From Friday 13th to Halloweeeeeeeeen

Well my friends, today is the first step to some real closure.

I made the decision a few months ago, having boarded a bus and been trapped on the top floor sat a few seats away from the man who attacked me 7 years ago, that I wasn't going to live with it in my life anymore.

Rape is a strange thing, as we all deal with it in different ways. Denial. Acceptance. Suppression. Repression and outright fantasy living.

I have lived all of these. The day I was raped (so strange to be so forthright and direct, but I find it eases the process, apologies if the bluntness offends in any way) was Friday 13th 2006.
Saturday 14th 2006 was the day denial began. With blood and bruises a plenty, I chose to ignore what had happened, got on the train back to University and carried on as normal.

I drank. More than I have ever drunk in my life. All of the time. SO much money, but I didn't know what else to do to make it go away. I drank so much I ended up in hospital, having collapsed in pain.
The doctors asked me if I knew I was pregnant and I thought my head was going to explode.

There is only so far denial can take you...but pregnancy in gay woman, is something you can't quite ignore any longer. I didn't cry. I just looked the doctor in the eye and said "How do I go about getting an abortion, can I get it done here" my only instinct is that I wanted all reminders of that night out, away, destroyed, as far away from me as humanly possible.

My GP in Aberystwyth was incredible, he held my hand, listened to my story, made me promise I would have some therapy and he agreed to arrange an abortion, the only problem was that I would have to wait. It was the longest wait of my life. By the time I had my abortion I was nearly 3 months pregnant. I sat in the hospital office waiting for my scan to date the pregnancy and decide what the best option was. The doctor left the room for 5 minutes without realizing she had left the photo of the scan on her desk. It's all I could look at. I felt sick. I felt guilty. I felt angry.

I was 19. It was an abortion that went wrong from the get-go, ended in surgery and left me with an uncertain future as to whether I can have children. When I was 19 it didn't hit me like it does now. Now I'm 27 and we are talking to my GP about babies, IVF, what our options are, if we have any.

From being a lost little girl, all I've ever wanted is to fall in love, be loved, get married and have babies. Have a family to call my own. To love another human with all my heart and to know that I will be a great mother. To know that may not be my future, breaks my heart. And so, there is anger.

I got on that bus a few months ago and the man that destroyed me sat there and he winked. He winked at me, he licked his lips and he winked at Sarah.
I got off that bus and went to a business meeting with my head so far up my arse I didn't know if I was coming or I was going. I was on auto-pilot, it was a great bloody meeting and I felt proud that I didn't let it destroy another day.

I decided it was time to face the music, to talk to my lawyer and find a way to bring some justice.
That's what we have been doing for the past few months, working, researching, statements, medical records, recounting horrible details, but liberating myself with every word spoken.

I wish I could have been so brave back then, maybe then the damage wouldn't have seeped so far into my life and I wouldn't have run off into fantasy land where lies were first nature and not second. I wish I had punished him the way he deserved it and I worry that because I didn't, there are other girls who suffered the same fate. How many were left pregnant and with an STD and happened to be gay, well I'm not so sure, but jesus, I should have protected them all the same.

When Sarah was attacked in Piccadilly Gardens, I went into fight mode, I couldn't let what happened to me happen to her, I pulled that fucker off her and pinned him until the Police took him away. I thought we were getting justice, I thought I was making up for lost time, but he walked free as a bird out of a court room and she was left with nightmares and a £150 compensation cheque for an attempted rape.

I think the point of this blog is, it's never too late. If you have something you need to say, if you have something you need to share, then share it, speak it, free it.
Save yourself the hassle of eroding mental health and get talking!!!

I've been broken for a long time, not quite right from the start and in many ways, I think what happened in 2006 compounded all that I thought was wrong with me. I lie awake at night and sometimes wonder - is it me? Because I can't process the fact that as a child, I was a plaything for perverts and as student, I ended up with the same fate.
I wonder how Sarah loves me when my life and my body are so tainted, that these horrible things have happened to me, how will she love me, how will she touch me, knowing whats been before.

The past can be toxic. Don't let it.
I'm Francesca Barker my friends, you beautiful people, you have been my salvation, allowing me to be me, taking my sweet time on this journey of self discovery, my god, I'm far from perfect, but I am on my way to happiness and sharing my thoughts with you has helped me find the good in the world and in myself.

And on that hippy note, Happy Halloween everyone - there is one less monster on the streets tonight, if you are out and about and getting a little bit merry, be careful and stay safe xx

24 hours in Police custody......?

This is the second time I have watched this TV show on channel 4, and each time, I've had this horrible feeling in my stomach.
It's like watching history repeat itself....people being processed in the station, having their property taken off them, going through the motions.
It's not a motion I was ever intending to go through.

The day I walked into that police station was the bravest and most cowardly I could have been all rolled into one. I knew I had to go, I knew I had to tell the truth and make it right, so I did but my god it was hard - the cowardly part was not knowing if I had the balls to walk into that station and up to the glass to tell them I was there to talk. But I did it. And as backwards as it is, it was the best decision of my life, everything I had done, every lie I ever told, every person I may have hurt along the way, it lead me there... and now I'm watching this TV show and I feel guilt, it's the guilt that tries to take over.

I feel guilty. Every day. I wake up in my bed, with my other half, and for the seconds before she wakes up too, I look at her and wonder how we still manage to fall asleep wrapped up in one another after all that I've done. It's love. Or she needs carting off!
I lie awake at night and I wonder, if it could have been different, if I could have been different and stopped the destructive bullshit in it's tracks before it took years of my life and sough to do the same of others.

I've been broken for such a long time, I don't think I know how to deal with feeling this brutal honesty, it's one thing walking into a police station and holding your hands up to the things you've done and wanting to make it right and its a chance of fate when you get to walk out of courtroom and seize a second chance - but how do I honour it?

The day I went to the police station, I didn't know what to expect and I felt like every second I was there, I deserved it. I had been toying with my conscience for so long, it felt like I belonged there, that they should shut me in that cell and throw away the key, because that was the only way to keep everyone safe, from me. They did put me in a cell and I've never felt more alone and more disgusted with myself in my entire life.

They took my shoe laces, my earrings and then made me give them my engagement ring and I cried, like a little girl, in the middle of the processing area, I cried.
I gave it to them, they put it in a little brown envelope and wrote my case number on it; not my name... they took me into a room to be fingerprinted, photographed, and I sat there, tracing my star shaped tattoo, the same tattoo Sarah has, we match, and I felt sick, black lines etched in my skin was all I had whilst in there and I didn't even deserve to share it with her. I traced it so hard I thought I'd scratch it off. I was so angry with myself.
They drugs tested me - game over, positive for cocaine. Well that was that, they thought they had it all wrapped up, bad druggie posh girl living a life she can't afford, a PC all ready to question me in interview and I stopped him before he could begin. I said "Let me talk and tell you everything I need to, and if there's anything I've missed out, ask me then"
And I talked, and talked, and cried, and apologised and asked how to make it right. The lady police woman who was in the room with me reached out and held my hand and said "you did the right thing, in the end, that will count"
I got bail. Bail that went on for months, it was practically house arrest, not allowed to stay anywhere aside from my fixed address, not even for one night, extensive drug rehabilitation, immediately.

It's not where I expected to be at the age of 25. It's not where I was designed to be. But I suppose thats exactly why I ended up there, because I've never had a clue as to how to be what I'm supposed to be.

I have battled demons and memories trapped inside my head, I've battled rape and drug addiction and homelessness.
I have slept on concrete floors in mouse ridden warehouses in London, doing things of nightmares to survive.

I have been to University, I have ski-ed in France, Austria, Italy and Canada. This life is insanity and I don't know how I got here.

I can't take my eyes off this television program. People in cells, all over the country, trying to escape their fate. Does anyone reach the point of brutal honesty? Where theres no more running, no more hiding, no more lying, no more excuses?

I have based this second chance on honesty, because otherwise, theres no hope. It has to be real this time, it has to be me, it has to be great.
I have worked my socks off to get here and I've never felt so proud. I have found my purpose. I have found my heart and this life, it works for me.

Then there is the guilt, it creeps in, in the day and in the night, it hurts and lingers.

Positives over negatives is the only way to cleanse this soul, to work hard at rebuilding my life, to repair my burnt bridges and find a way back.

Nothing is insurmountable. I'm 27 years old, I've lived a hundred lifetimes and more. But I am the luckiest girl in the whole world to be able to wake up each day, in a warm bed, with a fiance and a cat. I climb out of bed, feet on the cold wood floors, to put the kettle on, start the day, and what could be better than that?
If success is measure by happiness, then I'm well on my way.

Don't ever give up.

London calling

It's the city that calls to me.
No matter where I am.

The biggest "positive over negative" I'm yet to stamp.

It was the city that made me and I'm about to make it my own. Hows that for a turn around?

I went to London on Friday, I stepped off the train and felt it run through me, the feeling, the knowing, that it is there I am meant to be. Sarah and I have been playing with the idea of moving to the country, getting away from it all, commuting, baking, living, loving.... and then we got off that train.... we are London.

We walk through Euston hand in hand like we've done it every day of our lives, we glide through the underground barriers with the grazing of an oyster card and we are rolling through the caverns of the city to a better place. That's what London is to me.. now.

It's a city of demons, and memories and hurt. It's a city of dreams and hopes and futures.
My future.

I had the greatest opportunity of my life on Friday. For the first time since starting out on this adventure, I felt really really worth something.... like all the hard work, it's been worth it. Every day, a struggle, striving, it's all worth it.

Late rent days, credit card bills, council tax monsters, and a court case or two from hell. It is worth it. Because I know exactly who I am meant to be. Not disillusion. Not lost.
This Francesca Barker, is destined to be great. To make change. To build and bring hope.
Why?
Because it's entirely possible.
Anything is possible.

One of the greatest inspirations anyone could have in business, as a woman, is Michelle Mone, magical, beautiful, and ferociously brilliant and if you were ever in doubt of such thing, then you've obviously not been paying enough attention to the Scottish Referendum!
We all have people in our lives, through TV screens, magazines, business and more, that we want to emulate, that we want to become.
Well she is exactly that.
One of the first few people I followed on Twitter, fascinated by the drive and determination to be distinctive and dominant, successful, independent.
Who wouldn't want all of those things?

There are women in business, who have inspired me to make this business something formidable, something known, something powerful, it is going to be the vehicle for change I dreamt it would be and I going to make it happen.
So thank you to people like Hilary Devey, Michelle Mone and Lorraine Pascale, to name a few. Through the power of social media, I find it hard not to feel invigorated and determined to do more!

Struggling with mental health issues and battling drug addiction often leaves you feeling ironically powerless. You let your demons run your life and find excuses a-plenty as to why you can't take control.
So what do you do?
In my case? You waste a decade of your life lost in a world of over compensating, over eager people pleasing, over selling bullshit, when all you needed to do was take control.
I did.
I took it. I held it. I ran with it and I won't ever stop.

London. Friday. Mentoring session with Michelle Mone and an award for Best Female Entrepreneur.

Bonkers.

I have pieces of paper, ten to the dozen, that say who I am, what I've done, the good and the bad.
I now have a piece of glass in my living room and it's my pride and joy.
I've never felt such pride. Such vision. Such inspiration.
The Barker Baker has only just begun, that's a scary concept considering how much has come to pass for this little business and me in just a year!

Next week, I'm going to a prison. To talk bread.
I said to Sarah whilst walking home from our grocery shop this morning, I'm the luckiest baker in the world.
My workshops arn't just about baking. It's about showing people what can happen with a little bit of faith and a lot of hard work.
A future.

So you can bake a loaf, you can bake ten, you can start a business, you can feed your family. Semantics.
You can spend an hour of your day, free, creating, learning, thinking, sharing.
You can plan your life and see new choices. Choices you didn't even know were there.

Jane Mason and her amazing Virtuous Bread changed my life.
I baked one day. I baked for two. I baked for three.
I had no job. My life was a mess. I had no self worth, no confidence, no hope.
I baked again.
I baked for gifts.
I baked for friends, I baked for thank you's, I'm sorry's, I love you's.
Bread. It made me.

A year ago, a follower on Twitter, said this :-

On Friday this happened :-

Michelle Mone hugged me on Friday and said I was an inspiration. That she had read all about me and was inspired.
The woman who inspired me, inspired by my life?

I'm going to hold that in my heart.

Positives over negatives.

Come on London, lets have you!

Friday 13th October 2006, the day that changed my life

I found my student card from when I was at University today.
I spent the first 10 minutes romanticizing the time I had there and then the slow dawning of the realization of when that photo was taken.
I started my second term at Uni, happy, free from family drama, ready to take on the world. That photo was taken at the end of September, with me, hungover from a mad night, sat in the library rather unimpressed at having to have a photo etched onto a piece of plastic when not looking particularly attractive... I'm looking at it now, and jesus, time has changed me.
Second year at University began, with relief, escapism from a family situation which was splitting my mind in two. Playing the part I thought I was supposed to at home, and counting down the days to when I could take the mask off - all very dramatic for a 19 year old girl, but life was hard.
Easy in so many ways, so fortunate, so lucky, but so trapped.

I remember unpacking the day I got back to campus, I was with my dad for the last 5 minutes while my mum sat in the car downstairs. I had a great room. Top floor, sea view. Massive. Freedom.
Only downside - it was pink?!
I have the same problem with my dad, whenever I see him, even if its recently. I dread it. I faff. I dress up. I fake it. I smile. I lie. (not these days!)
I worry.
And still to this day, he never fails to rip me with the opening line. Last time it was "Lost weight have we?" sarcasm loaded like a bullet.
My favourite was last year, when he came to see me in hospital, he glanced at my food menu, I had ordered chocolate sponge and custard for the pudding, he laughed and crossed it out.
To say I have a problem with my weight would be an understatement, but looking at this photo on my old student card, I can see I've taken the "I don't care" diet a little too far.

That photo was taken at one of the happiest times of my life. I had aced my first year of Uni, was steam rolling into second year with not a care in the world. On Friday 13th October, everything changed.
A night that has destroyed me.
A night that I can't get out of my head and it's nearly 10 years ago.

After that night, I never said a word. I found out I was pregnant, I felt sick, disgusted, angry.
Still, I didn't say I word. I booked my abortion and fell apart.

I didn't leave that pink room at University for weeks, waiting for the date, first week of December. Bronglais Hospital. Counting down.
I hid in the daytimes and went out and drank myself into oblivion masquerading as student living, night after night, burning money, so much money. Washing it away.
I felt guilty, selfish.
The day came, I went to the hospital, it was hell.
Tablets. I fainted. I bled. I cried.
It went wrong. I had to have an operation. Some things don't change!!
I was so scared. I had hidden it all away and now I had explaining to do.

I couldn't be the perfect daughter over Christmas break, I was so ill. I had to tell them.
So I lied. And I still don't know if it was for my sake or for theirs.
If I told them I was raped by a big black man 1 month into Uni, would they care? Would they help?
Would they say it was my fault? Would they discard my attempts at coming out as a casualty of that night?
So I lied.
Fit, fantastic Fran, had a one night stand and made a mistake.
My dads response? He was an emotional wreck. Said I should have had the baby, he could have looked after it while I finished Uni and we could have gone from there. Desperate for the straight life much?
My mums response? I was a selfish cow. How could I have had an abortion when there were women like her who couldn't have children?
It cut me like a knife.
I hadn't thought of it that way.
Was I wrong?
No. It was toxic. A reminder. And it had to go.

I never pulled myself together after that. The lies split me in two.
Such a huge secret to carry. Only to have it aired in a court room as mitigation, a sob story.
It didn't feel real hearing it out loud, reading the doctors notes, the personal tutors emails, the head of department report.
One night and my life, my future was gone.

I pulled myself back together and plodded on into third year, left uni, left it all behind and made a hundred mistakes thereafter.

I'm looking at this photo. I am that girl again. With a purer heart (and a wider waistline)
But its beautiful closure.
I was determined to be something then.
To be proud of.
To be heard of.
To be respected.
To be loved.

I strive for those things every day.

I'm a fucked up 27 year old with a head full of vision and a heart full of truth.
It's only taken me a decade to find it.

I'm so lucky to have a second chance.

Secrets and lies, destroy us.

Set them free

Time elapsing......

Today is August 8th 2014.
Back then it was February 8th 2013.

Today is the day.
The day my suspended sentence ends.

18 months that have changed my life.

So I think a few thank you's are in order.

My beautiful other half, you have held my hand through all of this, you mad bugger. I love you.
You have inspired me, supported me and made me a better person. You have trusted me to build a better life for us, to find myself, to find my way back to you, with patience and love and for that, I will be forever grateful.

My amazing in-laws, I will never understand your odd relationship with your dog or your obsession with quiz nights, you are beautiful kind people and I am proud to be part of your family. You hop in the car and zoom down the M6 when I'm in hospital, you give me hugs on Christmas day and a special place under the tree for my presents, you buy spontaneous gifts of cook books or hoovers, because you know their much needed. Sarah is the epitomy of your kindness, and she will bring it to our children, honesty and strength, you are really quite something <3

My friends, I've spent my entire life looking for you, and over the past year or so, I've discovered who you really are. You are the girl I grew up with, buying me Villeroy and Boch for my birthday as we strive to grow up and be the women we dreamt we would be, you are incredible, beautiful and a rock I've loved for a decade xx
To the man who saved me from a strange place and had faith that I would do him right one day. You gave me stability and hope. I will repay it <3
The people who don't know me, but read this blog and found they did, you helped keep me on the right track and supported me through it all. Kind words from strangers, and even donations to a page, you will never know how much I thank you, but I'll show you in everything that I do.
Silly things like people in other worlds engaging, through little comments and kind words. It keeps me driven and humble, it's more than I deserve. Thank you.
You are the people who saw my crowdfunding page on facebook and got back in touch, you invested your £5, £10, time and kind words, you gave me the confidence and pride to strive for me and keep at it. You are the secret cake baker, whose mum is legendary and still makes me laugh to think of. You are the rugby player who has the worlds most beautiful hair and heart - and who my mum actually liked (holy crap) You are the woman I want to be, you know just what to say, you keep me grounded and inspired, I read your blog every day. You are the trader, the magician, the reason I've put on a stone, when I see you, I can't help but smile because you are passionate and you are kind. We started out together and we've made our merry way, last week that hug in the rain, really saved my day. You are the full set I inherited through my lovely other half, you are the creative strong one, with words of wisdom beyond your age. You are the lawyer, the insightful, the quiet and the strong. You are the new girl, my love, my 400th twitter follower, my best friend and my goodness you are beautiful and know me better than I know myself, with posh cordials for presents and hugs on-tap, I am lucky girl, to have all of you. You make me better. You've made me Fran.

It's started to sound a bit poem like, but I'm writing as I feel, you have changed me and made me, and I feel so grateful. It's raining outside, literally bouncing off the pavement. I'm sat in my pyjama's on a Friday, they have dinosaurs on. I'm 27 and I'm happy, or the closest I've ever been. She is sat on the sofa, looking over recipes and ideas and we are brainstorming and we are working and we are planning our next move.

Today it's shepherds pie, we are reading Delia. The food is cooking, the house smells amazing. The cat is asleep on the window sill. This is heaven.
I have searched my whole life, for normal. For love. For pride. And I feel it as I'm typing.
We picked blackberries in the garden, to make a pie and some jam, as you do on a Friday in Longsight....

There are people in my life who have shown me what I lost. There are people who have trusted me. There are people who care.
I've had encouragement, support and love. I really am the luckiest girl in the world.

SO, it's 18 months on, and the next 18 are set to be a game changer, a life changer, a real step up.
We have markets, workshops, wholesale, business is good.
We have wedding planning and baby making and a life we knew we would.

I made the biggest mistakes of my life, and I wake up every day feeling guilty.
I feel angry and sad and wonder how to get up and make it right.

That is exactly what I'll do.
Positives over negatives.
Every single day.

Until this suspended sentence, isn't a death sentence.
It's just a sentence on a page.

On the streets of Manchester

I heard a laugh today.
A laugh I haven't heard for 8 years and it made me freeze. Stop in time. Go back in time. And I got lost.
On a day of such promise, I had part of my heart yanked out like I was 19 again.
Riding the lovely bus through Manchester, I was in a world of my own, brain storming in silence, 101 ideas a minute, standard.
And there it was. That laugh.
I grabbed Sarah's hand and asked her "The man, on the phone, behind us, sat near the back. Is he a big black guy, over 6ft" my description went on and on, specifics, like it was just yesterday I saw his face. He spoke, he laughed, he talked. A free man. Back on the streets of Manchester. And just like that, the child in me is reignited and my fear chokes me like it did back then.
I chose to be brave this time. I turned to check if my imagination was teasing me, but no, the nightmare was really true. There he was. The destroyer. The man who took my life from me. Laughing on the phone, jolly, life easy as pie, not a care in the world. Dressed in a supermarket uniform, sat 4 seats behind me on the bus ride to my future, dredging up my past.
Manchester likes to play these jokes on me, one step forwards, three steps back.
I've spent nearly a decade getting over it, boxing it off as just a bad dream.
There are some things you can't escape, not forever.
So what do you do when you are faced with the boogeyman? Your greatest fear?
You walk away.
I whispered to Sarah, we got off the bus, and as it pulled away, he gave me a wink from the window. I was almost sick right there on the curb.
8 years ago, I locked myself in my university halls of residence, drew the curtains, I didn't leave. I was too ashamed, too scared to face the world. I let it all go.
Tins of empty tuna dotted around my bedroom floor, empty bottles of alcohol and relics of a broken heart. He broke me.
When I sit and think about my future and plan my family, my hopes, my dreams. It comes back to that day.
The only child I'll ever have was his. A sick twist of fate. I passed out in the hospital when they told me I was pregnant, I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I'd fought to bury that day, that night, fought to put it to one side, carry on with my life and lo' the repercussions of it, inside me. I felt sick. Toxic. I put plans in place to exorcise it from me, controversial to some but not for me, I hated myself for even having it inside me, for not fighting hard enough, for not punching hard enough, kicking, screaming, non of it was enough to keep me from ending up here.
The pregnancy that ruined my future, that scarred me inside and out and made sure I would remember that day forever. Made sure I'd have to think about it when I'm planning a future with my love, my life.
We want children, we want family and because of him, there is no guarantee that it will happen.
I had to drag her off the bus today, she was like a woman possessed, determined to fight for my honour and my heart all these years on. I tried to tell her its too late. Theres nothing in the world that could make it right.
And there he was, smirking, at the two of us. He told people who questioned him about his crimes I was his crowning glory, the lesbian, the icing on his cake.
I hated that man for such a long time. I replayed it in my head 1000 times, what I could have done different, would he had survived it if I had fought harder? I looked him in the eyes today and all I heard was the last thing he said to me before his final strike across the face "I don't know why I bothered, it was like fucked a dead fish, you could have least pretended to enjoy it"
Hows that for a happy thought on a thursday.......

Off I went to my meeting, smiling, determined not to let him win. You see, he took my life once, I won't let that happen again. I walked, I walked, I drank coffee and made plans.
I breathed slowly and made it through my day, because thats what you do. You fight demons and darkness with the light. You put your best foot forward, you fight for your future and everything thats yours.
19 year old me hid and cried, and lied and lied. Drank myself into oblivion and took every drug under the sun to numb it, to dull it. Today was a snapshot of hell. But I conquered.
I didn't run to the nearest pub, I didn't dig around in my brain for mobile numbers I once knew by heart to bring me some sweet release. So you see, I won.
I walked around the supermarket, I bought a few treats. I reflected on the days plans and I looked forward to tomorrow.

If I can face my darkest demon, and look that bastard in the eye and still come out on top. Then he didn't take it all, just a short passage of time. Because now it's all me. And he is just a sad man who steals moments, and I'm the girl who creates movements in time. Past, present, future. The best is yet to come.
Positives over negatives.

They call it love

The sunlight creeps through the blinds,
And she's managed it again,
Oh yes - she's asleep on my side.

She is wrapped up in the duvet,
She will wake in the night,
Sneak it back over me,
Like a ninja,
She will pretend it was there, untouched.

I love her. So so much.

It's always her most beautiful hour,
The waking minutes...
Before we get up, get out and shower.
Somewhere between awake and asleep,
We steal glances in the morning,
She's a sneaky one, a little sleep creep!
Inching closer for a kiss on the cheek,
It's followed by the first words shes says every morning,
I open my eyes just to hear her speak.

I love you.
Then she says my name.
And I remember who I am,
And how I found myself.

A shadow on a wall,
Always just out of reach.
It tricked me for so long,
I only existed when the sunlight came out,
Flickering in places
Fading away at the end of the day.

Darkness.

So maybe she's the moonlight, the sunlight,
The dusk, the dawn.
All I know is when she holds me,
I'm somehow reborn.
Each day a new beginning,
A new start, a new chance.

Sometimes we fall asleep,
I don't know where I end and she starts,
Because we are bound together,
I can hear the beating of her heart.
I fall asleep on her,
Sometimes she laughs when I have a little snore,
Sometimes she pokes me,
Because she doesn't want to hear anymore.

There has been nights where she talks,
Completely in the dark,
Fast asleep and dreaming,
She pulls on my heart.
She whispers I love you in the silence,
And I press my lips to hers.
Oh shes clever this girl,
I fall for it everytime,
She grabs me like a tiger and says quietly that shes mine.

So I can be lost,
She will find me,
I can be broken,
We will fix it.
I can be everything I want to be,
I can walk on water,
I can conquer,
I can triumph,
I can shine.

Because that girl,
The love of my life,
She makes everything just fine.
Like a fire burning brightly,
We'll move forward together,
And hope for love to last forever,
Until the end of time.

Pause for thought

What a night.
So humbling.... I'm overwhelmed really, a room full of beautiful hearts and resilient minds.
A girl tapped me on the shoulder while I was at the bar and said "Are you TheBarkerBaker?" and that she was an avid reader of this blog and she found me to be an inspiration.
Well. I was stunned. What a lovely thing for someone to say, even if it did leave me feeling a little lost.
I am so proud to have found the strength to address all that was wrong in my life, bit by bit, taking it apart and building it bigger and better than ever before. I heard people's stories today at the Mind Charity event and I had to look at the floor for some of it so as not to draw attention to the tear in my eye.
Such bravery. Where do we find the power to stand tall and face our demons and then go the extra mile to exorcise them in public in the hope that in doing so it inspires someone to do the same, find the hope, the better day, the real tomorrow.
Claire Symonds said she was ashamed, ashamed to be so broken. If I could have hugged a woman I'd never met without it being completely weird, I would have dashed across the room and the stage and just given her a bloody squeeze.
Broken. A word that packs such a punch.
I am broken. I have been broken for a long time. I've been resentful of it, I've hated myself for it, I've blamed other people for it, but it's only recently that I've come to be OK with it.
So I've baggage a plenty and a horror story of a past, should it be my undoing and the destruction of my future? Of course bloody not.
I lived in such shame, scared to talk about it, scared to admit it, for a girl with a lack of identity to admit she was broken... would that be my only label? Not much of a way to move forward when having a tagline like that.
And lo' I'm here, I am strong, I am proud. We are incredible and we are strong.
A room full of people, all muddling their way through life, up hill struggles, heartbreak and hurt, damage to the soul and to the body, we are broken.
We came together with that in common and we move forward with it in our hearts, to recover, to regain, to live.
I met a girl when I was at University, we passed through the years, she had her secrets and I had mine, it's only today we saw eachother for who we really were and it was something quite beautiful.
She is beautiful with an energy for change that just makes you want to be involved!
And so, I baked, I sold, we made some money for a great charity, but it's me that came away with the real prize, I got to see I'm not alone, I shouldn't have suffered in silence and that I never have to.

A few loaves and a few words, giving to charity soothes the soul, especially if its a guilt burdened as mine for the things that I have done.

I will always have an open heart to the people who need it, a loaf, an ear, a hand, a hug.
Thank you for reading, and thank you to all of you who told me how much these words mean to you in times of darkness and light.

<3

The hardest habit to break....

I let cocaine take over my life, I ran with it firmly in my hands and in my heart for a long time.
It was a love affair. A toxicity I couldn't quite shake because of its beautiful escapism.
What a strange way to describe a vice that almost destroyed me. It seems I hold such destructive powers
close to my heart no matter what damage it causes.
It's a quality of mine I am all to familiar with, knowing when the right thing is to let it go, and not wanting to.
Heart vs Head. Sometimes it's not that simple.
For example, as soon as I made the choice to stop hiding behind lies and drugs, I set myself free. An instantaneous decision that changed my life for the better, forever.
When it comes to family, things are a little harder to loosen my grip on.

I'm a lost little girl inside a 26 year old woman's body. I go about my day to day life like it doesn't hurt anymore, like it never did. But the hole remains gaping, aching and it yearns for what it's never quite had.
Family.
Oh I can fill the gap, I can plug it with hopes and desires and friends and lovers, I can fill it with hard work and dreams to strive for.
But its hard to ignore the fact that I'm alone in this world, and that the legacy I'm working to create begins with me, with no trace of anything that happened before.
I tell Sarah all the time, I want to build something great, to be remembered, for the good; not the bad. For the positive. For the change. I can do all of those things. I have a passion and a hope that burns so deep in my heart it almost shouts louder than whats lost.
I want to marry her, to grow old, to hold her hand for as long as its mine. I want to say I love you every day and feel it in my fingertips when they find hers.

I text my dad today. He turned 60. I woke up with this searing fear, tears in my eyes from the moment of realization, today is the 9th May, he's another year older...and so am I. We are another year apart, with a bridge that burned long ago, with a heart that broke on both sides, and somehow we can't seem to find eachother.
Have you ever woken up with fear, sheer fear, of loss. What is it I am loosing? A father? A friend? Neither?
He may not live up to the title as our labels burn away, but he is my daddy, he's the man in the trendy leather jacket and the sparkling blue eyes and now he's older, he's less Pierce Brosnan and more George Bush but my god, it's toxic, this absolute adoration and love.
I wish I could quit it, I'd erase it if I could, but I can't, because all three of them run through my heart and my mind, every single day, just like my blood.

Unrequited, not a lover, but a daughter, a sister, whatever my title is to be.

Will it be like this forever? A text message like an arrow.

I strive everyday for things that will make our lives great, happy, easy, forfilled.
All of which is completely attainable. I have no doubt the greatest things are yet to come, because I know how I feel and what I want.

So one day when we are older, we are married, with a house full of cats and kids, baking, teaching, learning, loving, cuddling, will they be a part of it? Or just a memory?
Sometimes I trick myself and wonder if the memories I have are just stories trapped in my mind, little lies I told myself once and didn't go away.
Like our last meal together, it was just me and him, sat at the kitchen table, talking, really talking.
He was sad, he was honest, he knew we had no chance, but we lied to eachother and pretended everything was fine. I was happy, he was happy and we smiled and ate our dinner.
He tricked me that day. For one, what he said were mushrooms were actually lamb kidneys and I almost choked as he laughed. He knew I wouldn't try them if I knew. A fathers trick. I'll have to try that one...
For two, we pretended we were... as we should be, when we knew that's just not what we are.

Happy Easter, Merry Christmas, Happy Birthday?

In a parallel universe, 

I'm there.

And we are laughing.

Oh we're laughing.

On another planet,

At another time,

I'm in your life,

And your in mine.

We are a family,

And we say I love you,

With honesty and care.

And as I sit here and write this,

It hurts you are not there.

A vacant text message,

Sent on a distant Christmas Day,

I don't even want that,

I want the occasional -

   "Are you OK?"

I'd tell you I'm fine,

But it would be a lie,

And I don't do that anymore,

So I'll tell you why.

I held her hand yesterday,

And on her shoulder I had a little cry,

Because days like Easter, Christmas, birthdays,

Aren't meant to just pass by.

I cried my heart out,

Completely lost control,

I let my tears run down,

I showed her a sneak peak of my soul.

She tells me I'm part of her life now,

And I don't need my past,

But it's a shadow on a sunny day,

That leaves my life always somehow overcast.

I'm 27 on the 27th of May,

And you won't be there for what is a special day.

I'm released from my sentence,

Which means I'm almost free,

From the court room, from the old me,

From the dishonesty.

It'll be a new day,

Where I get the real second chance,

To step into the sunlight,

No more fear of the night.

I was yours when I was 4 years old,

You got me the best birthday cake there ever was,

It was a Forever Friends bear, 

I've never quite forgot,

It was as big as me,

With a smile that could reach the moon.

Why does it feel like our life together,

Ended really much too soon.

It feels like someone died,

And that I'm somehow supposed to mourn,

Because you live your days,

Like I haven't even been born.

I was a flicker of your imagination,

Of a daydream you once had,

I'm the perfect little daughter,

And your my oh so proud dad.

Your my mummy,

And you love me,

And I try every day to make you proud,

It seems I'm too late in second chances,

Or at least I've used up all I had.

I work hard every day to make life great,

For me, for her, 

To make up for the time I've wasted,

For the life I threw away.

I secretly labour in your memory too,

That I'll achieve greatness,

You'll be proud,

You'll be happy,

You'll be back in my life,

And I'll be free.

Keeping my foot in the door,

So it never closes,

Is growing more tiresome everyday.

I know I promised to keep it open,

But my hope is ebbing away.

It's occasionally replaced with anger,

As I sit and wonder why,

I put myself through this.

All you do is make me cry.

You never got to know me,

You didn't want to try,

I was baggage and I was broken,
It was easier to hide.

Yet this heart wanders,

Upon a broken land.

That one day we'll meet in the middle.

And you will take my hand.

Until then Christmas will haunt me,

As our traditions become mine,
I'll put positives over negatives,

And move on over time.

She makes me stronger,

I feel like I could take on the world,
And I will.

And when I rule it,

We'll see who says Happy Easter, Merry Christmas, How are you today?

And I'll text back or I won't

Be either way,

I'm OK.

15,000 kids and counting....?

I'm currently watching "15,000 kids and counting" on Channel 4, and I'm half horrified, half unsurprised by it.
I was always surprised by the adoption process my parents went through to get my brother and I.
A catalogue - quite literally of potential children, blonde, blue eyed, baggage, tick where appropriate and they did. They wanted a baby, or as close to that as they could get. Cue my brother, blonde, beautiful, baby, baggage free BUT with a somewhat fucked up sister in tow. Also cute, blonde, cheeky, pretty perfect additions to an affluent Cheshire couple looking to complete the picture.
My parents made allowances in their search for the perfect child, they ended up with what they wanted, and they ended up with... me.
As I said in a previous blog, it was an audition process. My parents saw a video of my brother and I, I danced around, showing off my artwork, I read a rather incredible chapter from the kittens who lost their mittens, whilst my brother rolled around in a social workers arms. The camera panned out and then cut back to filming jay struggling with a puzzle box, trying desperately to force a star shape into a square hole, it just wasn't happening for him but he gave it a bloody good go. There's a really funny scene where the social worker Sue puts jay in a baby swing outside and when we watched this video back a few years ago, it gave us the giggles. Jay is happily swaying back and forth, with Sue pushing him a little too vigerously and then there is this massive CROOOOW in the background and Sue and the woman holding the camera say "ooooh gosh, what a very big cock" well - of course she was talking about the cockrell that was crowing in the background, but when you are a silly teenager watching this video for the first time having found it in box when moving house, its the funniest thing you've ever seen.

I remember the day my parents came to see us for the first time. We were on a farm, with our foster carers, Jed and Lorraine, they were amazing. They gave me a birthday cake, the first one I ever remember and I got so excited I almost blew the candle out from giddiness. It was small, and round and had a fondant bear on it, it was magical. I'd never had one before.
We stayed on the farm with them, there were fields, a broken chair that spun round, a donkey and horse which we named Dusty and Frosty (by we, I mean me and the other foster kids) it was a bit like a farm for lost children and lost animals. These people had massive hearts, they loved us for what we were, and weren't afraid to tell the social workers.
My parents rolled up in a white mercedes and it was like some sort of princess' carriage, they were so cool. Smart, trendy, young, everything you'd dream of if you didn't have a mummy and daddy. My mum wore white pants and had beautiful blonde hair and I remember thinking, my hair looks like that! My dad was beautiful and kind and had strong arms and blue eyes. They were perfect. We spent time together on the farm, I sat on his knee in the posh car, and played with the electric sunroof, it opened and closed so often, the magic did not wear off. They brought us a pair of Nike trainers each. We hadn't had shoes that fit properly before, they were always two sizes too small. Jay and I have such weird toes, that when he had his car accident in South Africa, the nurses who looked after him while paralysed said to my mum "Oh gosh, did he damage his feet in the accident?" - we're not monsters or anything, nothing webbed, but you know, a little odd! But years of small shoes will do that to a pinky or two!

So anyway, white princess carriage, blonde beautiful lady, blue eyed muscular man, free shoes = amazeballs.
As my mum got in the car ready to leave, I grabbed her hand and said "So, do you want to be my mummy then?" - she cried (I know, who knew?!) said yes, and we went from there.
Next thing I knew we were in Jed and Lorraines pretty rotten 4 by 4 on our way to Lymm, the place of dreams. We pulled up to this mansion, practically, a beautiful victorian semi, I'd never seen anything like it. Princess car. Princess castle. We were so lucky. But I didn't want to stay. I got in quite the tantrum as I wanted to stay with Jed and Lorraine. Jay wasn't fussed, he was put to bed in the incredible top floor bedroom and when I think about it now, it was so heartfelt. These two people wanted us so much, they must have got so excited walking round a shop, picking out wallpaper and cots and everything parents do get excited for. It breaks my heart to know I felt so happy and so hopeful once and now they feel more like a memory of a lost child. It's better to remember them and to remember me like that, because that's what I wanted, a mummy and a daddy and thats what I got, even if I don't have it now.

Jed took me upstairs, and into the bedroom that they had painted and put together so beautifully, bunk beds - amazing. He tucked me up - in top bunk of course, after all, I was a big girl now. He pulled my duvet up over me for the last time and I said to him "Promise me you'll wake me up before you go," and he kissed me on the cheek and said "Course I will,"
I never saw him again.
I woke up the next day and had the best bowl of coco-pops of my life.
Happy.

I was a lucky little girl to have been adopted by my parents. Even more lucky to have been adopted with my brother. We were destined to be Fran and Jay. Always. And maybe one day we will be again.

I'm watching this stupid TV show on Channel 4 and it's filling me with a rage. Children listed on websites, in catalogues, in videos, its madness. We are not animals at the dogs home.
How can potential parents have check lists?

I didn't even know there was a box for "sexual abuse" on what parents are looking for and I can't help but think that my parents overlooked the fact that I was a messed up little girl with baggage a-plenty due to the fact that they wanted a baby.
There is a little girl on this program, shes 7 years old, and shes being written off, because parents looking for children don't want someone so old, because they consider them to be damaged. That breaks my heart.
I'm 26, and I can't wait to start a family with Sarah, if we can't have one for our own, I have no problem taking to our hearts a little girl or boy who wants a mummy, a home, love, care, a future.
Any little girl or boy.
The life I have lived and the things that I've felt, I could love 100 children and it wouldn't be enough!

Blast from the past

So.
I thought I would type up a few poems I wrote years ago.
They are a little intense, but I wrote them in my darkest hours, when my life started to unravel and I started to loose control.
I'm posting them on here, because despite their pain, they show me how far I've come and how, as a person, despite thinking the worst of myself for the things I have done and the decisions I have made - I can see the journey I've been on and take great comfort in the fact I have come out the other side of it.

I wrote these poems while I was at University, I almost threw my entire academic career away. I stayed in my room, in halls, I locked the door and I didn't come out. I didn't go to seminars, I didn't go to lectures, I didn't hand in essays, I didn't do anything. I hid.
Until finally, when I cracked, I gave in and went to see my academic advisor, I poured my heart out from start to finish only to look up and see her crying too. I don't think she had ever heard such a horror story.
Young girl, goes to Uni to make her parents proud, young girl gets raped by big black man, young girl happens to be a raging lesbian and so doesn't quite know how to react to such a thing, ignores the fact it ever happened, only to collapse, end up in hospital to find out shes pregnant with said monsters child. Honestly, I think I need to get writing that book!

I couldn't tell anyone. I was ashamed, I thought I was to blame, I had my abortion, which went tits up and I spent a few days in hospital evaluating what I was going to do. So I did what Barkers do. I got up, I got dressed, I went to Uni and carried on as normal. I did that for a very long time, but burying something so big wreaked havoc on my mental heath.
So I wrote this. A poem I thought I had lost. My father dropped off a box of my belongings a few months ago, a few of my childhood momento's, a box of memories, I loved it. Until I found a few bits of paper. Just a few, that my parents had kept and filled away.
I got so angry.
They must have read them and stashed them in this box without a second thought. How?

"My shirt is in pieces,
Blood is pouring out,
But I'm silent,
I don't scream or shout.

My jeans are torn,
Seam from seam,
My eyes are stinging,
As the tears stream.

My arms are bleeding,
As they scrape the floor,
My eyes are focused,
Upon the locked door.

My hands are bruised,
From fighting so hard,
The mirror is smashed,
I wish I could reach a shard.

Id bury it deep,
And watch the red rivers run,
I'd wait until,
My vengeance was done.

My head is banging,
From your strangling,
The room spins round and round,
As you pin me to the ground.

And all is silence,
I get up and I go.
This secret will remain mine,
No-one can ever know"

I know people deal with this sort of thing more often that we dare to think about.
My own partner almost fell foul of a similar situation in the middle of Manchester city centre, if I had not been there to fight the man off, he would have dragged her off and carried out his intention.
I know she struggles with it on a daily basis, she has a fear she doesn't talk about and it's a sad story that I can empathise with her and I can understand how she feels, and when I hold her I know she lost a piece of herself that day, just as I did years before. But we move forward together.

I have a friend, I love her dearly, she was hurt, destroyed, went to court, sent the bastard away for a long time and we are so proud of her for doing it. Her ghosts linger just the same, I offer to walk her home because I know the dark streets haunt her, and she's never quite sure.
You see, we all live with it, every single day, in a different way.
For me, I try to forget, but its hard. As a gay woman, to endure something like that and have the concequences of a pregnancy whilst trying to get through University, it almost killed me.
My parents found out about my abortion because I got sick, and they were so mad, so angry. I lied to them, I told them it was a drunken one night stand and I'd made a mistake because I didn't feel like they deserved to know the hurt in me. They never asked, they didn't care, they only found out about it through my court case when my barrister told the court, read out the doctors letter

This blog is my way of reaching out to people, I know, from the responses I have had so far, there are people out there struggling with similar issues. It's hard, I know that. Don't give up. These things that happen, hurt like hell, and they steal moments of our lives we can't get back, the only way to erase them, put them behind us, is to make bigger, better, happier moments. Don't waste your life on something you had no control over. The only real loss is if you let things like that steal moments from today, tomorrow, don't let it. Grab life by the proverbial balls and run with it. Positives will always win out. I choose my life. I choose my happiness. I know I can do it, and I know you can too <3

Snakes

Writing from anger,
Will only get you so far,
But its safer on a page,
Than a scar on an arm.

You were a danger
To yourself and to me
You are a snake,
It's easy to see.

Amoungst the fakery and the facade,
People will out you,
It's really not hard.

Pretending we're a part of it,
Pretending you care,
But dropping each one of us,
If the funding's not there.

You pull people in,
With your smiles and words,
How we fall for it,
Is quite obsurd.

Was I always this stupid?
Always so naive?
Because its easy in retrospect,
To see whats up your sleeve.

Money money money
Not a face or a name.
You won't remember mine,
It's all just a game.

Numbers not people,
You really don't care,
Your a danger and I'll show them,
There's nothing really there.

Recovery you told me,
Recovery we'd find,
But with you lot,
It's the blind leading the blind.

I've never known such chaos,
Such deceit and such lies,
I've never known people,
So easy to cut ties.

I thought you'd make me better,
I thought together we would try,
To build something on the wreckage,
But you just set it on fire.

I walked away,
I had no choice,
You would have had it all,
You would have taken every part of me,
Every part of my soul.

I told you things in confidence,
You shared them with the group,
You made me feel alone,
That was your real end goal,
It's sad to see, it's not just me,
That's just how low you stoop.

People come to you,
In dire times of need,
You suss them out,
You cut them out,
And then you watch them bleed.

They pour it out,
They scream and shout,
They share and care and leave.
Because all you do is sit and count,
The money in and out,
Lies to lies, deceive.

Hope is what we came for,
But it's what got destroyed.
Because you play with people,
Like they are only toys.

There is no trust,
There is no hope,
You entire existence is a joke.
I hope and pray,
That soon one day,
People will learn to see,
The only change that's needed now,
Is to walk out and be set free.

I trusted you,
I fooled myself,
I thought you'd got my back,
But as it turns out,
You weren't about,
And you never were really there.
But it's fine by me,
Because soon you'll see,
Just how little I care.

I walked away,
To build the day,
The day of something great.
I made myself,
I gave myself,
This chance to shine and shine,
I'll build it tall,
I'll build it strong,
I'll help, I'll love and care,
As long as I know that one day soon,
You won't be there.

I'll take you to pieces,
Like you tried to do to me,
I'll do it the right way,
For everyone to see.

You were a danger
To yourself and to me
You are a snake,
It's easy to see.

Sharing is caring

Well a very big thank you is in order.....!
I was dubious about writing this blog, a public space to be so candid.... taboo?
I always found personal blogs to be somewhat self indulgent and perhaps mine is, because as I said in my first post on here, it's easier to type than it is to talk, a blank canvas where you can air your demons and release them into the wild. Therapy!
Given the responses I got to yesterdays post, I'm so happy I did this. It is one thing for me to share with you the darkness, it is my priveledge to share the light, because that is this blogs true intention, to highlight how strong we are and that no matter what life throws at us, it all has to be taken as experience... good or bad, it makes us who we are... It's a sad story to read the facts of how I came to be, Francesca Barker, TheBarkerBaker, but I am not ashamed of who I am anymore. How could I be? I've only just figured it out.

When you loose yourself at such an early age, it's almost impossible to get a sense of who you are. It is hard to identify the good qualities you have and to move forward and forge a personality that people will love and adore and take to their hearts and so your left with the NEED to create such a personality, out of desperation, lonliness, fear of abadonment, whatever it may be.
I know all too well, I have created a hundred different versions of myself throughout my life, each adapted to different situations in oder to create the best impression at the time, its a sad sense of shallow that we feel the need to project such illusions for the sake of other people. But I have, I always always have, in the video my parents saw of my brother and I at our foster parents house, I put on a show, I was a little cockney runt, dancing around, showing the social workers my latest piece of artwork - which I have to say, as far as cotton wool sheep go, it was bloody good!
I sang, I read from a book, I showed off my cotton wool sheep, it was an audition and I've been doing it ever since. A new friendship - audition. A new relationship - audition. A new job - audition. What does this person want from me, what sort of character are they looking for? The funny one? The caring one? The rich one?
Oh I could do it all. Just like the little cockney child from south london could, the 20 something Fran did not learn her lesson.
Of course having realised this, and understood why I have behaved in such a way, it opened the door to NOT acting, not auditioning, its truly liberating.
Do many of us get to the point in our lives where we realise how OK it is to just be ourselves?
Hello Blogger, I am Francesca Barker, I am a 26 year old baker... and I'm on my way to happiness and I more than fine than that.

When I was a child, up until about the age of 10, I used to steal food out of the fridge and hide it under my bed and in my knicker drawer - not because I'm a greedy monkey, but because I had the constant underlying fear that my parents would go to work one day and not come back. That they would leave me and Jay in that house and we would have to fight for ourselves like we did in the beginning. I always wanted the safety net of knowing I had pinched a packet of hob knobs and a tin of tuna, just incase the worst happened and we were alone again, just me and him. I would always look after us. Its ironic that the way I acted years later broke both our hearts, but still, I'd put him first any day of the week, even now.

My mum used to shout at me and thought I was some sort of feral wild child for stashing food, either that or I was just a chubby little bigger who couldn't get enough biscuits in me! (I do love biscuits, ask Sarah)
Strange things like this crept into my every day life, hiding food in secret places, stealing my dads change out of his pockets and keeping it in my rocking horse ornament to make sure I always had a back up plan.
What a strange way to live. My parents gave me everything, private school, great holidays, beautiful things, but I always thought I would do something that would make them leave, make them give me back. We would argue, even our last argument, the same weapons came out, my mum would shout and tell me I was a disappointment and I would scream that she shouldn't feel so disappointed as I wasn't hers, and she would shout back that she was glad of the fact and that it was buy one get one free, my parents wanted a baby, but social servies wouldnt seperate me and Jay, so they got me for good measure.
To be fair, I am a disappointment to them, I was way too damaged for them to bear and to their massive massive mistake, they never thought to fix me, to talk to me. I had a dream when I was 8 years old about my birth father, not so much a dream more of a memory as I know now. I woke up, scared, confused, I told my mum about it; she stood in my bedroom doorway and looked at me with such emptiness and said quite plainly "if you want to talk about things like that, then you'll have to see someone about it, you know we don't discuss that in this house" - to which I said "but I want to talk about it with you"
She closed the bedroom door. Now, I'm sure I'm painting a picture of a bitch. I don't mean to, I have blamed my paretns for so many things and I do, still, harbour a resentment that if they had cared more about understanding me and talking to me than throwing money at me, things would be a lot better.
My brother was baggage free, no demons, no memories and more to the point, no horrors to recall. I on the other hand was burdened, greatly and I never let it go.
Until now.

The past can haunt you forever, if you let it. We all have to live and learn and understand that some demons just have to be released, to be freed, we don't have to take them to pieces, analyse and speculate.
We take them for what they are, and know that they paved the way to today.

Thats why the mantra for the business and for my life is so important, putting positives over negatives always helps you start the day with the right mind set. You can do anything you put your mind to.
It helps if you have love in your life, support from friends, its a great aid on the road to recovery, but in all reality, the only person who can bring about real change in your life is you.

If it hurts, learn from it, move on from it, and build something great in the space it once was.
Think twin towers, awful, painful, and will always be remembered with a tear in our eye, but build something great, filled with hope, and it becomes a new landmark, one that shows the world just how strong you are <3

The Big Bad Wolf

I search the internet for your name,

I don’t know why,

It causes pain,

But I have to know where you are,

To find you no matter just how far,

I have no shame,

Not any more,

I scream your name from every shore,

Because  exorcising you will make me pure.

I’ll be free, I’ll be sane,

I won’t have to think of you again.

Your dirty and your sick,

Only thinking with you dick,

Did you ever stop to think,

That you’d leave my heart so heavy,

That it’d sink?

Oh daddy, you’re so wrong,

You’ve been hiding for so long,

But I’ll find you,

I’ll call you out,

I’ll show you what I’m all about.

Bloodlines bind us,

But you didn’t care for that,

You had your way,

Threw me away,

And now the day draws near.

When I find you,

I’ll show you,

What its like to live in fear.

Words and shapes moved me,

They were stuck inside my head,

Sometimes I felt so lost,

I thought it better to be dead.

My heart was filled with sorrow,

As I dreaded each tomorrow,

But judgement day will come

And your freedom will be done.

Your conscience it will get you,

As I happily forget you,

You’ll just be a dirty old man,

With no little girl, and no little Fran,

Thank god for social services,

They ripped me from your grasp,

I hate them for giving you another chance,

They should have acted fast.

They knew they saw a monster,

And they let you walk free,

They let you creep closer,

And keep your hands on me.

I read it all on paper,

Like some sick story,

A sad book.

But as I grow older,

I don’t really give a fuck.

Because your just a memory,

From the life I had before,

I don’t have to feel this way,

And I won’t any more.

The truth it was destructive,

But in a way it set me free,

Gave me the answers I needed,

And let me be me.

Are you why I can’t give in?

Are you why I hide?

Are you why I don’t like letting people,

Get too close or inside?

You made me think like you do,

That being wrong is somehow right,

You made me watch the doorknob,

Every single night.

For that I can’t forgive you,

And not many would or will,

Because I’ve got your number Wayne Hall,

And I won’t give in.

Justice will be done,

So I don’t have to come undone.

I know my past,

It matters not,

I am lucky to have a second shot,

To take this knowledge,

Use it well,

Forget you now,

Forget you well,

I move forward,

I walk tall,

I bury you deep now,

I forget it all.

Demons can linger,

They can hang about,

But I’m done crying,

I won’t scream or shout.

Just writing this somehow frees me,

I’m sure it reads so sad,

About a man that was a monster,

Big and ugly and bad.

It is a sad story.

A story about my dad.

Pandora's box

This blog sounds like it is written, from a broken heart, revolving around issues that plague my day to day life... It was created to be a place of hope, whilst that might not always shine through, my life is filled with hope. This blog is filled with hope, and I hope that through the darkness, the light always does shine through.

I'm on a journey of self discovery, as cheesy as that sounds, I have spent a lot of time, taking apart pieces of my life and trying to put them back in the right order, at the right time, in the right place. It has been very much a case of opening Pandora's box, but therein lies the beauty of it. The very concept of Pandora's box seems most apt for what is taking place in my life, there have been absolute horrors and obstacles that would for most, demoralize and destroy hope, but it is only in digging through these and exorcising them, that I can get to the bottom of that box. Just as goes the story of Pandora "Only hope was left within her unbreakable house"

The first thing a probation officer ever said to me was "If I had lived a life like yours, I would either be dead, or would have a best selling book, so I guess you'll have to write a book" - it broke the ice to say the least; but it got me thinking.

I have overcome so many things in my life, and I'm still standing. I won't ever give up because I know just how good my life can be. I see beautiful things every single day, whether it be my fiance sleeping, the cat yawning, or someone doing something for someone else, how can you ever live a life without hope when there is so much to be grateful for?

It struck me again, I was waiting for my other half outside the supermarket in Fallowfield, the sun was shining, I was looking good, feeling good, and I felt contented. I stood outside deliberating what I should buy for dinner, and my mind wandered off into bread land where I considered new recipes and new ideas for the business and just as my imagination began to run wild, a homeless lady rocked up and sat outside the supermarket, wrapped up in a pretty shoddy looking sleeping began, and lo' the sun literally disappeared and it began to rain. Typical for her? Typical for me? The epitomy of my life at times, all sunshine and light, positivity and hope and then comes the rain to wash it all away!

I wandered into Sainsburys and bought a sandwich, a cup of tea and a bottle of water. I know its not much, but its what I had, and its what she needed. - No, what this woman needed was hope. How can you instill that in someone who is faced with nothingness every day? It just fills me with such passion for change, I spent the rest of the day rambling to Sarah about how I could make a real change, soup kitchen, clothes collection, food banks, getting more people into hostels and off the street. It's something that keeps me awake at night. I have battled demons like most people could only find in their nightmares, I've grown up with images and words trapped in my head that only made sense when I got to read child court case records about horrific sexual and domestic abuse I fell foul of as a little girl, I had to make my way through my University career being rudely interrupted by a graphic rape which left me with an STD and an unwanted pregnancy. I ran off to London, homeless, thrown into a world of awful things, which resulted in a drug addiction that almost ruined my life. I lost my family, my home, all the people I had grown up with, ripped away and left completely alone, with nothing and no-one. I lost hope. I hated everything and everyone around me and let my life fall apart and careered happily down the road to ruin with not a care in the world to where I would end up. Dead? Maybe. Prison? Probably. But I just didn't care.

I see these men and women on the streets and all I can think is, how did you get there? What happened to you? Did you loose your family? Did someone hurt you? Did you get pulled into an addiction that resulted in loosing everything? The biggest question that burns in my heart is : Why don't you do something?

I was born in London. I'm still drawn to it, because I know the part of me I've lost is in that city somewhere and the only way to find it is to go back and look for it. My mother, Bridie Kehoe, a convicted murderer, whore, drug addict and general disaster area. How did she end up like that? What was so awful that she threw her life away and didn't care to rescue it at any point? I think about her a lot. I fear the blood  that runs in my veins is too much of her and not enough of me. I have spent a lot of time hating that woman. The things I read, the things she did, the way she let horrible people pass her daughter around, because she was just as used and worthless, it makes me sick  to think about it, but then the anger and the hate are run out of my mind by pity, worry, regret. Could she have been saved? I'm 26, I've lived the life of 100 people and I'm still standing. 

Admittedly it took a court case to make me realise how far down the road of no hope I really was, but I did. I looked at my life, I looked at myself, and I didn't like it. I wanted more. I bloody well deserved more. What did I fight so hard for if I was willing to give it up so easily?????

I am having a love affair, with myself, with this person I'm uncovering, but its not all sweetness and light, there is a darkness in me that needs to be erased, one person can't live the life I have and avoid the anger and aftermath forever. To deal with the knowledge of all of these things is a hard thing to bear, add regret and remorse for the things that I have done and the choices I have made, well, sometimes its hard to get out of bed in the morning. But I do. Every single day. I do. 

What good would I be to squander this new life? This second chance?

I don't want to see other people slip away, and let the darkness win out to the light. There is always hope. There is always good. You have to work you bloody arse off to find it sometimes, but it is there.

I think this is where my passion for going into the prisons stems from, I know in prison somewhere, my birth mother is behind bars, and the things she has done, theyre heinous, totally unforgivable and a lot worse than most of you could begin to imagine, but shes a woman who lost of hope, there must be a way to find it again?

The same goes for all of those behind bars, on the streets, hidden away, I want to show people, there is always tomorrow, there is always today. It is never to late to make a change.

I'll bake, I'll cook, I'll teach, I'll talk, I'll listen, I'll put positives over negatives every day. 

I find peace in knowing that in becoming a better person, I can help other people do the same. 

Happy Mother's Day

I would have sent you flowers,

But they'd live, love and die like we did,

I would have said I love you,

I would have told the truth,
I would have said I miss you,

And that this still hurts like hell.

I miss you every day,

And I hate that I do,

I hate this burning pain,

Does that mean I hate you?

I read back the texts I sent you,

It's me saying sorry and please,

But its you that caused the car crash

Will I ever be free?

You have words that cut like knives,

And you never give me time,

To show you,

To love you,

To find a way to make it right,

You just throw things at me,

They come back to me in the dead of night.

You said I was damaged and that I was no good,

You said that you were better of without me,

So I ran as fast as I could.

You live your life without me,

Like I'm just an echo from before,

You live without your daughter,

Who's laid out on the floor.

I won't say sorry forever,

Because I wasn't always wrong,

I won't beg for you to love me,

This has gone of for too long.

So I didn't text you,

I didn't say I care,

I didn't send my love,

Because your just not there.

I battled with my phone,

It was in my hand all day long,

I had to remind myself,

To just leave it alone.

I work so hard every day,

To put right each wrong,

I work to make it better,

To show you you were wrong.

I can be great, I can be good,

But it will never be enough,

I can be yours, you can be mine, 

But there really is no love.

I'm a name on a piece of paper,

You signed so long ago,

I'm your daughter by law, 

But will forever be, nothing more.

You can close your eyes at night time,

And pretend I don't exist,

But I'll linger in your heart somewhere,

And one day you'll let me in.

I worry about you every day,

I hope that you are all okay,

I love you from this broken heart,

But I come first now with this new start,

The door won't close,

Not from my side,

It's your turn now, 

I've tried and tried.

Come get me when you find your heart,

Because if you don't we'll stay apart.

We'll grow old, we'll turn grey,

And then will come a fateful day,

Where time has passed,

We've lost eachother,

And all we have is hope of heaven.

The Barker Baker behind bars, lets hope not!

Having had a bomb shell of a letter land on my doorstep yesterday, I've been suffering from a crisis of conscience since.
I wonder whether I've been laboring under a misapprehension, was I wrong to have put my needs first?
Is that what this is really about?
I believe with all my heart, the decisions I have made in the year 2013 and 2014 have been the best, most honest, most moral of my life. When walking out of the Crown Court last year, I made a choice. To stop blaming everyone else for my mistakes, my bad decisions. My life is what I made of it, and to be honest, I did a pretty awful job.Never again.

I have made changes in my life I never thought possible. I have conquered demons and dealt with them; instead of burying them. I have accepted responsibility for what I did, the lies I told, the hurt I caused, and the guilt of my actions has almost torn me apart. But what good would I be wallowing in self pity? NONE.

And so, the real Francesca Barker was born. 26 years late, but a beautiful birth non the less. I am proud of who I am, I am proud of what I have done in these 12 short months. If I can achieve this much in 12 months of my life, then I can make something great with the rest of it. I have taken on the world of addiction and beat it, I have tackled my mental health issues instead of hiding behind them, and for a girl with such a shady past, a horry story of a child hood and a complicated adolescence, my downfall was always a long time coming.
I've said it before and I'll say it again, whilst I'm deeply ashamed of what I did, and how I hurt people, this road to ruin, has actually turned out to be a road to redemption. 
TheBarkerBaker is something that has moved from out of the shadows and grown in the sun, and it just keeps on growing.... my idea and vision has opened doors to places and people, its become a real vehicle for change and it makes me so happy. It makes me proud. It made me realise my purpose and my opportunity to give back.

And lo' this letter from the court is a little hard to swallow. 

I realise I am saying "I" a lot, and I think this is where the problem I face arises, I made 2013 the year to turn my life around in order to be a better person, to ensure I lived an honest life for the rest of my life, dependenant upon no substance, nor anyone else. Determined to give back to society, to make a difference and a positive impact. I completed my rehab, I job hunted for months until I was lucky enough to secure a position at the University. It's been a year of hard work, but I am proud of it. Whilst I have not been able to put my best financial foot forward, I have put things in place to ensure I can really tackle my compensation order in an effective and timely manner. However, its too little, too late.

The liklihood of prison as a method of enforcement of non payment is just, whether fair or not is debatable.

This time last year, I had made peace with the things I had done, and was ready and willing to accept my punishment, most likely a custodial sentence. I was terrified but accepting of the concequences. I was so lucky to have been spared incarceration, as I've said, I walked out of that court room determined to make the most of my second chance.

I never expected to feel this feeling of impending doom. This time its different, I have done everything in my power, in my human capacity to be everything I can be, to turn my life around and make a real difference. I set up my own bakery business, having been sent on a baking course by probation and it has become an epic vehicle for change, a real light in the darkness - its changed my life. The very thought of loosing it is breaking my heart.

I'm at a crossroads of conscience, the people I defrauded and hurt shouldn't have to wait and endure this burden, but I truly believe I am better to them as I am, strong, determined, employed, independent and honest than I am strained, deluded, and overstretched making promises of payment I just can't honour. I have refused to be the girl who says "your cheques in the post" and instead opted for the brutally honest, I dont have a penny to my name, its all I can do to keep my head above water, but I am giving back the only way I can and thats through me. My baking classes in the community, my bread that goes out in food parcels for foodbanks, my part in the market trade in Manchester, those of are impacts I make every day and it takes me closer to paying back what I owe.

My business is on the up, with huge support from Twitter, the community, and business like o2 who have just awarded me a grant for the business to expand its reach and help more people. Its a beautiful journey and its really taking speed, I know, right now in this moment, I am good person. I am a changed person. Most importantly, I am person who can make reparation for what I've done, through my business and through my job, I can pay this debt in an honest manner, but not with a noose around my neck.

I've never shyed away from what I did, I went to the Police station with my solicitor and sat down and told my story from start to finish. I was consumed with guilt, as I should have been, I had been selfish and deceitful. I'm not that person anymore, and I don't want to walk into a court room feeling like I am. That's why I'm finding this hard to deal with. Punish me as criminal, I was. Punish me as a girl who's worked her socks off to put a life together in order to face the ordeals of compensation orders, rent days, council tax arrears and real life? It's a little hard to swallow.

Regardless, I am willing to accept whatever the court has to say, because I have not honoured my sentence, I have not paid these people what they deserve. It is my mistake. I am living in hope that they see why I have not paid the order, and recognise my efforts and my change and my intention to gain stability in order to face this.

Friends have rallied around and donated money to the page in order to put me in good stead for my court date. The total debt is many thousands, we were hoping as a group, a community, that a milestone of £2000 will show the court I'm serious, show them I'm capable and show them I have people in my life right now who will support me in my endeavour to clear this debt. People who I will ultimately loose if I'm sent to prison, along with my business, my job, my partner, my life really.

I'd like to say thank you to the wonderful support I have received thus far, both financial and more importantly, in the kind words some of you have shared with me.
I take great comfort and great pride in the fact I have managed to show people the real me but most importantly, that everyone deserves a second chance. If you are willing to work to be a better person, then there is always hope for great things to come. So fingers crossed.....

xx

Time for change

My life has taken me to many a strange place.
There have been times I didn't think I would ever see the day that I would be walking around Manchester, holding hands, walking in the rain, counting down to a warm shower and an owl onesie with a cup of tea and a pussycat called Gordon.

Amongst the lesbian cliche, I found myself oddly grateful, I wandered into the shop to buy a tin of cat food and there was a man sat outside, in the pouring rain, with a rather well used looking polystyrene cup, asking the masses of people stepping around him for change.

I had just enough change for the bus home in my pocket but I couldn't get the image of this man out of my mind while I was waiting for the bus, so I marched to the nearest cash machine, took some money out and went and bought some sandwiches. This may sound like a private school girls ease of conscience but believe me it was much more than that.

This man's face has played on my mind since I saw him, since he said thank you, since I got on the bus to my little house, where the heating was on full blast.

I ran away from home. I wasn't a teenager. I was old enough to have a handle on my life but I didn't. My parents broke my heart and I ran, I got a train to London with the money that I had left of my allowance and took the battery out of my phone. I disappeared.
The money ran out. I was homeless. In the city where I was born. In the city where I was once great. In the city that could have made me, but I lost it.
I went to an internet cafe and searched for options, and sadly fell upon one that most girls do in the same situation.
I was picked up, driven to warehouse in Brent Cross. It wasn't warm. There were lots of girls there, mostly Polish, they seemed happy with the way things were. I shared a bed with a girl called Emily, we didn't sleep. Mice crawled across the bedsheets and kept us awake. The shower was cold, but it was water. A man brought us Mcdonalds if we were good. I had forgotten what it was like.
Friends begged my parents to take notice of the fact I had fallen off the face of the earth, they knew something had happened, they knew I'd left with my heart in my hands. I just didn't care.
I didn't want that life anymore, they didn't want me, so I ran, as far from that world as possible.
After 3 months I turned my mobile phone back on, I had a voicemail from my grandma, she didn't say much, she just said "Come home"
I called my mother, she was annoyed I'd bothered her. She asked me what I had been doing, where I was, how I was surviving without their money, I said one word "prostitution"
She put the phone down.
I lived a life in a blur, I thought I was taking control and regaining the power I had lost, it's only now when I have time and strength to reflect I realise I was wrong. All it left me with was shame and an addiction.
I sometimes take the bus to London, it goes past that warehouse. I squeeze her hand extra hard when we go around that god forsaken ring road.
She has the ability to make me forget, the things that broke me, she makes me forget that place, that time. She makes me feel clean, loved, worth and I love her for it.

My point is, I used to walk by people in the rain, until people walked by me.
I don't want anyone to feel like I did, and I know I can't change the world, but I can make it better.

So I need your help, I need time, I need hands, I need love, I need hope.
We'll make soup, we'll make sandwiches, we'll make tea and toast.
We'll have blankets, and jumpers and whatever it takes.
Because there is no such thing as invisible anymore.