This was initially written up some years ago, a way of putting my experiences down, a way of healing.
Our life is like a book, it has many chapters. They can tell the story of love, loss, adversity, growth, disappointment, and triumph.
Here I share a few chapters of my life, but not all. These are the chapters that have changed my life, it is from them that I have gained strength, and determination. It has forged the real me.
I was born in 1966, in Invercargill, New Zealand. I am second eldest of five children.
I hold few memories of my first six or so years of my childhood, only time spent with my father. When I was six years old my parents divorced, my father soon after moved to Australia.
The maltreatment I experienced over the remaining course of my childhood was simply a building block on who I was to become. I was physically and emotionally abused by my mother, and my oldest brother. I was never good enough for my mother. Though I was not overweight, she had me dieting from the age of 12. I grew up with love never expressed, no “I love you”, no hugs. I was insulted, belittled, and put down. I was bashed for the most trivial of things; she would use any tool near at hand to do so. I lived in constant fear, never knowing when it was going to occur. I soon learnt to keep out of my mothers’ way; or if she demanded my attention I would do whatever I was asked to do to please her, sometimes this proved fruitless. Whenever she would get a bashing from her de-facto partner, she would then take it out on us. It seemed very unfair, but also a time to steer clear at all costs. Her partner would refer to me as ‘girl’, very rarely by my name, otherwise I wasn’t acknowledged. Often our life was like a scene from “Once were warriors”, we could hear our mother being bashed and knocked around while I would be sitting in my bed comforting my younger siblings. A scene like many homes where abuse was the norm.
I was sexually abused one time by a friend of my mothers’ partner. My mother was aware of it, she saw it happen, I was only eight. I confronted her some years later of this incident, and she denied it happened. I was sexually abused over a few days by my brother when I was 12, my brother told me not to tell our mother because she never would have believed me, and sadly it is true. My mother idolized my brother, he never could do no wrong.
I never experienced a true childhood. By the age of 13 my mother was using me as her sounding board, telling me of all her troubles, even about her sex life, she had placed me in an adult role. A lot of the time I was made responsible for the care of my younger siblings with no time for a social life, and little for study. I felt I had to remain silent about what I experienced. Who would believe me? There was so much pain and hurt that lay hidden from the world.
When I was 17 I purchased my first vehicle, a motorbike. My love of motorbikes evolved from my father, as he used to race them, and through him I also knew Burt Munro, who loved sharing his many tales of his ventures.
My first love was a good man. We had gone to school together, but it wasn’t till we left school that he asked me out. My mother and her partner made it abundantly clear that they didn’t like him, though I will never know why. We went out for nearly a year. Then a friend of his approached me, putting my boyfriend down and claiming my boyfriend had said certain things, I now believe the opposite was being said about me. Eventually my boyfriend dropped me. This friend of his then made his moves on to me, appearing to be my knight in shining armour, and worse yet I fell for it all. Hindsight is a wonderful thing, but at that time I was so young, and so naive. This man would later become my husband (now ex).
At the age of 18 I had left the hands of one lot of abusers, only to unknowingly walk into the hands of my next abuser.
Six months later we were engaged. We were living in his fathers house when one day, when my partner wasn’t around, his father made an advance on me. I was petrified. This was wrong in so many ways, I was also pretty scared. So I went to see my mother. She simply said “there was nothing she could do”, she didn’t have the time as she was too busy nor could make a time, there was no longer a spare bed at her place as she had got rid of my bed when I moved out”, and “that I had made my bed I will have to lie in it”. I couldn’t believe this response. I lost faith in my mother that day, realising she never was there for me, nor would ever be. I felt then that I had no-one to turn to, I was alone.
Later on I discovered that my boyfriends father had impeded on others in a similar manner, and other more serious incidents.
When I was 19 I made contact with my father, the first contact in 12 years. I had held back in the past due to being informed as I was growing up that my father never wanted to have kids, he never wanted us, and that he had never wanted to remain in contact (some I later discovered was untrue). To reach out was not easy. Then after tracking down my father, he offered a holiday to Aus for 4 weeks. Why not leap at a chance to properly meet the parent who had been missing through most of your childhood. Not long after I arrived my father told me I was too young to get married, and he advised me to move over to Aus to start a new life; he had a plan to make this happen with a job and could get me a small bike. I was told I should grow my then short hair, and get contacts instead of the glasses I had worn most of my life. I felt I was not good enough. I stayed for two weeks instead of the prearranged four, I did not appreciate this advice from a parent who had not been a part of my life for many years, flew back home and accidentally fell pregnant.
My life was crumbling further. So was I.
My boyfriend persuaded me to get married as soon as possible as his child was not going to be called a bastard. My gut instincts were to back out, but I had no strength to do this; I was also in denial. Once the wedding ring went on my finger my husband changed overnight. It was also the start of 13 years of emotional abuse. My now ex husband was so subtle, he really made you think it was all you, it was all in your head, “that you were imagining it”. He sold my motorbike to buy a house, claiming I would never have time to ride it any more. The house become one of many debts in a short while, within three years we were on the verge of bankruptcy. It was his way or no way; you never said ‘no’ to him. It was a very soul destroying relationship.
Within a few months I had a nervous breakdown, I was just 20 years old. I ended up in the local mental ward for a stay months later to establish my meds, and for a rest. I simply couldn’t cope with life. My mother never came to see me during my six week stay. I suffered severe depression for two and a half years, and fought depression often during my marriage but not after.
I was 22 years old I kept experiencing flashbacks revealing abusive memories of my childhood, each incident in detail. My mother one day informed me of a recent abusive episode inflicted on my youngest brother by his father, I reported the incident anonymously to Child Welfare, I wanted the abuse to stop. My mother realised it was me who laid the complaint, so she told me she would never tell me of anything of significance in regards to my younger brother or sister from then on.
At this time my friend, my first love, was a boarding at our house. I had always had a good friendship with him. My friend lost his job so my husband got him one on the farm he was working at. Within a few months my friend was charged with theft. Many years later I found out that he had been set up, he had been framed, by my now ex husband. Because he was close to me, he was a threat.
It was a sign of things to come.
While in my marriage I had four children; the two younger ones had severe gastric reflux, my husband became more jealous of the time I had to spend on them. We never went out as a couple. The only friends I had were those who he had approval of, and he was a friend of the husband or partner. I was not permitted to work or study. We were his liabilities. I was not an equal, or a partner. In our sexual relationship if I said no to him he would simply say “no means yes” and he would rape me. He was very manipulative, and controlling. It was always about him, he was the centre of attention, he was narcisstic. As the marriage progressed we always lived in remote locations, at least one hour away from family, and friends.
It was the continuing corrosive effect of being belittled, denigrated in front of our children, that killed any remaining confidence I had in my self. My opinions didn’t matter, I had no voice. I was not worthy. And I believed it. I thought I was a nothing. My relationship with my husband was the same as I had with my mother. It was history repeating itself
In 1997, when I was 31 years old, we were working and living on another remote farm. One week prior I had a miscarriage with complications, meaning I, for once, was not giving my husband the full attention he demanded, so he claimed a headache. On this day the boss’s and neighbours sons were hanging around causing a bit of disruption, just being kids. Instead of dealing with the matter in a rational manner, my husband got his Winchester 303 and fired it in the direction of the boys. He was fired from his job, which meant we would have to move to town. He was not convicted, but he was ordered to get counselling. He attended one meeting and said he wouldn’t be attending anymore as he didn’t need it.
The situation was getting worse.
I couldn’t leave him while he was still so unstable. Two years later he moved us to the last remote location, further away than before. We were only living there for two months when I decided I could no longer live the lie that my life had become. The emotional abuse that had been inflicted on me, was also happening to the older children, as well as physical abuse. It was time to go, to end my marriage.
The day I told my mother that I was leaving my now ex husband, my mother said “why are you leaving your marriage after all he is a good father and provider”, we were living in modern times, yet this reasoning seemed so old fashioned.
So with great discussion I told my now ex husband that the marriage was over, that I was leaving him. I purchased necessary furniture, and I also arranged my own bank account etc, he was fully aware of the whole process. But the first weekend I was in my own place he turned up for “his weekend stay”, claiming he didn’t realise the marriage was over, and said I hadn’t told him. He stood before me clenching his fists as if to punch me, he had the look in his eyes, that look I will never forget. I had to threaten him with the police to make him leave. For the first time in my life I really feared him.
I was 34 years old when I left my marriage, at the time my self esteem was extremely low, years of abuse had robbed me of any self confidence.
My now ex husband made life very difficult for the following few years. He did not want to lose control. He forged my name to get a loan to purchase a car that he thought I wanted, I realised later on this was not the first time he had forged my name. He used the two older children to help keep control, telling them “not to listen to me”, “that I was a nothing”, and gave them his TV so they could “watch what they liked and I would have no say”, they were of an age (pre-teen and teenager) where they took this power and made life a little challenging to say the least. It was not easy, by any means.
He has continued his abusive controlling behaviours in other ways since. He blamed me for his first relationship failing, after she had come to me and asked if I had noted certain similar behaiviours. It took five years to get a divorce. He is now out of our lives. He is now remarried, but I don’t think I will ever trust him while he still has access to his brothers guns.
A year after walking out of my marriage I had a fling with a guy, nothing serious. When I started feeling a bit heavily involved, I ended what we had. A couple of months later I discovered I was pregnant. The father demanded a termination, a move I was not comfortable to make given my previous mental history.
During this time I had tried to develop a relationship with my younger sister. We would talk of the abuse we had suffered as children among other stuff, but it wasn’t a close relationship, it was more one sided. Then one day out of the blue she told me not to ring or visit anymore. I was never given a reason.
My eldest son started destructing property, terrorizing pets, and belittling me every opportunity he got. Parental abuse. It was the influence from his father which created this monster; it was his own choice to continue it. I was not going to tolerate any more abuse, so I had to get tough. My eldest daughter followed on with emotional abuse.
They have now chosen to live their own lives, they say they have their father. Whereas my younger ones have chosen to not be a part of their father’s life, accordingly my ex husband is accusing me of brainwashing them.
My health had been slowly deteriorating. When I was 38 years old I was very sick. I knew I was dying. I needed to have focus, to gain the strength to fight. I couldn’t while I had my mother in my life . She had never been there for me emotionally or practically. She only visited moaning of her debts, the things going wrong in her life, never of the positives. Even though her relationship with her partner ended many years ago, because he has remained in her life, she has always been a victim. When something would happen regarding her own siblings, she would twist it around, embroidering the truth.
There had been so many lies told. I had no room for toxic people in my life, I couldn’t be an enabler anymore. So I made one of the most difficult decisions I have ever had to make. I moved house, and I didn’t tell my mother my new address, my phone number was unlisted. For the first time, even though I was very sick, I felt free.
In January 2006, I was 40 years old, and my three younger children were diagnosed with Asperger’s syndrome. In March 2006 I was diagnosed with Lupus. It was always known that I had a form of arthritis. Now I knew why I was so prone to infections and viruses; and why the muscle and joint aches, and fatigue. I had an answer. Later that year the rheumatologist did a full liver function test to determine if there was any lupus involvement. The liver test revealed no signs of antibody attack, but I had very high liver counts; the reason why I was so sick was liver disease. It has taken a lot of fighting, turning to a natural diet, stopping most prescribed medications to lower my counts. I have to keep away from alcohol or my liver counts will go up again. I don’t know what the future holds. But I refuse to let my health hold me back from living.
I had sent a letter to my youngest brother, who was living with my mother, to make contact. It provided my phone numbers to enable him to contact me back. It stated “I would often ask mum of you, but heard nothing much back. My choice to not see mum was a matter of need, my need.” I never heard anything back from him, but I did receive a text from my mother saying she had seen the letter I had sent my brother, and that it was not entirely true, and why the sudden interest. This is an adult brother. She had sourced my cell phone number, and address from the letter. And I feel there is a possibility my brother never received it.
When I was 43 years old my sister contacted me and told me that she had terminal cancer, and that she had a faulty BRCA1 gene and that I should get tested. She told me she had a good support system and indicated she didn’t need me. Months later my mother rang to say that my sisters test results revealed she didn’t have a faulty gene. I felt it was time to see my mother to inform the family of my liver disease, being aware it could be due to a hereditary condition. On the day I visited I arranged to go back to see my brother a few days later. Within a day of seeing my mother I received a letter from her saying she said she was glad to see me, but also demoralised much of what I had told her of my kids Asperger’s diagnose by saying “I am sure your children didnt have it when they were young when I used to see them as have seen it before and didn’t see it showing with your ones back then”. She also told me she didn’t want me in her life. I feel she didn’t want me to have contact with my brother.
I made contact with my father, the first time since I had left my marriage. Prior to that my father never seemed to take much interest in myself or my own family. I wanted to not only confirm this, but also to get the answers to some vital question, like how come he hadn’t stayed in contact when I was a child. I never got an answer, just the response “are you pointing fingers?” I realise there are many questions I will never know the answer to. Though he says he loves me, only as long as I live my life the way he thinks I should, will I be accepted. I learnt a long time ago to live my life how I think best, not what anyone else thinks or says.
A few months later I decided it was time to tell others of my experiences, to free myself from the burden of the secrets I have had to carry for most of my life. It wasn’t an easy thing to do, but I needed to do it. I also wanted to give my side of the story, to say why I have made the choices I have. So by email I told just three people. Within two days I received a letter from my mother. She told me who had passed the email on to her, and that I was “dwelling on the past”. She said she had passed a copy of the email to all family members including her ex partner “and they can decide themselves what they want to do with it”. I was angry, as well as hurt. I would never expect my older brother to admit to what he had done. I feel that my mother was putting me on the witness stand so others can judge me for what I have experienced, and to be deemed a liar. But the choice is theirs to make. I wrote back and told my mother I no longer wanted any contact from her. Well she sure followed those wishes.
In November 2010 my sister passed away, I don’t get the newspaper so I had no idea. I never heard from my mother or immediate family of her passing, I only knew of it from a relation overseas offering condolences. In the death notice of the paper I discovered my mother mentioned all my siblings, bar myself. So I was not only grieving for my little sister, I was also hurt and angry with my family. I had officially been cut off.
At the end of 2012 I realised I no longer thought of the past bad memories, I had reached the stage of acceptance.
While living in Invercargill I knew I would never feel safe from my ex husband. So on the 30th of May 2013 I left, with no looking back. I relocated to a place I felt safe, a place that felt just right, I felt grounded, I felt at home. A place very healing, in so many ways.
Just months later I received my Breast cancer diagnosis. My resilience gained from my past made this a lot easier to deal with, and overcome. I was in a relationship with someone during this time but he couldn’t cope with cancer, nor a mastectomy so we parted ways soon after I had my diagnosis.
I am not what happened to me, I am how I handled it.
I move forward with no regrets. only grace and gratitude, ready to face many new glorious chapters in my life. I am happy. I am strong. I have survived. I am a survivor.
To this day I remain single, it has been many years, not since the end of my marriage in 2000. Maybe luck just simply isn’t my thing in life. I wonder what it is like for a man to love me unconditionally, who accepts my faults as I would him. I don’t strive for perfection, just love, partnership and friendship.
Destiny holds the key to whatever may be.
Who knows where my destiny lies now.
Finalmente:
Each chapter in our book of life has a way of molding us into the people we are and creates our life story. We all have choices in life. I refuse to be a part of abuse, I refuse to be an enabler. I refuse to be ashamed of my past, because it is not my fault that it happened. I am not a conformist, I am a fighter. I am also very honest. Through time I have forgiven my abusers, I know that without my past I would not be the person that I am today. I am now my true self after healing the false beliefs from the past. I no longer look back wishing for what will never be, or asking what ifs’. I have let my past go.
Our words, thoughts, actions, non-actions and choices are the pens that write the pages in our book. While there are some chapters that are not what we would have chosen, we have to accept them, learn from them, to move on with grace. We can not stay stuck on one chapter in our life. The key is to never stop on a difficult page, to never quit on a chapter that seems too hard. We need to have the courage and faith to keep turning the pages believing better chapters lie ahead.
Life is a journey,
not a destination …