn’t even know it back then. Every dive in the wonderful sea let her explore the underwater world and block every noise; it was just her and the water and she had never felt more alive.         She had to rinse the black soap away with lukewarm water and prepared the scabbing glove by soaking it in warm water for about 30 seconds and letting it dry. Her mind traveled back to a particular memory; she was on vacation with her boyfriend and the island’s beaches were packed so they had decided to rent a small boat and go a bit further away into the sea. It had to be the best decision of her life – beautiful blue sky, mesmerizing teal waters, no one else around. She had been in the water more than three hours and her skin was all soaked up but she had fun and enjoyed herself more than ever.        She rubbed the glove in circular motions all over her body to remove dead skin cells and grime. She made sure not to rub too hard, though because those gloves were abrasive and over-scrubbing could hurt her skin. She took care of everything with an almost ritual attention, as she continued her blissful experience with Moroccan red clay powder, mixing it with a splash of water and applying it to her whole body, including her hair. She was being a mermaid in her day off and she was perfectly okay with that.          This time, she simply didn’t think about anything and so, twenty minutes passed without even realizing it. Rinsing it off was the last step before slathering her skin in argan oil while still moist to allow full penetration of oil goodness. She didn’t have argan oil but two creams with it and so she adjusted to that, massaging her body with them as she wrapped her hair in a soft towel and allowing herself to enjoy a few more moments before going back to reality.

          It was after the Christmas lunch that Minerva kindly asked her to follow her to her office, a small study located off of the first-floor corridor, to the right of a staircase ascending to the Serpentine Corridor on the third-floor. It has a large fireplace, windows overlooking the Training Grounds and the Quidditch pitch and a sparse stone-floored bedroom behind a concealed door.      Minerva was very protective of her students, especially the troubled ones, such as the Black brothers and she understood completely. She knew her backstory and what decisions led her here – and respected her the most.       Having already decided to tell the whole truth, her mind didn’t twist in order to find the perfect lies, didn’t pain with thoughts. Whether she would believe her or not, that was a different question, one she had yet to see answered. She offered her one of the two armchairs by the fireplace and a cup of tea, which she gladly accepted and sat down.        “I don’t know how much you are aware of but things between Sirius and Regulus are um, a bit different” she began and took a sip of her tea. This was it.       “I know, not because Sirius told me; not because Regulus opened up that much. I know their relationship the way I know Dougal McGregor, the way I know Ariana and Aberfoth” she confessed and placed the cup next to her, on the small table. Minerva was shocked, to say the least. Her face was pale and her eyes wide open.       “How is that possible?” she asked bewildered the girl in front of her, who was seemingly holding all the answers. She took a deep breath and spilled it all out.       “Whatever I’m about to say, it will remain within these walls, please” she begged her and sure enough, Minerva understood that something bigger than both of them was taking place, as she nodded.        “My birth year is 1997. As in… twenty years from now, but that you already knew. What no one know is, that I wasn’t born in this dimension. In my world, I am an archaeologist, and was supposed to begin my master’s degree. In my world, there is no magic and this, you, Hogwarts and everything and everyone in it, it’s a book – seven, actually – about a boy, Harry, who learns he is a wizard and through his eyes, we, the readers, get to discover this world. The journey begins in 1991 and results in one more war against Voldemort and too many tragedies. So, yes, I know who dies, who lives, who betrays, who loves and who hates. I know your past and future just as I know everyone else’s – and I had never felt the weight of such a big secret, hanging around my neck, trying to push me down. I didn’t plan on traveling through dimension and timelines – I don’t even know why or how that happened. At first, I thought I was in a comma and dreaming but my imagination was never that wild. And the worst thing, is not never seeing my family and friends again – it’s knowing how this story ends and not being able to change one bit. Knowing that the people I now call friends are going to suffer, that one of them is going to die and leave behind a child, the other is going to be accused of murder and spend twelve years in Azkaban, the third is going to end up alone and the fourth is going to betray his brothers not because he wanted to, but because he didn’t have a choice. So, yes, I know that the relationship between the two brothers is rocky” she let out, feeling for the first time how severe her position was, how much it weighted and how tragic her presence there was. It was the first time she said it out loud. Before Minerva spoke, she continued because she had opened the gates of hell and every demon was about to get out.         “But then I think about my very existence in this world. I wasn’t supposed to be here, which means that the story is already changed and different from the one I knew. However, if that was the case, I would have been able to intervene in some way – or maybe I was here and I simply wasn’t mentioned in the story because it wasn’t a story about this time and the Marauders but about Harry. Why am I here? Just to become a witness of all those terrible things I cannot prevent from happening?  Should I try to change the story? Should I tell them?” she went on without really asking Minerva – who was still trying to adjust to the new information. She believed her – she believed her despair. She wouldn’t be so hopeless if she was lying. Not only was from the future and had to adapt in her new environment, she had also – possibly – no chance of living her own life the way she was supposed to, but the single most tragic thing about her was the inevitability she was facing. Knowing the outcome and not being able to change the course of the path. Silently, waiting for the doom to come. All those months, she had said nothing.          “I don’t know why you are here, but I will help you to try and change the story. I believe you. I just… I want to know. I understand that this is too much for you. However, I think that if I know, there is a possibility, I can be helpful. How is Harry?” Minerva told her truthfully. She didn’t believe her ears – she had thought that the professor would have believed she was crazy. Without a second thought, she told her everything. For the next five hours, they would talk with only truths, occasionally pausing for a sip of tea and a bite of the sandwiches Minerva had summoned out of nowhere. In her face, the girl found an ally.

____ Tagist: @nadinissavage​ @mycobrakai1972​

[closemyeyesforgood]

It started when I was just a kid. Our father was always on a war path of beratement, with my mom, brothers, and me. He never hit me directly, but he would grab and smack me, hold me up by the collar of my shirt. Scream at me nose to nose. and I got it the mildest. Everyone else would get hit, unless they obeyed.

I was told every day that I was worthless, useless, pathetic etc. By everyone but my mom, one aunt,  and my grandmother. These were the only people I trusted.

My best friend from age 0 to 11 was...arguably my only friend. Already feeling unworthy of love, I did anything she asked. She eventually went power hungry, always manipulating and threatening me to do as she wanted. She would abuse an assault me, as well as say fucked up things to me so I would hate myself. 

She would get me to tell her classified info, tell me she cared, make me feel loved, then just turn around and use the info to manipulate me. A very intelligent 10 yo. This went on and got worse and worse until some horrific and unspeakable things happened. We were always left unsupervised with her brother, and no one would believe anything I said, because she was always the better diplomat. I stopped contact after the things that happened. She still tries to get back in touch.

Right after this, my dad was kicked out as he started hitting me forcefully, and telling me how stupid, and worthless I am incessantly. My mom couldn’t handle it anymore and at the time he was having an affair, he moved the woman and her son in with us. They all left at the same time, and i think it was mere days before Stepdad moved in.

Stepdad was never physically abusive, but he was a  teenage party animal trapped in a man’s body. I didn’t sleep, because there was suddenly a non stop drug party at my house every night with people having sex in my hallways. And injecting heroin on my couch. The same men would repeatedly break my door down, sometimes passing out in my bed, on my floor, or getting knocked out by anyone who noticed them trying to get in my room. No nothing happened, but its likely because they were too drunk.

Mom got heavily addicted to the party scene, and I barely saw her, and when I did, she was very very rarely sober. My brothers had both more or less found other places to hang out at this time. I had to start cooking my own rice suppers, and making my own lunches, begging for money, and clothes etc. At the time I didn’t really know how to “cook cook”, but I learned.

Every day, stepdad would tell me how stupid and ugly and useless I was for the next 8 years. Always reassuring me that nothing I say or feel matters to anyone. I retaliated, but it would only make his words sharper, and make my mother resent me more and more. The more I stood up for myself the more horrible he would get.

I start middle school at this time. and made a new friend. Coincidentally the same name as the previous friend. Again, the only friend who would put any effort in, and made me feel like no one else would want to know me. She was incredibly manipulative. More so than my previous friend. She would dig and dig and dig so much that she would even “entrap” me into saying things I didn’t even mean, just to use them against me, or use it as ammunition to gossip about me to other people that I also though were my friends. She tricked me into doing humiliating things, degrading things, illegal things. Things I still have actual scars from

She forced me into several relationships with guys she liked so she could make them cheat on me. She would torment me by manipulating other people to berate and make fun of me publicly, and also  harass me on the phone or via msn, just to see me fall apart, and then “help put me back together”.

Manipulating me and turning everyone I trusted against me. Her manipulations and rumors cased me to be assaulted and betrayed several times, and convinced me I should be happy to take the compliment, because no one else would ever want me.  It took a long time, but eventually, 5 years later I realized her motives were all poisonous, and she was more or less pimping me out. Convincing me i’m ugly and disgusting, and I owe it to these boys to give them attention. Its fucked up what taking advantage of vulnerability can do.

it was around this time I started drinking vodka as often as I could get my hands on it. I had run away from home and was staying with a friend. My boyfriend at the time could get me booze, and his friends all had cars, so I was able to find some escape from all the trash in my life. I was 16 at this time. Eventually I had to accept that begging for money, and doing odd jobs wasn’t enough. I had to go back home and face the mess. At the time mom was on meds for her back, and I started hand feeding her supper, because she was on opiods. Then the hurricane hit and I had to move in with my aunt. 

Within the first few weeks of living there, I was still coming home to see my mom once a week. But, her and my brother just kept stealing my things and my money to buy weed or booze or whatever. I got fed up and called her out on it. To which she slapped me across the face, shoved me out the front door and told me I wasn’t her daughter. I fucked right off and didn’t look back.

My aunt treated me like a dog. I wasn’t allowed to use the hot water, or turn the heat on in my room. I wasn’t allowed to go with them on trips or dinners or anything. I wasn’t allowed to enjoy much at all. Not allowed to go to the mall with my cousin, not allowed to go fishing etc. Despite my dad sending her $1000 a month for me. But at the same time was in charge of 4 other kids, plus 3 more when the cousins were there for a visit. All the while, cooking and cleaning and making lunches, and delegating chores and helping with homework etc. These kids still consider me to be more like an aunt than a cousin or foster sister. 

Each day, the only things my aunt would have to say is that I was not good enough, no one cared about me, i was worthless, and useless, and barely a person to her.  People only pretend to like me because I am pathetic. When people would visit, they would call me cinderella, if that doesn’t say enough She would always talk about how I was a worthless slut who didn’t appreciate her generosity, and would never amount to anything. I would just be an addict like my mom, blah blah blah. This never stopped me from telling her off. But telling her off only made her angrier and more viscious. 

One day, I had come home from visiting with my other aunt and found a van packed full of my stuff. My uncle had just had a heart attack and was recovering in the hospital. She blamed my uncles (who is nothing but pie) heartattack on my insolence and had made the decision to kick me out before I even reconciled with my mother. My mom took me back but she was pretty fucked up about it. My previous boyfriend had also recently left me for a girl he had been seeing, my new boyfriend was a very cruel and distant guy, always telling me how stupid and weak and etc. I was, and I just had my wisdom teeth removed so I was not in a great headspace either. Thankfully it was only a few weeks away from staying with my grandmother for the summer.

By this point, I was “adopted” by another girl, who was also a victim of the previously mentioned girls abuse. Though it turns out she simply learned the tactics for herself. It was a repeat of the previous two friends. She was very clung to me, as I think she became addicted to abusing me. So much that she even followed me to the city when I moved for school. She squatted in my dorm room and refused to leave. 

And again, found my best friend trying to pimp me out so she could get the guys on her radar. Or just to watch me suffer, or berate me for allowing my weak mind to be manipulated. After countless abuse and manipulation, I just snapped out  of it, and wasn’t falling for it anymore. I started to be resistant to her manipulation. Not enough though, again she was still me only real friend in a new world. 

I had told her many secrets and personal things that I hadn't told anyone before, and again, all she did was use it against me, calling it “experience” instead of “trauma” and used me as a pawn because of it. Just like the previous friends I had also trusted.  We ended up moving in together, and lived together for a year until I eventually became a lost cause for her.  She moved out, leaving me with no way to pay rent, and i ended up renting a room to a sleezeball whose cheques always bounced. She too, lied to me constantly, telling sob stories and manipulated me out of thousands of dollars.

Unfortunately you would think this would have opened my eyes, but I was so lost and confused, it only made me blind and unsure. I felt I could no longer trust friends to respect anything about me. I stopped opening up to friends, and assumed boyfriends would be a better bet.

I started seeing someone who I had been friends with for a few years. I had dated a few guys, but they were all more interested in their ego than anything else. Again always telling me I was nothing, worthless, stupid, gross, ugly, unreachable expectations of respect or consideration etc. This guy though. He was very sweet, always knew the right things to say to make me feel sorry for him, make me trust him, find him non threatening etc.

He became physically and sexually abusive almost immediately after he got me to open up to him about myself. As soon as I told him anything personal, he would use it as a bargaining chip, or as a threat, or would use it to manipulate me into thinking he was being normal. I was trapped with him for a little over a year before I found a weak link and broke free. I am still unable to have showers with an obscured curtain without the risk of a panic attack. 

Not ONE of my friends would listen to me when I tried telling them what he was doing to me. They just told me I misunderstood him, and that he is a sweet guy with his own issues and I just have to be okay with that. “Don’t throw him away and disrespect him like all the others”. Not even telling me to leave if I’m unhappy, but that I owe it to him to try harder to accept him.

He then stalked me for a few years, and still even now, most of my friends don’t want to hear it, they love him, and whatever I say is probably a fabrication to make myself look better than him or whatever it is they tell themselves.

I had finally broken things off right before moving to  new place. I started seeing another old friend, who was fairly reliable and a lot of fun to be around. We had lots of mutual friends, and his parents took me in a lot in high school. We started to talk, and open up to eachother, and slowly but also quickly, I found out he too was a very troubled guy. It didn’t sink in until it was too late, I knew things were shitty, but he convinced me that moving in together would be the best thing for us. 

He was incredibly controlling right away and I don’t believe one day went by where he didn’t sit me down and berate me into crippling despair. He would not be affectionate even in the slightest with me, other than to humiliate me in front of our friends. After he would have one of his “talks” with me, I would be a ball on the floor sobbing, and he would just leave the room and tell me i was a “stupid worthless bitch”. I was confined to his parents house. If I went out for a walk, or anything of the sort without getting permission first, he would scream at me and berate me. If I got out of bed before him, same thing, if I didn’t make him breakfast perfectly before work, same thing. He was never physical, but he would throw things around, and scream and yell. He is still one of the most intelligent people I have ever met, which basically just means he knew all the right words to rip someone apart. And all the right arguments to make them feel wrong.

Every minute detail I told him about me, became a tool. Every single bit of knowledge became a point of manipulation and control. He didn’t want a girlfriend, He wanted an outlet. He even forced me to go on meds, so I wouldn’t be so emotional about it. SO I wouldn’t retaliate and see what he was doing.

I eventually started seeing what was happening, when i got used to the feeling of my face being swollen, but it took a year and a half of it for me to realize I didn’t deserve what he was doing to me. Unfortunately during this same time I had found a new friend, who I was only kind of open with, but I was on meds at the time, so I may have been more open with her than I realize. She was using 100% of the info I gave her to turn other friends against me, and to eventually alienate me entirely for reasons I couldn’t really figure out. She claimed she was helping me deal with my abusive situation, but she was just using the opportunity to manipulate, and control someone so she could feel superior. 

Her recently exed boyfriend realized what she was doing, and decided to tell me about it. we started talking more and more, and we started an emotional affair. my boyfriend found out about it pretty quickly as he was always reading my e-mails and texts while I was sleeping or out. at that time we were just about to move to another town for him to finish school. We broke up, but he convinced me I needed to make a friendship work with him. Keep in mind, I was living with him in an unfamiliar own yet again. 

I then didn’t sleep for months, as each night he would sit at the foot of my bed and tell me how much of a piece of shit I am, and that I don’t deserve to live. If he kills himself it will 100% be my fault etc. I would go to work exhausted with swollen eyes. He would visit me on lunch breaks to berate me some more. making me cry in public, them making me feel like shit for embarrassing him for crying in public, and being weak and pathetic enough to do so.

During this, I was still talking to the other guy, we were meeting in hotel rooms and whatnot. he was the only person who would listen, or help. Eventually I made my brother move to the town and get a place with me so I could escape. and this guy moved in also.

He was smart, and kind. We opened up to each other quite a bit. I don’t believe any guy has ever been as open with me as he was. I felt comfortable being 100% transparent with him in no time, same on his side. This probably sounds great, but sometimes you forget that fact knowledge isn’t always emotional knowledge. and when you know enough about someone, you think you can rewire them.

Instead of accepting me, and loving me for who I was, he spent the next 5 years trying to groom me and change me to what he wanted. Using every aspect and detail I had opened up to him about to use as leverage. He often told me I was disgusting, or weak and that no one could ever love me like he does. On a daily basis he would tell me no one would ever care about me or my feelings or my life. I was never pretty enough, or well dressed enough, or clean enough, or organized enough. Nothing about me was perfect enough for him. Like previous boyfriends, he spent a lot of hours trying to convince me to just not have friends. He would make me feel like shit for spending time with people, or investing in them, and always try and convince me I don’t need them and shouldn't trust the,.

Always bringing up things from the past  as evidence I should only ever trust him, and depend on him. The worst part about this, was that I always believed him, always. Every word he said, every action he took, every opinion, every resistance. Every time he would discourage me, I always was convinced it was “for my own good”. He seemed to resent me for everything I did, or said, or thought. I was unhappy for most of the relationship, but was convinced no one else would ever love me.

If this wasn’t enough, I was simultaneously being abused and manipulated by my boss. She had successfully convinced me I was worthless, and without any value what so ever. That I always needed to be “taken down a peg” because i was so full of myself. Daily she would plant a seed of doubt, and watch it grow into fruition. As my home support was not helpful, It was not easy for me to see what was going on from either front. She would play me against coworkers so I wouldn’t have an opportunity to see that she was puppeteer all of us. She would set me up with a false sense of security, by being seemingly nurturing, convincing me to open up to her when we would be stuck in a room alone for hours. Then use it against me, telling me I deserve nothing, and she has been so generous, and understanding, how could I have the audacity to question or disrespect her.

When I became pregnant, the beratement, and doubt, and hate and resentment got much worse from both of them. They saw me gaining more confidence, and they were losing control. My pregnancy brain gave me more clarity as it wasn’t about me or them anymore. It was about my baby. I started seeing the relationship was toxic, and that my boss was a fucking horrible person. I started seeing what I wanted for myself and my baby, instead of what everyone else wanted of me.

I had already made the decision to try and work from home after the baby was born, and I was going to try and make things work with my boyfriend, as he had convinced me the problem was my boss, and taking her out of the picture would fix everything.

Then, my baby died, a week after her due date. So I was completely fucked up, I felt like JFK when Jackie tried to put his brains back in. I lost what little support I did have in my life. And the two of them saw it as an opportunity to gain control of me again. For a little while it worked, until I started seeing a Councillor for the loss. My boyfriend continued to insinuate that it was somehow my negligence that killed our baby, and my boss bullied me back to work after 6 weeks.

The abuse and manipulation and beratement became overwhelming, and I started a blog, which my boss read and dissected and would use as reference when trying to berate or manipulate me some more. My boyfriend would just constantly be bitter toward me, and resentful for any reason he could think of. Always telling me I was pathetic and no body wants to hear about my problems and I need to get over it etc.

Then I quit, started a new job, left my boyfriend, and started a new life with the only man who has ever been considerate and kind to me for purposes of love, and not an agenda. First guy to not try and change me for what he wants from me. 

So basically I had a constant stream of abuse and manipulation form every person I trusted until now. Each person I opened up to, used the info for their own gain, and never once used it to consider my personality or feelings. So its really difficult to open up to or trust anyone. I didn’t stop drinking heavily until I got pregnant, I didn't stop drinking all together until my mother passed away, and its still a struggle to not get trashed, but my stomach issues help me stop thankfully.

Alcohol made life bearable, and fun. I was able to enjoy myself and let go of things. Unfortunately it didn't make the thoughts and feelings and memories go away. It repressed them, and when my mother was no longer in my life, all the memories and feelings began flooding back in. So minimum 14 years of me shutting out emotions and memories. This is what caused my "mental breakdown" among some other circumstances.

[redefiningthirtysomething]

I’m going going, back back to AZ AZ

2 years ago we were living in Phoenix, Arizona. It was the best decision we made for our family and we thought things would be amazing. I am born and raised in Los Angeles, CA but life in LA was too busy, always working, Bella was growing up and life was just to expensive. I was looking for something else, something slower. I was tired of trying to keep up with work, my friends, family,... it all was very overwhelming.

We packed up our SUV and put our LA life away and drove 8 hours with our baby girl (she was 7).

We arrived so excited, ready for our new life, full of expectations. We planned this months in advance, we saved money, we prepared our friends and jobs. We had going away parties and tears. We arrived to our home, a 3 bedroom, hard wood floor, made for us house. We celebrated over drinks on our first night and experienced our first monsoon in our first week, It was spectacular. I had never seen anything like it. After settling in and introducing ourselves to the neighborhood I landed a job at a local hospice and Eli resumed his stay-at-home-dad job during the day and a night job he got at a local facility. I worked 3 days on, 4 days off 12 hour shifts. Bella was going to a great school right across the park, we would literally walk her over, drop her off and have a morning workout, followed by our breakfast, some morning sex and Eli then was off to sleep to be ready for his night job. We were living in a beautiful big home in a quiet neighborhood with a nice yard for Bella, fireplace, we had a cat and a Kitchen island I absolutely loved. My Master bedroom was bigger than the size of our entire LA apartment and my closet space, sigh... why did we ever leave? ... well, here's what happened.

We made plans to live there for life, but we only lasted six months. I got a job a few weeks after we moved in, we were living off of our savings and we were  planning our next career moves. The Job I got was good, but it paid very low and yes, I know that is expected in AZ the wages are less than in CA, what I made in CA was an unreasonable wage in AZ and they clearly told me this during my interview. But I thought, well ok I can figure this out as we go. The bills or the first month were a little outrageous. We moved to AZ in August ... need I say more? It was HOT AF so we had the AC unit on all day and all night long at a cool 71. Although some locals told us how to maintain a low electricity bill during the summer, we had NO IDEA how serious they were and didn't quite listen to their advice! It cant be that bad right ? wow, $600 for a month? A MONTH? That's not even including any of the other bills. that was the electricity ALONE! It knocked me out of my shoes. Ok, so the bills became an issue but we got a handle on it the best we could, but we were definitely in a strict budget.

A few months after we moved in my sister and her GF were having a hard time in LA and we agreed to help them out and let them live with us in AZ, we had an extra room and it would help us with the bills, plus it would be nice to have family around since we still hadn't made any new friends. It was good for a while but turned ugly really quick. I don't like to talk shit about people, but the GF has a nasty attitude and she's just an overall toxic person, I kind of see her as a bully who cried wolf. Awful, awful. Unfortunately my sister doesn't see it and they always think it's everyone else. I mean if she's happy with that, it's on her but like I've said before, leave us out of your negativity. Anyway, things got heated one night, she yelled at my daughter and insulted Eli, and I had to defend my family. After a screaming match, and an almost full on throw down in my kitchen I kicked them out. They moved to Tempe and my sister and I stopped talking. Cause of course, we attacked her, so they say. I have never in my life been in a fight and i'm so non confrontational... but apparently that night big bad me was in attack mode. Such silliness.

At this point, we're broke AF, we have no friends and my sister lives 20 miles away and doesn't talk to us. Ugh, Great start. Seriously the only good part for us about AZ was the happiness Bella had. She made so many friends on our street, she ruled that street basically. This girl was never home, she was always outside riding her bike or her scooter, or playing in someones yard, at the park ... she loved it. Sleep overs at out house, she had her room which we decorated to her style, her own bathroom...she loved it. I cant even begin to explain how good we had it. Bella was in her happy place.  Isn't this what we moved for? We completely lost sight of it. Eli and I were arguing a little bit, we were kind of just annoyed at life and we took it out on each other. Bella was getting stressed out because she hates to see us bicker, she tried to help us make up a few times. We don't like to put that on her, so we would make up, but a week later we were both back to not giving AF. We made things work, but there was a tension.

A little after Christmas we found out I was pregnant, 2 weeks pregnant to be exact and that very same day I found out I was pregnant I received a call from my boss at my old job in LA that they needed me to come back and that they would give me a raise. We looked at each other and it was like a weight lifted off our shoulders, we didn't even think about it before saying yes. We packed our shit and were gone by the weekend. We dipped out SO fast, we like ran back to LA ... what we thought was the best decision. Boy... were we wrong.

We moved in with Eli's parents, we were broke and didn't have money or time to find a new place. I started back at work that upcoming Monday and we had to get situated ASAP. work, yes, work was great. I went back and they started me at a great rate and It was like I never left. I still had my status of 10 years and accumulated my PTO, benefits as if I never left. So grateful that they thought well enough of me to ask me back. Bella went back to her old elementary school and things went back to Normal. Months went by and I'm super pregnant. We decided to stay at his parents house during the pregnancy because I didn't want to add anymore stress.  I have come to realize that I don't like living with other people other than Eli and my girls. People have something to say about something and always give opinions. whatever, I stay at work or in my room most of the time anyway. But, that's not how I wanted to live. Soon after I had Olivia, Elijah went to work so that I can spend time with the baby and bond. 4 weeks in a was stir crazy and made him quit his job and I went back to work. That's his family we live with and I am not comfortable, I don't feel like I can just go make breakfast and lounge around, not that I cant but it's a me thing. I don't like having to tell people where I am going if I'm leaving the house. I have always been very independent and I am easily annoyed when I don't have my freedom. plus, hey we pay rent ... I don't really have to explain my life ... but I cant be rude you know, so I bite my tongue.

We live in a trendy area of LA filled with hipsters, bars and restaurants .... and also very high rent. A 1 bedroom small apartment on the low end will cost you somewhere along 1900 month. jeez. We haven't been able to move out or find a decent price. We almost decided to buy a home but they're at 1 million for a little house. Bella has her room, a small room ... literally half the size of her AZ bedroom and she cant play outside , we live on a busy street and with the mentally ill/homeless that hang around the area doesn't make it safe. So she spends most of here time inside unless we go somewhere. Olive sleeps with us, we co-sleep, we did with Bella too, but soon I am going to have to transition her to her own room, plus she's about ready to crawl but we don't have space! Another thing is things have changed here. I don't see any of my friends, they don't have kids so they're out traveling and brunching. Things that I can't do right now. I haven't seen them at all to be honest, maybe once since I've been back from AZ. Olivia is 8 months now. Management at work changed, we have a new director and things are so different from the company I once knew. My sister eventually moved back to LA and I made peace with them, I wanted to have my sister in my life and things were good until recently. The GF strikes again, but with my mom! that's another story for another day. so, yet again my sister thinks its everyone else, except her GF. Also, I don't have a relationship with my little sister, but we will get into her in another blog.

I am a total mom and my focus is 100% on my kids and my family. I didn't know this until I had them.. obviously. I used to be all about me, going out, working and living my life. everything changed. everything. I live for my kids, I love them so much and my ultimate goal in my life is to make sure they are taken care of. why the fuck did we leave Arizona? Because we had no friends? I want to slap myself sometimes. were we bored? who fucking cares? Bella was happy! We could have made it work. We could have but we ran and took the easy way out. Eli and I sat down one day and we were trying to figure out our next move. we need to grow and make changes to better us as a family. We asked ourselves where is our happy place? where are our kids going to be happy?

The move back to AZ is in July. YES! we are so excited and thrilled. This time we see things differently. this time we know what to expect , we know the summers are harsh and we know the job market, we know that we only have each other out there... and that's OK! I am going to start an online business which I am currently working on. Eli will be the one working and I will stay home with bebe. It's NOT about us anymore. The house is set and ready for us we just gotta pack and go. By the way, we have a family house in AZ. It's my moms and she rents it out, but she lets us (her daughters, family) stay there and it's currently without renters. She knew I would go back. She knows that we have to make sacrifices for our kids sometimes. I don't feel that I am sacrificing this time.

I have faith and we love adventure.

[travelworldnetwork]

Dotted around London, these 13 tiny green sheds are reserved for those with ‘The Knowledge’.

By Ella Buchan

1 May 2018

“We’re a Victorian institution,” black-cab driver Henry announced proudly, tugging on his tartan cap. It was a grey mid-morning in London and I was squeezed in a small green shed behind a narrow, U-shaped table. Surrounding me were a cluster of taxi drivers who slurped on mugs of tea and shovelled in forkfuls of scrambled egg and sausage.

This diminutive shed in Russell Square is where the keepers of London’s secrets gather – the black-cab drivers whose minds are mapped with every inch of the city. It’s one of 13 cabmen’s shelters remaining in the capital, and only licensed drivers who have passed The Knowledge test – memorising every street, landmark and route in London – are allowed inside.

View image of Thirteen historical cabmen’s shelters can be found throughout London (Credit: Credit: Chris J Ratcliff/Getty Images)

The idea for the shelters came in the late 19th Century when George Armstrong, a year before he became editor of The Globe newspaper, was unable to hail a taxi during a blizzard because the drivers, who then rode horse-drawn hansom cabs, were huddled in a nearby pub. He teamed up with philanthropists, including the Earl of Shaftesbury, to find a way to keep drivers on the straight and narrow – and off the drink.

The Cabmen’s Shelter Fund was born in 1875, building the first hut in St John’s Wood. It still operates today, though many of the further 60 huts built have since been knocked down.

This is where the keepers of London’s secrets gather

Each hut was built no bigger than a horse and cart, in line with Metropolitan Police rules because they stood on public highways. They provided shelter and sustenance for hackney-carriage (black-cab) drivers, with strict rules against swearing, gaming, gambling and drinking alcohol.

Then came World War I. Drivers and their vehicles were drafted, plunging the cab trade – and the shelters – into decline. “We lost people, cars and horses,” said Gary, one of the cabbies I chatted to at Russell Square.

Unused, unloved and unprotected, the oak huts suffered rot and ruin. Some were destroyed by bombs during World War II, while many were later bulldozed in street-widening schemes.

View image of Built in the late 19th and early 20th Centuries, the green huts provided shelter for the city’s hackney-carriage drivers (Credit: Credit: Edward Gooch/Getty Images)

Now just 13 remain, with 10 in operation. Each is Grade II listed, which means they are considered buildings of special interest and every effort should be made to preserve them. They are owned by the Worshipful Company of Hackney Carriage Drivers (WCHCD), a guild for those who earn their living through the trade. The Cabmen’s Shelter Fund is responsible for upkeep and maintenance, issuing annual licences to those who run them.

“The cab trade is very lonely,” said Colin Evans, a cabbie of 44 years and trustee of the fund. “These are places where you can go and have a tea or coffee with your mates. If drivers don’t support them, they will be lost forever.”

Gary, who often comes here for a tea and a grumble because “everyone’s in the same boat”, added: “I’ve been driving a cab for more than a few years and only recently started using the shelters. I decided, use them or lose them.”

View image of The cabmen’s shelters are no larger than a horse and cart, and only drivers are allowed in (Credit: Credit: Chris J Ratcliff/Getty Images)

Most serve breakfast (sausages, eggs, bacon), sandwiches and hot drinks, with the occasional pie or lasagne cooked by the owners at home and reheated in the skinny kitchens. Non-cabbies aren’t allowed to sit inside – unless issued with a rare invitation – but can order through a window hatch.

“We bring in more money that way,” said Jude Holmes, who runs the kitchen at Russell Square. “I can serve hundreds of people while a driver sits with one cup of tea.”

It’s like their second home

As we sat there, a relentless drizzle outside drew more cabbies through the door, each greeting the others like family members.

“My little gang comes in every day,” Holmes said. “I worry a bit if I don’t see them. It’s like their second home. Sometimes they even make their own tea.” She added that newer drivers are often too intimidated to come inside, preferring to order bacon sandwiches at the window.

“It can feel a bit cliquey at times,” Gary admitted.

View image of Card playing and gambling are prohibited inside London's cabmen's shelters (Credit: Credit: Ella Buchan)

The kettle bubbled, teaspoons clinked against china, and bacon spluttered and sizzled in a pan as talk turned to the cabbies’ biggest bugbears. Being ‘bilked’, for example, when a fare runs off without paying. Struggling to find a public lavatory when on the job is another common groan (the shelters don’t have loos).

Most drivers have other gigs, as musicians, artists, TV producers, even actors. But, they told me, once a cabbie – always a cabbie. “If you retire, you die,” Gary deadpanned.

The anecdotes poured faster than the tea. There’s the tale of ‘Fat Ray’, so huge he squeezes himself behind the wheel each morning and doesn’t budge until he gets home. “He couldn’t come in ’ere,” said Henry, sweeping his hand around the shelter. “He’d never fit through the door!”

View image of Most cabmen’s shelters serve breakfast, sandwiches and hot drinks (Credit: Credit: Chris J Ratcliff/Getty Images)

Evans took me for a spin in his cab, stopping by Temple Place shelter on Victoria Embankment, where a team was fixing damage caused by a lorry.

The shelters’ Grade II status means restoration is intricate and expensive. Refurbishment costs around £30,000, Evans estimated, and replacement materials must match the originals. Even the shade of paint – Dulux Buckingham Paradise 1 Green – is prescribed to mirror the first huts.

They represent a moment in time

Shelters have also been hit by noise restrictions in residential areas, and none currently operate at night – most open around 7:00 and close by 13:00. A hut at Chelsea Embankment has been closed for five years due to parking restrictions, and the fund is considering donating it to the London Transport Museum.

Crucially, said Evans, these tiny huts must not disappear – nor should their history be forgotten. “It’s too easy to get rid of these things. The shelters are unique. They represent a moment in time.”

View image of Jude Holmes also sells snacks to the public through the hatch of the Russell Square shelter (Credit: Credit: Ella Buchan)

It’s true there’s plenty of history packed within their walls. Evans told me that the Gloucester Road shelter was nicknamed ‘The Kremlin’ because it was frequented by left-wing drivers. The since-bulldozed Piccadilly hut was the site of Champagne-fuelled parties in the 1920s and dubbed the ‘Junior Turf Club’ – after an exclusive gentlemen’s club nearby – by (non cab-driver) aristocratic revellers who smuggled in booze.

And according to local legend, a man claiming to be Jack the Ripper once visited Westbourne Grove Shelter.

Physical signs of their history remain. Tenders attached to the bottom of the huts were where drivers tethered their horses before going inside. The animals drank from marble troughs, now gone. Each shelter still has a rooftop vent with ornate carvings – reminders of the wood-burning stoves once used for heating and cooking.

View image of In the Warwick Avenue shelter, shelves are lined with cabbies’ mugs bearing the names of their football teams (Credit: Credit: Ella Buchan)

We continued onto Warwick Avenue shelter, frequented by musicians and actors who live nearby. British mod-rocker Paul Weller, former lead singer of The Jam and The Style Council, often comes to the hatch for a sausage-and-egg sandwich, licensee Tracy Tucker told me.

Tucker, whose husband is a cabbie, has been a shelter keeper for 14 years, moving to this location from Thurloe Place in 2016. The roof was recently re-shingled at a cost of £13,000, financed by the fund.

Inside, the tiny kitchen has a stovetop sizzling with sausages and bacon, a fridge stocked with sandwich fillings and shelves heaving with cabbies’ mugs bearing the crests of their football teams. When someone’s team is relegated or loses a big match, Tucker ties a black ribbon to their mug’s handle in commiseration.

View image of Tracy Tucker, who runs the Warwick Avenue shelter, sees her regulars as family (Credit: Credit: Ella Buchan)

To her regulars, Tucker is family.

“They see me as a big sister,” she said. “If I’m sick, I have to text about 20 people to say the shelter is closed. Some of them won’t know what to do with themselves.”

If we lose this, we lose part of London history

She has her own rules: no staring at mobile phones and no moaning about Uber. “We all know it’s quiet. The trade is dying, and I have thought about what I would do if I had to get another job. I don’t think I could work anywhere else.”

“The little lives that go on in these shelters,” chuckled Evans as we pulled away. “It’s not just the buildings. It’s the characters, too. If we lose this, we lose part of the cab trade’s history and a part of London history. That would be a real shame.”

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