This is a tough write for me. This isn’t my standard blog writing. This is far more personal, not because I am not honest in my usual posts. I am very honest-I hope that’s clear by now. But the topic tonight is acutely difficult. It’s just a topic that today is impossible for me to avoid because of where I am.
I am in a hotel in a WA postcode. Altrincham is in Cheshire. Cheshire is where I was born. Cheshire is what ruined me, or rather the people who lived in Cheshire were those who ruined me and we’re to shape the course of my life and mould me into the person I am today. I am essentially someone who got broken and is now in the process of fixing myself gradually back together piece by piece.
*Disclaimer. I want no negative come back to this publically posted letter please. I am sharing it on my blog-not for my words to be dissected, pulled apart or disagreed with, also not for my feelings to new minimised. When someone blogs their heart and soul out to you, that should be a privilege to read. Yesterday I was told I was whiney. That person was banned from my page. This is my heart in your hands. I trust you with my vulnerable heart. You don’t have to read, and even if you do read and disagree, you don’t have to share that with me. I can live without your toxic negative opinions.
My letter to Cheshire.
I’m not smiling like a Cheshire Cat being here, believe me. I have less energy than the mad hatter and am even more confused than Alice was. This isn’t wonderland to me. This is somewhere quite different. I was doing ok. All it took was an old school friend accidentally calling me by my previous first name, the name I had when I once lived here, and then I found myself tumbling down the dark rabbit hole.
I am not that girl anymore. I changed my name because I wanted to forget who I was when you were my home.
A previous town I lived in was name dropped too. I don’t like the memories that stirs up.
I held a certain beautiful smile to and gorgeous baby in my arms and I remembered how it felt when I was the mum with the wobbly headed baby in my arms. That was 10 years ago. I didn’t have the memories then of what created my depression. I just lived with the symptoms that childbirth caused to flare up. I didn’t realise they were part of PTSD. I didn’t know 10 years ago that I had a trauma history belonging to me. I thought trauma was something that happened to other unfortunate people. I didn’t realise that in my case I’d already experienced it for years on end.
Cheshire. You were where this happened. This was the place a man and a woman set up a home and got married then popped out three babies, then me. You were where my mum and dad put down roots. For a long time I lived suppressed and trapped under those roots. I was hidden, underground, with no room to move and no fresh clean air to breathe.
Cheshire. You supported my life. I breathed in the North West atmosphere. Blossom trees, lush laurel bushes, weeping willows, huge expanses of fields with fattened cows grazing on the damp freshly-rained-on grass. I heard the autumn leaves fall and scrunch beneath my feet. I felt the heat of your sun and the overwhelming oppressiveness of those heavy clouds on a Cheshire-grey overcast day.
I picked your daisies and yellow headed dandelions in the school playing fields. I counted the time child-style with the number of breaths required to clear a dandelion of all its fluff.
That was the standard stuff that went on for a Cheshire child who lived out of Manchester and in the affluent surrounding suburbs.
But not everything about Cheshire was standard. Not everything that happened was standard. You were a place for the rich and famous to shout about and be proud to live. You were also a place where evil was concealed and the twisted power of families and organisations was corrupt and unchecked.
Cheshire was a place to get away with murder, literally. You were a hot spot for paedophile activity and organised crime and covering up of the worst magnitude. You were a place where lies thrived and grew, like the ivy over your Alderley Edge mansions. You were a place which attracted powerful people-narcissists were ten a penny. Money spoke and children were silenced with no respect or no voice.
Cheshire. How did you get away with all this organised crime? Crime that was perpetrated by power hungry adults, involving the exploitation and torture of innocent children? You got away with it, because you hid behind your reputation. Your public image was that you were a safe county, a desirable county, a county populated by wholesome successful and trustworthy people.
Status hid truth. Lies were hidden like time capsules that perpetrators hoped would remain buried forever.
But I remember it. I remember you. I remember what you allowed Cheshire. I remember how you let me down and failed to protect me.
Cheshire police. You didn’t catch them. They walk free today and will walk free tomorrow. They will die free.
Don’t expect me to visit your body in a Cheshire morgue filled with other Cheshire souls.
I avoid Cheshire. I despise you. I despise what you cover up and how you present something false. Cheshire you are not all you seem. There is darkness in you. But not all are accostomed to seeing it. It depends what you’ve seen or not seen it suppose. But I see the darkness. As a trauma survivor, the darkness of you Cheshire is all I see now. Being here in this place of yours is hard. I am desperate to leave you behind tomorrow. I am desperate to take off and be airborne off the runway at Manchester airport heading somewhere far away from here.
Cheshire- no offense, but there is no other location in the world that I hate more than I hate you.
My husband booked the flights from this airport because the flights were cheaper. I would rather have paid more and not had to revisit you ever again. But here I am. And I am trying to cope with being sickeningly close to you.
Not too much longer.
Never again do I want to come here. NEVER.
Cheshire. You’re no friend of mine. You’re nothing but a bully who traumatises me with nasty memories. You are worth NOTHING to me. Never again Cheshire. NEVER.