Helping Hands

This is never easy. Someone wants to know what year I went to St. Joseph's. I don't wish to be rude but I don't think my legal advice would be too impressed were I to answer questions from unidentifiable users asking for more detailed information than I'm giving on here.  It may well be an innocent request but for some strange reason, my trust and hyper-vigilance levels have always been in the wrong places so I'll pass if you don't mind.  However if you need to share your experiences and haven't yet done so, I can thoroughly recommend NAPAC  who listened to me when I rang in a state of deep confusion, gave brilliant advice and helped me begin this painful process. Sadly, they're often busy but do keep ringing. If you're a partner of an ex St. Jo's boy too, they're there for you. 

Yes, a massive shout out to our spouses/partners and families as they've had to put up with far too much of the fallout nonsense. Thank you for being there x.

Having said that, I've a list here of about 80 of my year group names I can easily reel off 'Moggs" register-style. If you're one of them or jog my memory with a name I've forgotten and can verify your ID, it might be possible to correspond but don't hold your breath.   

As I've said, the reason for writing this blog is primarily for my brain to come to terms with my actual life history as opposed to the rose-tinted one I've come to realise was just my survival technique. Frankly, I would much prefer closure, cracking on with life as quickly as possible and not having my brain demanding the past be properly addressed.  

Well that's not what I was going to write today but be well if you're in recovery. Be well.