How Did I End Up Here?

🎯 Mi deh yah

Still standing. Still side-eyeing injustice. Still soft-launching my nervous breakdown one council meeting at a time.

Because apparently… this is my life, now.

And sometimes, just sometimes, I pause and wonder:

Wait, how did I get here?

How does a barefoot little girl from the hills of Jamaica — raised on mangoes and water on a farm – with no kitchen, no bathroom – climbing trees, chasing goats, carrying water on her head, and surviving the kind of hurt no child should ever even imagine — end up debating policies and strategies in Council Chambers?

How does a quiet child, tangled in a severe speech impediment with zero likes for small talk or people, find herself speaking on national stages?

How did an autistic, introverted, deeply spiritual woman become a local councillor in Croydon, walking into rooms never designed for her — and still holding her head high?

The short answer?

Purpose

And maybe tenacity. Definitely prayer and gratitude too. Oh, and the munchies—don’t forget the munchies.

The long answer?

Well — that’s what this blog is for.

🧩 Who I Am (and Who I Definitely Am Not)

Well, you probably guessed it already – I’m not the usual polished, suit-wearing, media-trained politician.

I’m a Black woman. Actually autistic.  A mum. A carer. A survivor turned domestic abuse advocate. A tired but hopeful soul navigating a world full of injustices – dominated by power and control – putting people like me in a boxes, way too small for the Spirit.

I didn’t arrive here by ambition – but by necessity.

I’ve sat in hospital waiting rooms, therapy circles, homelessness spaces, police stations, courtrooms, boardrooms, special Education Needs (SENs) meetings—and yes, even at the frozen aisle at Tesco, questioning my life choices.

I’ve lived the issues I now speak about. Maybe you’ve been there too — sometimes holding space for others, sometimes the one needing a hand. Maybe you’ve survived what shouldn’t have been survivable. Maybe, like me, you’re still standing — and that alone is a victory!

If you’ve ever felt invisible or out of place, this is your mirror. I see you. This is written with you in mind.

🎤 Why I Got Into Politics (Even Though I’d Rather Hide)

I didn’t exactly choose politics. It chose me.

I was pushed by a purpose that felt bigger than me, powered by frustration that refused to let me be, and led by the Spirit that sent friends to walk with me.

I ‘ve been tired:

• Tired of decisions made about us but not with us.
  
• Tired of systems that fail survivors, children, carers, global majority and other intersections too
  
• Tired of being made invisible – when power doesn’t hide.
  

So, I raised my hand — awkwardly, reluctantly, and maybe a bit terrified too — with my back against the wall, silence was no more.

If you’ve ever had to push yourself out of your comfort zone and do something really scary because the world needed it—solidarity, my friend.

Ps: I’m still not a big fan of suits, small talk, and bureaucracy. But here I am, smashing through the noise with all my messy, glorious self.

✨ What This Blog Is (and Absolutely Isn’t)

This isn’t a political highlight reel or a press release.

It’s a living, breathing space — messy, joyful, raw, and real.

Where grief and giggles live on the same page.

Where rage dances with resistance, and burnout shares tea with breakthroughs.

Here, you can expect:

• Truth bombs and bad jokes.
  
• Survivor wisdom and women’s issues.
  
• Nature, creative healing and expression.
  
• Neurodivergence parenting (chaos and cuteness guaranteed).
  
• Local grassroots organizing, because community is power.
  
• Tiny wins, deep breaths, and the kind of joy that sneaks in between the cracks.
  

If you’ve ever cried in a public toilet, laughed when you should’ve cried, smiled to cover the anxiety, forgotten your point mid-sentence (regular occurrence), or started a revolution from your living room — your tribe is here.

🌈 Showing Up Fully (Even the Awkward, Weird, and Too-Much Bits)

Public life? It’s a stage where everyone expects you to fit a script.

“Be professional.” “Don’t be too emotional.” “Share, but only what’s ‘appropriate.’”

But this life has taught me: if I leave parts of myself at the door — my loudness, my honesty, my history and lived experiences, my spirituality, my autism, my motherhood — then what’s left?

I choose to be all of me.

Full fat Tamar: unfiltered, beautifully messy, rooted in spirit, always honest and caring.

If you’ve been hiding your magic to blend in, this blog is your permission slip.

Show up fully. Be wildly, unapologetically you. Because the world and your purpose needs your whole self — not a diluted version.

🔍 What I Hope You’ll Find Here

If you’re reading this and thinking: “Yes. Finally.” — this is for you.

For anyone doing the hard work of healing, justice, parenting, surviving — while carrying the full weight of your identity.

Know this: you are wise, you are whole, and you are beautifully made.

I hope this blog:

• Reminds you you’re not alone.
  
• Gives you space to breathe, be messy, and maybe laugh at the chaos.
  
• Challenge what “normal” means and create room for stories that don’t fit the mould.
  
• Encourages you to use your voice — even when it trembles or your bones shakes within.
  
• Builds a community where healing, survival, and resistance walk hand in hand.
  

Some weeks I’ll write often. Other weeks, I’ll pause and honor my limits — and I hope you do too.

💬 Final Thoughts: So, How Did I End Up Here?

Because someone like me had to.

Because silence doesn’t protect.

Because I believe we deserve systems that heal, not harm — and we have to build them together.

Thanks for being here.

Now, let’s make this ours: What do you want to see here?

The gritty truths? The messy behind-the-scenes? The joy and the struggle? Or maybe just memes and survival hacks?

Drop a comment or message (but please no waving at me awkwardly in the street).

This is not just my story. It’s ours. Let’s build this together.

With love, light, and a little beautiful mess.

Tamar ✨