I realised that I was different long before I went into the children’s home. Didn’t really help that my dad was Jamaican, and my mum from sunny Saint Annes.
The sense of abandonment soon reared its ugly head.
Trust, loyalty, sense of belonging and identity form an orderly queue.
As the years passed and pressure compounds I find myself feeling so sad and weak – and yet people say that dealing with mental illness shows a sign of strength – Where?, how? ……What strength?
So am I the strong one or the weak one that couldn’t face or cope with much more.
Or, is it like the chicken and egg question – what came first Chicken or egg?, strong or weak?