A Narrative, Too Often Reflective of Favourable Situations!

I have always encouraged myself to tell the truth, even in the  most difficult of circumstances, it's the reason I decided to call myself 'The Real Truth Blogger.' Writing about my experiences in life, in the most sincere way possible, has always been my mantra. I have never looked at life through rose-tinted glasses or been under any illusions about the mistakes I have made and the challenges that have brought me to where I am today. My life is hard; the lifestyle choices I made many years ago have come back to haunt me, and I am fully aware of the difficult road ahead, because I have been here before. The stories I write, blogs I compose and memories I reflect upon, are as honest as I believe they should be. Nevertheless, all of us, even me, try to remember the best of times, often leaving traumatic accounts locked away, rarely seeing the light of day.

I have had an amazing life and been to places, that others could only dream of. I have partied, sometimes for days on end, and lived abroad, meeting some wonderful people. Never staying in one place too long, I have rarely settled for any length of time; despite this, I have a loving husband, who I adore more now, than ever. Living an alternative life, full of spontaneous adventure, excitement and amazing experiences has been truly fantastic, but it really is only half the story. Isn't it true, that we only want to remember those productive and uplifting moments, papering over the cracks and larger gaping wounds, that only show people what we want them to see?

We live in such an image conscious World, that being truthful has become a dying art. Airbrushing photos, applying a filter to our face and deleting bad pictures and memories have become commonplace. You could be forgiven for believing all our lives are a scene from the 'Truman Show,' perfect in every respect, faultless and without complication and hardship. Of course, nothing could be further from the truth; I am as guilty as anyone for concentrating my endeavours on happy events and milestones and ignoring the more controversial occurrences that define us as individuals.

I write about my childhood often, a time I find difficult to comprehend, even now after thirty-five, forty years. The narrative, is often reflective of favourable situations and occasions and tends to skip over the role negativity played. For the most part, I had a particularly unhappy childhood, but that isn't always echoed in the words I write. Apart from the odd one of two traumatic scenarios, it feels as if I have forgotten the damn right destructive days, that far outweigh the creativity I like to express.

Childhood trauma can be hard to remember; I have tried to forget most of the bad days, many too painful to recall. When it comes to writing about the most distressing periods I have lived through, I have unconsciously forgotten the worst details, often afraid to dig deep enough. Even now, as I compose this entry, I understand just how harrowing my life was at times, but I don't remember the details well enough to include them in this blog.

Just because my life is relatively fortuitous today, it doesn't mean it always was. Growing up gay in the 1970s/80s, alone, with very few friends, has had a very damaging effect on my wellbeing. The depression and anxiety I suffer with, today, is a direct response to the circumstances that surrounded my youth. Sitting down quietly, remembering with fondness a time I hated with a passion, is an escape from reality, that allows me to concentrate on the heart-warming anecdotes. These tend to remain at the forefront of my mind, overriding all the heartache and anguish that really should be addressed.

Of course confronting one's demons isn't an easy task, and I have at least started to analyse a past that was littered with self loathing, insecurity and fear. This blog is primarily about documenting events and expressing myself, as I struggle through life's ups and downs. It is also about remembering a past that wasn't always prosperous or constructive, and recalling a journey that hasn't been easy. As I have become more self-aware, I have also become uncompromising in my search for the truth, about who I am and what has made me the walking catastrophe I was born to be.

It is hard coming to terms with one's failings in life, but it is harder ignoring the significance they play in one's future direction. In order to move on, move forward, without the constraints of the past, I do have to learn from the mistakes I made. Accepting the consequences of my actions and never repeating them again, creates a chance for  a new beginning and a catalyst for change, even at fifty years of age!