Pure Elite Margate 2017 

I did It, I fucking did it!!! 

All those years of wanting to compete all those doubts all those obstacles and I did it. Wow the feeling was unreal, I can honestly put my hand on my heart and say apart from giving birth to my children and watching my son pass out in the Army that was on par with those feelings. 

After just over 12 weeks of preparation blood, sweat and many tears. I stood on a stage and competed in a fitness modelling competition. Going from an overweight, depressed stuck in a rut mum. To a divorced twice sad woman, to a widow of my ill fiancé to then an abused GF/fiancé of by far the most disgusting bastard and abusive man I have ever met! 

I now can say I am NOT a fat ugly bastard. I  am 5th place in a transformation catergory with a trophy and some great opportunities ahead. I can’t believe I even won a trophy 🏆 never mind actually did it. The feeling was euphoric, every single doubt in my head has gone. Every body image worry and my shitty self confidence has gone!!!! 

I’m not fat! I’m not ugly and I’m no dog. I’m an athlete who went through one of the most gruelling training regime to atain a figure that most nearly 40 year olds would be proud of!!! 

I stood waiting to go on and three things went through my head. 

Richie said I could do this and I did it for him. 

My friends and family plus my amazing coach have supported me and have had faith in me from he start. 

To prove to that bastard that he has no control over me in my head I will no longer hear those words again, I will no longer look in the mirror looking for his opinions. So fuvk you ya Narc bastard, you need to look in the mirror before you ever ruin a woman’s self confidence again, coz ya ain’t shit!!!! 

And that my beautiful people is what we call closure. 

Onwards and finally upwards. 💪🏻💪🏻💪🏻💪🏻

2 weeks out. 

So Saturday I was 2 weeks out! From all the advice and coaching I’ve had, this appears to be the harder part! Strength wise I’m lacking severely, due to low carbs I’m literally training first thing in a morning, then going to work once I finish my day I’m going to bed as soon as I’ve finished prepping my kit for the next day. 

The admin side is more or less done. Hair, nails, teeth and the rest of the stage prep is booked. I meet with my coach on Saturday to go through the last check in then it’s peak week. I’m not so sure what that exactly means but I know it’s low carbs, water depleation and lots of rest. This may prove difficult as I still need to function correctly for work. Luckily my boss is backing me so he understands I may be a little disoriented. 

I’d say the most difficult part is posing practice for me, I’ve watched so many videos on you tube and other tutorials and they all look so fluid and natural. Whereas with me I’m too fast, not smiling or look like I’m about to start a fight! Well I’ve got 2 weeks to practise and try to perfect it, I really must sort it this part out. 

My bikini arrived Monday and its bloody perfect. I wanted it to match my tattoo on my arm and the lady who designed it couldn’t of done a better job. It’s so beautiful, I tried it on and was surprised how heavy it is! the detail is spot on and fits great. I’m no so sure about how low the bottoms go but that’s how they are supposed to be. Hmmmm a little too revealing of this stretch mark stomach of mine but hey those are my reminders of the 3 beautiful children I made. We can’t have everything in life so I need to be greatfull of what I do have. There are many women out there who can’t have kids and I bet if I asked them all they would do anything to have a baby, stretch marks and all. 

The confidence to stand on the stage comes in dribs and drabs sometimes I think yeah I can do this and other I get this sick feeling in my chest and start to panic. I could fall over, look like shit, do something wrong, look out of place anything but I need to suck it up as every guy and girl on that stage will be doing exactly the same as me. All the girls I have met upto now have been really supportive of each other which is so nice to see. I guess the gloves are off once we step out! 

I had a little think of what the hell im going to do after all this and the first is to eat a meal I want to eat! But I had a cheat meal recently and afterwards spent the rest of the night with my head down the toilet. It will have to be slowly getting used to bad foods again but not for long as there is another comp in May that I might enter, If all goes well with this one. It’s so surreal to think the amount of time and effort people go through just to stand on a stage for only a few minutes. All that hard work and they’re guys and girls doing it constantly. They must love the adrenaline rush and I’m guessing have over comes the nerves. Everyone is saying your first show will predict wether you will want to continue competing. I’m going to be brutally honest, I’m dying to play a game of rugby and get a lie in from all this fasted cardio. Even Sundays I’m up at sparrows fart just because I can’t bloody sit still! Maybe the anti climax and my body will shut down once i know it’s all over. I’m heading to Manchester the weekend after for a seminar and to look at renting a place if my uni place goes ahead. More flipping worry, less money but much better prospects if I get accepted on the course. Manchester though! I’ve never lived there before it’s the wrong side of the pennies for me, maybe I might get closer to Yorkshire one day lol 

All in all I’m pretty positive, slowly the confidence is growing the anxiety is surreal but that’s hightened anyways by my illness. Which after last week hasn’t been so bad. I still can’t work it out though. Frustrating but I let it go….. 

I also was given an amazing analogy on Saturday and it’s been buzzing around my head for days. 

If you’re driving a car and you keep looking in the rear view mirror eventually you will crash. Look forward only glance every now and again at your past, you’re not going that way! 

I loved it, it made me smile, I guess strangers can make more of an impact on you more than the people you have known for years. 

Thank you xxx

Sleep paralysis

For the first time in many months I woke up in the middle of night pouring with sweat after a night terror and sleep paralysis, I don’t understand it? I’ve had no good or bad news nothing that could constitute a bad night terror. The only situation I can think of was over a week ago and that was closure so why now?
My training is going well, my kids are fit and healthy I’m feeling more and more positive each day. Work is the same there isn’t anything on my mind to be completely honest I’m actually on a great road to full recovery. Yes I still think about bad times but I use my experiences to weigh out all the positives from the negatives and use those negatives as learning tools for future reference. I’m not dating anyone and don’t intend to I don’t have a crush or feel the need to even engage with a man in my life and as for family. As far as I’m aware nothing has changed so why?
I know with my illness night terrors will never go away completely and I know no matter what those bad experiences can’t be blocked out permanently but I truly thought if I concentrated on the future and not the past they would disappear and only raise there ugly heads whilst I was under stress or anniversaries nothing is due to come up. Apart from my fathers death which happened in June. So I’m stuck wondering is there something else I haven’t addressed.
Childhood
Richie

Bad relationships

Work

Lifestyle balance

All these I have talked about extensively with professionals and the people I hold close to me. The problem with this shitty disorder is you just can’t see it! There are triggers and those triggers for me are normally an anniversary or a song. To this day chasing cars, any thing from Sam smith, Ella Henderson’s “Ghost” Bruno Mars “think I’m gonna marry you” or Animal. These songs switch something in my brain and cause me to either a, get angry or b, sob uncontrollably!
I’m slightly upset as I thought I was controlling this, but sub consciously I can’t. So how do you get away from your nightmares and dreams?
I watched a clip recently of a lad who served in Iraq, his PTSD was off the scale he was hallucinating he was back there and he was seeing all the atrocities and re living it over and over again. Can you imagine that? I can’t, I can’t imagine being that scared. I see things in my dreams it feels like I’m there again looking into Richie’s coffin and scanning his head for his exit and entry wound. His face distorted his life gone his once strong hands blackened and weak and yes I feel sick and betrayed. But I also remember walking the streets looking for a man, the heels of my feet bleeding from the shoes I was wearing and when I finally reached where he was I could hear him and another woman having sex. The man who just a few days earlier had proposed to me. But that is nothing to the feeling of being attacked whilst trying to protect my children, so many instances to try to work out the reasoning so many times I have sat and wondered why people are so cruel. And then I sit and think, what was going through my fathers mind each time he struck a small skinny girl. Why would that ever feel good? All these abusers seem to get a kick from hurting people my worries are do I do that?

The answer is yes, but not on instigation. I get a kick from revenge getting back at the people who have hurt me.
But why? Why do I do that? It’s wrong to want to hurt someone back. It’s wrong for them to do that in the first place but by me retaliating I’m just as bad as those surely?

No I’m not as mature as them, learning to walk away and trying not too understand people’s actions is the adult thing to do. You cant control how people react but you can control how you do.

Using my new tools of just walking away is becoming rather useful but it’s also extremely lonely. For example
A guy asked me out I do a bit of research I find out he’s recently split with his partner. He’s a no go straight away. A lesson I learnt from a previous. A guy asks me out again, his life isn’t together still lives at home and isn’t set on his feet. That’s a no again! I’m not prepared to Mother another man. He has kids from a previous relationship but does not see them. My experiences with that is if he can treat his child like that he can treat me like that! No again.

But there isn’t a perfect man and I’m certainly not perfect. But I know my worth so whilst still dealing with this disorder and continuing with night terrors and the odd flash back, will I ever meet a man. Man enough to deal with these bad traits that I have. Other than being a clean freak, having OCD and not wanting to share my home with anyone I suppose I’m not the pick of the bunch either. But I’m standing by my right to have a choice and my choice is to concentrate on the people I love, my children my family and friends, my training and competitions, my work life and finally my personal life will fall into place when I’m ready and it’s not been forced. 2 years of NC and I still don’t feel ready, am I permanently damaged proberly not! No one gets to keep control over someone for so long. I’d say I’m more tuned into the red flags and my type/kind/choice of men, many hold the same attributes. But I am not looking when the time is right he will come. And he will be without a shadow of doubt my last if it all goes wrong again.
What makes me laugh is when women say all men are bad. What about women? They are just as bad cheating and gold digging it’s a simple fact of who is right for who. And they only way you find that out is by getting to know a person first and not jumping into something too flipping quick. Something that I hold my hands up too!
Well all make mistakes and by Christ have I made a fair few! But I’ve learnt from every single one of them and I’m still learning. I wish that people could take responsibility for their actions and understand how they effect others lives. I also wish that others would concentrate on their own lives as everyone else has a story and it’s not one sided. I have been accused of somethings and some I have held my hands up too as I have done them. But for the ones I haven’t. You have more chance of plaiting snot me owning up to something I didn’t do!
I suppose my rant today is fuelled by thoughts and feelings that are in the back of my mind and my only way to release them is to write them down. Lack of sleep and the terror of sleep paralysis will always make me sit and think if this helps, so be it.

“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me”

As of Saturday I am 4 weeks out for competition, not only am I physically drained emotionally I’m done. 
I was told, warned, informed by many of my fellow fitness friends that comp prep is emotional. I knew it would be difficult but I also know me and how stubborn I can be. The physical side isn’t to bad to be honest, I’m loving training I literally jump out of bed at 05:30 to go and start my gruelling 2 hour cardio then straight onto weights. It’s like I can’t function if I haven’t trained first thing. My brain doesn’t seem to work until I’ve realeased enough endorphins. As for the diet I found it annoying at first same foods same times but now I’m literally struggling to eat, not that I don’t want to, more I’m sick of the food. I craved sweet things for a week whilst my children where on half term. But that soon faded once Mother Nature reminded me that I haven’t had a period for 5 months. I text my good friend “guess what” “I got my period”he’s an ex royal marine and his reaction was brilliant. And I quote, “this is by far the best text I’ve ever had” he face timed me laughing his head off!!! Well I had to tell someone and he’s my bezzie lol 

Now I’m going to try and explain my emotions. Wow they are a right mess. I have other personal things going on in the background. They aren’t overwhelming more of a release for me but still I am updated often and they make me sad and depressed. I wait for the day I can finally have closure. I don’t care of the result, just the closure. Terrible memories often visit my mind and I close my eyes tight to try and block them out. Sometimes my freinds forget I don’t want them to tell me anything and I have to tell them not to remind me. They mean well but I really don’t care! My counsellor seems to push it all at first, but when I broke down I think he understood that I was holding back things I should of released sooner. The problem is I don’t want to remember! I want to forget it all, If I could go back in time I would of done so many things differently but I was stubborn and cocky. I think I was trying to be a person for another person and suppressing your character only ends badly. So those emotions have been released, those memories have been filtered into realistic terms and each one had been dealt with, with a system i use daily. 

In the army we used a system called the 7 questions ( combat estimate ) I also use mission analysis as it seems to work with everything. 

Each question (I won’t go into the military ones ) seem to guide with every aspect of life and help me achieve a goal or an objective. For an example if I had 4 children and 2 adults and I needed to buy a car I would ask myself a set of questions to decide which car I needed to buy the same as going to the shop or planning a trip. We use mission analysis everyday without even thinking about it. So I thought maybe I should use some old skills to work out my emotions. Here goes :- 

1, Will it have a emotional effect on me or anyone I care for?

2, Will I be able to change the situation or how people think of me? 

3, Do these things or persons have any say in my life? 

4, Is anyone hurt? 

5, Will it be important in 30 days, a year, 5 years? 

6, Can those who hurt me be forgiven? 

7, Do I take action? 

After the fallout of any anxiety, I try to work through these questions. Mostly I’m high on initial adrenaline or anger, but slowly my smile creeps back onto my face and I usually end up saying to myself 

“Ah fuck em” 

Do you know how liberating that is? To actually sit there and laugh instead of worry. There’s no feeling in the pit of my stomach anymore, no tension, no sick feeling. I just literally laugh to myself. This is how I know I’m getting better daily. Now the serious part of it is, that some persons are that wrapped up in their own emotions they use others to vent anger. If only they tried the concentrate on their own well being and anger issues they too could start to see sunshine instead of dark clouds.  

Other peoples opinions of me is literally none of my buisness. I’m too busy watering my own grass to look how theirs is doing. Some may say selfish I just say it’s my preservation tactic and it’s bloody working. 

Self body shaming is happening a little too often. But I know this is a normal process so I’m kinda over that part. In the last week I’ve started to see changes and they are making me happy. 

Not forgetting the people around me as they are the people I lean on for support. I’m a very lucky person to have these people in my life. Good freinds and some of my family. Just a simple text every now and again just to see how I am lifts me. I live alone and are no where near my close friends but I like the isolation now. I can get on with no distractions. But if my friends need me I am there always. It just takes a phone call! 

This whole process has been such a great tool to combat my anxiety, depression and poor sleeping. I go to bed and I fall asleep admittedly I only sleep for 6 hours but it’s not broken anymore. I feel safe in my own home now, I don’t feel like I may be attacked physically ,the acid in my face jibe has haunted me for a while but I know now. He can’t do it and if it did happen all would know who it was. I could be physically scared or even killed! But I know deep down they were words to hurt me and frighten me. As the old saying says “sticks and stones may break my bones but words will neve hurt me” 

This whole process is changning my life and I’m truly in love with it. 

Trolls 

Trolls 
Now I’m not talking about the little toys with green hair here. Im talking about the ones ironically lacking moral fibre to reveal oneself. They are happy to sit behind a computer screen tapping away making comments to annoy or upset persons without revealing themselves due to embarrassment or being ill informed. I have imagined what my trolls may look like, for some reason I have the image of an overweight man wearing an old football top sat on his worn out sofa tapping away on a lap top and smirking whilst sending out these comical ( to him ) comments. I imagine he has a wife in the kitchen right now frying him chips eggs and beans his favourite yum yum. Waiting on his rather large hands and feet as that’s what women should do, stay in the kitchen!!! he more than likely has pictures of the good old days on his walls of a time when he felt proud of himself, when he had a purpose in life. Now he is just sits on his arse typing away and acting like he’s part of a farting sofa. This image is completely made up in my head but I often visit it and think oh my…. what am I up against. ( please see the sarcasm in my words ) 
My sister and I had a detailed chat about this blog, as she told me she remembers things differently. We talked about perspective and how no story is exactly the same. She told me things I never knew and others have too. Some off it is upsetting some just minor details like I couldn’t remember that she was there the day my father beat me I just could not remember her being there. A police officer recently told me that she is suspicious of any statement given that is exactly the same and or verbatim. I explained this to my sister and we agreed. We also agreed to not publish anything that was not directly done to me as it wouldn’t be unfair on the individual. I mean that in a sense of someone who had not done me any harm. 
So today I had another one of these trolls, initially the statement that was wrote made me laugh as it was so far from the truth a child couldn’t of even come up with such a pathetic comment. See below. 


Now I thought about it and it gave me something to do all afternoon so out of a negative it gave me a positive. Oooooo I love a good mystery. As I’m at work and it’s quiet or am I????? See above for reference to my little laugh. I thought I would break this little statement down so here goes. 
Firstly the person says they knew Richie well. Ok right process of elimination 

His family called him Richard. 

His military friends and colleagues called him Zero 

His wife had a nick name tigger ( yeah I bet you didn’t know I knew that ) 

His children obviously called him Dad 

And the security guys and I called him Richie

First clue 

However the Narc knew him as Richie too. 
Secondly 

I was something to ease the boredom of Kabul 

Ok well let’s have a look at this 

We had a house ( not in Kabul ) 

We were engaged ( in Dubai ) 

He spent more time in the gym and in the bar than seeing me in Kabul. So if he was a friend of his in Kabul then it’s you he saw more than me. Oooo maybe you were the one he used for boredom.

We went on one holiday and a short break whilst together. He paid ( expensive boredom ) 

My engagement ring was a substantial amount of money, again expensive boredom! (The price meant nothing the ring was perfect) 
Thirdly

 

“I have done nothing to have PTSD”

 

So this one proves the lack of intelligence of the person who wrote this. 

PTSD is a disorder that is obtained via trauma wether is could be via one event or various. Now my PTSD is complex that means over a period of time the difficult times of my life just got on top of me. Now some people believe it is only soldiers that experience PTSD. 

Wrong, any person could experience PTSD and it is more common in the civilian and emergency services than it is in the whole of our armed services and veterans. 

Lack of information and intelligence of this person is clearly shinning through. 

Now if this person is a qualified professional now I am more than willing to be assessed by them. However owing to the fact that they don’t know anything about PTSD my spidy senses are telling me they could do more harm than good. 
Fourthly 
The choice of user name Page group are a highly regarded security company working in many hostile environments, they have a contracts everywhere and are an extremely good company to work for. The average joe wouldn’t necessarily know of this company unless they have worked for them or worked in Kabul as security themselves. Or they know that I used to work for them. The Narc hated the company due to his indiscretions so there is a possibility right there. 
Lastly. 
“I can’t work in the security industry” 
Well unless I Imagine my wage every month I’m guessing this person is going on second person info. Only a select few know where I work only a select few know what I do. What I write on social media and what I’m actually doing could be a diversion. After all we are in security! I’m actually sat at work right now with a smirk on my face to think this idiot knows what I’m up too. 
So my conclusion to little Johnny big balls the keyboard warrior who leaves a embarrassing to him and rather comical and well timed comment for me. That will be explained once my year of submission is finalised in a few days. Don’t worry it will become more apparent soon enough. 
That the comment was somewhat personal intended to hurt me both with regards to my relationship with Richie and my career. Now those who know me know that I do not care for my career and are currently studying to leave it for good, so that wouldn’t even scratch the surface. Richie comment could hurt me but I know what happened between him and I, I know what I felt for him and still do. I know that I drive to his grave and secretly visit him when I pass by the area making sure I don’t leave anything there I just go and have a chat or I chat them him in my head or in the car whilst on long drives. This person does not know of him and I. The comment is factually incorrect ( old news ) nothing substantial and bordering on a childish approach with the blocking straight after. This person could be one of many I seem to rub up the wrong way. The fact that I still seem to mark their diaries to get on their tits gives me a sense of achievement. Here I sit enjoying life, with a full time job, beautiful children, goals, aspirations, a competition to do. And I wonder what is lacking in the football top mans life that he feels the need to bother little old me? Either he has read something he does not like or as I suspect he probably can’t comment on something due to legal reasons so he has deployed his flying monkeys to do his dirty work. Pathetic! 
My name is 

CJ Adams. 

Age 38 

SE London 
Message me for email or phone number. I’m not scared to put myself out there. 

It appears my top bollocks are bigger than your balls. 
Let’s have a chat man to man or are your bollocks only big enough for social media? 

I will not allow any of you to scare me any more. Good day and thanks for the idea of a new blog I’ve been so busy I forgot about this. 

Body shaming 

Body shaming 
We see this term used often now on social media or in the news. Mainly aimed at celebrities or wannabe famous on Instagram. Now I too am a bit of a social media addict is there shame in that? Not really some may say so but I stopped paying attention to other peoples opinions when I realised I can’t pay my bills with them. I believe body shaming it is all due to personal perception. Now here’s my theory! 
When I was fat I was the token fat girl. The one who made other girls look good. Did I know this? Of course I fuvking did. One girl I used to know would dig at my weight constantly she ( then ) had a beautiful figure tanned, toned and not a stretch mark insight her boobs were perked and she knew she had a great body, she told me enough! What she didn’t know is she had a face like a bag of smashed crabs, she may have had a body like baywatch but the face was for crimewatch!!! She would often mention my weight and it was always in a cruel manner those were the days were I would put myself down before someone else did. 
So image her horror when I lost the weight and as if by magic she becomes pregnant, has the baby and isn’t so perfect anymore. 

Did I make a cruel dig at her? Yeah I fuvking did, not out of malice or spite I just simply rolled of the tongue. I watched her face instantly fall she didn’t even have a comeback, she just took it. Why? Because she knew, she knew that I had rights to that one dig! 
I don’t like mean girls in fact it’s safe to say if I pick my friends I make sure they’re not these fucking plastic looking wannabe Kim kardasians!!! Half the girls nowadays seem to want to look like a transgender drag artist with there contoured faces and lies. I have fake boobs because I didn’t have any not because Chardonnay two doors down got hers done, so now I want them and I’ve got them on tick and my mums paying them off with milk tokens. 
So it’s everyday I see body shaming, especially on the internet. Fat girls telling people to love your curves, fit girls shaming fat girls. Plain girls shaming make up girls. Religious shaming women who don’t cover up. Non religious telling women to uncover
Women, women, women constantly slagging each other off. Yet as soon as a man makes a quote or insists on a sandwich being made we all group together and shame him. Why can’t we just all mind our own fuvking business? 
Now if you look at men it’s exactly the same. Men who spend time and effort in the gym busy sculpting their bodies are slagged off by Keith in IT, yet Keith from IT will be classed as less manly because of his spaghetti arms and lack of testosterone. Now as a gymrat myself I hear the phrase “roid head” a lot. Just because a guy goes to the gym to lift heavy weights does not mean he takes steroids. Those who take steroids are easily spotted there is a massive difference and yes I guess to the untrained eye or average Joe you proberly wouldn’t be able to tell. But to us gym goers it stands out like a sore thumb. I don’t agree or disagree with PED’s performance enhancing drugs. The only time I’ve ever really had experiences with them is from the men I have dated and yes all but my husband have been on them, evidently I’m attracted to that type of man it’s not a crime! Men are just as paranoid as women are when it comes to their bodies as of late. However the biggest difference is they are more willing to congralute each other on gains. We should take a leaf out of theirs books. 

I love the gym I spend most of my free time either training or practicing or food prepping. I don’t however look at a girl who is eating fast food and slag her off, I think ( lucky bitch ) I don’t look at skinny girls any different to larger girls. I don’t like the plastics because it was those who picked on me the most when I was fat. That doesn’t mean I hate them it means they’re not my cup of tea. But I wouldn’t dismiss them as human beings! Just slightly stupid ones. 

From fat girl to thin my personality did not alter, the only thing that changed was my confidence. It wasn’t for long but it’s slowly growing back now, I don’t think myself any worse or any better than any other woman on this planet. I’m not competing against any other women either. The only person I compete against is looking at me in the mirror everyday and that bitch is my worst critic!  

Go easy on yourselves girls. There’s no need for it. No matter what you look like or what shape you are we are all going in a box one day. Admittedly some will be bigger than others… 
My coffin will be huge, I’m going to put every fucking lb back on before I cark it. 

“I’m not the one carrying the box” 

Low self esteem 

Here’s a story for ya and please tell me how you would react to this.

Years ago my ex husband said something that really hurt me and when I asked him if it was true he denied it for years until after a long time of my pestering him he finally admitted it. He told his brother that I’m not that braw ( meaning pretty in Scotland ) but I will do. I was devastated but I knew he he said it. My grandfather had said something similar to me when I visted him he was old and ill. He saw my sister then looked at me he then patted my face be said “looks aren’t everything kid” I was around 12 or 13. Most of my life I have been compared to beautiful women. And I knew and know to this day that I can’t compete with them, so as a child I concentrated on my abilities not looks. Yes I’m not stunning but I’m good at so many other things. I’m good at training, I love reading and now writing. I’m passionate about rugby and used to be a good player ( now not so much ) I’ve been interested in crime and criminology since a small child. I was a great instructor in the army and was told by many I was a great solider. And my job now I like to think I’m good at that too. Espically the organisation skills involved, time management and many more. But like most things looks seem to always creep into the situation. Like in my current role now the more aesthetically pleaseing women will be chosen for roles over the over weight and shy on looks.

I knew this when I first started the job one of the other reasons why I decided to lose my weight and be able to compete with my colleagues. I hate getting my hair and nails done. Anything to do with beauty is a tedious task to me. That’s an hour in the gym I’m wasting, the shit conversations and I’m sorry to say but sometimes the women and some men ( trying not to stereotype ) who carry out these jobs really need to talk about something else other than holidays or their cheating boyfriends or more than ever other roles business!

So today I received a complement from another female lifter, she made me feel good about myself and a sense of achievement was felt. I updated my social media to say it’s lovely that other women can empower each other and many friends agree. However! My insecurities and low self esteem still won’t allow for a man to compliment me and here’s why.

After Richie passed I struggled with my sexuality and I don’t mean my orientation I mean how I felt as a woman I felt worthless, ugly, repulsive, disgusting, fat!!!! Until a man came along and lifted that horrible grey murky mass above my head.

He used to look at me and just stare, he would tilt his bed almost like a puppy does when it doesn’t understand what it is seeing. I was so uncomfortable with it I used to look away, but he was persistent he would call me baby, honey, beautiful he would give me these beautiful names and slowly slowly I started to believe him. That feeling was so up lifting and glorious I feel deep under his spell, dazed and confused but the love bombing. The gifts, the early morning texts and last night convos, the attention, the love and more importantly the most amazing sex. This man made me feel like Rhianna sings “the most beautiful girl in the world” and I’m not going to lie, I miss that feeling to wake up to a good morning text to any woman it instantly brightens your day. Well to feel loved and protected is for me the warmest feeling ever to have a man wrap his arms around you and kiss your forehead well that’s it for me I’m a happy little bunny. And for a few months I was just that. I felt alive, like a shinning light was around me. He had a way to make you believe you were those things he told you and the feeling of being protected is something I’ve craved and still do to this day, he ticked every box imaginable and I was smittened by him.

But then things started to change. Sight digs here and there. “You don’t need make up” “why are you wearing lashes for the gym” “here eat this I cooked” I knew full well it was drenched in oil drinking wine every night desserts, fatty foods anything. I started to gain my weight back and when I protested to eating the food or going out he would go mad and cause a massive argument when all I wanted was to stay slim for him. The nastiness became worse, then the was the name calling “you ugly fat dog” “whore” “slag” “mess” “belter” it was constant he would do it if I didn’t do what he wanted. I started to realise that the warnings I was given by his previous partner were right. I felt trapped, alone, scared… he had a trick of when I had done wrong he would change his social media to him only and wait for women to comment on it he said he wouldn’t have a pic of me on there, but once I had been good he would change it back. The abuse was imense. I couldn’t cope and couldn’t tell anyone either as from a distance we looked perfect. It went from verbal abuse to physical ( not hitting me ) he never hit me just pushing. Soon we broke up and my sister told me the things he had said cruely about my body afterwards.

So I had my boobs done but I need them recorrecting as there is a line he said it didn’t matter he told my sister they are disgusting. I have a large scar from surgery and stretch marks from having children, there was a time he kissed them  softly as we laid on the beach in Barbados and told me I didn’t need to worry. He told my sister that I looked a mess and by far the most unbelievable statement to come out of his vile manipulative mouth was “I thought you have had a designer vagina op” because quiet simply im not big down there! Have you ever heard of something so ludicrous in all your life! Not all women have a wizards sleeve, quiet possibly the women he sleeps with but not me!

So people say I should learn to take a compliment from men, really? Every single one I’ve met from my father, grandfather, husband and ex Narc have said the most cruel things to me. Why the fuck would I let another man let me down?

No thanks gents, I’m done. If you wanna compliment me mention my gains, strength or abilities. Stay away from looks, body shape or the size of my vagina ( or lack there of ) it’s much healthier for you and it won’t end in a burst transmission followed by never ever speak to me again!!!

Rant over…..

Why do we do this? 

Why does an athlete do what they do? 

I hear this question often from friends and associates. I am beginning to believe that these people are clearly lazy! So I asked back, what’s your hobbies? What do you enjoy doing outside of work and family time? What excites you? Is there a project at home you are eager to get back too? 

And then I sit and wait. The look on each persons face initially is to stare, they look upwards and then a smile grows on their face. They begin to tell me of their passion. The level of excitement is evident, with each smile begins a tale a story of ups and downs, struggles and achievements, laughter tears and then they tell me 9/10 that they reached their end goal. For the majority it’s not physicall ( apart from childbirth ) some enjoy comic cons or reading their favourite novels. For many of my first time mother friends is the first time they hear their babies cry and hold that sweet child in their arms. I can relate to this, the smell of a freshly bathed child is by far the most warm and in touch with nature I have ever felt. That and washing my feet on exercise in the army. Talcing then and then applying fresh clean socks ( eutrophic ) 

So I then ask, 

Why do you ask me why I do what I do then? Yes I’m committed as you are too with your hobbies and goals. Why should mine be any different? 

They can’t answer…. why? Because I believe not all are 100% committed to their goal. I am, so stop asking!!! 

There are no excuses! 

So this next part is embarrassing, there is no excuse for it I can’t think of any reasons as to why I let myself get into a situation like this. Was it because I wanted to look good? Maybe be apart of the crowd, peer pressure? Did I rebel or was I a messed up kid looking for a way to numb out my life. I can honestly say I don’t know. So much had happened to me at such a young age already it’s a difficult one to determine. Dad’s abuse was always in the back of my mind, so many times I remember walking home wondering what kind of mood he was in. Was he drunk? Was he angry? Had Mum looked at another man in a way he deemed wrong? My mum never put a foot wrong, she was a hard working mother of 4, she maintained our home, fed clothed all 4 of us to perfection. We were always smart looking,  clean very well presented. To the un trained eye no one would of known what went on between our four walls. My father was a very jealous and angry man, yet from the stories mum has told me, like his own father he was a cheat! Having affairs constantly behind her back! 
I completely understand this as The Narc would accuse me of cheating yet it was him who cheated on me. So he like my father with my mother, had judged me by his disgusting standards! 
To add insult the woman he cheated on me with is kind of family  through marriage. I mean I don’t care now she’s just some mother of three boys with different dads, ironically she was or still is married to a cousin of mine ( Jeremy Kyle or what! ) I actually laughed when I found out her own son couldn’t believe The Narc had chosen her over me “you, over Claire” that must of hurt her deeply for him to say that. It’s not about looks it’s about control and she is perfect for him. A lap dog ( if you pardon the pun ) someone who can’t afford to lose someone like him. He was a good looking man when I met him, fit, good body. Now not so much! apparently he’s gained weight like he was in high school. Funnily he used to be so insecure over his looks as he was bullied as a child for being overweight. Yes I have no feelings for this man, not even hate anymore I’ve searched my demons and done what I needed to do to get closure of his abuse to me, the only feelings I do have for him is pity. Pity for man who has terrorised most his partners due to personality disorder he has attained from a child. He won’t admit it, they push blame onto others, the traits of a narc are so obvious to me now it’s text book. I was that terrified I could be a narc myself I did a test and later had it confirmed. Ironically I project all the traits of an empath in conjunction with the grief of Richie and being abused as a child. Him and I were a recipe for disaster. Be that as it may him being bullied for being over weight I can sympathise with and I can never ever condone bullying. ( although my friends can’t believe I won’t sit and get angry about how he treated me. Why? Why should I let him hurt me anymore. There are measures out of my control to deal with individuals like him. Let those decide. 

An ex policewoman friend of mine told me recently that Narc’s aren’t born narcissist, they develop these physiological traits from early childhood she asked me if he had ever mentioned paranoia and jealousy as a child. I had to really think and I remembered his mum telling me that she was an innocent flirt, and when the narc was younger he must of heard his Mum and Dad argue about it. The narc had kicked off because a man had touched my bum in a club and we ended up having a big row over it. His mum spoke so much sense the more I think about it. The ex policewoman and my counsellor said this could of been a trigger for the Narc and in adulthood if he saw a man anywhere near his woman it could bring back memories of his parents arguing. So my Dad and the narc are rather similar in that they will cheat, but their woman must behave, Wankers! 
Anyway digressing slightly I have a confession like many.. I used to be a drug addict before I joined the Army I was in a lot of trouble if I didn’t sort myself out sharpish! 
So I got with this guy Collin and he was fit for that age I can’t think of it now as I’m old and that’s just weird but I really liked him more than Paul put it that way. Collin introduced me to people around the estate but they were all quiet rough and I knew it. One day we was in a lasses house called Georgina, she was a local druggie weird looking but had a kid. Georgina was a speed freak or fet head as we call it. She used to inject speed using needles they called it a hit. It looked horrendous I couldn’t understand why someone would want to do that until one day like an absolute fucking idiot I tried it. I still to this day don’t know why I did it. Maybe to show Collin I was up for anything maybe just because I’m an absolute retard. 
I saw them making the hit, with this white powder, a spoon, water and a cigarette filter. For people who are off their tits a lot there seems to be a bit of science to it. Apparently if you don’t get rid of the bubbles it can straight to your brain and kill you or if there is any dirt in it you can get what they call a dirty ( I had one once Jesus I was in a flat on my own thinking I was going to die but a few days later it went ) 

So Collin took me into the bathroom and told me to show him my arms. Needles don’t bother me they never have so I let him do it. He found my vain straight away and drew back the blood within seconds he had injected the concoction and the first feeling I got was I need a shit!!!!! 

I told him to get out ASAP I had to go to the toilet or I was gonna make a mess right there. It was unbelievable I’d taken speed before but this feeling was euporic the instant rush was crazy I loved it and from then on in I was what they called a speed freak. I would take it every day staying up for days on end my work never got effected I just topped up and eventually when I could stay awake no more I would take sleeping tablets to sleep for a few days. We called them eggs they were green and yellow and awesome, you could wobble around all day in a right daze. I had gone from a rave scene weekend offender to a full blow addict in less than 6 months. I worked, paid my rent then got of my tits at the weekend with E’s or anything I could get my hands on. Trips, LSD, speed, blow anything and I mean anything. My arms started to get scars on them and eventually it started to take its toll. I was at work one day when I started to act strange. I thought I was being attacked by a virus and couldn’t catch my breath  I thought I had aids I used clean needles and got then from the needle exchange I remember my number 777. And I never shared them with anyone. But this was something different they called my mum and took me to hospital where I later found out it was fish poisoning and with my bad health from drugs I had made it worst. I was seeing everything like I was going crazy. I accused friends and family of things that didn’t happen and making some right weird shit up in my head. By that time I had left my flat with Kerry and moved back home I couldn’t live like this for much longer and my age was getting close to where I could join up mum said if I joined the army I could come back home until I got my date through so I went to the careers office and signed up. Me and my mate Stella went but she was that thick I had to do her barb test and mine without the bloke looking. I was offered a few options as I didn’t have any exam results so I took the option of joining the RLC Royal logistic Corp. but I still had this drug addiction that I needed to get rid of before I started basic training. I didn’t though, I started basic training on Sunday the 21st of January 1996, I had my last hit on the train going to Pirbright ffs…. Basic training and a drug habit, I never do things by halves do I!!!!! 

This information is really hard for me to write, out of all the things I’ve done in my life I am the most embarrassed about this. My son is off an age where he may see this. And I know he will be equally disgusted with me. At the age of 15 I didn’t understand the implications of my stupid actions! Some people can’t believe my honesty of these blogs but I told my counsellor I would explain warts and all…. I have been accused of being a liar by strangers. You lot wanted the truth you got it!!!! 
For all parents out there, regardless of status , wealth, upbringing or home life. There are kids out there who do this coming from good homes. Yes my upbringing wasn’t the best but I know many whose was like The fucking Brady bunch and they did exactly the same as me!  

I watch my kids like a hawk now, I’ve been there, seen it and done it. Luckily my children didn’t have the upbringing like us four, but I still keep an eye on my kids and will forever. 

Food for thought Drugs are everywhere!

Foster Care 

I was always sporty as a kid, my brother Dale was a rugby league player and I envied him. His friends were pretty cool and he would always have lots of them around. Paul, Shaun and fergie were the ones I remember the most, Paul was good looking and Natalie my sister was in awe of him but Dale was 8 years older than us and him and Stacey had a different dad to us. At a young age I didn’t get what that meant but mention their dad to my mum and her face always looked so sad. Later I found out her first husband Len had had an affair with a 16 year old and my mum had left him. Dad used to say when he met my mum she had two kids a suitcase and a tin of beans!!!! Deep down we all knew mum didn’t love dad, she still held a candle for Len but she was too stubborn to admit it or go back to him. 
So on July the 21st of July 1978 I was born. Claire Janine Adams. Named after my nana Jean and my initials matched my dads ( CJ ). I wasn’t called CJ a lot as a child, my dad would call me it sometimes and I liked the nickname it was different. When I joined the Army and finally got away from Hull and my past I introduced myself as CJ to the girls in my troop. I saw it as a close the door on all that shit thing. CJ was a cool name and a fresh start…. I couldn’t be so fucking wrong.
We used to live behind an army barracks called Middleton bks down Calvert lane we lived in a council house all 6 of us, Dad worked away sometimes ( I thought that was code for prison ) but he boasted about being stabbed in Glasgow and showed us pictures of him and Phil working in the Humber bridge so maybe he really was. My mum suffered with agraphobia and struggled to go outside. Our school was Eastfield just across the road and I had a few friends I loved to lark out with. My early memories of friends were birthday parties with Kerry foster, Vicky Wilson, Nicola Hoyles and Nicky foster. 
I enjoyed school and I loved some of my teachers from Mrs White who would catch your tears in her hanky, Mr Pinder with the broken jaw and was the scariest bloke I ever met to Mrs Watson who was my last teacher there when I moved up to high school. Both my schools have been torn down now to make way for these super academies popping up all over the country. It’s a shame as I will miss the lady we used to sing to in the outside toilets, legend says you sing white lady white lady I killed your baby then flush the toilet and she would go away in the colour of the water foam. Bollocks it was toilet cleaner!!!! 
The third time I remember and the last time my dad ever physically attacked me was on a school morning Natalie and me were arguing yet again. We argued so much it drove everyone crazy. I hated her she used her looks to get everything. I was jealous of her looks it didn’t matter how fast I ran or how many achievements I made at army cadets or in sports. Natalie’s looks seemed to be more important than education or sport. She knew this as well, her and dad were similar academically ” thick ” but they had the patter they could get what they want of who they want with charm and flirting. Me however my idea of flirting would be to win a race or score a try or goal. If boys spoke to me I was there friend first. I did have boyfriends but that was just kids stuff. I used to wonder would I prefer to be pretty and thick or ugly and intelligent. Pretty always won but i annoyed myself thinking like that as I knew, it was ridiculous to think that way but I envied how everyone found her beautiful and me just a scruffy Tom boy. 
After a full blown argument which I can’t remember for we started to fight. I ended up outside the house and continued down the street where we went to get the school bus. I was swearing so was she then dad turned up I knew what was going to happen so told her to go dad dragged me inside the house. And starts to punch me several times in the stomach whilst holding my head back by my hair blow after blow I could feel my ribs crack again and he wasn’t for stopping I was winded and crying at the same time. But then from somewhere I got the energy to hit him back. It was proberly the most feeble attempt to hit a man but it connected! Fuck!!!!! 
Stand by stand by CJ. 

He punched me one last time but this time it was in the face. How the fuck boxers stand for that is beyond me. Jesus Christ!!!! 

Dad grabbed me again and then threw me out the door. I started to walk to the school bus I couldn’t breathe very well and knew I looked a mess. After that everything is confusing. My class teacher was being weird and then I was called to the office. Natalie was stood there and the teachers kept asking me what was wrong but I would not tell them. I just said I had an argument they said the bus driver said I was quiet and no arguments had happened on the bus shit I was running out of excuses. What was I to say. My dad has been physically abusing me for years please help me or keep my mouth shut. So I did just that. But and I don’t know how they found out wether it was my sister who told them or someone else I don’t know but within an hour a woman came to the school and took me to a centre down Pickering road. 

Foster care. 

After the last time dad hit me the social services intervened. I was put into Foster care and my dad was put on an anger management programme. The house was fucking massive it was a 8 bed house down boulevard. Pat and Jerry where my foster parents and they looked after teenage girls only. Pat said they had 13 kids all girls and one boy Neil, Jerry joked he was gay wether that’s true I don’t know. Pat was a lovely woman short tonged hair and Jerry was a skinny man who fixed refrigerators. The pair of them were so different to my parents. I’ve heard so many horror stories about foster parents but these two were angels such lovely people I guess I was lucky. They gave me £20 for pocket money and I could spend it on what I want. Winner winner chicken dinner!!!! 

The night I came to care I was given a top floor room I couldn’t believe houses could be this big third floor!!!! It had two single beds in it and its own shower room. Wow I was lucky to get the sink if Natalie was doing her frigging hair. It had a radio in it too and ironically on the radio it was playing ” things can only get better ” on it. 
You think????? 

I sat in my bed holding my ribs as they were still hurting and sat and thought about if Stacey and Natalie were alright and I hoped he never hit them too now. 

Stacey my eldest sister is by far the nicest person I know she’s an amazing mum and person, she’s had some shit times but her dry sense of humour and sheer wit just shines through she’s been on a diet since 1982 ( jokes ) but in my eyes her beauty just shines through wether she’s a size 10 or 18. She is a midget though can’t stand spiders or creepy crawly things and dances like no one is watching. I love my older sister I also love her husband Andy he’s like a brother to me with his pipe dreams and boring facts but he’s a hard worker a good man they have two children Harry and Holly ( the diva ) and they live in a nice house on the wrong side of Hull ( east ) dirty reds!!!! My rugby team is Hull FC we are the west of hull dirty reds are east hull. Stacey moved there years ago and I will never forgive her for letting the side down. lol. 
I don’t recall dad ever hitting Stacey bad or Natalie even. Just me and Dale, dad broke his nose once and Dale moved back in with his real dad. I was too young to remember it so I can’t tell you why but I know Dale hated our Dad and reused to call him it. Stacey was young when mum met my dad so in her eyes his was her dad. And too be honest he was as her own dad only cared about Dale and didn’t have much to do with her. It must be heart breaking for her but then again she a tough cookie. Strength isn’t always measured by taking a hit as I learnt when I was older. For some reason I had to protect my sisters from dad. So I did what I could when I could, if it meant I was in pain for a bit so be it. But once I left and went into care it was a worry. Mum said dad did his programme and he had changed but for me our relationship was over I’d had enough of him and my love for my dad had depleted. I loved him so much he was so strong and hard working I built my first wall with him, stood behind the army bks looking at the trucks thinking that will be me one day. I told dad I wanted to be a solider but he said girls can’t be in the army Claire only men did that but I never believed him. I was gonna be one of those who ran around in fields with a gun fighting the bad men, years later I proved him wrong. Even if I wasn’t running around a field I still wore the uniform and I was still doing what I said I would protect people. Just as I did as a little one for my sisters. 
I left foster care eventually but had made my mind up to leave mums and dads for good so at just short of 16 I borrowed money of my brother and moved into a flat with a girl is met on the nightclub scene in Hull. 

From coming out of care to eventually joining up I’d lived in a few places. Getting a flat with my Boyfriend Paul Adams no relation, I’d nicked him off my sister Natalie which she never forgave me for and later in life the worst boyfriend ever The Narc! had used that against me ( he will always be a shit cunt in my eyes so I couldn’t give a fuvk what cry baby says ) I fell pregnant to Paul at around 13/14 and mum had found out I was so scared. She just took control of the situation I moved back home and went on annual camp with army cadets mum had packed some sanitary things but when I got back I hadn’t used them. She asked me why I hadn’t had a period I said I don’t know so she dragged me to doctors. The doctor confirmed I was pregnant at around 6-8 weeks. Fuck knows what that meant but I heard termination and a date was booked. I laid in bed thinking what are they on about a baby???? Where was it? and how come they have to operate to get it out? 

Mum said keep your mouth shut and do not speak to anyone about it. I had to go to hospital to remove it and everything would be fine. I asked if I could still play hockey, rugby and go to cadets she said yes but do not tell anyone what was planned. So I carried on as normal till Op abortion was in full swing. I didn’t understand it at the time but if you look at the way my mum had arranged it all you would think she was ex mil. 

Dad would go to work and I would not go to school that day. I was to met by my auntie ( northern for one of mums friends ) at the top of the street she would drive me to the hospital book me in and then leave. I was dressed in a white thing with my arse sticking out an hour later I was back in the ward. The baby was gone, auntie picked me up took me home and mum put me to bed and dad was non the wiser. The baby was gone. 
At 14 I’d had an abortion, luckily for me I didn’t understand it, mum put me on the pill and again nothing more was said. 

After the abortion I became an absolute idiot thinking I was above and beyond everything drugs was my main concern. I met a guy called Collin graves he was younger than me but I really liked him. He was into boxing and took drugs like me I smoked pot and did other stuff like E’s and speed but I never thought I would go further than that. We used to hang around a place called gypsyville, it was your stereotypical council estate with its good and bad people. For some reason I decided to take my causal drug habit further I knew I wanted to join up when I was old enough but didn’t care what I was doing in the meantime.

I left school early couldn’t be arsed with it and no one cared that I didn’t go. So I nicked my friends national insurance number as she showed me it. I wrote down the number and went to a job place where I knew I could get work under 16, they thought I was someone else. So I started to work in a factory packing Christmas cakes. My eldest sister Stacey worked there but she was permanent staff I was just a temp but I didn’t care it was money and I could go out every weekend with my mates around hull. Until I got sacked. Basically some dick head lass was doing my head in one day so I stood up and punch her square in the gob I think her name was shelly, Stella my old mate was stood there laughing a fuvking head off coz the daft Bint landed in a cheery tub. So that was the end of my career in the cake factory. 

I looked for other work and got another job in a fish factory down hessle rd. It stank it was rats but by that time my drug habit was getting a bit pricey so i had to work to pay for my weekends out. I’d gave my mum board but I knew I wanted out that house ASAP. 

So that’s when I got the flat with my friend Kerry ironically the flat was just across the road from my foster parents house and I’d visit them from time to time. There was a group of girls I hung around with then my sister Natalie Stella Nicky and some more from the drugs scene. Natalie was falling deeper and deeper into it and I knew she had progressed from recreational to the stronger stuff. Why I’m not sure as her life didn’t seem that bad at the time but we all have issues we hide maybe the effect of dad had taken its toll and me leaving her might of causes her to regress, she was strong though a right little battler she could fight for herself but not whilst I was around that was my job. One night whilst I was in the Army we went out in a local night club I turned round for 5 seconds to look back at a lass pagering ( beating up ) my sister!!! I went fuvking bansi grabbed the lass and whilst I was kicking ten balls of shit out of her. I syllable smacked her, something along the lines off 

She ( punch ) is ( punch ) my ( punch ) little ( punch ) sister and so on, I think I said no one hits her apart from me. 

We got threw out by the bouncers and I spent the night nursing a fat lip. I later found out the girl was named Rachel Shipley and her family weren’t to be messed with. Well neither was fuvking I. Her brother asked me if he ever gets any drama from then on in would I square lasses away for him for £50 a go!!!! What was I the hired help lol but I didn’t as I was in the army then and didn’t want to get in the shit. 

Tbc……