My hero draped in fur..

She saved my life. I’d spent 2 months in bed crying. I’ll give you some content. In July 2009 I’d lost a baby to miscarriage. My baby was loved and wanted so badly. I couldn’t comprehend my life without the piece that had been taken away from me. So I cried, I didn’t talk to anyone both in person or on the phone. I barely ate and when I did, the tears and strain on my heart would force it back up again. I didn’t want to live and nothing would pull me back into reality. Until, September 2009. I woke up to my then partner placing this tiny ball of fur onto my bed. She was so small, barely big enough to fill my palm. She was under weight and had been rescued from a unfathomable scum who didn’t deserve to have a animal. She’d spent her entire 4 weeks of her life living in an outhouse toilet with her 4 sisters and her mother. Starving and covered in each others faeces. I picked her up and held her to my chest. I could feel her ribs poking my hands and the smell was horrendous. She needed saving. Now. I quickly threw on some clothes and wrapped her in a fluffy sock to keep her warm while we raced her to the vets. The vet had told me she was 4 weeks old and was taken from her mother too soon. At this point we’d discovered that she was the only survivor apart from her sister who was perfectly fine and now living with my brother and his wife. The vet had told me that this tiny little bundle wouldn’t make it another 3 weeks and it was best to put her to sleep now. Hearing those words hurt me deeply. I couldn’t let this happen. “What will it take for me to try?” I said. Despite the vet telling me to let go they finally told me what I had to do, gave her injections and passed me formula to last her a month. I had 4 weeks to prove them wrong.

I named her Belle after my favourite Disney Princess and bathed her in warm water. It took 6 baths to removed the matted faeces and clumps on mystery from her fur but we did it. The next 4 weeks I hand reared Belle with her formula from the vets. Waking up every hour of the night to feed her and keep her warm.

The rest is history. 

Belle is now climbing up to her 8th birthday and apart from a mild allergy to her best friend, Yuna the cat. She’s perfectly healthy. She’s been through everything with me. By my side through everything and it’s only now that I write this, that I realise that she saved me. She gave me a reason to try and she showed me it was worth it. 

Animals choose you. She brings us so much joy everyday and I cannot thank her enough. My hero draped in fur.

Dear 16 year old me..

Stop. Whatever it is you’re doing. Just stop. He’s not worth it and believe me, he isn’t the one. I know he has a face of the angels and hair like velvet but he has a temper like a bull and fists like fury. I know your friends mean the world to you but if you go down the path of being with this guy, he’ll force them all away from you. Stop drinking. It puts you on hold from the ambitions I know you have inside if you. Stay in college, resit your GCSE’s and go to university like you wanted to. I know you don’t feel like this right now but your life is worth living. Please stop cutting and trying to throw your life away. You’re needed and loved. You’ve got such an amazing adventure ahead and you’ll miss seeing your little brothers and sister growing up. You’ll be amazed by what kind of mini adults they are now. Love yourself. You’ll accept your flaws and imperfections one day and they’ll become a huge part of your self love. You do love yourself. You will.. 

Shine like the fire from the phoenix that’s inside of you.

Do you attract selfish sponges? Or do you love too much?

This has been my entire life. I judge people on my actions and I know that sounds egotistical – like I am the all holy ninja hear my call, but no. I attract people who take everything. I offer too much. I pour my everything into relationships and friendships, then I’m lucky if I receive 30% back. I’ve done this to myself. I allow people to walk all over me like I’m the soggy bathroom mat that no one pays any attention to. I’m sick of being a mat. I want to be a glamorous lamp or a vintage statue that everyone admires. 

People piss me off. 

Am I the shadow of my former bird?

I’ve never had an outer body experience as such, but every single day I wake up and feel like my soul leaves my body to watch the shell of me walk around and do my daily routine. I see this person pretending to be me, let my dog outside and walk back through to my kitchen to set the coffee machine running – I can’t help but get angry at fake me. Why did you not stand outside with her and breathe in the morning? Why did you not allow the taste of the fresh coffee waken up your senses like it used to? Are you dead? Why aren’t you allowing yourself to enjoy the little things life offers you? I feel like a shadow, watching this thing take over my life and ruin everything I’d ever wanted – everything I fought for! I need to take my needle and Peter Pan stitch my shadow back to me feet so I can fly again.. as soon as I can convince fake me to stop binge watching shitty youtube videos that it. 

The story of ninjapants.

I figured i owed you guys my story.

I’m promoting being real here and I’m hiding still.

Ninjapants aka Claire. I’m 27.Engaged. Mother of two fur babies, Belle the dog and Yuna the cat – you’ll hear more about their impact on my life in future blobs blogs.

I was born in 1990. I shared my life with my Dad, Mum and older brother. We were a typical family. The perfect picture from the outside but poisonous on the inside. My anxiety started from the age of 4. I’m still not sure why, the irrational fear of being left alone with my father ruined my mental state. I’d cry and scream until i knew my Mum was with me. I must of looked like a fucking idiot. Snot balls rolling down my chin for no reason.. Mental health is easy to judge if you don’t know the reasons.

At 7, my parents divorced. I was happy. As much as i love my parents, they did not belong together. My anxiety heightened though – what would i do if my Mum left too? I’d be alone with my brother and we wouldn’t survived. I worried about this for a long time.

At 11. Mum, my brother and I, moved back to the North East of England where i was originally born, from Wales, where we’d moved to in 1995. I was excited to be near my family again. Life didn’t prepare me for the cruelness in the children that “welcomed” me in my new school. I was severely bullied for being new, “Welsh” and quiet. I’d spend many hours, alone at school. Eating alone or trying to fit in with people i didn’t even like. 2006 couldn’t come fast enough because I’d leave this hell pit and be able to be free.

2006 came and i left school with great results, despite that being a problem at the time. Freedom came at a price – what do i do now? I had no idea what path to take. While the little friends i had were going off to do health and beauty or engineering at college – i sat at home alone drinking my life away. I was lost. Alone and scared of the future i naively thought i knew.

In March 2007 – just days before my 17th birthday. I tried, several times to take my own life. My heart breaks for my past self.. I hadn’t even started my life but i was already certain i didn’t want to be a part of it. I wrote a note telling my mum and brother that i loved them and this wasn’t their fault. I swallowed tablets. It was over. The morning before i died, I’d had a huge argument with my brother and i told him i hated him. I’d ignored my Mum all morning because i simply couldn’t be bothered. The morning before i died, the two most important people in my life then would have found me. They’d of thought i hated them and that it was their fault. I’m so glad the morning before i died was in fact the morning i survived. I’d failed. I picked up the bottle of vodka and left my home to find friends. I came home several hours later to find both my Mum and my Brother sitting around the table, crying. They’d found my note. I could see the pain in their faces. They’re eyes were red and streaming with tears. They loved me and they needed me to fight.

Shortly after, i met a guy. I was 17. Head of heels obsessed in love with this man. He was all I’d ever known about love and i wanted this forever. No matter what. However, a year later, at just 18. I was living alone with a man i was convinced loved me. I was beaten daily. Had my face smashed into food if i wasn’t hungry. He kicked, punched and held my dog’s tiny body up against the walls when i wasn’t around. He tried to rape me countless times, i was scared but I’ve always been physically strong. I may not of been able to stop him from attacking me but i would never allow him to do that to me. He’d put cigarettes out on my nipples when i was asleep. He’d make me as disgusting as possible, so just in case any man wanted to save me – I’d be too disgusting. At 19, i fell pregnant with my first baby. I was over the moon but instantly scared because i didn’t know if he’d still beat me while i was pregnant. He didn’t – but due to stress and a fall i had – i lost our baby. My life was out of control once again and i questioned everything. I let him beat me again, so i could feel something. I hated this man and i hated what he’d turned me into. In October 2010, i’d returned from visiting my Mum, 4 hours earlier than expected – i saw my dog’s lifeless body hanging from his grip. He had her pushed up against the door and he was choking her. I’d never seen him hurt her before.. I had to save her life. This wasn’t about me anymore. I ran at him like a 5ft 1 ninja and kicked him in the dick. I grabbed my dog and ran. I took her to a vet without even thinking about the monster still in my home. Thankfully i got to her in time and she was okay – my baby was okay. I promised her that I’d never let anyone hurt her again. I never saw my ex boyfriend again.

In 2011 i met a guy, i was skeptical. I had a severe lack of trust towards men, not just for myself but for Belle too. He was different. I felt that from the start. I was right. Just 6 months later, we were living together – me, him and Belle. We shortly added Yuna to the family. I was happy but there was something missing. My dreams had been pushed to one side.. Now was the time to grow them again. I plowed every bit of my time into studying to be a counselor, specialising in teenage mental health – i never wanted anyone to feel like i did ever. I qualified and started counseling full time. Life was perfect..or so it seemed. There was something huge missing. As great as my partner was, there was no spark. We were two people who lived together, sat on different sofas, lived separate lives and occasionally had sex. It was clear that we’d both fallen out of love.

My Aunt passed away. It was unexpected and a shock to my entire family – i miss her so much. I told her everything and i always wanted to be like her. Her funeral was huge, people were collapsing due to the lack of air in the church because of all the people there. I was in awe. The impact one person can have on someones life blew my mind. I made changes that day to live a better life. I came home and broke up with my partner, cut ties with “friends” and moved to a new home. Happiness was mine. LOL! I was diagnosed with bipolar in November 2014. Nothing changed.

I was an alcoholic. I was happy but i drank – a lot. Even though i was alone, i drank and i didn’t even see it as a problem.. In November 2015, a guy reached out to me online. He someone. He was in a dark place and needed a stranger. He needed someone to convince him that the world was worth living for. We spoke every.single.day for months, hours at a time and i developed feelings for him fast. We both agreed to meet. 300 miles between us was something we both weren’t signing up for but we’d try. I met Nick on the 16th of January 2015, we’ve been inseparable ever since. He taught me to love again. He taught Belle to trust again and he took Yuna in like she was his own crazy cat. I’d found my purpose and reason. With happiness, comes a price. My mental illness started being a huge problem in my life and i strongly believe it was because I’d finally found someone who would look after me. I was forced to leave work. Nick and i spent the first 3 months of our relationship living on nothing but the kindness of our friends and family. It was hard. We almost lost out home and each other. Finally in May 2015 it was over, we’d survived poverty. Nick asked me to marry him shortly after, and within a heartbeat I’d said yes. He didn’t plan it as such, so he’d created an engagement ring by origami folding a £10 note into a ring..How could i say no to the sweetest man I’d ever met?

We were happy and in September 2015, i fell pregnant again with Nick’s baby. We couldn’t of been any happier and as the weeks went on, we’d spend our talking to my bump and telling our baby how loved she was. This was different to last time. She had a Daddy who would love her unconditionally. We had our first scan booked in for the 8th of December 2015, we couldn’t wait to see her! I was 13 weeks pregnant, i lay on the bed and had the ultrasound jelly rubbed on me.. my world came crashing down “we’re sorry Claire but there’s nothing but a shadow on the top of your cervix, we think you’ve had a failed pregnancy” I hadn’t had signs of bleeding or miscarriage like i did before, a huge part of me was hoping this was a cruel joke. We left the hospital feeling confused and lost, sure enough, 30 minutes after I’d left the hospital – i started miscarrying. 2 hours later, i was alone in our bathroom and gave birth to our beautiful baby girl. She was perfect. Nick and I named her Rosie. She’ll always be our little girl.

So here we are, April 2016 – I’ve developed agoraphobia and PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder). I haven’t left my home alone since May last year – i guess I’m scared of the unknown..

I still fight because i know one day I’ll wake up and be who i really am again.

I never thought any of this would happen to me. I was “normal”.

I’m a typical twenty something year old woman who’s obsessed with zombies (the walking dead FTW!) classic horror movies and 80’s glam metal. I love to sing and art is a passion of mine. I tell far too many jokes and puns are life. I fart more than the average person and i laugh more than i cry. Mental health doesn’t define me and neither does my story. This is just a part of me. A part of ninjapants.