Part I

I have had to overcome several different types of abuses in my lifetime. I guess it all started when I was two years old. When you think of parents you think of love, kindness and protectors. My biological parents were far from these. My biological parents were heartless, loveless, drugged up monsters. It was believed that sexual assault was involved but was never proven. But what was proven was severe neglect. If it was not for my great aunt (Nan) I would most likely not be here today to tell my story. Having this past childhood has left me judging everything (and I mean everything) I do in my life now. Has me questioning me in general. Why was I not good enough? Why am I not normal enough to have a normal family life? Did I do something wrong? My life did get happier for quiet a few years. Nan took us kids in and gave us a great childhood. Gave us beautiful clothes, so many toys, laughs, memories. She threatened us right. She loved us. But something went wrong when I hit the age of 13\. It was like I could never do anything right in my Nan's eyes. It started off small, arguments, yelling but as years went on it would get worse. Eventually it turned into hitting, kicking, dragging by the hair, saying things that would affect my mentally. It became that bad that I feared waking up.it became that bad the only time I was happy was when I was at school. This made me wish that I was dead. Made me feel like I wasn’t loved. Made me feel so alone. I took an overdose one day at school. But it just made very sick to the point the school took me to the hospital. (they didn’t know I took anything) but as soon as I got home, I got in trouble because the school didn’t call nan before taking me. She soon found out about the overdose and kept my tablets under close watch. I ran away lot long after this. We had another bad fight. I went to a friend’s house. Her parents took me to the police station, and I told them what was happening. The police called Nan down to the station. They believed her that I was a “troubled child”. They told me I was to start respecting nan and not to tell false stories to them again. That’s where my trust for everyone vanished. A couple years passed and nothing changed. Everything was still the same. One day nan pricked my finger and drew one drop of blood. She said that drop of blood was all that was a part of me from her and now there’s nothing. This affected me badly. Does that mean I have no family anymore? Was there anybody that loved me or wanted me? This was the day I first cut myself. Months went on with the same old same old, but it was always progressively worse each time. I was starting to black out. I would do horrible things causing harm, but I could not and still can’t remember doing any of it. But each time there was video proof of me doing these things. I broke my nans back, I knocked two teeth out, I choked my little sister till she started to turn blue. I eventually left again. Because I had nowhere to go or no one to turn to I ended up spending two weeks living under the Cooma bridge. Stealing little bits of food from Coles or woollies to get me by. One day I saw a friend at the park. We spent the day together. She invited me back to her home. Her family took me in and helped me get in touch with the right people to get me set up with a place to stay, a payment from Centrelink and still focus on my schooling. During the time I was on my own nan would not allow me to contact any of the family. She found out I was messaging one of my sisters one day and she replied to my message “do not contact my family, we don’t talk to trash.” I missed my family so much. I found small ways to make contact like catching their school bus in the afternoon. I felt so alone and had trouble coping with this. On several occasions I self-harmed to try and ease this pain and it worked for a moment but once the pain was gone, I was alone again. A couple months passed and my nan contacted me out of the blue for the first time since I left. She took me out for breakfast. When we met up, we both spent a lot of time apologizing for everything we had put each other through. She explained to me she was scared. She was scared I would turn out like my biological parents and she thought if she was tough on me and kept me from friends apart from school time, I wouldn’t turn out that way. Nan took me back home to the family house. I spent time with the family. Nan soon told me she was diagnosed with lung cancer. For six months after this I spent a lot of my time at the family house, I put my studies on hold and I helped look after nan. Unfortunately, nan passed away. I have no anger for my nan. I understand her intentions and I will always love and miss her very much. I do wish however that she could see that I haven’t turned out like my parents. Losing nan was hard. I took an overdose which put me in hospital for three days. I never told the doctors or anyone what I did. When I was released, I went home and I went to take another overdose, but a friend showed up, seen what was happening. He got upset and disposed of the tablets. He saved my life however introduced me to pot. Looking back now it wasn’t the best thing to do because my life became so dependent on getting my high. But it was my escape. Moving forward a couple of months my brother introduced me to someone. He wasn’t someone I normally would go for. I guess I had it in my head that being with him nan would come back and get mad at me. But as time passed, I actually fell in love with him. I thought he was great. He could do no wrong. Boy was I wrong. I guess I should have known the first time he was put in jail to leave, but I stayed. It got bad 1yr after being together. At our engagement party. He got mad about something and destroyed my room by punching holes in the walls while screaming at me. But I still stayed. A few months later I found out he was cheating on me with an ex. I confronted him and he lost it at me. He grabbed me and threw me on my bed and when I went to get up, he slapped me. But I still stayed. Things sort of calmed down for a bit even though he went to jail a few more times during this time. But each time I stayed. He cheated on me again. This time was with an under 18-year-old. This resulted in him being told he wasn’t allowed back in Cooma. But I still stayed. I left my job, left my hometown and went up to him. We spent a week homeless before he was able to return to Cooma. Some time went on. There were arguments, there was cheating, there was always taking money from me and if I didn’t say yes, more arguments. He ended up back in jail yet again and I found out I was pregnant. After four years of heavily using pot, this was the day I became clean. Again, I found out he cheated on me thanks to a doctor's appointment. When I confronted him about this, he turned it on me saying I was the cheater. That the baby wasn’t even his that I was just saying it was his. But I still stayed. When he got out things got good for a bit. But then one day we had an argument, he punched holes again and would threaten “wait till this baby is born”. This phrase was said on several occasions.

Part II

December 19th, 2015 my baby boy was born. You would think that would be my happy ending. But you are far from wrong. One night we got into a fight and he punched me causing a black eye. But I still stayed. People asked me what happened, including a police officer at court, but I lied to him telling people I got drunk and fell over and hit the corner of my bed. A couple weeks later we were watching tv. He tried to have sex with me and when I pushed him away telling him I was watching this show he got mad. He smashed the tv, grabbed me and dragged me to the floor, got on top of me and choked me. I thought he was going to kill me that night. I banged the floor hoping my roommates would hear but they didn’t. I ended up kneeing his back and he jumped up and ran off. But again, I stayed. The moment that happened fear stayed in my head.  I feared that if I ever said no to him again, he would kill me. This fear went on even after we had broken up, I would say no as much as I could but as soon as he started getting mad I gave up and let him do what he wanted so scared he was going to choke me to death again.

Everyday there was a new hole in the wall or a new bruise. But I still stayed. One night my little sister messaged me and told me he was messaging her, wanting her to come over and wanted “to do things with her”. She sent me the screen shots and as soon as I saw them that was it! I left him. But that was not the end.

Even though we weren’t together he still stayed. He used that his name was on the lease still as a reason not to leave. He never paid for his share of anything though. No rent, no food, no nothing. So, I went to the real estate and removed his name from the lease, but he still wouldn’t leave. He used docs against me saying he would take our son from me because of my work schedule. I believed this and just dealt with him staying and financially abusing me. A couple months later we got into a big argument. I went to leave but he stood in front of the door. I grabbed our son and went into my bedroom. He got in front of me and kicked me in the stomach, I dropped breathless, he grabbed me by the throat and lifted me up and held me against the wall off the ground, I slapped him in the face and he dropped me and I ran to the bathroom and tried to lock the door but he kicked the door askew, I crawled out and ran through the house screaming for help but my roommate didn’t come. I ran out the backyard screaming for someone to help me. As I ran out of places to go, I watched him running for me and thought this is it, this is the end. I gave one final scream for help. He stopped and took off yelling about how he was going to kill me. I called several people to come and help me when he left. One person out of the many answered my call. One person came and helped me on the one day I needed someone. And even though I didn’t go to the police like she advised I will be forever grateful to her for answering that call and coming halfway across town to just be with me.

One day I found out he had choked his now ex-girlfriend. That isn’t my story to tell but to this day I have and always will have guilt for this. I should have been strong and spoken up when it happened to me then she would not have suffered what I suffered. This regret has resulted in dark days and twice self-harm. I can not express how sorry I am for what he did to her. He did time for what he did to her but when he got back things were okay for a little bit but like always went right back to the same old same old.

Even though I got a new place he still was in my life using our son against me. I made a bad judgement resulting in a big debt with the tax department and he would use this against me. I always believed his threats. He never laid his hands on me but he always threatened to hit me, he would say things like “ you are the worst mum, you are not a mum” and he would take money from me and if I said no he would get mad. Eventually I made him leave my house and he was only allowed there to watch our son while I was at work. One month ago, I went to Canberra with my family. I had locked my door as he wasn’t there and hadn’t been there for about a week. But when I came home that afternoon he was in my house and had broken in. I got mad and told him to leave. He made threats of punching me, he punched my door and while I was on the phone to the police told me he was going to kill me and then left. An AVO was put in place, I moved to a new place and I am doing a lot better. I am happier, I am financially stable for the first time in a while and I feel safe. I still have some dark moments, but my son is the light that gets me through them.

My story has been a long one, but I am glad I have finally stood up and told it. I want people to know that no matter where you come from does not mean you will have the same path. That no matter how scared you are, never be afraid to speak up. You will not only make your life better, you could be protecting someone else going through the same pain and heartache.

Thank you for reading my story and remembering it's okay to not be okay.