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What I have realised as I’ve written these last few posts is that there is a huge contrast between the events of my life between 14-18 and previously.

I had moved a couple of times and had huge problems at school but my life was fairly stable. I knew where I was and what was happening. Life was reliable, even if I didn’t enjoy it.

But as a teenager there was a lot packed into those years. Getting in with a new crowd of people, first boyfriend, moving out of home, my father’s affair, moving in with second boyfriend, O’ levels, A’ levels, making decisions.

Now I look back and wonder why I went out with these men. They were needy and emotional, and bombarded me with feelings. I moved from one to the next without pause and I don’t think I had a chance in those years to sit down and really think about who I was and what I wanted. It’s silly but it’s not until now, when I’m writing all this down as a narrative that I realise how much there was.

I wanted to get away from home, that was for sure. I also wanted to settle down and be part a couple. Was that also running away, thinking I could have my own family and be happier; it’s difficult to tell. I was chasing after something I couldn’t identify and probably wouldn’t have recognised if it had landed in front of me.

It was a whirlwind and I never had time to process it all.

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