ABOUT ME

My name is Danielle, and I am a 32 year old, single, white, working class woman who has grown up in inner city London.

 

My childhood was spent in a number of different council estates in North London with my three brothers (Highgate, Archway & Camden Town) before moving to a council estate in Holborn at the age of 11.

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I’ve always been proud of my background and have always been grateful for it. It wasn’t until I went to university, that I realised how many of my peers from other parts of the country, had grown up sheltered. There was also a huge contrast in maturity. I mean, one of my housemate’s idea of fun was jumping in puddles?!

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At 19, 1 day into my freshers’ week, my family unit broke down. For me then, the emotional turmoil and responsibility put on me as a full-time student at university away from home, who’d had the luxury of an amazing childhood, would be something I’d struggle with even if it was suddenly dumped on me now. At 19, I buried what I was feeling, not knowing at 21 it would explode with me breaking down and wanting to take my own life. This was my first episode of depression. Thank god for the NHS.

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The next 4 years were spent tip toeing around a minefield of family politics (we’re talking infidelity, a woman’s refuge, unexpected pregnancy, prison time, eviction, social services, being responsible for my youngest brother and financial abuse), whilst trying to keep my own head above water and come out with a degree.

 

The one goal I’d had throughout all of my school years was to be the first person in my family to go to Uni but mostly because I never wanted to be financially dependent on a single soul. When I was at school, we were taught that if you wanted to get a good job, you had to go to university (I know that’s not the case now).

 

They were the best (university) and worst (family) years of my life. The resilience and perspective this gave me though, is something I couldn’t have earned any other way. It doesn’t matter what I’m going through now, I know I’ve gone through something tough and a situation that was relentless and not my own doing… for years.

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When you’ve had the best childhood, and your parents are your heroes, there’s nothing like the crashing realisation that your parents are human/can be extremely selfish too. And that whilst you love them, you no longer always respect them or view their opinions as credible. This took me a long time to get my head around as miss goody two shoes as a kid.

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Having the heart that I had too (I was always too soft, too sensitive, and too sensible – got an award for that once) it still feels un-natural to tell myself that my parents are not my responsibility and it’s not up to me to look after them. I’d like to point out that we’re all friends now, because with age comes forgiveness, but I still learned the lessons that I am built (and maybe they’ve built me) different to what they are.

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What university also gave me was a purpose. It was all about the end result. So when I got a 2:1 despite it all, the anti-climax was a shock too. Graduating meant I was now lost, so I decided to go to Magaluf for the summer to blow off some steam and just be a kid for a while. Here I met around 50 likeminded twenty somethings, who I became so close to and it was the best summer of my life. Shagaluf was also an eye-opening experience with the people I got to know.

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What followed was coming home to my mum’s, sleeping on the sofa as I’d lost my bedroom while at uni. I signed on for two weeks in between returning home and getting two jobs (retail travel in the week, supermarket on the weekend) until I was out of the hole I’d created in my overdraft from a season of no responsibilities. Being on the dole, is something I never want to ever experience again. Fuck a pen pusher controlling whether you eat that week. And sorry job centre but everyone I met there, was an arsehole.

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When I got ahead enough to only need one full time job, I threw myself into it. It was commission based so not the best position to be in for someone who struggled with ripping people off to get paid (a whole other level of personal stress). Then once I’d saved enough for my first private rent deposit, I moved into a flat in Tottenham with one of my best friend’s from uni.

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At this point I was barely earning enough to cover the bills, so while having my own space (and bed) was liberating and it was fun living with my friend, I got into a vicious cycle of borrowing money from people I knew, so I could pay minimum payments on what I owed (due to not having enough each month and using credit cards) and eating spaghetti on toast for weeks at a time (I was skinny though!). So I was broker than I had been at uni.

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It was at this time, that I met my first boyfriend. What followed was a great 3 years of having a best friend who truly loved me and gave me a “normal” family unit again to share whilst we were together. So much so, that after multiple times of asking, I moved in with him (Hackney this time) and his family. I’d made this decision after having another blow up at home, where my mum’s leach of a boyfriend, told me to move out (for eating a banana that he’d put in the fruit bowl), and she didn’t stop it.

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I’d say at this point, it was the first time I’d felt secure and safe since I was 19. Unfortunately it was around this time that I had my most heartbreaking episode of depression. Except it was a 40 episode series length of time being 18 months before I got over it. Can I not catch a break?!  

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A year and half living together (3 ½ years in), my relationship then started to breakdown. My boyfriend started taking me for granted as I was living with him on his terms, ultimately ending with him asking me to move out for “space” followed by him shagging a girl at work. Lovely.  

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It’s safe to say, that I’d betrayed my life time ambition of never being financially dependent on any one. I’d also had my trust in people who loved me and provided me a home, shot to absolute shit a fourth time at this point (lots of this happened with my Dad before then), and I was starting all over again. I then spent 9 months living with two witches from hell (you really don’t know people until you live with them), before moving back in with my friend from uni to a new place in Brixton.

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The difference this time around compared to Tottenham 5 years prior, is that while I started my career in retail travel, I’d continued to work hard in that industry and have built up my career to a place where I am comfortable. I may have lived with my ex-boyfriend, but I didn’t let the relationship ever distract me from getting that coin honey. In fact it was during the break down of our relationship, that I refused to let it affect my work. Grit I’d learned of putting on a brave face from my younger years, came through for me even when I was heartbroken.

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Now, living with my best friend 2 and a bit years later, having wonderful people in my life, healthy relationships with both my parents again, a great job, being financially comfortable, and being in control of my own emotions (read single), I’ve never been happier. So much so, I guess I really am not that easily impressed.  

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So for those who want to read it here is all the things I’m not impressed by. I’m not an expert so stating the obvious - these are my opinions only. I’m also aware I have glossed over a lot of the above, but I wanted to get that out there first as I’m sure I’ll be drawing on it all in more depth where relevant so that I can understand where my reactions come from and you’ve been pre-warned.

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This is primarily therapeutic exercise for me, because getting my feelings out helps (depression sufferer as mentioned) but I thought I’d publish it too because If even one person finds any value or relates to any part of it, then that would be a dream come true.

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Already I’ve shared more than I think I ever have, so please be kind.

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I hope you enjoy. Danielle x