Exploring my life

My mum and dad divorced whilst I was very young. I don’t really have a lot of childhood memories. My brain seems to have blocked quite a lot of them. 

I have 2 older sisters, a little sister and a little brother. My little sister and brother were my best friends growing up (they still are), there are only 2 years between each of us, so we spent a lot of time around each other. 

My oldest sister whose 38. I do not speak to what-so-ever. Cannot stand her. She is a manipulative, controlling LIAR! She's not right in the head. She used to do this thing where she would tickle "down below" whilst we were laying in bed together, when I was 5ish (she was 15 years old), I didn't think anything of it back then, thought it was normal, but of course looking back now I realise it definitely wasn't bloody normal! She would beat us with pipes, mops, spoons, spatulas, her fists, kick us. Just generally would beat us when she was baby sitting! I hold A LOT of resentment towards my big sister and barely even talk to her. She plays on the disability system when there's nothing wrong with her at all. I think she's a awful parent and her children deserve so much more than she's giving them!

My other sister, whose 33, we speak and get along but she's not my best friend or anything. She used to beat us with metal hoover pipes, her and my oldest sister would team up on us when they were left to babysit. I hold a lot of resentment to them because they left, they left me and my younger siblings to deal with dads rage and mums manipulative behaviour. I had to grow up very quickly.

Mostly what I remember of living with my mum is her gambling and smoking. Everyone tells me she was an awful mother who never looked after us, never had food in the cupboards, we were dirty and filthy every day, and rarely showered. I don’t have a lot of memories of living with my mum, but what I don’t remember of my mum is her beating us or drinking like my dad.

We got taken off of my mum by social services when we were very young, 6 maybe I can’t really remember. But we still saw our mum every weekend as she only moved around the corner and I remember we were always there. I guess we used her house as an escape from our dad.

We got put in our dads care who was an alcoholic, (he drank 2 litres of vodka every night) and he beat us. I grew up in a very violent household constantly fighting with my dad’s girlfriends children, fighting my cousins, and my dad’s 30 year old cousin while he just stood there laughing. I guess that’s why I always used to run from fights, I fought enough at home. 

I always tried to protect my siblings, but my dad used to ask me my opinion on him hitting them (which in turn, of course, turnt us all against each other). I remember one time he had hit them very hard, continuously, I must have been 12 by then, and they were covered in bruises up their legs, he came downstairs and asked me “Was that right? Do you think I hit them to much and too hard? Did they deserve that?” and because I was 12, I wanted to make my dad happy, and I wanted to impress him, so I said “yes dad it was fine, and personally I would have hit them harder, they deserve it!” in reality they didn’t deserve anything. I think about that night A LOT. I think about hearing them screaming and crying whilst dad hit them, and I did nothing other than agree with him and I have carried that guilt and memory with me for the past 17 years.

When I was 12/13 my mum had told me that my dad had raped my oldest sister, his step-daughter! Can you imagine being 12/13 years old and your mum telling you that your dad has RAPED your sister, and you were still at home living with him? Social knew all about this as well and disregarded these as malicious rumours as there were no police charges being filed or any case open what-so-ever. As the years went by my dad would never discuss what happened with my big sister, just kept saying "I will tell you when you're older." One time I asked my mum what had happened between the two of them, and she told me "Your sister would flirt with your dad constantly, wear inappropriate clothes to get his attention, kiss her friends in front of him, walk around the house naked etc, it wasn't rape, and one night they were drinking and had sex, nobody told me for months that my daughter was having an affair with her stepfather, and when I did find out, your sister said he raped her." My sister never pressed charges. She actually still calls him "dad!" She used to see him once a month. He helped her move in 2019 and she had gone over to his house for dinner!! My mum swears blind she NEVER told me any of this. She did! She's in denial. And what am I supposed to believe? Whether or not it was consented it's still disgusting that my dad even went there! That they both had this affair behind my mum's back. What am I supposed to do with this information? It's stuck with me for years, and subconsciously, I think it's why I've never let my dad look after my children without me around. Even though I know he'd never do anything like that! When I was growing up my dad was really big on making us get changed in our rooms, walking around the house fully clothed, drummed what privacy meant into us! He was soooo scared he would get accused of touching one of us that he tried to avoid it as much as possible! But because he never spoke to me about what had happened all those years ago, all I can do is wonder. (I still love my dad very much. I still see him whenever he can be bothered. But even though I know he never raped my big sister, even though I know that as the truth because my sister had said as much, I still cannot get it out of my hard or feel disgusted whenever I think of it).

But living with dad wasn’t all bad. We did go swimming, to theme parks, play parks, he gave us a birthday party every single year, we made a home cinema, built us forts and play houses, he loves boats and when we were growing up we'd spend weeks at a time down Hayling Island, sailing to West Witterings, and the Isle of Wight. He gave us cuddles and love. Told us he was proud of us and that he loved us so much. I guess that’s why I had him on a pedestal for so many years, and in my eyes he could never do wrong. Because I still loved him and I was still a daddy’s girl. 

It wasn’t all bad but the problem being the bad had stuck with me more than the good, and I still have trauma from my childhood, from all the violence.

My parents were both on such a pedestal. It wasn't until I had kids that the pedestal collapsed. And I realised just how wrong they were with our treatment. I realised I never wanted to treat my children the way we were treated. I never wanted them to sit there, silent and not moving out of fear. I never want them to be afraid of me. I never want them to silently cry upstairs in their room, scared of making too much noise incase we hear. 

This is the reason why when I saw myself screaming and shouting at my children more and more, I took the steps to get my mental health sorted. To become the parent I WANT to be and not the parent my "parents" MADE me to be. I phoned the doctors for antidepressants, I got a counsellor and a therapist for childhood trauma. I phoned social services and asked them what I can do to support me more. I phoned 'home-start' to get some more help at home, I started going to groups. I started journaling (until that stopped working and then decided to do this blog instead). I am trying to get better. Trying to become the parent I know I can be! My kids are my absolute world and for them I would go through fire to make sure they're given the childhood they deserve!

I never ever want my children to be scared of me or scared to tell me anything! 

I used to feel soo guilty for talking about my childhood like this because 'my dad gave up everything to take us in. He gave up his job, his canal boat and his girlfriend to be with us. We ruined his life and destroyed everything he loved when social gave us to him.' After having my own kids I started realising that he didn't give anything up. We didn't destroy anything. And it certainly is not our fault! He is our dad. Our parent too. He should have stepped up as a parent before we got taken off of our mum! 

I remember waiting for hours for dad to come and pick us up, and after waiting all evening, he would text my mum and say he couldn't make it. We used to take it out on her like it was her fault our dad wasn't coming.

My mum didn’t hit us but she used to mentally and emotionally manipulate us. She’d talk about dad so horribly when we were with her, which in turn made us dislike our mum more than our dad. 

I could never bring up our childhood or say we had a bad childhood with mum, because she’d go into denial, saying “I never hit you. Your childhood was amazing with me. It was your dad that beat you I never did” and I’d feel sooo guilty I just stopped bringing it up and learnt to never bring up my childhood in front of my mum. 

She always mentions dying even now. We’d be sitting there watching t.v., or I’d go round with my kids and they’d be playing and she’d be like “I haven’t got long left on this planet. I won’t make it to 80. I’ll be dead before your kids grow up.” I think I’m desensitized to her death, and honestly when she does die I don’t think I’d be that affected as I’ve been preparing for it since I was a child. 

She used to say stuff like “if your brother kills himself then I’d have to kill myself too, I won’t leave him.” My little brother has had major mental issues and has tried to commit suicide on numerous occasions. My mum would say that after every single time! I always found that whenever we had some type of mental problem my mum would be right there, turning it back onto herself. Everything is a competition for my mum. 

Recently I was sat round hers drinking coffee and she’d just randomly say “one day you’re going to come round and my body will be decomposing in bed and you’ll find me dead.” I just nod along and say “yes mum.”

School was hard for me. I could never seem to focus. I always got kicked out of lessons for distractions. I never trusted my teachers, because it was their fault I got taken and put into my dad’s care. Their fault our lives ended up like this. Their fault we got severely beaten. I never respected them and it showed in my behaviour. 

I was bullied a lot because of my deep voice and because my mum ‘couldn’t be bothered’ to bring me to school so, I had also been put down a year.

I would always try and get days off of school because I really hated going. I found that my dad never backed me up when it came to the school. He was always on their side, which then made me not trust him. I would never tell him about the bullying or when I got beaten up, because I was so scared he’d take their side. 

When I was 12, my then boyfriend, cornered me behind a bush and called his other friend over. He blocked my path whilst his "friend" walked towards me slowly, smiling, laughing, and telling me he was going to touch me and do things to me. I pushed past him and ran home. I still dream about that moment and what would have happened if I didn't get away. 

When I was 14 my step brother cornered me in my mum's house (whilst we were home alone), got his penis out, and told me to touch it, and to put my mouth around it, we were in the kitchen, I grabbed a large kitchen knife and told him if he didn't move I'd cut his dick off. I ran outside and waited till my mum & stepdad got home. I didn't tell anyone until I was 16. I was so scared no one would believe me and take his word, as he was 18 years old. On my 16th I went to my oldest sisters house, had a few drinks and of course told her what my step brother had tried to do, it felt soooo fucking good to let it out. She promised me she wouldn't say anything and then proceeded to tell her best friend who had started seeing my step brother. Of course she brought it up to him and he denied it. I had everyone telling me I was confused, I was wrong and I lied. To me this had solidified my hatred towards my oldest sister.

I got sexually assaulted when I was 15 by my boyfriend (I had drunk 3 bottles of vodka and smoked a lot of weed with my best friends mum, and had passed out in her bed), and my “best-friend” was in the bed next to me. She told me the following day what had happened at Thorpe Park. I had no recollection of this happening and I trusted my “best-friends” word. I got bullied even more at that point, and my mum talked me into not pressing charges “because I would have ruined his whole life on the word of a girl who watched me be sexually assaulted and didn’t do anything to stop it.” As I had no recollection of this I followed my mum’s advice and decided to not press charges. 

I moved to live with another family member, as my parents were making me return to my old school, where I was getting severely bullied. (My mum still brings this move up and still makes me feel guilty for leaving her, to this day). I lived with that family member for almost a year, before I decided to return back home as I missed my little sister and brother. I came home just before turning 16 and started a new school. By then of course it was too late to knuckle down and pay attention, and my grades were awful.

When I moved back home again I met a boy and we started a relationship which lasted 3 years. He was very controlling and emotionally abusive. I had to message him constantly, even in school, and if I didn’t return his messages he would get very nasty. He would manipulate me by crying as I’d feel incredibly guilty and at fault in an instant. He would call me horrible names, cheat on me left and right, all in all treat me like rubbish. 

When I turned 19 I moved away from my home town with my mum. I met a boy and we quickly became involved. He was emotionally, physically and mentally abusive. He would slap me, spit on me, piss on me, call me awful names, choke me, one time he bit my shoulder, held me down and proceeded to anally rape me, whilst telling me I was dirty and I loved it, he made me feel worthless, ugly, like I deserved every single thing he ever did to me. Like it was my fault! I was with him for 5 years before I realised my worth and finally left him. He still haunts my dreams. And truthfully I still feel worthless and ugly. 

After my ex I met the man I am with now, he's never been abusive physically, mentally or emotionally. He's never called me names. There are still issues of course. No relationship is perfect (I'll do a separate blog post for this, as this blog is long enough as it is). We have 2 beautiful children who both fulfil my heart and annoy the shit out of me!

I’ve always been in relationships, and I jump from one to the other. I don’t think I’ve ever been single for more than a couple weeks. Since the age of 14 I have been in multiple long-term, serious relationships with both men and women, which have all lasted 3-5 years. 

I don’t really know what I was searching for with these relationships. Maybe I just wanted to be loved and accepted, and felt like at home I wasn’t. Maybe I sought out abusive relationships because that was my childhood. My home life. Maybe to me that was normal. Maybe I felt like I deserved to be abused and made to feel worthless. 

Since having kids there were so many things that started coming to the surface. So many triggers I didn’t realise I had. So much anger boiling over.

When my little girl was a baby I used to get so angry at her crying. I was scream and shout at her. And then I would cry for hours because I realised I was turning into my parents. I want to break this generational curse. I want my kids to be raised without depression etc. I want them to know their worth. Know I love them unconditionally, and that I will ALWAYS have their back even if it’s against the school. 

As my little girl got older, and spilt drinks, didn’t eat her dinner etc. I realised that these were also triggers for me, because if I did that I would have got shouted at and slapped, and I’d never do that to mine, so how could they do that to me? 

I still shout at my kids. I still suffer flashbacks and nightmares. I’m still so angry over my childhood. But I know I’ll never get closure. Both parents would deny it so what is the point? 

I am on antidepressants and I have started therapy to sort through the childhood trauma and the mess which is my brain. 

I think if you’ve had a traumatic childhood then mum guilt can affect you 10x more. Because we want to give our children soooo much more than we were given. And when we shout, scream, spend days in the house, or don’t buy our kids what they want, we feel incredibly guilty and we feel as though we’re becoming our parents. 

The truth being I am NOTHING like my mum or my dad! I know how to NOT parent because of mine. I know what not to do. 

Yes it’s still a struggle and some days are so much harder than others, but I’ll never give up on me or on my kids! 

My kids will grow up happy and care free. They won’t be hiding under beds terrified. Or shaking in fear when you’ve made a mistake or done something wrong because you know a beating is about to follow. 

My kids will never be worried or scared to tell me anything! 

They will have a childhood where they can look back on and say “yes it wasn’t all ‘perfect’ but mum was there for us through thick and thin, and she never gave up. Not then. Not now. Not EVER.”