...for those that wish to remain with their heads in the
How about You walk a mile in My shoes and see who's
sand ~ please allow me the pleasure of enlightening you
on some of the appalling situations I have found myself
in because of my Mother (who I have never blamed;
although most would) and whom has never been accused
of being at fault NOR held accountable for the
embarrasing and traumatic moments of my life.
* Age 1 ~ Born into a violent and volatile family
life.
* Age 2 ~ Hospitalised for stress related eczema.
* Age 3 ~ Witnessed fighting, blood and screaming.
* Age 4 ~ Daniel is born; now I have responsibility.
* Age 5 ~ Too scared to let someone know I had soiled
myself during one of my parents fights so I threw my
undies over the fence.
* Age 6 ~ I am crying at school because I wet my pants.
Mum leaves Dad and we go in and out of Women's
refuges and foster care for most of the next few years.
* Age 7 ~ forced to walk to the local Pastors house
and stand at Mum's side to beg for money just so I
could then walk into town and witness Mum spend the
money on cigarettes and a toy car for Daniel who was
chucking a major spasoid because he was tired from all
the walking. Daniel and I are shuffled between not one
but three foster homes, several women's refuges and at
times the homes of family and friends. One halfway
house in particular offers extra curriculum such as how to
pack a bong, read tarot cards and graffic video pornogra
phy (funny enough this blog is directed at the Moron
whose house this was and who wants me to 'walk a mile'
in my Mother's shoes! Snap).
* Age 8 ~ We spontaneously up and move to South
Australia from Northern NSW in the dead of the
night and at one of the states borders Mum decides
she's going off fruit picking for a year with her
boyfriend and leaves Daniel (who's asleep) and I in
the care of a family friend. The next day we awake
and begin a new life and a new school. Mum returns
unexpectedly a year later, very unwell and demands we
return with her to NSW.
* Age 9 ~ We move often. At school I am interviewed
regularly by social workers and made to draw pictures;
mine are always the same ~ myself as a stick person
standing underneath a colourful rainbow with flowers
and a happy faced sun, the way I would like to see my
life. I am never told if I have passed their tests.
Daniel and I are 'randomly' selected and immediately
sent to an underpriviledged kids camp in Sydney for 2
weeks, when we get back we are teased by our school
mates.
* Age 10 ~ I am sitting in a police station trying to
identify a man who jumped through an open window and
climbed into bed with Daniel and myself at a party
Mum dragged us to while she is outside in a panelvan
fucking some bloke we've never met.
* Age 11 ~ Baby brother Matthew is adopted out after
we spend 9 months and 4 days with him. Begrudgingly
my Grandmother is forced to take me to town to get some
sanitary pads because I get my first period and Mum is
in hospital yet again.
* Age 12 ~ I am struggling with puberty and the
changes my body is going through. We have no fixed
address it seems and I am becoming embarrassed by our
situation, I have already been getting myself ready for
school for years now and often have no lunch and come
home to strangers in our houses and no dinner.
* Age 13 ~ I begin Highschool. I am shy and a quiet
achiever.
* Age 14 ~ I follow Mum and Daniel to the Gold
Coast and begin a new Highschool.
* Age 15 ~ I am taken in by my best friends family
after they experience Mum in full swing. I choose to
finish year 11 and 12 and graduate while dodging abuse
from Mum on and off for the next 3 years.
* Age 16 ~ I go out with my first boyfriend but because
I have no real idea what a relationship is all about I
can't talk to him for 2 weeks, we break up, become
friends again and then I'm able to talk to him again. I
am acutely aware that I am frigid.
* Age 17 ~ I am awarded many achievements and a
scholarship during my school years, all of which were
never witnessed by either of my parents. I sang in the
choir at every end of year concert but was never heard by
my parents. I am still good friends with my first
boyfriend and highschool sweetheart; we take things to
the next level naturally and it is very sweet for a
while.
* Age 18 ~ I am finishing off Grade 12, working as a
cleaner and now rebelling by dating a 41 year old man
who drops me off at school in my cute uniform and slaps
my arse on my way out of his car. He works in a broth
el. My bestfriend and I move into our first home.
* Age 19 ~ I am working, paying off my first car, going
out nightclubbing, taking drugs and negotiating my life
around my Mother's manic mood swings and frequent
hospital visits.
* Age 20 ~ I am job hopping because Mum often
turns up to my workplaces and tells my employers that I
am being sexually abused, used as a drug mule and in
imminent danger from strange people from her past. It is
just easier to get a new job than to explain that she is
not well enough to know what she's talking about.
* Age 21 ~ I plan and pay for my 21st birhtday party
after having a termnation. Mum makes sure that every
Special event is spent in the emergency department trying
to get her into a mental health bed.
* Age 22 ~ I am living by myself, find inner peace and
working hard in an industrial laundry. I am strongly en
couraged to go back to school and do something with my
life. Mum makes sure that every Christmas is spent in
the emergency department trying to get her into a mental
health bed.
* Age 23 ~ I meet Justin in a nightclub and know
that I have to do something in my life if I hope to hold
onto someone as special as that. I apply and am accepted
into a Bachelor of Nursing course. Mum makes sure
that every Birthday is spent in the emergency department
trying to get her into a mental health bed.
* Age 24 ~ Justin and I are still together.
* Age 25 ~ Justin and I are still together despite my
Mother's interference.
* Age 26 ~ Justin and I are still together despite my
Mother now targetting Justin when she becomes unwell.
* Age 27 ~ I am now a Registered Nurse.
* Age 28 ~ Mum stabs her former boyfriend in the
back with a pen, Justin and I drove around to rescue
him, diffuse the situation, Justin gets a Litre of milk
tipped over his head and I chase Mum around the house
holding out her pants for her while she has only a shirt
on; police and ambulance officers wait patiently.
* Age 29 ~ I spend every one of my Birthdays,
Christmas's and New Year's in a security guarded hos
pital waiting room with Mum who spirals out of control
on a regular basis.
* Age 30 ~ We work and renovate home number one.
Mum often turns up in an unwell state, when we refuse
to let her in she goes to our neighbours doors and gives
them the full sob story.
* Age 31 ~ This routine continues and Mum is often
spotted by our neighbours just sitting in our courtyard
while we are at work, she continues to visit our neigh
bours despite our pleading for her to not do this.
* Age 32 ~ Go back to university to undertake my
Masters of Midwifery. Mum makes my intense study
even more of a living hell. I am forced to admit to my
self that I need antidepressant drugs and a good psychol
ogist.
* Age 33 ~ Move to New Zealand with the hope of
making a life for ourselves and perhaps even getting some
respite from Mum.
* Age 34 ~ Living and working in New Zealand
miles away from Mum but still easily harrassed and
ambushed by a frantically unstable Mother who is
convinced by her dilusional and irrational thoughts that I
am being harmed, framed and corrupted.
* Age 35 ~ Working in Dubbo Base Hospital trying
to earn some money. I fly in to Australia and spend my
first night with Mum in the hope that this will be
enough to convince her that I love her and that I am here
on serious Midwifery business; it's not enough. I am
stalked, get 4-5 messages a day, numerous daily phone
calls and then finally verbally abusive threats towards
my husband. Mum finally rings my temporary workplace
and creates confusion and concern on an already hectic
and busy ward where I have no intention of explaining
myself or my family issues.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So for those who are unsure of what I have had to put up
with for the past 35 years and who tartly believe I
should 'walk a mile' in my Mother's shoes, consider
yourself moronic.
You're quite right; it's not all my Mum's fault, there
were plenty of others responsible for the physical and
emotional abuse I endured while I was growing up. I
have a great solicitor now who would be very interested
in some of my childhood experiences.
still smiling.
I don't need to walk in my Mother's shoes to know of
her pain and suffering, because for the past 35 years I
have carried the burden for her.
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