what we were ashamed of, or why we couldn’t interact. I felt like a misfit.
As soon as I was old enough to sleep over at other people’s houses I did. As soon as I could eat TV dinners, or watch Neighbours and study normal at someone else’s house, I did. I was really good at fitting in. I discovered that I could be a wonderful chameleon. Other people’s parents loved me. I was polite, I offered to help out. I created rapport. I mirrored and matched them way before I had any idea about NLP3 or what it was I was doing. I just wanted to be part of something, and feel like I belonged.
My beautiful little sister was born in February 1990. She was not the kitten I had asked for, and I didn’t know what we needed another family member for, but my parents seemed excited.4 The upside of my sister’s arrival for me as an independent nine-and-a-half-year-old was that I could get away with being out more often.
I spent most of my time with the kids up the street. They were SO normal. The kind of normal I wanted to be. They were my first surrogate family. We watched TV. We started ‘the babysitters club’ like in a book we had read. We recorded our very own radio show on the boombox my grandmother gave me. (My brother joined in too sometimes.) We made up dance routines and sang tunelessly to Madonna and New Kids on the Block. I had my first crush (Joey McIntyre – he was only 16 and I figured that wasn’t much of an age gap). I knew every single word to every single song on Hanging Tough, Step by Step and The Immaculate Collection.
Sometime in 1991 it was time to wean my sister off breast milk and so my mum and I went on a holiday. It was a whole weekend in France, and it was just the two of us: I was so excited! Spending time just my mum and me was so rare. This and one other weekend that we went to Monkton Wyld Court5 are the two memories I have from my childhood and teens where it was just the two of us and we weren’t seething or screaming at one another. That weekend was lovely. It was also the next time that I had a profound (and life-saving) intuitive and unexplainably magic moment. The place we visited was a commune of creative people who were seeking to bring a version of Tipi Valley6 to France.
I remember a tiny fluffy black kitten who followed me everywhere, I felt honoured. Organically grown tomatoes that I picked myself, which tasted amazing. Fresh duck eggs, with the largest and most golden yolks I had ever seen, and Wolfy. Wolfy was a four-year-old girl who was also there with her mum. She was awesome, we went exploring the epic grounds together. We were the only kids, except for a local boy called Jay. Jay was about my age and he spoke a little English but he was a boy, so we hung out for a while and then we went off on our own. In the grounds there was a forest and we walked in it, we walked and walked and walked. We found a stream and moss and made totems out of rocks. It was magical. At some point I realised that I was the ‘adult’ and that it was probably time to go home. We began walking back the way we’d come. After a while I realised we were lost. Really lost. The kind of lost where you try to find, but can’t see, the sun to make a guess at your bearings. I was eleven and I had a four year old with me and it would start getting dark soon. Fuck. I don’t know why I did what I did next, but remembering the fairies in the garden that the adults couldn’t see, I instructed Wolfy to sit down cross-legged opposite me. I explained that we were lost, and that we needed help.
‘Do you remember Jay?’
‘Yep.’ She nodded her little dreadlocked head back at me.
‘OK, good. I need you to think about him. Think really hard. We’re going to send him a message. We’re going to tell him with our minds that we need him, and we’re going to tell him where we are.’
She didn’t even flinch at this bizarre request. She closed her eyes and did it.
I did too. I concentrated with all my might on telling Jay how important it was that he listened and that we needed him.
‘How long do we wait?’ a little voice broke my thoughts.
‘As long as it takes. He won’t be long. He’s just got to find us.’
It was about twenty minutes I think. He appeared with a smile on his face.
‘Bonjour. Ça va?’
I actually have no idea what he said, but he took us home. When I asked him how he knew we needed him and where to come, he told me he just knew. Something came to him and told him we needed his help. I mentally noted that some other kids could connect to the knowing too, and then promptly forgot as soon as we were back in England and our old lives again.
I had a good childhood – I was loved and cared for – but I also always had an angst inside me waiting to get out and explore. Some of you will really be able to relate. I wanted to go and discover the whole world, right now! I felt too big for our little life. I felt destined for grandeur and at the same time I felt a duty of care to my family. I was torn between running away to be the curious wild child, and staying put to look after my tribe. My family.
When I was seven I tried to run away to the fair.
I didn’t get very far.
I was out with my Grandma and my brother. We were walking along the promenade of Brighton sea front. I wanted to go on the rides, hear the voices of other children and spend some time soaking in ‘normal’... I wanted to have FUN!
‘No. It’s time to go home.’
‘I’ve got pocket money.’ I pleaded
‘No. I’ll leave you here, come on.’
‘Go home without me then!’ I stomped my foot and stood my ground.
A battle of wills ensued.
My Grandma took my brother by the hand and walked away, along the boardwalk to the stairs that went down towards the way home.
I waited.
I wanted to call her bluff. I knew this game. They weren’t really going to leave me here. I waited as long as I could bear (I was seven, it couldn’t have been more than five minutes). I ran towards the next set of stairs, thinking they would only have gotten that far. I gathered pace and whizzed down to the bottom, scanning around for them as best I could while still moving and not tripping.
They had gone.
In that split second I felt two things:
1. Contraction/Fear: They left me - I am alone in the big dangerous world!!!!!!
2. Expansion/Autonomy: I’m FREEEEEEE and I can go to the fair!!
I looked around for them again, and I couldn’t see them. I felt sure that the world was conspiring to allow me to go to the pier and go on the rides. WOOHOO! My little entrepreneurial brain kicked in, creatively solving the problem. I walked along the roadside where the cars were parked and found the parking payment machine.
Maybe someone dropped some change and then I can go on the rides!
The first one had nothing. I carried on carefully walking along the roadside by the parked cars. I reached the next pay station. I reached up into the change slot and wiggled my little fingers around. Still nothing.
Nee Naw, Nee Naw...
Startled by the siren pulling up right next to me I jumped.
My memory of what happened next is awash with shame as my joy turned to guilt watching my grandma crying and my brother distraught.
The policeman shouted. His attempt to frighten me into not running away again, or to see the severity of the situation, was lost on me, I just felt BAD.
I felt misunderstood. I didn’t mean to upset anyone. I wasn’t hurting anyone. I just wanted to have some fun!
‘You are so irresponsible. Look how upset you’ve made your grandmother.’
I