I've started listening to a podcast called Risk!
It is people telling a story about an experience that they have had.
BUT, the basis of the show is that the experience is something you normally wouldn't tell anyone about.
Most of the stories go for about 15 minutes. Some of the stories are hilarious laugh out loud funny (like the one about the guy who fully shits his pants while on a romantic picnic), a lot of them are super sexual (like the one about the girl who talks about using her mum's bean bag chair as a masturbation device when she was young) and some of them are so incredibly heart breaking & sad (like the girl who was molested by her uncle when she was young).
If you don't mind your entertainment 'in your face' honest, filthy & completely blunt then you will love this.
Last Thursday afternoon I decided to listen to Risk! while going for a nice walk along the waterfront after work. The first two stories were hilarious & I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing but the last story was not. It was devasatingly sad.
I won't go into it but I had to stop & sit down.
This girl's story opened up in my mind a flood of memories from my youth.
Not nice memories. Bad memories.
I hadn't FORGOTTEN I had just not thought about them in a very long time.
Suddenly these images & flashes just kept coming & coming. I had to quickly walk (no I won't run) back to the car or I thought I would start crying & not stop.
I had a lot of trouble sleeping that night as the thoughts & feelings from my past just kept rushing at me.
On Friday I logged on to FB and was confronted by heaps pictures of me from the past staring at me!! A very good friend of mine from my past who I haven't had contact with for many years, had posted a bunch of awesome (read: embarrassing!) pictures of us from when we were about 18 years old.
It was so brilliant. I loved it. Some of these photos I had never even seen before!
|THOSE SHORTS! MY GOD.|
Two things hit me.
One - Good lord how fucking huge was my hair! Talk about Nicole Kidman spiral perm!
Two- I have to deal with my past. I have to get it out of my head.
So I am going to write a book.
No you cannot read it.
It will be for me. It will be tales from my past.
Fucked up stuff.
I MAY put some on here but I must warn you, they aren't funny. Not at all.
When I think back to anytime before the age of about 25 it's like I am thinking about somebody else. It truly astounds me that I am still alive.
How I did not either get killed or kill myself is just incredible.
The age of 25 - 35 is a blur. A hazy chardonnay fuelled blur of guilt, shame, partying hard, & sadness.
I was going to say I'm sorry today's post is a bit of a downer but I'm not.
This is MY blog & my therapy.
This feeling of needing to purge my life experiences out onto paper (computer file) is pretty overwhelming in me at the moment. It is going to be tough. There will be tears but I think it is necessary.
In the last year or so my past has been coming to greet me. Through the wonder of FB, but more through crazy serendipity , I have been reconnected with people who played a role in my previous life.
I'm no spiritual "oooooh everything has meaning' kind of person BUT I can't help but think that some people come into your life for a reason. The reason may be good or bad.
So, Vicki Past, you wanna piece 'o' me? Fine. Let's chat.
I'm not dead Vicki Past so you didn't win.
I'm all for taking my teaspoon of cement & hardening the fuck up.
Trust me I've drunk my share of cement over the years.