Monday, 6 October 2014

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.

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