I dont really know why I am writing this as I dont feel like I've suffered and why this would be even classified as trauma as I feel that It isn't as bad as what other people have suffered. PLease excuse me.

I cant even remember half the stuff so maybe as I type it will come to me.

ok.

I was born in a little cute town. I do remember bits of it, the hill behind our house (I dont know why I sometimes refer to myself as us and our, maybe it's a safety thing), bits of the house etc. My sister who is 1 year older than me and my brother who is 2 years younger than me lived there too.

I was always a mummy's girl always not too far from her.

I dont remember my father at all (I mean not at all, and that's always baffled me as I'm extrememly close to him now) He worked as a shearer and a boiler maker and we travelled around Australia alot from when I was born always going to and from my home where I was born, living on sheep stations and other places. Of course I dont remember this but dont have any bad memories or feelings of it.

My first day of school when I was 5 at the town I was born in was awful, do remember that but it's awful for everyone so that's that.

My auntie and uncle lived in my town also and I have really bad feelings of remembering my aunty and uncles house especially the bathroom as we stayed there alot for babysitting and I remember not wanting to go there.

When we were 6 years old we lived on an aboriginal reserve as my father manned the warehouse there. We lived there for about 10 months and I remember every last minute, the school, father christmas, snakes, mice, kangaroos, the dogs, the people, the smell, all of it. It was the best time of my life. I loved it although I still wanted to be by my mum. She was always sad and pushed us away alot. As far as i can remember though mum was in bed alot and from talking to her when I got alot older before she died she actually suffered from depression.

We then ended up in Western Australia. I was about 7 years old by then. We went to a knew school again but I had already gone to a few different schools inbetween but cant really put names and town to where they were. Going to so many different schools made me very shy and nervous of meeting people as I was always the new kid.

We were staying in a caravan when my aunty and uncle come over from SA with their 5 kids. We had alot of fun but my mum was a little weird. I asked her about when the 3rd world war would come and she said when Jesus comes back to earth is when the 3rd world war would come and all the people who have been good would be saved by jesus and go with him and all the bad people would get killed in the war and I asked her (my heart pounding) when would this happen and she said in the blink of God's eye and I said worried that that is now and she said no, not now, God's blink of an eye could be a day, a month, a year even a hundred years, it depends on how long it takes God to blink his eye, nobody knows (my heart was beating a hundred miles an hour thinking that a bomb would drop at any minute) - mind you we were NOT religious people so I was a little confused by this and was instantly petrified that I would be killed at any time soon. That's when my real anxiety started I think, now that I'm actually really writing this down. I never told a sole in fear of me being bad and that that would cause me to die in the war and why would I even question my mum, she knew everything, she was the smartest and most beautiful person in the world.....

Well, then out of no where we (me, my sister and my brother and mum) ended up in Sydney with my uncle who was now my new dad because him and mum were together now.
I have no memory of how we got there, how much time had gone by but I know I was still 7 years old.
Again in my later years I asked my mum what had happened and she said they had been having an affair and when we were in Western Australia my aunty told my dad and he just left mum just there and then and mum had to go with my uncle as my aunty left him and went with my dad - Boy, how confusing.
But my Uncle was extremely manipulating - he beat his wife and 5 children - he was extremely religious to the point that they werent' to celebrate Christmas and they werent' to have toys and he was so very kind to my mum and me and my sister. Little did my mum know that he was a paedophile also and abused all of his children and he had been grooming us for years.

Anyway we lived up on a big hill in a caravan park infront of my uncle's house. My mother said to me and my sister that we were never to step foot in his house (again later I found out why because she knew he was a paedophile). We had to use the outside toilet which had a huge hairy spider spralled from the tree to the side of the toilet and they wouldn't get rid of it because they just wouldn't so we had to walk passed that big hairy spider every time we used the toilet. My sister was that frightened that she did a poo behind the caravan and blamed it on my brother who got in big trouble all because she was petrified (she's now aracnaphibic) and then of course 20 years later confessed to it (which we all laughed about ofcourse) and we were told that we were to use 1 she of toilet paper for a wee and 3 sheets of toilet paper for poo. Pretty much we were imprisoned - well that's what it felt like. Most of it I cant remember. We went from a carefree life to being dictated to by scare tactics. We had no idea what hit us. No wander my mum told me about the war - because little did I know my uncle was starting to get into her head.

The next thing I can remember is living in a house somewhere but my brother wasn't with us anymore. (Again later I found out we were in Melbourne and mother had gone back and forth to my dad and my brother had stayed with him so only me and my sister went back with my mum to my uncles). I was still 7 years old.
My uncle was very religious from what i remember. We would have to sit in the dim lit loungeroom and watch him do his thing on God on the stupid felt board and have to sit there and watch and just watch with the stupid bible characters. I hated it so much. I wanted so badly to go back to my old life so badly I wanted it back but I couldn't have it back there was no way to get back there. Dammmmmmittttt. He would say shit like "God will strike you down if you dare to be naughty. you have to be good little girls"
He would get so drunk he could barely stand. I hated the smell of him. It made me sick.
I can always remember lying in bed listening to the cars, focusing on the cars, just focus, focus, focus, listen to the cars going by but i was so scared of going out there coz out there was bad, it felt bad. I was so scared of out there but scared of in here too but out there was worse because what if the war came I would be all alone.
I can remember his sillhouette standing in the doorway late at night just watching us with his long johns on. I can remember him hopping into bed with me....
I can remember him cooking a green cake and I hated him. Looking at him in the kitchen holding the cake again with the dim lit room. Hating him so badly because he wasn't my dad even though we had to call him dad. I hated him so much but had to be nice to him so he would hurt me. I had to pretend. It's funny, I dont remember my sister or my mother or even him for that matter. i cannot see them anywhere in my head.

We lived in about 9 different places all with different schools in the whole 2 years we were with him that's not including going back and forth to South Australia to my dad which I have no recolection of. About 4 different houses with him and about 5 different half way houses running away from him where he would always find us and manage to get us to live back with him. We werent' so celebrate easter or christmas.

I remember the first half way house we lived in. It was nice and safe feeling, I felt happy because it was surrounded by this great big cement grey wall that was so thick and mum said he wont find us here and he did. We were going out of the wall and there he was standing there. he was skinny and his hair was oily falling over his face. He started to sob. He fell at my feet and cuddled my legs saying "please come back to me, please, please tell your mum to come back to me. I cant live without you. I cant eat see look at me I'm so skinny. I'm dying, Im sick, I'm so sad with out you, I love you so much, please, please" bawling his eyes out. I so badly didn't want to go back there but i had to stop his pain and i pleaded with mum to go back with him so she agreed.
My heart fell to the floor because I was screaming inside me please mum say no to me, tell me no, we are not going back to him but I just couldnt say it out aloud in fear of hurting his feelings. I couldn't run, I just froze. I couldn't have walked away but I couldn't.
And at that moment I just disappeared for ever I think there and then.

That's all I can write.

I have no idea if this is a good thing or a bad thing to really go in detail of my experiences. Dont even know if by someone acknowledging it that it will help. Dont even know why I'm doing it.
I think I need to be accepted somehow. I need to belong.

Anyway I'll go on with my story.

The rest of the time with living with my uncle is just a big

Gotta go out.

Wadoo, your doing just fine. A diary is about getting things out of you, looking at what you write once you've written it, then helping you to pull things apart. People can pull themselves apart if they know how, or if they simply have the information in front of them.

Hi Wadoo,

Well done for writing so far. You've gone into more emotional detail about what happened than I have in my diary. It's not easy. Take things at your pace, but don't avoid saying things you want or need to say. The good thing about these diaries is you get input and feedback, and reassurance from the fears of thinking about things, and being open. You will see that you can be accepted, and that what happened to you does not make you some sort of abnormal person. Just stronger, and with more insight.

Lisa.

Thankyou for your comments, you have no idea how much it means to me.

This has been really good for me to write in such detail. It's like I'm emptying my mind for a little while. I did an exercise and wrote without detail, i thought that was good but this is better.


I'll continue.

We went back to live with him but again have no recollection of most of the 2 years we were living with him.

I see lots of scattered images of the actual abuse but cant make alot of sense of it. The most frightening is the memories of the feelings that I cant deal with.

Those 2 years are so scattered and in such an irregular order. I had a dog called meshia. One place we stayed in had a lovely garden out the front with a picket fence, I loved meshia and funny isnt it, I can actually see meshia in my mind.. strange that I cant see anyone else.. only reason I know they were there is because it's fact.
This little house we stayed in must have been the last house before we finally left because this was the house mum ended up piling a whole lot of christmas presents on the bed (their bed) all unwrapped and said to us girls that we ARE having christmas this year and she doesn't care what he says. We were so excited... I know for a fact and a strong memory of how numb I was though, that I just couldn't outsource any of my feelings.
We jumped on the bed and mum read out what gift was for what girl. I got a toy sewing machine which I was so excited about and other bits and pieces but I had never seen that many presents in all my life and it was great. I remember feeling very guilty for taking the presents because of the look on his face... he was not happy at all as mum and him were in bed and it must have been christmas morning. Now I look back and think what an arsehole... we had 1 doll each and he made us a doll cot each, that was it... we had heaps of toys when we were with mum and dad but had to leave them behind.

I remember waking up in the morning as me and my sister slept in the same room and we both had tools in our bed. I had a wood plane and my sister had a hammer and other tools. This was a regular occurance. It frightened me. We ended up finding that it was me putting the tools in our beds because mum followed me one night and I apparently slept walked and put the tools in the bed.

And actually there is another memory of visiting my dad when we were with my uncle but I didn't realise it was in that 2 years until I talked to my dad about it when I grew up and that was we must have visited him and mum (alone) dropped us girls off at his house and he had a new girlfriend and she had a couple of girls and my brother was there but I felt like I didn't know him anymore, I felt alienated from him and my dad. Mum took off in the car without telling me she was going to leave and I just bolted after the car, screaming and yelling please dont leave mum, take me with you, please come back, I promise I'll be a good little girl. Anyway after that and me calming down I noticed all our things were out the front of his house on the grass (such a clear memory). I noticed all my toys and my sisters toys and cups and plates and heaps of stuff but everything was ours... I was familiar with it.
But my dads girlfrieds stupid girls wouldn't let us near the stuff and told us it was theirs now and we weren't allowed to touch it.. I know I cried and my sister comforted me. I cant remember anything else from that....

Anyway getting back to the house with the Christmas presents... There was a factory next door to that house because this house was the last on the street and me and my sister would play there... I remember feeling that I always felt like I escaped when I would go there.. and we would make doll furniture for our dolls with the pine offcuts. This was before we got the christmas presents because I'm pretty sure we must have left for the last time after that I dont know.

Anyway the whole time we lived in that house which I have no idea how long my mum would send me down to the corner shop and the school was accross the road... I can see it so clearly walking down the long road.
Mum would give me money to get 2 bottles of milk and every morning I would drop 1 on the way back and break it... every morning without fail... and every morning I would get screamed at because I dropped the bottle of milk... "Your so stupid, how can you drop 1 bottle of milk every friggen morning" she was always so damm mad... I hated it so much.

I remember going to the school and looking at the teachers and hoping and praying that they could read my eyes... pleading with them silently to look into my eyes and pick me up and cuddle me and take me away from this awful place I was in.

So many things happened in that house and all the others that I just cant recap on at this moment coz I feel that my head would explode into a hundred pieces and would surely go crazy.

I do remember going to my uncles brothers house and feeling so frightened... he was a paedophile too. He abused all his 5 children, boys and girls and then killed himself in prison only about 10 years ago.

I have terrible memories of him and my uncle doing things to us but cant get my head around that one just yet either.

Anyway when mum finally left him I was 9 by this stage and we moved in to the Kensington Flats in Melbourne (my brother was with us by that time) mum met my step dad and she wanted to go out with him for the night so who should she get to babysit us kids!!!!!! the very man who terrorised us beyond belief.. my uncle!!!!

So we stayed there for the night. We went to a party first at my uncles brothers house... hmm.. anyway.. my uncle got so very drunk that he had my sister who was only 10 years old to sit on his knee and steer the car home... I'm surprised we made it... but still glancing back at it... I just wasn't there in my head..
We arrived home and I had to sleep in his bed because my sister and brother jumped in the single bed and although I could have gone and woke my sister up to save me I just didn't... I knew what he was going to do and to fend his sleezy genstures and kindness that i didn't want I made several milos but I just kept getting into the bed with him. I remember him sobbing into my hands while I was sitting up in bed. He was just sobbing and sobbing and sobbing saying how sorry he was and I had to comfort him and stroke his filthy, greasy hair. Took me 30 years to come to terms with the fact that it wasn't my fault... 30 years of wasted time.
He did horrible things to me that night that I will never forget because I suppose mum wasn't asleep in the room next door anymore hey!!
I got up the next morning feeling dead. Mum was already there and I wasn't really with it. The blinds were actually open and the sun was shinning through which wasn't a normal thing. Everyone was there but I couldn't hear my mum or my sister or brother or even him. I know my mum and him were fighting.

The next minute it was dusk and I was being held inside by him forcefully. I remember his arm around my chest with my back against his abdomen and he pushed my mum down the stairs, I felt so bad for my mum and I thought she really hurt herself because she twisted he leg on the way down and fell on her bum. I felt so sorry for her just the way that my uncle used to make me feel sorry for him. He was screaming and crying but I couldn't hear him but I knew because when he would scream out something at my mum I could feel his body jerk around. My mum was screaming out and jesturing me to come out of the house and I went to move but I noticed that he had a knife to my throat. My brother was on the grass and he was crying. I kept thinking why is everyone so angry, why is everyone crying. I looked around and there was my sister at the side of me mouthing come here Lorry but again I couldn't hear, there was a washing basket by her feet and I noticed the washing machine and I can see the wire door. Then there were flashing lights and he realed the tightness of me and then I just thought Oh so he wants me to go then.. and I just walked to my sister and I cant remember anything else after that....

I do have a few good memories from those 2 years though. I made fried rice when I was 8 after school in a cooking class. I kissed a boy called Simon and I got a blood nose and then he kicked me out of his house (I liked that school but we only stayed there for a couple of weeks. Doing a concert in a beautiful pink dress (that was a good school too). But I always felt like I didn't belong... even still.

You know the worse thing about those 2 years that I get most upset about now that I'm dealing with all of this and that it makes me cry is that my life was ripped from me. Not the sexual abuse, not the mental abuse, not the manipulation, moving all over the place, god I could go on, it's the fact that when we left him I never recovered, not ever have I lived peacefully since.

There is so many huge chunks I dont remember and what I do remember is just scattered pieces. It's so nice to start actually piecing them together.

I will continue on about the rest later.

thank goodness for this site. Thankyou for listening.

"I dont really know why I am writing this as I dont feel like I've suffered and why this would be even classified as trauma as I feel that It isn't as bad as what other people have suffered. PLease excuse me."

Oh! Wadoo! You have suffered much and survived! You are doing so well putting your feelings in words. I feel your pain. Please know you are not alone! It is such a horrible tragedy when people twist and pervert religion and use it to hurt other people. Please try not to compare your trauma to others and downplay your experiences. You were treated very abusively by people in your life you should have been able to trust. You were victimized! But you are a survivor! I can tell by what you have written that you are a very caring and empathic person. I hope you are able to find comfort in writing out your experiences. Non of what happened was your fault in any way. Although we are across the world from one another know this, my heart is with you as you venture on this healing journey. I encourage you to check out information on this site as I have found it to be very helpful to me. Feel free to PM me any time. It may take me a while to get back with you but I will always reply.
Love & Care
Marilyn

Wow, I never realised how badly I had been beating myself up all my life. You are right Marilyn. I've been to coucilling for 10 years on and off since my breakdown but never stayed long enough to really get down to the nitty gritty until I got onto this Lady I have been seeing for about 7 months and have now taken a break from but she treats PTSD and it's been so much more helpful than just normal councilling.
And this site has helped me tremendously and I agree that by writing it down in such detail is very good for me anyway.
Thanks Marilyn

It's funny. I'm finding myself thinking during the day that I cant wait to get back on the computer and keep going on with my story. It's like it makes all the difference that it's on a public site even though I have no idea if anyone reads it or not just the fact that it's not in private anymore. And to trust that I can do this without negative feedback or any feedback at all and that no one knows who I am but I am real in a real place. Not behind closed doors to be kept a secret anymore about what my realities are and the pain I've suffered in my life... I am so glad I found this site.... I wish to God it were here long ago because here I can be myself and no amount of councilling or talking with friends and family can I be my complete self.

Today I'm having a mediocre day and want to keep telling. I still dont feel like I'm really part of this universe but I will sure keep fighting to become part of it.

You dont have to read because it's all boring. but I feel the need to keep telling to get it all out of my head.



Anyway to continue...

We came back from my uncles house but dont remember this would have been 2 to 3 weeks after and we were in our flat I was hiding behind the bathroom door as after we got back from my uncles house I didn't want to talk to anyone anymore I just wanted out of this world.

The next minute my mum barges into the bathroom and grabs hold of me by the arms with an angry look on her face (looking from an adults point of view it was rage on her face) she started shaking me profusely... Tell me what's going on.. what happened to you... why wont you talk but I just couldn't and I didn't want to and I had nothing to say to her as I didn't remember anything all I remember was feeling numb and not with it... I didn't tell her what she wanted to hear because I had no recollection of it in detail... I knew something happened that night but had no recollection of the whole entire 2 years that we spent with him, I had just blocked the entire lot out.
All I knew was how bad I felt.

She continued shaking me and saying she will kill him and I was thinking why would you want to kill him, I love him, I feel sorry for him, dont hurt him... ??? dont know why.. maybe that's how he made me love him.

She ended up putting me down and continued to curl up behind the door and not speak about anything.

Then we were at the laundry mat and she was talking to my sister about it and I kept thinking "why are you lying, why are you making up such horrible stories about him"
anyway mum rang him and she told us that she told him that if she ever saw him again that she would slap his face. And that was last that was spoken about it until our teens.

I remember going to my uncles sons wedding when I was 19 and my sister was so frightened that my uncle was there. I thought she was rediculous bringing so much attention to herself... My sister had already told the whole family what had happened from when she was about 11 and they laughed at her and told her how much of a liar she was and just didn't believe her at all. She would say to me "tell them Lorry" but I would just deny, deny, deny. I didn't want to be the one being laughed at because I had no clear memory all I had was the smell of his penis that I couldn't get out of my nose... I would clean the toiled so many times a day just to get rid of the smell but I didn't tell anyone that. My sister was basically branded the fibber of the family and even our cousins which were my uncles 5 children all denied and laughed at her too even though he had got to all them aswell.
But seeing my uncle at that wedding made my skin feel really strange and I was so self concious of how I looked, I wanted him to think I was beautiful and had a nice body (I was modelling by this stage) but he never looked at me, he just kept his distance. Later I heard that mum and my step father had words to him... but I never knew.

When my mum got with my step father when I was 9, I hated him because he was so cruel. He made fun of me and my sister as he was a stirrer... we were or I was a very fragile little girl and I never got even a sympathetic look from that man not ever.

As we grew into teenage girls our self esteem was rock bottom and was extremely vague... my mother was very cruel. She was over protective, controlling and nasty... cut to the bone nasty. She never stood up for us girls from the horrible things my step father would say.

She left him alot though and we would travel to South Australia and back to Victoria at least 3 times a year going to different schools because she didn't like the treatment he gave us kids. But she always went back to him didn't she... I always wanted her to leave him for good.

I remember having terrible re-curring nightmares and telling mum but she didn't seem too interested.. dreams of me stuck in a coffin and bad men with dogs trying to come in the house and get me.

My step father made it absolutely clear that us kids were not welcome in his house even though mum and him bought the house together - I was 11 by this stage. We were always looking over our shoulder about how much food we ate. I was never allowed to have the light on at night because I was extremely scared of the dark and I had terrible trouble sleeping, sometimes not falling assleep until 4am.
I had a girlfriend over once and I gave him cheek one time and he dragged me up the bedroom by my hair. He would belt us with shoes, straps, rulers, hose reels etc. Him and my mum made it very clear hat we were not to act out of character or be naughter EVER.
Growing up till I was a teenager was friggen discusting... we should have been living in a stable environment with lovin parents not taking off to another state at the drop of a hat not ever knowing how long we were going to stay.

My mother would always say to me "your so vague" are you stupid or something. Coz I couldn't get into a conversation, I just couldn't follow it. I just took what she said as gospel. I took everything she said to me as gospel and believed it. I didn't believe in myself so she had to be right.

I was extremely bullied at the school that we always had to come back to after mums little take off adventures. I would get bashed up every night after school.

It wasn't until I finally pleaded to mum that I just couldn't go to that school any more because of the bullying. She wanted to go straight up the school and tell them but I was too scared of her doing that and just wanted to change schools. One time I got stabbed in the stomache from a boy with a pencil. My mum would never listen to my sister as she didn't like her very much. I was always the skinny pretty one (not to love myself) and she was always the podgy one or as mum and dad would call fat even though she was only a size 8. Mum would say to her you should be more like your sister. Your ugly and fat. I love your sister more than you. She never gave my sister one ounce of maternal love, never and I never found out about those horrible comments she would say until my sister and i started to confide in each other and compare our stories until we were about 26 - 27 years old when i had a breakdown.

I was almost 14 and ended up going to a different school and that's when my life changed for the better. Mum only took off to South Australia one more time that year and we came back and my friends were still my friends it was great. At 15 Mum got me into modelling and i did a deportment course and lots of voluntary modelling and I began to get confidence with a big C. I absolutely turned from one extreme to another. I went from no existence of any type self esteem to being totally inlove with myself it was sickening. But it had to be done I suppose. I did get taken down a peg though when I fell in love at 16.

I remember one time when I was 19 and she was 20 and I was getting something out of the boot of her car and she came up to me and said Lorry please tell me you remember something about when we lived with Uncle Tom and I said "the only thing I remember is the smell of his dick". And she was so excited saying to me so happily "you do remember, you do remember" but I just nothing happened to me, nothing at all but she said well if you remember the smell then something happened because I remember the smell too Lorry but I just couldn't agree with her. I couldn't bring myself to even explore it... I had nothing to go on only the fact that I had a memory of walking up to the bed to give him the milos and climbing in the bed etc. and that I was so angry at myself for not going to hop in the bed with my sister instead of with him.
A few weeks later I went home and my sister was there talking to my mum at the kitchen table and my sister said to me "Lorry tell mum what you told me about the smell" I just said to her angrily "I dont want to talk about it, nothing happened to me, it was only you" and mum looked satisfied. I wanted mum to pester me about it but she didn't and again my sister was made to look like the liar again. I felt so very bad for her that I couldn't help her pleas. I just wanted mum to love me that all... and if I started talking like my sister about that then she would surely hate me like she hated my sister.

Anyway as I was saying growing up pre teens was not very nice, it was very lonely but teenage hood was different. Mum would get drunk every weekend and wipe herself out and we would have parties after parties after parties. I was 15 when I first got drunk with mum and dad and it was great.
Everyone loved mum so much and I just kept telling myself the bond that me and mum had was real even though I made it up. Little did anyone know how she tormented me and my sister and cut us down and cut us to the bone along with dad on a daily basis.

By the time I was 14 I had my first boyfriend and that was in South Australia and it was really scary as it is for any 1st time boyfriend. it was nice.

Mum tried to get me to go out with this rich skinny guy with a nice car but I hated the look of him.

When I was 16 I had my first love and he was lovely but my mum was so controlling and horrible to him and me. She wanted me home all the time and so when he would come to the house to visit me all mum and dad would do was mock him and laugh at him behind his back - They were such arseholes. she would even tell me I was his own private whore. she kicked me out of the house because i jumped out of the window to go see him because she put a stop to it. he was nice at this stage. he only got bad when mum had put too much pressure on him. We had great plans but mum made sure that i wasn't ever to be happy.
In the end mum succeeded after 4 years of absolute mental torture from my mother she broke us up. he was an arsehole anyway but he was mine and i didn't care how he treated me as long as I had someone I didn't care how I got treated.
In the end of that relationship I had just been living with him for 2 weeks and I was offered to go around the world to be the personal model of my boss on the proviso that i improved my secretarial skills because I was such an air head and my boyfriend was so jeolous. He had another girl living with us and she would sleep in his bed and I had my own room... I wanted to share a room with him but he said no and I would say why does that girl have to sleep in your bed then and he would just say well there's no where else for her to sleep, and I was so angry about this but again put up with it and over the years my rage was groing into fury deep, deep inside me.

I was being completely pushed to my limit. I would have dreams of killing people and being charged of murder. I would have dreams of how I would punch the people that bullied me but could never conect the punch to their faces.

I was so angry and possissive with my boyfriend. anyway I ended up falling pregnant for a second time and I kept her. I gave the modelling up for motherhood. (the first when I was 17 I had a termination)

6 months later he wanted me back but by this time I wasn't the gullible stupid little girl he had manipulated for 4 years and i said no. He hounded me for years.

I had my daughter at 20 years old and moved out of home. My mother was so nice to me because I was again at home doing everything she said never putting a word out of place, being the perfect little daughter for her.

I shifted out of home and got another boyfriend who was a drunk and pot head. That lasted a year and I never told my mother anything about him.

When my daughter was 2 years old and I was 22 I met my future husband. he was skinny and ugly but had a beautiful personality (he had been around the family on the outside for years but I had only met him once or twice, mum loved him) I fell for his kindness but wasn't attracted to him physically at all. I made myself love him and made myself attracted to him. I shifted in with him and that's when mum started again.

She hated him with a passion. She did everything she did with my first real love. Laughed at him behind his back, called him names. Tried to get me to break up with him. It was sheer hell. So much stuff she said but if I wrote it all down I'd be here for ever.
I ended up marrying him and we shifted into our new house which my mum and dad never came to see getting built.
6 months later we fell pregnant and we had a boy.

She absolutely idolised my daughter (her granddaughter) but when I had my son she just wasn't interested at all.

She made my life hell. She would ring me up and abuse the absolute shit out of me and my husband would always comfort me. He was so wonderful. He was the best man that I had ever kknown that walked this earth. I idolised him. My daughter idolised him. I didn't need my mother anymore to survive instead I needed him. My mother hated it. She hated that I didn't need her anymore. That there was someone there actually loving me and sticking up for me for the first time in my life.

i'll have a break.

I'll continue.

My marriage to my husband for the first 5 years was beautiful. The only downfall my husband had was he liked to gamble but I didn't care until it started to affect us financially but I still made myself love him... I wanted someone.

I wasn't attracted to him physically but my heart was attracted to his kindness but I yearned for something more because I just couldn't get there sexually with him... I couldn't just fall into it like the movies.. There was no spark, no romance even though he tried, no nothing physically from me. I just pretended to enjoy the intimacy. Even on our wedding night I didn't want to make love to him... I would have preferred to have a good old chin wag with him staying up till 4 in the morning talking about whatever but he made me have sex saying that it's the done thing. (not forcefully just talking me into it... that's the only way we had sex was for him to talk me into it)

I fended off my mother all the time but I didn't care about how she made me feel because I found someone who treated me with kindness.

I had so many phobias. I was petrified of the dark. I was petrified of meeting new people. I was petrified of my own shadow. I thought people were out to always catch me off guard and make a fool of me. I thought a shadowed man was always standing behind me ready to pounce on me if I let my guard down so i would never sit in a chair that didn't have a wall behind it... even thought he was inside the wall. I always felt that someone was going to get me - mainly the shadowed man... he was going to slit my throat. I had no confidence. No self esteem.

Before i met my husband I went to doctor after doctor after doctor to find out why I was so scared and sad. they put it down to a lack of energy, stress etc. I had tonic shots for 6 months and that same doctor would give me an internal every time I went... but even though it seemed wrong I let him do it anyway... I hate myself for not knowing better.. I was 17.

I got hypnotised for being so frightened that this shadowed man was going to be in the back seat of my car, under my bed, around the corner, walking down the same street as me, at a party waiting in the toilet for me, waiting in the public toilets... It was exhausting and I never told anyone because I was afraid.

I had so much rage inside me that just could not come out. I would have the most unbeleivable dreams of murder and torture. I would have dreams of the court cases where I would be tried for the murders.

I eventually told my husband because I couldn't stand crying in the middle of the night by myself anymore and sleeping with the light off. I just didn't sleep and he helped me so much with all my phobias. He was marvalous



At the age of 26 when my daughter had turned 7 my anger had been going outwards. I was always a very calm quiet person but now I was finding myself purpously arguing with my husband and because he was so very calm himself he was just astonished at my behaviour. We just never fought - ever. But now, I was ANGRY.,

So my daughter was 7 and she came home from school one day and told me of a girl in her class who had been having photographes done of her naked by her grandfather and he had done other rude things to her.
I was furious. I rang the school straight away and asked the teacher about the little girl and she appologized prefusely... I was schocked and I wa angry at how she just dismissed this little girl as being a burden on my daughter... I said I wanted her to console in my daughter... I needed that little girl to have a release and if that was by talking to my daughter then that's good... Atleast my daughter would find out how bad all the men were out there.... I had protected my daughter with my life... she was very protected.

Anyway a couple of weeks later, I was looking after a little boy at this stage full time at home as he was about the same age as my boy - 2 years old as I just couldn't hold down a job... I just wasn't coping.

Nobody was home and the house was quiet and I walked into the kitchen and could have sworn I heard a tea spoon drop... I looked around and the room was dazed like... my head appeared like I was stoned and the room was caving in on me.... I felt like I was back making milo for my uncle when I was 9.

My whole world fell apart... I did not exist anymore... I lay in bed in a coma like state for weeks... I felt like I was underneath the earth... that far down and I felt heavy but I wasn't angry anymore and no thoughts were going through my brain... My brain had stopped it felt like.. I felt like I was finally having a rest. I could hear everyone but couldn't speak.

I dont really know how long I was out of it for... my daughter and my exhusband says months but I doubt it.

When I finally came to the Cat team (a phyciatric team from the hospital) was there to evaluate me... and to cut a long story short as I'd tried to hang myself because I didn't want to be awake anymore... I like the coma like state I was in far better than being here on earth.

They diagnosed me with PTSD after weeks of therapy.

All I wanted was to go to hospital in the psych ward coz i wanted a rest... I didn't want to be in the land of the living that was just too hard but my husband wouldn't allow it. he wanted to look after me and I hated him for it. I felt like a prisoner.

My RAGE had been freed from my body in full force.

I was totally insane and all our friends stopped visiting us and my husband was all so good about it remaining calm all the time while I would bash at him and swear at him and hate him... I put him through utter hell.

And after my tantrum outburst he would always forgive me and then we would sit down and tell the kids about how sick mummy is and that it's not their fault that they had done nothing wrong at all and we would all cuddle and get on with life for another couple of days until my next outburst.

I had gushes and gushes of memories flushing through. I tried to hang myself again and tried to gas myself in the car... I took a bottle of pills but funny isn't it that I did all this while my husband was there... I wanted him so badly to save me because I didn't really want to die I just wanted this hell that I was in to die.

I started to self mutilate by cutting myself with knives, razor blades and my husband removed them from the house and I would use anything sharp to cut just so that I could see the blood as If I saw the blood that meant that I realeased some of the pain and it would take me out of the frantic state that I was in and would calm the mind... It was like a drug.

I self mutilated for 3 years and have horrible scarring to live with. I didn't care where I cut... my throat, my legs, my stomache, my arms.. .I didnt' care if it hurt anyone... actually I was happy that people saw.

I never felt it, not once, it actually felt so good. It was when I would start to feel the pain a couple of hours later that I knew I was coming back to the land of the living.

My daugher saw me do it once and it has scarred her to this day. But the worse thing is that I would cut and get so much blood just to rub over my body as more blood was more satisfying and that's what my kids saw. Blood all over my face and body... looked alot worse than what it was... But to do that to your kids in criminal.

I stabbed my husband in the leg... I chased my kids around the house with a knife with my husband present so that he could stop me as I knew I was doing the wrong thing but I just couldn't stop myself... It was like I was possessed.

I rang the child protection agency on myself 2 times and the doctor rang them once and my councillor rang one but every time they came around my husband would tell them he has it under control and they didn't intervene.

My mother had my daughter alot and my son was left with us.

I yelled and screamed and yelled and screamed at my kids... always apologizing afterwards but that's not good enough in my eyes.

I threw tantrum after tantrum after tantrum.

But when I wasn't in that frame I tried so very hard to make it up to my kids and my husband just sending terrible mixed feelings to them.

One minute I couldn't feel and pushed my kids and husband away and the next minute I wanted them through utter guilt.

But the worse was that in the middle of flashbacks, mostly at night my husband would still continue to talk me into sex... I told him If I freeze and loose my voice to please not persist but he just never took notice and it felt like I was being raped over and over again...

his gambling got worse and the councillor I was seeing was telling me that it's my duty to atleast give my husband sex atleast once a week so I was totally bamboozled.

My husband got sick of the house being an absolute pig sty as I was always an imaculately clean person, he was tired of me never cooking. He got tired of my insults and my lack of sexual drive. he started to make a fool of me infront of friends about the house and the cooking. He became so over the top about his socks being cleaned and clean underwear to wear to work etc.

All I wanted was to rest.... I ddin't want him to put anymore pressure on me to be a normal 20 something year old wife and mother.... I just wanted to be left alone.

I booked myself into a phsyche ward and stayed there for 2 weeks before he convinced me to come home as he needed me to do the cooking and cleaning etc. I hated him as I was so much like a little girl that i just did what he said. Having sex with him was like I was 7, 8, 9 years old again.

No matter what he said he just wouldn't do what I wanted... and he was so sleazy about it and I started to see him as my uncle... I despised him.... I hated the very site of him.

After three years of tantrums and self mutilation and not taking care of myself or my kids at all I had completely worn my husband and kids down... My kids didn't know whether they were artha or martha.

I hated myself for what I was doing to them.

All I wanted to do was to die. I was on so much medication... An incredibly high dose of anti depressants and a tranquilizer to stop the anxiety and I started to plan how I would do myself in with the tablets but I never got the guts up... thank God for that...

Instead I put such a great amount of thought into how I could remove myself from my family so I wasn't such poison to them but I was so frightened of being out in the world on my own incase the war got me or the shadowed man.

My daughter at the age of 13 got into drugs and went wild but always showed her love for me even though I wanted her to take her anger out on me not her step father but she never would... I knew it was over me.

He step dad did hit her alot because she was completely out of control she had picked up my habbits by cutting herself and he anger outburst.
She is a whole new story... she got into the hands of a paedophile who took porographic photos of her involving dogs and he ended up in jail because me and her dad didn't let it rest thank god for that and now she's off the drugs and living pretty good with a fantastic guy... she's 18 now.

Anyway it took me 5 years to finally get the courage and strenth to leave my husband as he had become so vilent toward my daughter (coz she was so protective over me as through my tantrums and threats with knives toward my husband he would have to protect himself with force but she didn't see it that way) and he had become so abusive sexually and gambled every day...

But in the mean time my plan was to become self reliant... I had gone for crimes compensation and tried to get my uncle in jail... my sister helped but his own children and their mother wouldn't be in it so he walked free... but I got enough money to start up my business at home and still to this day it helps me as I just cannot hold a job down.

So I finally after 5 years got the balls to finally kick him out and get on with my life.

I let my son go and live with his dad because I just couldn't let him endure any more pain from me with my constant outbursts of anger at the world and my daughter went to live with her boyfriend. I had to rid myself from my kids as I felt i was poison to them and still believe I am.

I live with a wonderful man who understands me and he has to make changes within himself which I've had a hard time dealing with... just that fact that he actually makes changes for me is really hard to understand... It's hard to understand that he could love me for me.... not just be nice to me because he wants sex...

I've been with him over a year now and living with him and even though I told him straight away that I feel like I'm poison and that I get suicidal and that I have PTSD he actually accepted me for who I am and that's just so huge to come to terms with but I',m slowly getting there....

It's not since I've come on this site that I actually dont feel so alone that I've actually started to talk to him about what actually goes through my head all the distorted thoughts and how I slip back in time even though he's seen me revert back to a little girl several times but that it is like it is real... I've told him that I dont feel like real person and that my kids are better off with out me for now. He actually knows me and when I'm not up for sex he can actually read me and he reverts without even a word....

Where was he 20 years ago.

Thakyou for listening.

after writing in debt it opens my mind and there is so much that I miss out on but it doesn't matter because I got out what was important I suppose.

Please dont judge me (I know that that comment will offend but I have to type it or I feel like something bad will happen... sorry)


Lorry