Episode 1 Men In Black...Night Terrors..

Sleepless in Granada...

I shall be Chatting about all the things our mothers never told us, 

Trigger Warning 

Domestic Violence,   Swearing.. and Adult Topics Will Feature Regularly ..

I Speak Openly about My Experiences...

and My Long Journey Back To Freedom..

the guests on the show will be completely anonymous, I feel that if anonymity is guaranteed, you will feel more confidant to express yourself freely, 

We Never Judge...This Is A Safe Space where we can all freely be ourselves...

Thank You For Listening...

Email... sleeplessingranada@yahoo.com

I would absolutely love to hear from you, and your experiences, 

Feedback Very Welcome...

Transcript

SPEAKER_00: 0:00

Welcome to my podcast, Sleepless in Granada. Well, I've finally done it. This has been years in the making. I came up with the concept that everyone on the show, myself included, will be anonymous. I feel that when people are guaranteed anonymity, they will speak freely. We never judge. This is a safe place where we can all be our true self.

UNKNOWN: 0:25

Shh!

SPEAKER_00: 0:26

I will be talking about all the things our mothers never told us. We'll be covering subjects from online dating when you're over 50, intimacy, sex, as we all know ladies there is a difference, fantasies, Role play. We were never educated back in the day or taught about female pleasure. We'll be speaking about menopause and the changes in our bodies. Cheating, have you? Or were you cheated on and can you forgive? Our attachment styles, domestic violence, our boundaries and our non-negotiables. Our emotions, feelings, anxiety, childhood trauma and so much more. My episodes will be 10 to 15 minutes long and at the end I will read a short piece from my memoir. Cracks. What would a world be like without cracks? Sometimes what is broken can become something even more beautiful, more authentic, unique and incredible. The cracks are there to remind us of what was, but also of what we have endured and what has found a new way to exist. It's the same with people. Scars tell a story. our story but we live in times when the cracks are uncomfortable all over social media no one talks about or shows the fractures there are filters to erase every line of expression every shadow under the eyes every mark and dark area of imperfection i have to say i'm proud of my wrinkles especially the ones deeply edged around my eyes they show that i have laughed laughed hard i'm for this final chapter in my life. I love being alive and I'm so, so alive. Leonard Cohen quoted, there is a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in. Every scar is a golden line. Those imperfections are what make us grow the most. We are all seedlings with the capacity for greatness if only we believe. I believe. We are not educated to see what is broken. We are taught to hide it, let no one see it. At school, we were never taught about self-love, about feelings and emotions, that it's okay to feel, to be hurt and to be angry. It's okay to express ourselves. We as humans deserve to be happy, to be content and feel at peace. I have come to realize that the small things in life, sunrises and sunsets, walking in nature the sun on my face are really the huge things i am grateful and so incredibly lucky to live in this magical place here in spain life expectancy is 83 years globally It's 73 years, so let's subtract the first 18 years of childhood and adolescence. That only leaves us 20,000 days as adults, 20,000 sunrises and sunsets, 20,000 days to really open our eyes and experience the magnificence of each brand new glorious day. Yet most of us, myself included, live as if our days won't end, as if we are somehow immortal. hear it all the time from friends and family. I'll do it someday. Someday I'll go on that adventure. Someday I'll wear that new coat. Someday I'll write that book. Someday I will. Someday is not a day of the week, nor is it on my calendar. With this in mind, I started my bucket list when I was 50 and it's endless, I add to it all the time. They're not all big things, but they're important to me. We each and every one of us humans need to shield our souls. We must seek out people and surroundings that intensify the softness within, not the survival mode in us. Safe spaces are crucial to our mental well-being. I have wrinkles but they don't define me. I am privileged to have reached this milestone denied to so many of my loved ones and friends and I intend to grow old disgracefully. I have lived, I have experienced utter joy and I have found myself in the depth of the darkest deepest despair. None of these states of mind are permanent and as promised here's a small excerpt from my memoir. This part is called Men in Black. If you open your eyes, you have 10 seconds to live. I know I'm about to die. Battling against a terrifying darkness that grips me as I sleep, I always manage to force myself to wake up and say goodbye to my family. Heart pounding frantically against my ribs like a frightened bird trying to escape her cage. When the panic takes hold, drenched in sweat, body trembling uncontrollably and a mortal dread that settles in my breast. Paralysis and fear take over and my throat constricts. Invisible ties bind me. I use all my willpower to find my voice. In a desperate attempt to anchor myself in reality, screaming out the names of my loved ones, my voice tinged with hysteria, repeating, I'm dead, I'm dead, as if saying it enough times might change my fate. This harrowing night terror has been my constant companion for almost 60 years. The men who torment my nights loom vividly in my mind. They are shadowy, translucent The routine has never changed. They encircle the perimeter of my bed. Their silhouettes obscured in darkness. They lean closer to scrutinise and examine me. Their breath is cold on my hot flushed cheeks. Is she awake? The whisper voice is gruff and ominous. Never have they tried to touch me. Instead, they hover just out of reach, increasing my helplessness. Now visibly shaking, trying to keep still and failing miserably, each man is dressed in a black fedora hat pulled low over their face obscuring lifeless eyes casting sinister sinister shadows that distort their features. Long coats hang from their shoulders like black shrouds, adding to their demonic appearance. In their hands they clutch lit cigarettes, the heavy veil of smoke that curls around them accentuating the chilling atmosphere that fills my room. Despite the lethal warning, I always defy them and open my eyes, sitting bolt upright in bed, hyperventilating and filled with an excruciating mix of fear and relief as reality rushes back. As a child I would scream for the comfort of my mother's arms. As an adult I cried out for my partner. The oppressive figures dissipate into the walls. I feel this prologue is important. Events and traumas that happen in our young lives stay with us and often shape our lives forever. Thank you. I'll speak to you in the next episode.