Waking each morning became something that made me hate sleeping at night, the end of the day I could handle its pains as it was past me but the fear of what a new day brings was something to always make me wonder if it will break me.
As I lay on my bed talking to my friend as she asks her brother if he can pick me up we sneakily prepare some plan for me to run away from home. A knock at my door and I shove my secret mobile phone under my pillow as I lay on my bed with my legs bent and pretend to be reading a book before I can reply ‘S’ swings the door open. Looking at me asking if I was going to come out of my room, who I was talking to. Fear sets in as I wonder if he heard me and what he heard. His eyes skim around my room he looks into my cupboard then under my bed with an open palm he gently slaps onto my leg squeezes it slightly and says, ‘you should put some underwear on.’
Pulling my leg out from his grip I tell my so-called ‘father figure’ to F”ck off. He laughs as he walks out and says, ‘your lucky I wont tell your mum.’ I get my phone to message my friend as my hands shake frantically I couldn’t press the stupid buttons properly to make any sense. ‘S’ knew all about my Mums side of the story that happened with ‘D’ and with my uncle, anyone with disturbed enough mind now would see a young girl starting puberty and see how easy it is to take advantage of her and no one will do anything about it.
Every passing made in the kitchen he made a point to touch my backside, rub up against me or comment something passive enough not to cause attention but crude enough to make me cringe.
I lived with the taunts of yet another scumbag who would adjust himself in his trousers in front of me smirking and gripping himself, would ask if I needed to use his razor to shave and make my kitty pretty, of course my mother on occasions heard some remarks and would happily brush it off as a bad joke and tell him he’s meant to be the ‘father figure’ and not one of the kids.
Once again my mother protecting someone who was inappropriate with me, yes ‘S’ wasnt the worst of them nor the last none the less he lived with us and my mother never gave it a second thought just as she refused to talk about anything else that had transpired unless she was addressing my behaviour and how much I was acting out reminding me constantly that I wasnt how I use to be and she wishes I would just be a normal pre teen girl. Yes mum, I wished that too little did you care to know.
‘S’ and my mother stopped living together as my mother slowly filtered me out of her life through the juvenile detention system she would report me to police then request ridiculous bail conditions stating she didn’t want me at home anyway. She would then call the police and breach my bail causing me to be re arrested. She made claims that my ‘Arab rapists thug’ friends had threatened her and her fiance and that she was simply in fear for her life. Of course the police believed her due to her position in the supreme court but the Judge ended up scolding my mother for saying she was fed up and didn’t want to deal with me anymore and remand me in Juvenile detention. he released me on bail into her care with a Juvenile Justice worker and reported her to DOCS.
Almost a year later my mother and ‘S’ broke up she did not hesitate to let me know it was my fault as I ruined everything and he just couldn’t handle the strain and disrespect I put in my mother’s life. While I was now old enough to know it wasnt my fault I was deeply hurt that my mother saw it differently and had no problem telling me so.
Many things happened in a short time my mother moved to a new home yet again while I wasnt residing with her I was unsure if she had moved somewhere that had a bedroom for me or not. Not knowing if I would live with her again, the streets had become my home and my friends had become my family.
Upon my return to my mothers new home She had decided to try to get me medicated with Seroquel and an anti-depressant prescribed by a GP. Anyone who knows medicine for schizophrenia it isn’t recommended for anyone under 18 especially under 16 and I was merely 12 years old, prescribed by a GP. My mother placed an order on my new bail conditions that I must take the medicine and attend counselling twice a week or more. I needed to get a medical assessment by a specialist to see if I was schizophrenic or not, I passed and was told I had a photographic memory but that was all. I was cleared for every mental illness including depression but Dr Champion told my mother as I had confided in him a little about feelings of frustration and anger and not sure how to control that. Disclosing a little to him he informed my mother of what he believed was ‘ a normal child acting out after some form of abuse’ needless to say she didn’t take that well.
After all the tests and my mother forcing me to take medicine that made me unwell, dizzy, hot flushes, itchiness, weak legs and at times vomit or pass out she insisted I was crazy and attended meetings called ‘tough love’ to basically just whine about her hard time as a mother and how ‘messed up’ I was. All part of her next plan for when she will kick me out.
During this time I started to look into Islam as my family are very strong church going christians I always believed in God but struggled to accept some parts of christianity. Months pass with constant battles and police calls as I refused my medicine I would sit on my window as protest as my mother would try to forcefully push tablets in my mouth leaving marks on my face and body . My school reported her for abuse, my counsellor and Dr champion ( specialist in mental health) had stated I shouldnt be taking any form of medicine without first trying to fix the problem through talking with my mother and trying coping methods.
I confided in my friends and one particular friends mother causing me to become a muslim and embrace Islam. My Mother kicked me out upon which police would find me sleeping in the train station or sports stadium and try to convince her to allow me home. When my Mother would learn of a friend I was staying with she would notify the police that I was in an ‘ inappropriate under age relationship’ or that my friends mother was ‘ brainwashing me and allowing me to break the law ‘ causing police to bang at their doors warn them and escort me home upon which my Mother would then turn around and shove me out the door once the police would leave. My Juvenial Justice worker tried to house me in young peoples homes ‘ refuges’ and even to mediate something with my mother but after exhausting every young persons refuge for my age the only other option was foster care.
over the next year until I was close to 14, I was in the streets eating from rubbish bins and people’s left over food, I was almost gang raped, watched friends overdose on drugs, get killed and be brutalised or raped. Finally a court ordered my mother take me home or lose her parental rights and face a child neglect charges. She accepted to allow me home otherwise she may lose her rights over my brother also. I certainly was not anything like I use to be, I didn’t take drugs or drink but I had seen so much that I thought was only from movies I had done things no child my age should have.
Turning 14 my mother had my counsellor (who happily complied after speaking with me) write a letter stating it was better for my well-being and mental health to reside outside of my mother’s home. My mother with almost a skip in her step and eyes wide like saucepans when she received the letter took it to the Government office to apply for benefits so that I could not reside under her roof anymore.
My counsellor had notified my mother that unless I want to attend sessions she refuses to continue to see me without my mother present as the anger and pain I was carrying around is connected to my mother, our relationship and she needed to carry that responsibility as the adult and Parent and to hear me out for me to be able to become better and learn that I can express my feelings and pain without fear etc.
My mother refused to attend counselling with me on a regular basis she would agree to come and then call and cancel the day of the appointment. Once the Government Office agreed to pay me and a few court hearings later my mother took me to a shared housing building. Basically I would have my own room and shower but share a kitchen and toilet with grown men and women most of whom were men.
Upon showing us the room my mother made a point to tell the man she wanted to take a particular room she had requested, he commented about the room and asked her why. she said,’ that is the room my brother stayed in when he lived here.’ I started to feel rage build inside of me that fear of living alone and not having my mother’s home ever as a possibility for me to return to and being legit living on my own just turned into a rage inside my body. Needless to say my mother paid a deposit for me to be in my uncles old room and signed her name on the paper as I was under 16 and legally couldn’t sign anything.
I was taunted by the male residents, I was stopped on the stairs when walking up to my room upon returning from school I was picked up off the floor as he pushed me against the wall trying to pull my trousers down. I could smell the alcohol mixed with marijuana and cigarettes on his breath. I was no longer that little girl who was abused, I was now a teenager who had been through too much and didn’t fear anything or anyone. I fought him punching and kicking as his friends who laughed joined in to defend their friend. Being pulled by my hair and thrown down the flight of stairs I got to my feet blood in my mouth and hands I ran at them again hitting whoever got in my way as they parted and let me pass. I ran to my room and locked myself inside.
I cried myself to sleep pondering killing myself and wondering if its true, do things ever get better or will I be that statistic who is abused then ends up turning to drugs, position then dies of an overdose in her 20’s to which her family mourn and pretend to have no idea what was really going on in her life and that she was just the black sheep ‘ no one could help.’
Waking in the morning I didn’t go to school I just sat there thinking why? why should I do anything? Feeling that dark hole inside me take over my body a depression that made me almost take my own life. Days turned hearing those men knock on my door asking for me to entertain them I refused to leave my room or to speak, they would walk away only to return hours later pushing lit cigarettes under the crack of my door and blowing marijuana smoke underneath. That rage and voice in my head refusing to accept to be a victim to someone ever again, refusing to be a victim again, total rebellion to the idea I packed a bag and left never to return to that place again.
At the age of 14 I had learnt that not every man is a pedophile nor is every man bad, but given the opportunity too many people overlook what is right in front of them, listen to and even protect the wrong people. For whatever reason I will never know but my mother was the biggest abuser of all those who abused me with her verbal insults, violent ‘discipline’ and emotional abuse that given the chance until now she has emotionally abused me even though I’m a grown woman. I had to remove her from my life to start to heal and be able to stop seeing ‘A’, ‘D’, my uncle,’S’ and those drunkards in every man I pass in the street.