Putting The Past To Bed

My past - so many shades of fucked up. No that is NOT a reference to THAT movie.
Experiencing more than you're average person yet still fighting to blend in with the crowd.
Can it be done?
Firstly I think I need to accept that the past is the past, it made me who I am today but doesn't define me. Things happen for a reason and I have learnt from them.
So I'm just going to get it all out and "cleanse" myself of the past, move forward.

What are the things in my past that I feel have had a negative effect?
Being a heroin addict, prostitution, rape, abuse of all kinds, my son passing away, delivering my stillborn daughter, my miscarriages, the lies, the deceit. The list does go on.

I've beaten a lot of these things but not overcome them. I haven't used heroin in a long time, I haven't been paid for sex in 8 years, I left my abusive ex and started a new life. The loss of my children led me to my work in helping other families through loss.

So why some days do I feel a pull to go back? Simple, once an addict, always an addict. Actively using or not I think it would be a lie to say that there are not days I would go back without hesitation.
Why? I don't know, in these moments my head forgets the hunger, the fear, the desperate need, the feelings of hurt and withdrawls. In my dark times I just think it would be an easy escape to go back to not caring about anything but making enough money for a hit.

In reality I have come so far since then. I have an education, 4 beautiful (although sometimes torturous) children. I own my own business, I am a committee member for a large charity organization, I am the Australian representative for a huge event coming to Australia (more on that later it doesn't feel right putting it in this post), I don't have savings but I'm not desperate for money anymore, my rent is paid, my bills are paid there is always food on the table, we are clothed and warm. So really to go back to that lifestyle would be throwing so, so much away.

So what am I going to do? Well I love to create things, I love to sew and paint. I love to make things from paper whether it be cards or scrapbooking. I love metal work and jewellery making. I am teaching myself to knit and crochet (thank you YouTube) I am going to use my love of craft and creating as an outlet, when I am feeling weak or even manic to keep myself busy in a productive way. Who knows I could even make some spending money from it.

I am no longer going to be ashamed of my past, I am not going to shout it from the rooftops loud and proud either but acknowledge that the path led me somewhere, taught me something. Made me who I am today and one great lady in my life at the moment tells me that's not a bad thing who I am.
The only thing that I cannot move on from so easily is the rape, it was 13 years ago on May 13th 2002. For the most part I am good with it now, except I cannot go out alone in the dark, certain smells are a trigger particularly men's cologne, the nightmares and flashbacks that reoccur. Now I have discovered my neighbour has the same name and the person who did it to me was a neighbour so that has triggered me a lot lately. But one step at a time and one day I will deal with it a lot better, I know I will.

I am a survivor not a victim

I always thought until very recently I was a victim of domestic violence. I learnt not long ago I am not a victim, I am a survivor and since that light bulb moment I have felt stronger and ready to start moving on.

The things I experienced with my ex (my 9 year olds father) I would not wish upon anybody. Although I said earlier than I am ready to move on I have been having a lot flashbacks lately,8 years later. Being out of the relationship doesn't always make you free. I have lived in fear for so long and that is about to change. I have nothing to fear now.

My ex went as far as to attempt to kill my daughter and I, at this point I was too scared to tell police what really happened and he got numerous other domestic violence related charges and I wish now I hadn't have downplayed what he did. Do you know why I did it? It was out of fear, shame, embarrassment even guilt, guilt that I stayed that long to the point I could have lost my daughter.

One thing that really annoys me when it comes to domestic violence is how naive people can be. I heard so many times "why don't you just leave?" Or most commonly because I never really spoke up when I was in the relationship "why didn't you just leave?" When somebody controls you so much and you fear them that much you can't, you can't eat without being told you're allowed, can't listen to music if they don't want you to, shower when you're told. How are you meant to leave? The abuser knows this, control is their main weapon. I was not allowed anywhere by myself and if I was he had people follow me. 

As I said before domestic violence has long lasting effects on the person on the receiving ends. I may not have physical scars but I do have bones that were broken that get sore at night or in the cold, I do have a lump on my nose from where it was broken, I do have the lasting memories. Remembering being pulled aside at a neighbour's house to ask about the bruises around my neck, excuse after excuse to housing about another wall or door I "fell through" 

In my current relationship I am very defensive for example if my husband can't find his keys I instantly jump on the defense "I didn't touch them, it wasn't me" 

It is my time to stand back up. It is my time to be strong, be happy, live the life I deserve.

Domestic violence hasn't only effected me, my daughter has some long lasting effects too including severe anxiety and social disorders. 

The above picture is a tattoo I will be getting in the near future, the purple ribbon is the domestic violence awareness ribbon and I love butterflies. Thinking back now if it wasn't for a good friend of mine who is as good as a sister to me for calling the police one night when my ex was in a rage and police intercepting the car I really believe I would have died that night. 

I have to go do the school pick up now but may write more on this tonight.

It's a confidence building exercise

**This post is about sexual assault so please if this topic is a trigger for you either don't read or read on with caution**

It wasn't until recently that I realised I have been sexually assaulted more times than just the time I was raped, just because intercourse wasn't involved doesn't mean it wasn't assault.

Firstly we will start with my father in law - yes my husbands own father. I had just had my third child, she was around 3-4 months old and my husband was at work, my father in law stopped by which never happened as he lived quite some distance so I wasn't uncomfortable by this, I assumed he had come to see his new grandaughter, my husbands first child.
She fell asleep shortly after he arrived and he said are you coming out for a smoke? Being a smoker at the time I said yes, we smoked out in the garage.
We had been out there for about 15 minutes when he said come here, I did. He hugged me, this was nothing new he had always been very affectionate and I had never thought anything of it, I actually liked it. Then he kissed me, on the lips and I could feel his tongue trying to force its way into my mouth. I was 21 and he was 60. I didn't say no, I froze, paralysed to the spot. This went on for about half an hour, I couldn't move, talk, nothing, I wasn't even in my own body anymore, disassociation has well and truly kicked in.
Eventually I said I need to check the baby and ran inside and woke the baby and held her close to me the whole time, he left shortly after and I rang my husband in tears.
He of course rang his father and his father said that it was a confidence building exercise for me - how that builds my confidence I have no idea. Well the rest of the family soon heard that I had "accused" him of these things and then a few other family members (ex wives of my husbands brothers) came to me and told me of similar experiences they have had with him.
I'm not sure if this is even sexual assault but my trust was shattered as was my husbands, my privacy was invaded, kissing someone in that manner certainly shouldn't be something that goes on with your father in law when you're engaged to be married.
Why didn't I say no? I was scared, plain and simple, I froze.


After I started going to a family violence counselling program the worker there also made me aware that what my ex used to do was sexual assault and rape. Because he was violent if he came home while I was in bed I would pretend to be asleep, if he wanted sex he would just take it with me still pretending to be asleep, call me stupid but until recently I thought that was ok because we were together so he was entitled to do that but no he was not because if I were actually asleep I would not have been in a position to say no.

There is one more incident but I am not yet ready to tell that story as it is very recent (only a few months ago) 

A piece of me - part two

This is the second time I'm trying to write this, the iPad glitched and I lost an hours worth of writing :(

If you haven't read part one you can find it here http://lifeonbothsidesoftherainbow.blogspot.com.au/2014/05/a-piece-of-me-part-one.html

This next chapter begins in australia, I hadn't touched drugs since moving here, it was a struggle to even get cigarettes here. At the time you could legally buy cigarettes in England at 16, here it was 18. Getting clean had been hell but I had become used to the idea of having a baby at 16 since he was due in February and my birthday is in January. Getting clean was hell, I thought I was going to die but it was worth it, I hung it on for my baby. Me and him would take on the world, I was finally gaining someone who would love me and I could love back, I would cuddle him, feed him, look after him. I wasn't sure where we would live, we would find an organisation that would help us but I was going to build a great life for him, make him proud to call me his mum.

This all turned upside down when I was 25 weeks pregnant and gave birth to Anthony, he was so small, yet perfect, we would make it through this, everything would be ok, I had him, he was mine, nobody was going to take that away. The universe however had other ideas and Anthony James grew his wings at 3 hours old.

My world was destroyed. Crushed, broken beyond repair. My head was spinning so fast. D had been over in australia visiting with his mum and had been at the hospital the entire time. He said he needed to get away for but about half an hour after Anthony had passed, I didn't care,I wanted to be alone. I wanted my son. He came back a few hours later, I was locked in the toilet slashing my wrists with a razor blade, he knocked on the door, I told him to go away, he said he had a present for me, I said I didn't need presents I'm going to be with my son. It didn't take him long to break the lock, all I remember him saying was quick before the nurses come and injecting me. After that a nurse never left my side until I was discharged. Not long after D and his mum had to go home, back to England. My habit started again, I only knew one way to fund it, could I do it alone? I soon learnt I could, there are horny men everywhere.

Fast forward to when I was 17, I has enrolled in a new school, making a good, honest, clean go at my life. I had promised my son I would make him proud of me and that it what I was going to do. It was July 2nd 2004 and I'd been dragged to the movies by friends to watch Shrek 2, this is where I met M. Instantly I fell for him, by the end of the night we had exchanged numbers and became inseperable. July 10th 2004 was a friends birthday party, we all drank way too much and M and I ended up sleeping together, little did I know at the time my 2nd child had just been conceived. It was all in this week I was kicked out of school and subsequently kicked out of home. I moved in with my friend C and her family who later became my adopted family.

C thought she was pregnant but was too scared to do a test, she had bought a twin pack so to help her through the process I said I'll do one if you do one, never had I expected to see 2 lines clear as day, hers was negative, mine was positive. So what started as just helping a friend be brave enough to pee on a stick turned into me discovering I was pregnant. I was 17, M was only 15.

My adopted mum didn't like M and one if the conditions to me living there was that I stop seeing him. I was in love though, I snuck out and lied about where I was going to see him, I even got him a job where I was working so I could see him. Then one day my adopted dad, R, came and sat me down outside as I was having a cigarette and said "mum said you have to leave, you lied to us" my heart sank. I never thought I'd be kicked out for trying to have a relationship with the father of my baby, after my first son being conceived through rape having an actual family for my baby meant a lot to me, more than others around could possibly imagine. It broke my heart that I'd hurt the family who took me in, the family I'd longed for all my life and I'd stuffed it up, little did I know I'd need them more than ever a few months later but was too embarrassed to reach out after hurting them.

This is another reason these posts are hard to right, my adopted mum is a follower on my page so chances are she will read this and learn of just how screwed up I was. I never stole from them, never meant to hurt them, reading these posts will hurt her. Mum if you do read this, I am sorry, I wish I had have listened to you, I wish I had have pulled my head in and treated you with the respect you deserved, not back chatted, done more housework, spent more time with you, sitting here in tears right now just wanting to hug you and tell you I love you. If I had have listened to my adopted mum then I wouldn't have to write this next section.

I'd never been around domestic violence, not this way. I'll never forget the first time he hit me, it was not long after we moved in together in October 2004, roughly 6 weeks after I'd left my adopted mums house. It was a punch straight to the face,he told me he was sorry and that he didn't mean it. I believed him. I was 21 weeks pregnant when he threw a tv and me and narrowly missed me, 24 weeks when he stabbed me 3 times with a screwdriver, once in the leg, twice in the back. This is the scar on my leg 10 years later.

The violence got worse. At 26 weeks I was rushed to hospital where I was then transferred to another hospital over an hour away that had a NICU as I'd tested positive for being in pre term labour, the contractions were getting closer and all I could think was that what happened with Anthony was happening all over again. Thankfully the amazing staff stopped my labour with a lot of medications and I was put onto bed rest. I was discharged  a few weeks later. The violence started again shortly after I returned home, I was thrown through walls, held down and choked, slapped and punched.

I believed that when the baby arrived he would change, I had nobody to turn to, I was scared to leave.

My daughter was born April 25th 2005 and 41 weeks. We picked him up from a nightclub on the way to the hospital.

Nothing changed. I rang my biological dad one day for help, I needed to get me and my baby out, his exact words I will never forget "you made your bed, you lie in it" he hung up. That taught me not to reach out for help, keep going alone, one day it will stop.

It did stop one day. We were in the car we didn't have our daughter she was at M's mums for the night, the car had no fuel, we pulled into a service station and filled up, he jumped in the he car and took off, great we just did a petrol run. He was angry because I said I wanted to go home after that, he started driving erratically. He pulled up at a shop and told me to stay in the car. I rang my adopted sister C whom I had lived with that time and put my phone in my lap so she could hear but M wouldn't know I had called anyone, he was hitting me, he was scrapping the passenger side of the car into poles, telling me I was going to die that night. Eventually he got bored and drove us home, we drove straight past our unit there was police everywhere, C had called them. He dropped me off down the road and told me to walk home, pick up something and not tell them he was sitting down the road. I walked to my house and collapsed to the ground, police ran to me, of course I told them where he was. The police filed an intervention order against my will, I was scared, if he thought I'd done it he would kill me, his mum had our daughter, I needed her back.

We had court the next day and I dropped the intervention order down to a limited order so that he could still live in the home, I truly believed after that he would change. Again I was wrong.

All the violence had made me hit the drugs again pretty hard and start working the streets again so that I could be numbed out from it all, it barely hurt if I was loaded, it didn't even scare me if I was loaded. Pretty soon getting punched and choked until you pass out had become a part of daily life. He didn't care that our daughter was around or even in my arms.

I had started a new school, I was determind to finish high school. I met a girl named P who I became good friends with and would stay at her house as long a I could before knowing I had to go home. One night M and I got into yet another arguement, he broke my nose and my hand, I rang P, she said stay there get as much stuff as you can we are coming to get you. She lived a half an hour drive away, a car pulls up in my driveway 10 minutes later with P and a guy I'd seen around at her house a few times, she went straight to the baby's room and grabbed her, L grabbed my stuff and helped me into the car.

That is the night my daughter and I broke free.