A little bit of history repeating...
Since my stepfather, Richard, entered our lives, my quality of life had declined. My mother didn't pay attention to me anymore, her new family was occupying all of her time, and he wanted nothing to do with me. This stemmed into me being unsupervised on very frequent and lengthy occasions, at the age of 6 years old, which is when it all started.
This allowed three people throughout my life to sexually abuse me as a child, each lasting for a very long length of time, one of which lasted three whole years. No one was around to look out for me, and on many occasions, this happened in our very own home, while they were home. I am not embarassed to let people know these facts, I am very upset by them.
Throughout my childhood, I continued to be neglected and abused, the only times he would speak to me were nasty occasions where he would tell me off.
When I was 15, Mum was at church, Richard wasn't living with us at the time, but came over and took the kids out to eat, leaving me home alone. At the time I was living in a caravan down the back, but I was inside the house eating and watching TV. He came home and everyone sat around the TV, I got up to make a coffee, and when I got back my brother had taken my seat. When I asked him to move, he got up, but Richard, being a complete asshole toward me, demanded that he remain seated, my brother insisted that it was rightfully my seat and that he didn't mind moving, still, he insisted on making him sit there. I told him (and rightfully too) where to do, which erupted into a heated argument about how I never wanted to be apart of this family and I should get the fuck out, which was (when looking at it now) very amusing, because I tried everything to be included as part of the family, but was never accepted, leading me to be a recluse who locked himself away.
I went off down to my caravan, and only moments after turning the light on, it went back out. He had turned my power off. I was furious, he had the gaul to turn of my power in a house that I owned, when he didn't even live there, but I didn't have a leg to stand on, he was romancing mum again, which meant that once again I would be tossed aside. When she got home, I went up to talk to her, saying I wanted my power back on, her reply was that I should have a bit more respect toward Richard and that my power wasn't going to be turned back on until I apologise. My attempts to tell her what happened fell on deaf ears, Richard had obviously told her his bullshit story first.
The last straw of that era in my life was drawn, and it was the short straw. I got a knife and proceeded to demand my power back on. This terrified everyone but him, who was being a cool cucumber saying that the shit wasn't needed and turned my power back on. The next day the house was empty, they'd gone to his house, which wasn't surprising, I was deemed dangerous. When the phone rang, I answered it, it was mum. The only part of the conversation I remember is the most memorable. She didn't want me to live there anymore. I was officially kicked out of my own home several weeks before my 16th birthday.
A few years ago, mum had left Richard, and I lived with her until she got back together with him, and he sold his house, moving his mortgage over to mum and I's house, which resulted in me being tossed aside again. Many facts about this made me very angry.
And now for more recent times...
Gwen and I have been living with my family since March. The experience has been very trying for me. There was a glimmer of hope at one point where, for the first time ever, Richard was talking to me in a nice manner. How did this happen? He turned off the power one night because our TV was a little too loud for him to sleep, and I caused a ruckus over it. That however, ended well, the following events do not.
Richard is a light sleeper, and every noise we make wakes him up, aparrently. So, in a show of consideration and respect we did everything we could to limit the noise we generate, all that was asked in return, that the same be done for us. He disagreed with my choice of sleeping pattern, I prefer to be awake at night, and no matter what I do to change this, I always end up being the nightcrawler, it's just who I am.
A couple of months ago, I got a bit of work with AAP, an IT company in Australia which was doing a rollout of PC's under contract with the WESTPAC bank in Brisbane. This involved me working from early evening to early morning (which was a godsend to me), but also required me to get a good day's sleep. The noise during the day continued, I didn't manage to get proper sleep, I was consistently running late for the train to work (which was a 1hr 30min train ride to Brisbane) because I overslept (right through the alarm, being so tired).
One day I had had enough of it and did a bit of yelling (the time for talk and pleading had passed). The result was me not talking to either him or my mother, who of course was on his side, as she always is when together with him. This caused much discourse throughout the house, and the general atmosphere since has been a very unwelcome one.
Despite me avoiding them in an attempt to have no more conflict, a week ago Richard started his bullshit again. He was angry at his kids for one reason or another, he tends to go apeshit whenever he doesn't get his way. When I walked to the toilet, he was writing on my brother's door some shit about them being ungrateful shits, and, not being game enough to write on my door, wrote on the floor outside my door some shit about how I wished he would die (and come to think of it, pretty accurate).
Seeing as I was not even involved in the argument, I was fairly annoyed that he decided to drag me into it, but what annoyed me more was when he started bringing Gwen into the mix when she had nothing to do with the sorted history between he and I. The next day I wrote on HIS door all of what I thought of him, seeing as he was being childish.
When he gets home he started going off, big time, yelling, ranting, and raving. I locked the doors to the bedroom and hunkered down for the long haul. He started throwing shit at our door, bashing it every five minutes, making it very unpleasant to be around, whilst scaring this shit out of Gwen. I ignored it, there wasn't much I could do about it, but it had made me very, very, very angry...
Thursday Night, after watching a movie, I was hugging Gwen. The movie had made me reflect on my life. I started feeling very angry, and I was shaking.
The next thing I know I am on the floor of the lounge room, the police are asking me if I am okay. The police? I felt disoriented, tears were all over my face. I was told it was okay, and that the ambulance was on it's way and I sat there for a bit. Mum and Gwen were crying. The police asked if I could get up and go outside to get a bit of fresh air, I wanted a cigarette, Gwen got me one and we sat outside with the police. They asked me if I would like them to take me to the hospital instead of getting an ambulance. I didn't even know what was going on, after they asked a few times I managed to say "ok" and Gwen and I got in the patrol car. She wouldn't leave my side.
Once at the hospital, the police told me to go into the emergency department and that my mother was coming in her car. We went in, I needed to sit. I heard voices around me, then a wheelchair was pushed up in front of me, Gwen and a few other people put me in the chair, and I was put in a bed.
The doctor was very nice, she comforted me and gave me some tablets to settle down. I was in so much pain and didn't know why. My chest was hurting, my whole body ached. During the whole time I wasn't quite 'with it', I was told I had tried to kill Richard, but never caused hi any harm. Gwen told me that Mum and her had stood in front of me to stop it.
It had happened again, I'd lost it. They were getting a pschiatrist in, I was given a sleeping tablet. The doctor said she didn't want to admit me to the Mental Health Ward, but she would consult the psychiatrist first. The psychiatrist was very nice too, although I wasn't too helpful regarding her questions. She took me outside and gave me a smoke while I waited for Mum to pick me up, she said when Mum got here she wanted to talk to her, which she did, and I still don't know what they talked about.
I haven't spoken to Mum yet, I am still upset about her siding with Richard all the time, and to be honest, a little confused (and embarassed?) about what happened that night still. I have an appointment with the Mental Health Clinic tomorrow, I still don't know what is going to happen.
My life feels like a flaming lump of shit, Gwen is a handful and stresses me out to the max, and this situation at home isn't helping me any (obviously). Sometimes I wish I had the guts to take my own life, it hasn't really amounted to anything anyway, nor do I think it can, the world sucks, we think we have freedom, but we're all just sheep.
Baaaaa.
This allowed three people throughout my life to sexually abuse me as a child, each lasting for a very long length of time, one of which lasted three whole years. No one was around to look out for me, and on many occasions, this happened in our very own home, while they were home. I am not embarassed to let people know these facts, I am very upset by them.
Throughout my childhood, I continued to be neglected and abused, the only times he would speak to me were nasty occasions where he would tell me off.
When I was 15, Mum was at church, Richard wasn't living with us at the time, but came over and took the kids out to eat, leaving me home alone. At the time I was living in a caravan down the back, but I was inside the house eating and watching TV. He came home and everyone sat around the TV, I got up to make a coffee, and when I got back my brother had taken my seat. When I asked him to move, he got up, but Richard, being a complete asshole toward me, demanded that he remain seated, my brother insisted that it was rightfully my seat and that he didn't mind moving, still, he insisted on making him sit there. I told him (and rightfully too) where to do, which erupted into a heated argument about how I never wanted to be apart of this family and I should get the fuck out, which was (when looking at it now) very amusing, because I tried everything to be included as part of the family, but was never accepted, leading me to be a recluse who locked himself away.
I went off down to my caravan, and only moments after turning the light on, it went back out. He had turned my power off. I was furious, he had the gaul to turn of my power in a house that I owned, when he didn't even live there, but I didn't have a leg to stand on, he was romancing mum again, which meant that once again I would be tossed aside. When she got home, I went up to talk to her, saying I wanted my power back on, her reply was that I should have a bit more respect toward Richard and that my power wasn't going to be turned back on until I apologise. My attempts to tell her what happened fell on deaf ears, Richard had obviously told her his bullshit story first.
The last straw of that era in my life was drawn, and it was the short straw. I got a knife and proceeded to demand my power back on. This terrified everyone but him, who was being a cool cucumber saying that the shit wasn't needed and turned my power back on. The next day the house was empty, they'd gone to his house, which wasn't surprising, I was deemed dangerous. When the phone rang, I answered it, it was mum. The only part of the conversation I remember is the most memorable. She didn't want me to live there anymore. I was officially kicked out of my own home several weeks before my 16th birthday.
A few years ago, mum had left Richard, and I lived with her until she got back together with him, and he sold his house, moving his mortgage over to mum and I's house, which resulted in me being tossed aside again. Many facts about this made me very angry.
And now for more recent times...
Gwen and I have been living with my family since March. The experience has been very trying for me. There was a glimmer of hope at one point where, for the first time ever, Richard was talking to me in a nice manner. How did this happen? He turned off the power one night because our TV was a little too loud for him to sleep, and I caused a ruckus over it. That however, ended well, the following events do not.
Richard is a light sleeper, and every noise we make wakes him up, aparrently. So, in a show of consideration and respect we did everything we could to limit the noise we generate, all that was asked in return, that the same be done for us. He disagreed with my choice of sleeping pattern, I prefer to be awake at night, and no matter what I do to change this, I always end up being the nightcrawler, it's just who I am.
A couple of months ago, I got a bit of work with AAP, an IT company in Australia which was doing a rollout of PC's under contract with the WESTPAC bank in Brisbane. This involved me working from early evening to early morning (which was a godsend to me), but also required me to get a good day's sleep. The noise during the day continued, I didn't manage to get proper sleep, I was consistently running late for the train to work (which was a 1hr 30min train ride to Brisbane) because I overslept (right through the alarm, being so tired).
One day I had had enough of it and did a bit of yelling (the time for talk and pleading had passed). The result was me not talking to either him or my mother, who of course was on his side, as she always is when together with him. This caused much discourse throughout the house, and the general atmosphere since has been a very unwelcome one.
Despite me avoiding them in an attempt to have no more conflict, a week ago Richard started his bullshit again. He was angry at his kids for one reason or another, he tends to go apeshit whenever he doesn't get his way. When I walked to the toilet, he was writing on my brother's door some shit about them being ungrateful shits, and, not being game enough to write on my door, wrote on the floor outside my door some shit about how I wished he would die (and come to think of it, pretty accurate).
Seeing as I was not even involved in the argument, I was fairly annoyed that he decided to drag me into it, but what annoyed me more was when he started bringing Gwen into the mix when she had nothing to do with the sorted history between he and I. The next day I wrote on HIS door all of what I thought of him, seeing as he was being childish.
When he gets home he started going off, big time, yelling, ranting, and raving. I locked the doors to the bedroom and hunkered down for the long haul. He started throwing shit at our door, bashing it every five minutes, making it very unpleasant to be around, whilst scaring this shit out of Gwen. I ignored it, there wasn't much I could do about it, but it had made me very, very, very angry...
Thursday Night, after watching a movie, I was hugging Gwen. The movie had made me reflect on my life. I started feeling very angry, and I was shaking.
The next thing I know I am on the floor of the lounge room, the police are asking me if I am okay. The police? I felt disoriented, tears were all over my face. I was told it was okay, and that the ambulance was on it's way and I sat there for a bit. Mum and Gwen were crying. The police asked if I could get up and go outside to get a bit of fresh air, I wanted a cigarette, Gwen got me one and we sat outside with the police. They asked me if I would like them to take me to the hospital instead of getting an ambulance. I didn't even know what was going on, after they asked a few times I managed to say "ok" and Gwen and I got in the patrol car. She wouldn't leave my side.
Once at the hospital, the police told me to go into the emergency department and that my mother was coming in her car. We went in, I needed to sit. I heard voices around me, then a wheelchair was pushed up in front of me, Gwen and a few other people put me in the chair, and I was put in a bed.
The doctor was very nice, she comforted me and gave me some tablets to settle down. I was in so much pain and didn't know why. My chest was hurting, my whole body ached. During the whole time I wasn't quite 'with it', I was told I had tried to kill Richard, but never caused hi any harm. Gwen told me that Mum and her had stood in front of me to stop it.
It had happened again, I'd lost it. They were getting a pschiatrist in, I was given a sleeping tablet. The doctor said she didn't want to admit me to the Mental Health Ward, but she would consult the psychiatrist first. The psychiatrist was very nice too, although I wasn't too helpful regarding her questions. She took me outside and gave me a smoke while I waited for Mum to pick me up, she said when Mum got here she wanted to talk to her, which she did, and I still don't know what they talked about.
I haven't spoken to Mum yet, I am still upset about her siding with Richard all the time, and to be honest, a little confused (and embarassed?) about what happened that night still. I have an appointment with the Mental Health Clinic tomorrow, I still don't know what is going to happen.
My life feels like a flaming lump of shit, Gwen is a handful and stresses me out to the max, and this situation at home isn't helping me any (obviously). Sometimes I wish I had the guts to take my own life, it hasn't really amounted to anything anyway, nor do I think it can, the world sucks, we think we have freedom, but we're all just sheep.
Baaaaa.