Welcome to my new blog! This is completely new territory for me, so you are going to have to bear with. I have taken the decision to write a blog, to see if it helps me and maybe will help others too.
My name is 25yearssilent… (yeah i hear you say, no its not. what is it?) Well unfortunately, you will have to get to know me as this for now. Hopefully as I continue to babble on, you will see why I chose this as a name.
I live in a lovely town in the United Kingdom, lots of countryside around!! 🙂 I am in my 40s, a hardworking nurse! Wife and Mother.
Whats my story…….
Sit down, this could take a while.. Well I came into this world in the late 70s, grew up on a small council estate, with lots of family all living close by. I lived with my younger siblings and an older sibling! As well as a couple of half siblings that visited occasionally!
My parents? Can I call them that? Father worked, mother stayed home doing, i’m not sure as our house was always a complete mess! Both used to have a lot of friends that visited and went out a lot. Can’t say they were alcoholics or drug users. Both smoked like chimneys, but that was normal in the 80s wasn’t it?
So a little about the parents, my father worked in a garage as i remember, and could pretty much put his hand to anything that needed a fix. Hence, why his popularity around our neighbourhood. He wasn’t what i call a proud man that dressed to impress, as I remember, i think he always looked a little scruffy. People on the outside of our little house thought he was a saint, i am sure. Was he? From as far back as I can remember, there would be good days and bad days. I remember often waking up with this heaviness, listening for raised voices. If silent, gingerly heading down the stairs to see if its a good welcome or a bad welcome. Times when it would start off on a good footing, you’d think yay, its OK today. To then make to much noise or sit in the wrong spot. I dunno, its anyone’s guess. But off like a firework he would go! His favorite thing to say to me is go and get the yellow pages, i’m going to get them take you away to a children’s home. Funny how now, I think that would have been the better option.
That’s not all! On a regular occasion he would drag my mum around the house by her hair beating her! For cooking the wrong meal, making a cup of tea to weak or strong. Or just for interrupting him when he had a friend around! (Please don’t feel sorry for her just yet). He seemed to have taken a dislike to myself and my younger brother, the other 2 couldn’t do a thing wrong. One day my 2 year old brother was screaming, can not remember why, i think he wanted more milk! Next thing i know father grabs the bottle from his mouth with force, almost taking him with him, and throws the bottle in the bin. Shouting at the little man! It took some time to consul the little feller and father just hid in his shed! None of us would dare go out to see him! Mother I think, was in the hospital at this time with the youngest of the brood. She wasn’t innocent by no fact! I suppose you could argue she was scared of him. Sometimes they would go out and lock us in the bedroom upstairs, with a bucket and the door handle removed so we couldn’t get out. Mother may have been scared. I admit for many years, i thought so too, but later in life. She proved her worth! Will come back to that later.
So as you can see, my childhood was not the greatest, in fact, I don’t have one single happy memory of homelife!
I’m not going to bore you with the complete in and outs of my childhood, because honestly I think you will get bored after a while, as it will be repetitive!
Did I try to seek help, yes I did. My father ripped a maths book in half, due to myself and brother having an argument. I admit I lied to my teacher. I was only 11 and in my first year at secondary school. I had a fantastic tutor, and eventually learnt to trust her, she was my maths teacher to. She always seemed really caring and understanding. When I was 13, I was really upset in class, I talked to her and she spoke to someone else. Later that evening, my parents received a phone call from a social worker called Steve. Well, guess what. I have no idea how they did it. But they made it look like they were saints and I was a problem child! Case Closed!
I had developed a fear of Police, due to the constant threats of being taken away. Honestly, even as an adult, I used to start shaking, and my heart would race, if a police car was driving behind me. I think, my job helped me overcome the fear!
Moving on, a month after leaving school, I argued with father, which led to me being thrown to the floor with his hands around my throat. My mother and brother pulled him off me, and I ran out the door! Did not go back. I stayed with friends, and eventually was helped by a young peoples institute. They found me a bedsit. I lived there for 6 months, becoming unwell as I wouldn’t eat, I was scared to go out. These lads kept trying to get into my room, which occasionally they managed. So, with the help of the young persons unit. They found me a lovely little flat, it was small, My bedroom was open plan with the living room area, there was a separate kitchen and bathroom. I was given help to get furniture. I was 17 and living alone. But for the first time, I felt like I had a home, I felt safe. My younger siblings would come to stay at the weekend, and we used to have so much fun. This is how life was supposed to be. I then met a really nice man, a few years older than me, we dated and quickly become pregnant! He left, wasn’t ready for a child. I knew though that I could do this. This is my chance for something good, and someone I can love and will love me back. During my pregnancy, I started talking to my parents again. I told my mother I was pregnant first, thinking she would be ok with it. Nope, she was cross at making her a grandmother at a young age, and putting shame on the family. HaHa… But she soon came around. I was terrified to tell father but when I did, he was brilliant about it. Father used to like going to the local social club, so after I told him I was pregnant, he would come and regularly take me out. I think I went, because somewhere inside I wanted what I never had. But the fear of him was always there. A few months later I went into labour, I was terrified, my god the pain that seered through me. I had a fantastic midwife, however, the ward was busy, so she couldn’t stay with me the whole time. I begged her to contact mother, as mother had promised to be there. Mother and Father were both at a party, Mother told the midwife she would come later. As the hours ticked by and I wasn’t progressing, they tried to speed up the contractions to see if that would help. I remember screaming in so much pain and pleading for my mother. Honest, I thought I would die. I had been in labour 24 hours alone. Finally the moment, came where my baby had enough, and I was whisked to theatre for an emergency C section. A daughter is born! Oh and surprise, I wake up to see my parents had finally arrived.
Thanks for getting this far.. Are you wondering why the name still?
I’m going to go back again to my childhood. As you remember, my parents regularly went out, so often we would be left with a babysitter. Either a family friend or relative. At 6 my parents were in the hospital as my brother was born, i stayed over at my aunties house with my older brother. It was late afternoon we were all outside playing with our cousins. I think we were playing hide and seek. I was asked to go in the shed. To this day, I do not know what happened except, I was given a lolly and told that I couldn’t tell anyone! After this if my cousin was babysitting, he would be sat watching porn on the TV and he would call me down, to act out some of the scenes. I’m not going to give details, all I will say it wasn’t all the way, not yet! I have memories of my brother coming down the stairs, and being shouted at to go back to bed. I couldn’t tell anyone what was happening or what I was doing as I would be beaten or taken away by the police. So I learned to accept, so as soon as my parents went out, whether it was day or night, if my cousin was around stuff would happen. At 11, it happened! I remember after, feeling so dirty, I sprayed myself with deodorant, I scratched so bad, that my labia became swollen and hung out of me! The Doctors gave me cream and assumed it was down to poor hygiene. Not sure they would think that in this day? Anyhow it continued, I just went along with it, I would get a pound to keep quiet. Kept me in cigarettes I suppose! At 15 I started my period. My cousin wanted to meet, I told him. And that was it, he never touched me again!
I had some bad relationships with men, a single parent with 2 children, and my sister also came to live with me. By the time I was 21, I had 2 young children and a teenager to care for, I’m not complaining as I had never been happier. I had good friends, I occasionally spoke to my parents, who by then had split up! Things weren’t so bad! Fathers ugly temper did appear once more, and for sometime, I didn’t speak to him! I can’t have him around my children. I eventually found a little part time job, and become more confident. My best friends had married and life was good, we all went on holidays together, as a family, this was how life should have been! I became good friends with my best friends brother, he would often come to stay with his girls at weekends. We became close. I had found my soulmate. I finally passed my driving test! I had freedom, we often went out to beaches, cinema, carnivals. My children (I include my sister in that text, as I felt more like a mother to her than a sister). and myself were having a happy childhood. With the help of my best friends, I looked into how to become a nurse. It wasn’t going to be easy, as I had left school without any GCSEs. I was determined though, I went to evening classes, and got my Maths and English. I was then accepted onto an access to nursing course at college. To pass and offered a place at university. It took me 5 years to complete, as in that time, I had married my soulmate and we had 2 more children together. I made it though, I look back now and to this day, I honestly don’t know how I managed it. I’m a nurse, a mother, a wife. I have the perfect life…
Occasionally I would suffer bouts of depression and anxiety, but always found away around it. Until this year. You see I went to a family funeral, and saw my cousin. Its not like it was the first time, as I had seen him at a family gathering a few years before. But this time, it upset me, I wanted to cut myself. (I used to in my teens). I was beside myself, I went off the rails a bit I think, I left my family, and wanted to live alone, who was I punishing? I continued to work as it was the only place where i felt happy. I knew it wasn’t right, so I sought help with talking therapies and for the first time in 25 years, it all came out. I don’t think I ever cried like that! They put me in contact with a specialist local Sexual Abuse Help Centre. I went for my first appointment, and we talked. I cried. I finally felt that I was able to deal with it. She put me on the waiting list!
A month later I walked into my local police station and reported the abuse.
I’m going to stop here, catch a breath! To be continued……..