A Piece of Me

 

When I used to write my old blog, it was a place where I could say many things.  I wrote about fashion, my personal life, opinion pieces and then in time, wrote advertising pieces for businesses.  The blog was, and I still think of as, my baby.

Although many posts have been deleted from there now, much of the person that I am today is as a result of the things that I wrote there.  The gains in confidence I made, the clothes I wore to put in its pages; the realizations that I came to as my thoughts flowed through my fingers to the page.

I always found it easier to work through whatever was troubling me by writing and that has not changed.

What did change was that my beliefs and opinions grew, as I grew.  My gender critical beliefs no longer mixed with what companies wanted in a blog that they could use to advertise.  Many of my personal posts also had to be removed (because my sister decided to spy, steal, show and tell) which made me feel like I could not write about my life and my thoughts anymore.

Which finally brought me to this new place.

I have been writing various opinion pieces now and again here, with a short story or two; but have not yet made this place my home.  My writing home.  The place where I can write anything.  I want to write as I did before.  Without a care of what anyone may think or need to tailor my works to satisfy a client.

This blog is anonymous, my real name is not listed here and I have no clients to worry about.  My sister does not know that this place exists.  Which makes it special too.  I may speak about her in a future post.  I want to.  When I am ready.  I will.

I have no worries about what I can write here.  I do not have the "following" that I had from my previous blog, nor the Twitter followers that were attached to it.  I am free as a bird to write about what I wish, because I can choose to share, or not.  If I share, the small amount of people who will read it, don't know the real person behind my words.

So what I really wanted to come here today and say is, hello.  You are going to be getting a piece of me.  It is time that I talked again.  Wrote again.  Allowed my heart to flow through my words again.

Let it begin.

Bon Marche Spring/Summer

I was recently sent the Spring/Summer lookbook for +Bonmarche and was yet again very pleasantly surprised by some of the pieces available.

I have put together some of my favourite images and am happy to confirm that I have been given a 10% discount code which is valid for one month which can be used by you!

When checking out just copy and paste this code:  SFD23XP9VMW

Check out the new in section at BonMarche and see what you can find!

Question Time

I may live to regret this, but I have joined ask.fm.

You can find me here: http://ask.fm/VickyCoop

Thought it may be an interesting exercise but if it turns out to be troll central, there is always that delightful "close my account" section.

I like the fact that questions can be asked anonymously, adds a bit of intrigue.  What question would you ask?

 

Knocking Down Barriers

It's weird having a blog.  At least for me.  It's my baby and I have always guarded it like a mother tiger.  Not letting hardly anyone I know actually read it.

I have been writing posts on here, from the serious to silly, from clothes to items on the news for close to two years now.  Whilst I've let my mum read the odd post and I know that my sisters have read some, it isn't quite the same as letting my close friends read it who know me best.

With my family they know the "family version" of me, not the whole.  It is undoubtedly my close friends that know me best, but I have taken this blog further then I have ever told anyone.  I've poured myself onto these blogs without holding back.

This weekend past I let my two best friends read it.  I gave them the link and then went to hide in the corner. Neither of my friends are blogging type people so I didn't know whether they would read one or two posts, or the whole lot.  

I didn't care what they thought of my writing (well ok, a little bit ;) ).  I didn't mind if they thought the blog was good or rubbish.  That was never what I was scared about.  It is one thing letting strangers read your thoughts, chances are you will never meet them, it doesn't matter.  

But letting the closest people to now read your inner most thoughts, the things you think but don't say, the things you feel but hide, the honest to god "this is me yes I'm bat shit crazy really sorry about that" stuff that you typically don't share with anyone but a counsellor.  

Ironically my oldest friend is training to be a counsellor and she knows me best.  Poor girl.  She's had to put up with a lot ;)

Both of these girls have always been cheerleaders for my confidence, knowing how I could be before I knew myself.  They also knew me well enough to know that I work at my own pace, on everything.  Either supersonic when I make a decision and go with it or a slower more steady route when things are harder.

Both say that I am a different person today than I was a year ago, in a good way.  

True friends are the people who stick with you through thick and thin.  In my case, they knew me when I was unhappy (although I rarely admitted it), under confident, scared and insecure covered at all times in black.  It is good to be with them now when I am happy, confident, strong in my thoughts and with a wardrobe full of colour.

So thank you ladies, aka Lady Jebley and Wifey  I'd have to go a long way to find better friends than you.

What's in a Name?

Changing your name is a lengthy process, full of millions of letters and in the case of passports and driving licences, lots of money.

I have been thinking for a while now of changing my name.  Well, when I say changing it, what I actually mean is reverting back to the name on my birth certificate.  Given the time, documentation and money involved, as well as the emotional ramifications, this decision has taken a while to reach.

I was eight when my dad died and just over a year later my mum remarried.  Although I was happy to see her resettled, and he was and is the best stepfather I could have hoped for, from then onwards I felt disjointed.

Maybe it was the little girl’s way of thinking, but I remember at that time feeling that I wasn’t a proper member of a family anymore.  When the holiday tickets used to arrive each year with the different names on it felt strange and wrong.  Like I was a leftover from an old relationship. 

When I reached 11 after talking about how I felt it was decided that I would change my name to the new surname.  Given my age I didn’t need to bother with change of name deeds and I didn’t want to go down the adoption route, so I simply started using the new surname.

Years down the line and now I’m 33.  Whilst I understand my reasoning for wanting to change my surname when a child, I now miss my old surname.  I miss the connection it gave me to my dad and I’ve found, that although I call myself by my stepfather’s name, I still think of myself in terms of my dad’s name.

I don’t need the sense of belonging like I did when I was a child.  Taking back my former name is in a sense reconnecting with my younger self and that is something I want.  So much of my life went awry after my dad died and now I think I have finally dealt with all that, I want a new start with the old me.

So, after I have a long talk with my step father, whom I love a lot and want him to understand, I will be going back.  

Hello Vicky Cooper.  I’ve missed you, a lot.