Crossroads

I'm not sure what I'm doing here, yet here I am, and if I don't get-this-off-my-chest, I'll burst.

Having spent a good decade living as a recluse, rarely leaving my house, and watching the world through my window (all of which sport white net curtains, like OAP's houses, for added privacy), life is no longer the same.

I used to enjoy my privacy - embrace not having to leave my little safe house, of which I share with my parents - now all I want is to escape.

Most people think recluses are anoraks, people meak with small voices, who flinch at every sound and movement. Far-from -it; on the surface I'm confident and bubbly. It's a fools world!

Why change now? All I know, is that I used to like being in the house, and now I don't.

When I was younger I'd go out, have panic-attacks, my chest would thump so hard it hurt. My skn would burn and I'd feel faint. The world span, and people's voices sounded like traffic (think a bad hang-over).

It didn't happen in the house, I was safe.

Then last year my bubble popped; my partner of several years cheated on me. He'd spread-himself-around more times than a jar of jam. I was stunned, as ridiculous as it sounds, I couldn't believe it. I was inconsolable, lost, and then mad. Part of me was mad at myself, for allowing it to have happened; if I hadn't have had 'problems', he wouldn't have been able to take advantage of them.

I never thought it possible to love and hate at the same time, yet it is, as I discovered when I tried to leave my partner. I couldn't do it. I hated myself for it, because it was weak.

I'll compare it to Stockholmes Disorder, because my partner is all I've ever known, for too long. No matter what he's done, it's impossible to imagine life without him.

And so he moved in, and we decided on a 'fresh-start'.

'Fresh start' isn't the right phrase, 'living-hell' is about right. Once the trust is gone, it's gone, and once a man has had all of the freedom in the world, and then had it restricted, he becomes resentful.

I became resentful myself.

People change, I've decided. I've changed.

He's made me realise there has to be more to life. What have I got to lose by leaving him? Well... I'm three months pregnant. Things aren't as simple now.

Initially I broke down, cried, cursed myself for letting it happen. Part of me wished I wasn't pregnant, I considered my options but could never give this baby up; due to an eating disorder I'd only recently managed to kick, I didn't think it was possible for me to have children, in a sense I was overjoyed.

On-the-other-hand, I mourned; it felt as if I'd lost the chance of ever being loved, having a child-in-tow will put alot of men off. I'd be alone for a long time. That took while to get my head around.

I've come to accept this now, if my relationship fizzles, hit's rock-bottom and my only option is to leave; I'll always have somebody special.

My life HAS to change. My best memories are from my childhood, it was when I was happiest. Every child deserves a happy childhood. Long walks: trips away, sand-castles, picnics, lumping snowmen, paddling in the sea, running so fast you feel as if your legs are going to flop-off!

I have to change. I want to change. I will change!

Firstly, I need some independence. I need to force myself out of the door, solo, no other-half on my arm.

It's strange, but I always feel people are looking at me when I'm out, sometimes they do. Men stare because I have big boobs, and I hate it, dressing frumpily makes little difference. I'm not pretty, I wish I was.

So modelling's out the window, (laughing), as is a high-flying job, let's face it I'd have to go to uni for a good many years, and with a newborn, it would prove difficult.

It's a question I need to think about.

I want to walk up my street, happy, carefree, instead of sitting by the window watching the world go by (I've lived here for over twenty years, and aside of next-door-but-one, can't name any of the neighbours). I've watched them stroll by, hop by, hobble by, zimo-frame by... and stop walking by.

I often wonder if they notice, if they know. Perhaps children make stories up about me, am I their witch? I doubt it, if I was, they'd knock me and run-off, post a letter, or sneak about the house at night, for a glimpse through the netting. (thinking 'Boo Radley' here).

No, nobody knows, because people are busy. Places-to-go-people-to-see.

I'm invisible. It never bothered me before, but now it does.

I don't want to be invisible anymore!

Jess x