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.

Change is now

I was watching Coronation Street tonight, gripping the sofa with tears in my eyes.

Julie Hesmondahalgh was just.. wonderful.

It's my biggest fear. It's my biggest worry.

With my separation from my family, what if something happens and I'm not there to be a daughter, a sister?

I found out through the grapevine a few months before I was due in the Crown Court to be sentenced that the woman I love most in my life was ill.
No-one told me. I wasn't part of their life anymore, therefore I fore-fitted my right to know.
I was heartbroken, I have never felt so powerless.

Was that the real price I paid for the mistakes I have made? To loose all that I love and care for?
I am lucky enough to have beautiful people in my life who have stood by me but I can't shake the agonizing pain and worry that no matter what I do, I have lost my family forever.

I feel an immense sense of pride, when I wake up every morning, I wake up with purpose, vigour, love and I know its a day for change, a day for progress. I am very lucky. Not everyone gets to have a second chance.

So I had the bombshell, a year ago, she was sick.
I rang every hospital I could think of, asked questions no-one would tell me the answer to.
I turned up at one with a bag of random crap, thinking it might help.
Diet coke - her favourite. A sponge - useful; no-one likes hospital sponge baths do they?
Cake - something edible, delicious, made by my own fair hand and therefore fully loaded with a little too much buttercream.
A card - what could I say? It was simple "I just want you to know I am thinking about you and you are always in my heart. I live around the corner if you need ANYTHING ANYTIME, I can and will be here" with my mobile number scrawled dodging the teardrop marked page.

What if I lost her? What would I do? With no chance to make things right and no opportunity for her to see the real me and not the idiot that got lost through a decade of mistakes???

Sometimes I go to sleep at night and shes the last thing I think of, does she think of me?

Sometimes I text, it's not welcomed, but I try.
That's all I can do for now.

I made this change for me, she will see if soon whether she wants to or not.

And when shes wanders into her local deli and picks up a loaf and thinks OMG THIS IS THE BEST BREAD I'VE EVER HAD IN MY LIFE, maybe then I'll get a text back :)

In the meantime, I'll do little things that make real change possible.
I'm running the Great Manchester Run.
I'm baking for a gala dinner.
I can't go into Wilkinsons because I put all my money in the Christies Charity pots!

My point is, little things is all it takes.

When it comes to Cancer, change is now.

Iron Lung

Iron Lung

More like Margaret Thatcher,

Maybe then I’d stand a chance.

More iron lady, less iron lung.

You’ve been my life support from the moment this begun,

Watching me move through the years,

Traces of cotton on the pavement, you watch me come undone.

Stitched together loosely, held together by just the air,

It’s no wonder this broken puppet, is far beyond repair.

I’ll dance until the day is old, until you tell me to stop,

I’ll sing, I’ll chant, I’ll recite each word you want,

If we are in the same choir, I’ll let you come out on top,

I’ll whisper the words so no-one hears me,

All they’ll see is you,

I’ll be the shadow you didn’t know you had,

Because you are supposed to be my sun;

I’m the earth that moves round you,

Escaping darkness dusk til dawn,

From your heart, my life is to be drawn.

So the monitor keeps on beeping,

It tells me I live a life,

Because to be a fragment, to be a memory,

It would be better to let die.

Watch you float away like a ripple in a pond,

It’s been so long, I don’t think you’ve noticed that I’ve gone.

All that binds us is a surname,

All that holds us is a past

The hope for me is a half empty glass.

Pessimism wins out this time

Because it feels more like a draught;

A scorching desert of memories,

That fall through time like sand,

I sit and wait again and again,

And watch the obnoxious hand.

You don’t come, you don’t care,

I sit, phone in hand,

It feels like some sort of dare.

You are my iron lung.

Created to keep me strong,

Yet somehow I’m dependent upon you,

Being played like a puppet,

Being playfully strung along.

So its sink or swim,

I rip the band aid off,

Can I breathe without you?

Is this what I have become?

A tragedy, a car crash, desperately holding on?

I’ll tear this travesty from my chest,

And let it all go to hell,

I’ll let the oxygen consume me,

I’ll let my lungs and heart swell.

I don’t know how to remove you,

Without taking out of piece of my heart,

But it feels like that’s the right place to start.

I’ve tried to show you I’m changing,

I’ve tried to forgive you for the beginning,

I’ve tried to make you see, I wasn’t the only one sinning.

But its empty words falling on deaf ears,

You’re a blind man with an iron heart.

So my iron lung doesn’t feel so bad in comparison,

I’ll be Maggie.

Less iron lung. More iron lady.

Just watch me

A letter to my mother....

I'm going to Uncle Martin's funeral tomorrow.
I want to be there, because I want to be part of this family. However distant.

I want you know I'm sorry.
I want you to know I care.
I just don't know how to get that across.

I'm trying really hard to rebuild my life, putting positives over negatives. It's become a bit of a mantra and as long as I start each day with that in mind, things can only get better.

There is a gaping hole in my heart that only you three can fill. I had it when I was 4, I have it now I'm 26.
I know I've done it all ass backwards, and I've hurt you with the way I've lived my life. I'm sorry. I don't want to live my life not having you in it somehow.

When I found out you were sick it almost killed me, I didn't know what to do, call you, text you, turn up at the office. It wasn't my right; but you have to understand how much I love you, whether it feels like it or not. I ran to the hospital, demanded to know if you were being looked after there, rang The Christie, no-one would tell me anything. I kept calling. Driving them mad.

I don't want to feel that powerless again, if something happened to you and I couldn't tell you how sorry I am, I just couldn't forgive myself.

I have to live with the things that I have done. I know how many mistakes I've made and how hard it is to put them right - that's not what this is. This is me telling you, I'm here, honest, with nothing to offer you apart from me. The truth, my hard work, and my apology.

I want you to say thank you, for everything you gave me. You have been an amazing mother, and I have been the disgraced daughter. I never meant to cause you embarrassment or pain. I'm well aware having your daughter up in court in the city where you made your name is horrific, but I have to say, when my day of reckoning came, it changed my entire world. Although seeing you on Deansgate broke my heart because I know how disappointed you are.

There's not much more to say, I just wanted you to know that I love you. I don't want to live my life without knowing your safe and well, even if that's all we will ever manage. I don't want you to text me to tell me not to text you ever again. Please just take the time to think about what I've said.

I want you to know I'm happy, I work at the University as Catering Manager, seems I inherited some of KB's culinary flair, although I'm not sure the atrocities I cooked for you would say that same.
I've set up my own business, and its an amazing vehicle to move forward in a positive way.

The most important thing you need to know is I'm not a failure, I'm not a criminal, I'm not a drug-addict, I'm Francesca. I am your daughter. I am finding myself, through hard work, clinical psychologists, medication, a few good friends and an amazing partner.
I want you to know this Francesca, because I don't think either of us have gotten a chance to do that yet.

Love,
Fran x

It's not all doom and gloom

It’s easy to sink,

If no-one taught you how to swim,

It’s easy to surrender,

And to just give in.

The trick is to play harder,

Than the game you fought before,

Because with every knock back,

You’ll get up off the floor.

It broke me,

I fixed it,

And fell apart again

Because it’s the battle of a lifetime

That leaves you asking when?

When will it be over?

When will I be free?

When will I be able to sustain this stormy sea?

Will life be easy?

Will I breathe in the air?

Instead of drowning in self pity,

Swallowed up in despair.

Reach out for a hand to hold you,

Forget the one that scolds you,

The words they often sold you,

Don’t matter anymore.

Just do it.

Close the door.

A new chapter awaits you,

Just begging for you to walk through.

So it was a sob story,

With not a patch of hope or glory,

What does that matter in the long run?

You can't undo whats been done?

Exorcise those demons,

Let all the anger out,

There’s no need anymore,

To always scream and shout.

No need for bloodlines,

That mark your skin like a map,

This is a new world,

Where you are not under attack.

Seize this freedom with both hands,

And firmly understand,

Second chances are your last,

No repeats from the past.

Go forth and try your best,

To put it all to rest,

To live life as yourself,

In heaven, not in hell.

The Magic Roundabout

I've always assumed blogs are a place to voice what it is that's on your mind, with an audience, or without. You still get to say what it is you need to. With that in mind, I can see the appeal, its like therapy without the psychiatrist, which is always going to appeal to human nature. A safe place of sorts; which is ironic considering you can bare your soul on the internet and leave yourself more vulnerable than ever.

For me, blogging is a new concept, a way to share my experiences, feelings and thoughts, in the hope that other people can stumble forwards with me, putting positives over negatives. I suppose that is what this is all about. Finding myself. I'm Francesca Barker, I'm 26 years old. That's as far as I have got in terms of understanding who I am. I have a stack of paperwork that dictates who Francesca Barker is, a degree, a criminal conviction, a mental health problem, a business. This is a journey of self discovery, stepping away from labels, assumptions and expectations.

My first blog is aptly titled "The Magic Roundabout" - my life moves in cycles, where I drive myself forward with immense vigor and determination only to throw it all away and press the self destruct button. It has taken me a very long time to recognize this destructive pattern, however, its one thing to recognize and another to make a change. I think I have lived my life as a coward to a certain extent, certainly playing the part of the victim - which is easy to do if the perpetrator and the victim are the same person. You find yourself in a relentless game of table tennis of good and bad, truth and lies and it gets tiring.

I have known for a long time the issues that have plagued me, I have been in denial, shame. It is a hard fact to accept that your mistakes, and the pain in your life, is cause and consequence of the bad choices you have made. My biggest mistake was thinking I could do this alone. Don't ever be ashamed to ask for help, whether its a cry standing on top of a railway bridge (and believe me, it has been) or a cry that falls on deaf ears, there is ALWAYS someone who can shine a light into the darkness.

I was lost as a child, buried in thoughts and feelings out of my grasp, and its a sad fact that it took a court case at the age of 26 for my history to unravel and for me to find out the dark truth about my past and the stones that paved the way for me to fall apart.

I'm Francesca Barker, but before that, I was Francesca Hall. Daughter of a prostitute, daughter of an alcoholic with a drug problem. Daughter of a violent bloodline. Horrible ghosts filled the court room when I heard my barrister play out my sad story like it was a pantomime. The thought of going to prison was even more abhorrent as I would have to take all these demons with me, to sit and fester leading me to a darker place than I was already in.
On Christmas Eve 2012, I picked up a file from my GP to pass onto my solicitor. Inside that file was a child court case records, pages and pages about a mother and father who beat each other and their children. A poignant paragraph read "Mrs Hall became pregnant with Francesca, she was drinking heavily and was asking for an abortion" Merry Christmas Fran, the answer to your adoption lies here.
I read these horror stories and all I could think to myself was, oh dear, the apple doesn't fall that far from the tree. My Mum wasn't kidding when she said I was "damaged goods" (another story for another day perhaps!)
This is the first time I have been so vocal about what I read in those documents, this is why blogging seemed the appropriate outlet, if it's just words on a page, then it's a little less admission than saying it aloud. Although, I do believe that in order to vent your demons, you have to face them and exorcise them in order to be free.

It's safe to say that my early childhood can be summarized in a paragraph taken directly from the child court case records "Having been told of the decision to make the children Wards of Court, Mr Hall telephoned threatening to kill himself and was later found holding a knife with Francesca in his care.....there is a history of very poor parenting and domestic violence which has given rise to grave concern for the safety of the children"
This is a man who allowed his daughter to be "passed around" like a Christmas toy if you know what I mean!!!
Pretty harrowing stuff to be reading the night before Christmas, but I was very much of the attitude, of 'I deserve this' - that was 9 months ago, and I am aware that wasn't the right mind set, but amidst a pending sentencing in the crown court, the non-existence of a support network, not a family member in sight, it was pretty hard not to grab it with both hands and think THIS IS ME. It wasn't nurture, and to be honest, thats a debatable concept within my family anyway, it was most certainly nature.

I'm still left with the begging question, is this me? Was I destined to end up here? With more in common with my birth mother than my adoptive mother, because really, when playing visa verca, it's concerning. It's awful and ironic that I've spent my life in awe of my adoptive mother, a great woman if somewhat concrete, she is amazing, and I secretly harbor a gratitude for what she gave me. Perhaps I am actually the daughter of Bridie Kehoe (stick that in google for a laugh) a druggie, with a list of convictions as long as your arm, diagnosed with the same mental health disorder as me. It's hard not to feel terrified of who you really are.

Bridie Kehoe. Mother. Drug addict. Murderer - told you to google her. I think she can be summarized in one word - monster.
I found myself standing in the dock in the court room drawing comparisons from her life and mine, her court file reads like fiction, excuses after excuses for her bad behaviour, her mistakes, immense mitigating circumstances to ensure she got a softer sentence. I'm standing there thinking, f*** me, its a mirror image.
There is one difference between me and her. I accept that I did wrong. I accept it was my bad choices. Whilst I know 101 things lead me down the road to self destruction, I make no excuses for it. But that biggest difference between my murderer mother and me? I am sorry for what I did and for those I hurt. Shes rotting in a prison somewhere with blood on her hands and no children in sight, and you can't help but think... good.

Perhaps your reading this thinking I'm being too harsh, it's easy for me to type with anger seeping into the page because I am angry. I am angry she didn't change. Didn't want to. Didn't seize the help she was offered with both hands. Everyone has the chance to make life better. To be the person you want to be. For yourself, for your children, for your wife.
I stood in court room with one thought firmly in my mind, if I am lucky enough to get a second chance, I will never make the same mistake again. I will change. I will take every inch of help that is offered and I will figure out who the hell I am so there is no need to live this life of fake anymore.

Second chances are few and fare between, but life begins again when you make it so.


If you are struggling with anytime similar, talk to someone! Talk to me, just talk