I heard “I come from......You?”

I come from short, Welsh, fiery, beautiful, “Rosie” by name, a rose to behold.

Cardigan girls’ boarding school, lady in the making but once ran away with the gypsies.

Fled her Knightsbridge privilege to cycle in the north, mending broken miners, delivering their daughters.

Met striving Irish, ambitious, adoring engineer. Ten years her junior, love ignited in Wakefield.

Two dutiful daughters, homebound, lovers lost in Flanders mud.

But later, a gift, a boy! “Sonny”, swimming, strong, handsome, hard-working, violent temper, bearer of all family hope & dreams – daddy.

Fruition with bonny, shy, should-have-been-a-teacher, no money for grammar school uniform, sweet, kindness in a body - mummy.  Eighth survivor of ten offsprung from diminutive, devoted, bog-peasant Irish. Tears in readiness, mediators of others’ pain, givers of love.

Wage-slave, self-educated suppliers of soup from their own humble 30’s kitchen. Worn down by Rotherham furnace lungs.

A clash of two worlds, politics, perspectives.

See down to a deeper vein of Celtic artistic creativity, serving others, honour and nobility in true worth, not possessions.

I come from..... the hopes and dreams of the nameless forerunners into my last of four, treasured, snowdrop, different girl-role.

I come from delicious Huddersfield “watter”, Yorkshire millstone grit.

I come from music, poetry, tears, laughter, loving daughter, sister, mother, friend, worker, teaching, nursing, running away to my own gypsies, running headlong towards my own demons. Surviving. SURVIVOR.

I come from privilege and poverty, conflict and calm, learning and ignorance..... and on I go, dancing.

I come from…

Irish, southern and Yorkshire roots

I come from…

Council houses, broken homes, single mums

Struggles andWorries

I come from…

Fleeting visits, pubs, cheese and

onion crisps and lemonade

I come from…

M25, long car journeys and southern holidays with pebble beaches

I come from…

Greenhouses, tomato plants and the smell of oil

I come from…

Strong women and a kind hearted man

I come from…

I come from…

I come from…

Lots of things

All mixed up

A bit of a toad and a bit of a twat

A bit Avellino, Leicester, Manchester & Dublin

Belong neither here nor there, an outsider

A bit jazz 'n' blues

Guitary

Bikey

Loads of rotten running shoes

A torn rotator cuff

Love love stories

Full of fear

Dilettante

Immigrant born in Leicester

Socialist

I Care

I Share

I come from my mum, a Gallo

My Identity
I was forged in the city of steel, near the Crucible in the valley of the Don, from Scottish grit and Derbyshire’s rolling hills.

I grew up on the front line where S3 meets S4, where I was the minority, but it didn’t matter.
It didn’t matter because round here we are all colour blind.
Round here it’s your actions not the colour of your skin, religion or race that matters.

They tell me its grim up north, but I say we, grin, smile and laugh… I’m proud and passionate about living in the world’s largest village.

Here we call each other love, mate and pal.
Where on my walk to work I will be greeted by people I don’t know with a Hi or How-do.

My roots lay deep in working class engineering, the unions and the wards of the NHS,
Roots where you left a factory on Friday and started at the one across the road on Monday because they paid more.
Roots that were destroyed by Maggie’s iron rule.

I have made mistakes, some that have cut deep.
I use them as my motivation to be better and to try harder for me and my family.

I found my wings at 13, fuelled by a childhood passion and I learnt to soar,
But I didn’t leave this country until I was twenty six. Now I regret leaving it so long.

I shoot lions, tigers and sharks, through a five hundred mil lens with a Nikon Badge.
I see life in still frames, surrounded in the mathematics of apertures, shutter speeds and ISO’s

I am inspired by the people around me, through acts of kindness, bravery and resilience.
I aspire to be like them, to make a positive difference to someone else’s life.

I am a hopeless romantic, who cries too much, mostly in private.
I am moved by lyrics and movie scenes.

I am a worrier who lacks self-confidence, who hides it with sarcasm and humour.
I DO care, even when I pretend I don’t.

I am a son, husband, father and best friend. My family are my world, they are my reason for getting up in the morning and burning the midnight oil.
I never knew how much I wanted to be a dad until my daughter arrived in my life.

I believe in god, you can call me a Christian. I believe it is better to believe in anything than in nothing at all.
I find strength and solace in my belief, but it is something I rarely talk openly about.

I have seen illness ravage some of the most important and influential people to wander through my life, turning people into silhouettes of themselves or worse, taking them from us far too soon.
It keeps me focused on making the most of everyday, because I could be next.

I am an educator, but I learn something new every day.
I fear I learn more from my students than they do from me.
I value my education from the establishment and from life.
I am not big headed enough to think I know it all, even if I’d like to think so.

I am stubborn, hot headed, impulsive and irrational.
The smallest things can consume me, whilst the big things pass me by.

I am full of insecurities about my appearance, ability and my future.
I am scared I’m not good enough and that I will let others down.
It is the kindness of others and my belief that I use as a crutch to make sure I carry on.

My creative mind sometimes clouds my judgement, it leads me off at tangents which miss the point.
It can also take me places I could never have dreamed of and offer life changing experiences.

I am not what you think I am,
I am all of the above and more.
I am complicated and do not fit into the pigeon holes of stereotypes.
I am not simple, my identity changes daily, depending on my company and mood.
All I can tell you is to take some time to speak with me,
Listen to me and decide for yourself who I am.
 

I’m off work again, feeling low,

depressed, and anxious and feeling ashamed because someone else will have to pick up my work, knowing they too will be overloaded with work.

Why then am I off work feeling like I do and my colleagues keep going?

Yes, comparison is dangerous but I still ask the question.

I know I will be told I lack resilience.

It seems I have enough problems, for example,

Never good enough

Never perfect enough

Never thin enough

Never powerful enough

Never smart enough

Never certain enough

Never safe enough

Never extraordinary enough

So why am I struggling with shame and worthlessness, where is this coming from?

I know others will be pulling me down, making me feel a failure because I am not a part of the success ethos.

I am human and I have now reached the knowing of enough, as Brown writes, “that I am enough”.

I do feel vulnerable exposing my weakness and insecurities to myself and others.

I can state categorically I am not perfect, I am not better than others and I do have limitations.

So what do I say to those who live the “culture of scarcity”?

Well in the words of Clark Gable, “quite frankly dear, I don’t give a damn”.

I AM ENOUGH!!!!

'I saw this today on my Facebook feed. I think it provides an interesting insight into the idea of identity and victimology'