Category Archives: MY WORLD
My experiences good and bad.
Aaaaaaaaargh! I have been putting off this post for a while. I mean the one guy
You were the first real man I knew not some boy but a real man.
I tell myself I have dealt with the indifference. Yet, as soon as I find a way to make contact again. I let all my pride go and open my heart and soul to you. I do it publicly on social media websites. I end up looking pathetic but I don’t care.
I post things like:
I hope you will forgive me one day so we can build up a better relationship
or I tag you hoping you will comment back.
I am looking after your queen. I won’t let you down.
I comment on those silly quizzes you do that pop up on Facebook, like
WHAT NATIONALITY SHOULD YOU BE? –
ME: You got you look like a Spaniard – haha! funny I got I should be American (silence)
New comment from a friend: I got Portuguese
You to friend : you look Portuguese
I don’t want anything from you . Okay that is a lie. I only want a bit of your time, a few words once a few years.
She warned me not to go there again. I wasn’t prepared to have my heart broken again.Well, not broken but pumping with less voracity than before.
I know I wasn’t the most affable of characters all those years back. I mean what did I know at 12, 15 years old? 24 years old ? Not much.
Yet, that was when you first turned your back on me.
I know I have mental health issues and to you it’s all just,
DRAMA DRAMA DRAMA
A heads up? It’s not been a fucking picnic or tropical island holiday for me either.
Do you ever think about me?
What do you feel when you look at a picture of me? Do you look at pictures of me?
Are you so distant with everyone? We’ve been drunk and stoned together and you are a legend at Karaoke . Over the years, I have seen how you make everyone laugh…
Why don’t you talk to me when I Skype? I know I fall way down the bottom of the hierarchy chain of the many girls in your life.
To have a slice of your heart…
Well, of what is left to give. Is that what it is? You haven’t got any more heart to give?
I don’t want much… a few words, a phone call – no maybe that is too much..
Okay ,what about a teeny tiny interest in my life on social media perhaps… You live so far away and it’s my only source of contact.
Why do you reply to other peoples comments on what you post but not mine?
Why don’t you reply to my emails?
I’m not bad. I’m actually a fucking awesome person. Why can’t the past stay where it is.
Don’t judge me.
I don’t judge you.
I thought I had closed the door on ever having a chance with you again. I opened it again three months ago,, feeling we were in a more equal position. Me being older and you being older – wiser they say..
Never mind, I have googled the meaning for indifference again and read it out loud,to remind myself.
I can’t make you love me or want to contact me. I know you are going through hard times – if you must know-
we all do .
Maybe if you decided to chat properly with me I could make you laugh. We may find out we have more in common than you think.
Done with this post. Finally got it out of my head. I can move on again.
I am an adult and I choose to be happy.
I don’t resent you.
I am curious to know you.
I am sure if you let me closer, you would find I actually like you and love you- unconditionally.
But it is cool.
You are over there and I am over here.
Living our lives.
Your blood runs through my veins.
Nothings changed and that is cool too.
Indifference it is then, dad.
It’s mental health awareness week in the U.K.
This time last year I was in a coma after trying to take my life-again. I woke up 9 days later on my mom’s birthday. I don’t think I have come to terms with the fact that I am still alive. These past fews days my mental health has been deteriorating and I’m trying my hardest to fight these sodding demons in my head.
I’ve been feeling suicidal again. I have everything to live for.
It doesn’t mean the thoughts go away.
I fight my battles every single day and I reach out even if its to get away from my head for a few minutes.
I can’t have a head transplant or swap my head with some one else for an hour.
Self medicating rarely works or makes me feel good so I push myself to reconnect with life in different ways again.
It’s mental health awareness week and maybe by being in nature , trying to get out of my head may help.
Maybe by just going through the motions even though my thoughts carry on chattering away it doesn’t matter. The act and the intention is what matters.
For a few moments I’m distracted by some other nature that isn’t my own…
Suicide isn’t the answer. I will carry in telling myself this until I believe it.
My story hasn’t ended.. life has a greater purpose, I
#mentalhealth #mentalhealthmatters #mentalhealthawarenessmonth
Today, I heard the postman push through my mail. I opened one letter and my heart nearly dropped to the floor quicker than the letter did. My hands were trembling like an addict going into withdrawals.
It was the referral letter from my G.P. and mental health nurse to be assessed by the Adult eating disorder services in Leeds. When I picked up the letter to go and read it , I felt like I was drunk – the words were spread out , doubling over the next word, hazy and unreadable , hazy and clouding my vision then my judgement as I felt the tears wet my cheeks and watched then drip into the paper.
I’m unsure why I started to cry. A combination of Fear and relief?
Fear that I might be rejected from getting psychotherapy because I’m not thin enough. Since I’ve moved house -3 months ago, I’ve put on 6 kilos( nearly 1 stone).
Fear that I will get the help I want and face my Eating disorder willingly. I know it’s a headspace controlled by my eating disordered part of me. The space of the unknown. That moment in between.
That train of thought –to be ill I need to look ill.
My rational mind totally ‘gets it’. My emotions and feelings about the impending assessment took my thoughts back to the years I spent in and out of hospitals, the loneliness ( I still feel many days)felt, my dream career that I had to stop due to my health deteriorating linked in with my eating disorder, the isolation..
I still tend to isolate myself. Most days ,I struggle with getting out and socialising. Most people think I’m over confident.
These days I’m less rigid in my thinking around my eating disorder. I know it’s there. Hell, it chatters to me 24 hours a day 😂😭. I also know the amount of energy it takes keeping my weight at this level.
The thought of all the dedication and commitment to go back and actively starve myself to below 50 kgs fills me with terror because the life I’ve managed to create will have no meaning or purpose, if I let it consume my entire world , it’s a bit like,how I feel about my suicidal thoughts since my last suicide attempt in , May 2020. I remember the pain and terror of when I thought I had been abducted by aliens -when the truth is :I was in a coma for nearly 10 days.
Truth is: I was beyond terrified however, the suicidal thoughts don’t disappear completely.
I’m actively trying to get my weight down to 53-54. A weight loss of 3 -4kgs. My safe weight. Will I want to stop when I get to that weight or carry on chasing a deficit in numbers and chipping away at my character, self esteem and my personality simultaneously?
Just like an addict- adding fire to aid the beast of addiction to lash out flames of fury at me.
Many years have passed since I was last sectioned for anorexia. My life has transformed -no, I have an actual life that my imagination never ever could conceive. I was drowning in ignorance because my mental illnesses had told me things that I believed.
I’ve made goals and achieved them. Some goals were not planned until circumstances pertaining around them turned them into goals to conquer or over come.
- A daughter
- A husband
- My degrees in higher education
- Volunteering with mental health charities
- Eating the way I do today
- Conquerimg other obsessions and addictions-actively working to stay away from that behaviour
- Looking at getting back in to full time employment
There is the desire to be free of my eating disorder.
So much has changed in my life and what role my Eating disorder and obssesions play in my life
Conversely, not much has changed either…….. ( dot dot dot dot).
I didn’t want to write today. Small words about a big force that hangs over me.
Last night I went out. Yes, wahaaaaaay!
Cheeky cocktail at T.G.I’s and then it was off to watch Grim North Theatres – ‘Sins of our Father.’
So this got me thinking about the word -ex-communication.
The production focuses on the seven deadly sins.
I liken them to the seven (not so) friendly dwarfs.
What I love about this kind of theatre is how vividly I can see who are the influences behind how modern theatre is still being developed in The U.K. – there was plenty of surrealism-
Names of Influential playwright practitioners of Experimental theater that come to mind are:
and indeed even
I think every play needs a touch of what I will call realism although naturalism would probably be the better word to use here. I say this because without a human, being able to identify with a character’s situation – all meaning becomes lost…..
We all have emotions. We all have vices. We have all had to make not so great life choices.
In places when I felt, in the production, like I was being pulled into a real-life situation – as one would expect in a 100% authentic kitchen sink drama / naturalistic play. I DO MEAN NATURALISM AND NOT REALISM HERE.
Lighting changed from soft blues to startling reds. These colors will all have a different meaning for the observer/ audience member /actor even. The subjective part of me was thrown back and made to rethink what I was seeing, question what I was, in fact, being led to believe.
Music – is another great technique that I love to use when I’ve written scripts.
Look at this random picture
In my opinion, Physicality is an actor in the theater is so important.
Yes. Dialogue is needed but what characters don’t say and do on stage, is just as important and helps me makes connections in my mind and heart, when dialogue couldn’t.
There is a lot of physicality and communication interpreted in the characters devised movements in this production.
What is physical theater in drama?
A form of theatre which emphasizes the use of physical movement, as in dance and mime, for expression. Disciplines include children’s theatre, film, comedy, drama,physical theatre, dance, cabaret, visual art, performance poetry, music theatre, and the full scope of music genres.
I am reminded of the Frantic Assembly.
I loved the dance with the protagonist -Alexis- and the soldier( who turns out to be the seven deadly sins, final trump card) at making Alexis feel she should feel guilty for having had an Abortion.
She is faced with having to make a choice- to murder the concept of what we call life again.
The loose ends of the plot come together when she is faced with the idea that the soldier is her aborted son, or indeed could have been if he had lived.
Not presented as a failure.
Not weak but a Hero.
Yet,Flawed and subject to all the same emotions as any human and very much full of heart.
He too corrupted by emotions and experiences.
What we choose to give into and not into is a product of our emotions about where we are in a particular journey of our lives.
Is it better to feel Pride rather than Lust?
Is it something that needs a situational context?
Why are some feelings seen bad and others good?
We all have them. Good and bad feelings.
Fuck what the church says.
It is our fundamental right to feel.
What do we do with those feelings?
…well that is up for debate.
I feel this production was well executed because I can feel empathy for the ( antagonists) seven deadly sins themselves.
Do not shun what you are afraid of understanding.
Do not stigmatize what is the most natural part of you.
What makes you – a human!
Embrace all your feelings -I believe that hiding our darker sides makes that part of us stronger and unbalanced.
Lessen the burden -be a whole. Be a rainbow spectrum of light.
There is more than Black and White.
Yin and Yang
Extract what you need in moderation.
Music I have been listening to while writing this. Shrug 7th Birthday Party Mix Tape By Marc Landish
OBLIGATORY NIGHT OUT SELFIE
Have a great weekend!
I suppose I, as a writer can be ignorant and forget how empowering and therapeutic being able to write is and how creative it is. This is is something that every woman should be able to access. I saw the results of the works of creativity in every face at ‘Behind the mask’ exhibition this today.
The exhibition was led by a passionate presentation by the highly charismatic Sharon Marsden from verd de gris
I spent most of my time in tears. All masks shed to connect with British white and British Muslim woman through the medium of poetry, their personal words and singing. Yes, what a strange bonding power it is to want to join in and sing with strangers.
All connected by our desire to be unburdened, it released even me from my cage. Today, I flew high and found my voice intermingled amongst a collective . I didn’t need to say a word. Someone already had and I identified completely. I had a taste of the 12-week journey these highly courageous women have been through. It reminds me of my own journey in life as a woman. I’m not alone. We are not alone. As painful as some of these emotions were to witness and experience the exhibition left on a high – I was carried away with a powerful gust of optimism and newfound courage to carry on in my own journey in life.
All faiths, all ages, all complex woman with the desire to be free from pain and to be free to show their real face and not wait for the words of acceptance . The message I took away is this:
This is me! take me or leave. I will not hide behind any more masks for you or anyone.
Here is my crane symbol to remind me that I too can be that bird that ‘flies to the heavens’
The crane is a popular symbol in Asian culture, and the practice of folding paper cranes for good fortune, healing, happiness, and success was popularized by Sadako Sasaki, a young victim of the radiation from the Hiroshima disaster. Chains of paper cranes, often numbering a thousand in total, are given as offerings at temples and shrines. The crane is also perceived as a bird capable of flying to the very heavens, and is said to have borne spirits of the deceased there upon its back. In ancient China, the crane was used as the symbol of highest-ranking officials.
Read more at http://www.beliefnet.com/Wellness/Environment/Galleries/A-Spiritual-Field-Guide-to-Birds.aspx?p=6#JvmBs22BfFs8PL8B.99
Caged Bird Excerpt
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
Female empowerment is continuing well into 2016. NEW RECRUITS NEEDED FOR THE NEXT BEHIND THE MASK COMING SOON!
I have also been moved to boldly upload my first video blog. What better inspiration than to speak with female empowerment. Seven minutes long but no apologies for what comes from the heart.
haven’t had my graduation ceremony yet and with all that has happened this year, I totally forgot that I have finally finished my degree. My other half was going ballistic (in a good way) and looked at me and asked me why I looked so down. I guess either I am still in shock or I don’t think it is that big a deal compared to what other goals and shit I have had to focus on this year. So let me high 5 myself and reflect on how the path to get my degree became – the successful one.
Way back in 2007,I had just come out of the hospital with a BMI of 16. I enrolled at my local college in the U.K. to do my BA in acting performance.
I was with a lovely group of talented individuals and managed one term. I was quickly losing more weight again and my mental health went down. I could not maintain a low BMI. I either had to go lower or higher and I went lower. I managed to get merit (when they still called it that) for my classical acting. How amazing is that?
I wanted to engage with my group but I couldn’t shift the anorexia. I had become a sub-host to it.
Back in 2008, I decided to have another go at it. I had gained a normal amount of weight. I met a seemingly lovely man who swept me off my feet. He worked in the army and ended up going on tour for 3 months in Canada. I went to live in Barcelona with my Aunt for a few months and partied hard. Hit Ibiza with my cuz and when I came back to the U.K I was ready to piece my life back together.
The night I arrived back in the U.K. was the same night the army guy got back and he came straight to see me, bringing me little gifts back from his tour. I was so touched and couldn’t believe we had another chance to get to know this one another again and give him my heart. I invited him for a meal at my Nan’s house the following evening as he was rather ‘fatigued'(such an elegant way of putting it) from his flight.
The following day he texted me to tell me he was getting his car serviced and would see me later. Later turned into 6pm And 8pm and then 9pm. The curry was losing it’s cool. I rang him asking him why he hadn’t pitched up and he completely dissed me on the phone and told me he was with his family and I can’t make him choose his family over me! WTAF?
If he had explained that he wanted to be with his family then I would of got it.-The lovely army guy broke my heart. He didn’t want to be with me. I internalised all this as my fault. I had put on weight, I had been homeless and had recently found somewhere in the U.K. to live and I thought I wasn’t good enough. I remember walking my Nan from my new home to the bus stop and I broke down. I didn’t know how much I liked this guy until I felt my heart tearing. Each sob caused another tear and another.
In 2009 I was finally in a better place and I was ready for another attempt to get a degree in the arts arena. I started a two Foundation Degree with 24 students. By week two that had whittled down to 7 students. Again a totally different bunch of lovely people. I fucked up. I stopped taking my meds. I was trying so hard to fit in but I guess I felt a bit intimidated by all the talented actors and talent. I didn’t know then that they were all just as frightened of failing as me. At first I was coping and I managed to go out get wasted and silly and form friendships. Standard uni stuff. One night a girl on my course rang me and told me to come out. She said the night was on her. I got dressed and put on my party face even though at that time I was taking 100 laxatives a day.
When people asked me out I would say ‘Awesome. I will be there’ I had a bad habit and once I had taken those tablets I was ill. I mean of course, I had the shits. Haha. Never thought I would be typing this but the moment before I purged I had stomach cramps that pushed and pulled and stabbed at me from the inside. I couldn’t walk from the spasms. SO that night I gave a big fuck you to Anorexia and went out to have some fun and bond with some friends.
My taxi pulled up at ‘the only reputable club’ in that locality and I saw my college friend wave at me and she was laughing and she gave me £50 and told me to come with her. It was a bit. Well, I was sober and everyone else was hammered. I didn’t find it funny. I wasn’t in the zone yet. I went to the bathroom and then I went to look for the pack and I couldn’t find them anywhere.
My mobile battery died and I turned around to the first person I saw to ask that person if I could use their mobile. I happened to bump into the person who went on to degrade and disrespect me in the most colourful and inventive ways. I couldn’t find anyone so we went back to mine and drank until………… I passed out mid-sentence.
This guy wouldn’t leave me alone. He was lovely at first but really full-on. I tried to back away. My friends told me he looked creepy.Leave him alone.
A guy from uni came up to me and told me that creepy ex was well and truly creepy and to stay away. Did I listen? no, I let my insecurities get the better of me. I melted into his world. At first it was flattering that someone would want to be around me so much. I didn’t think I was going to get in a relationship with him. I was trying to make friends and I had my eyes on someone else.
Out of respect to my daughter, I won’t go into a diatribe of events. He tried to take my soul. When he couldn’t have all of me he came up with a cunning plan to try and take my life away from me. Our daughter. During this time I could feel Anorexia clawing it’s way back inside. Cold, damp and merciless. I couldn’t allow it home again. I reached out to a couple I know and went on to meet my future husband to be. Before you judge- I have had my karma. I nearly lost my daughter as you may know from previous posts. I had time on my hands. Instead of being a full-time Mom to my daughter, I was a 10 hour per week Mom instead.
I decided while I battled it out in the court arena with social services and my creepy ex I would resume my studies. This time not in a mainstream uni but an online one. I worked my toosh off and today I can say I am a graduate. I couldn’t have done it without the support of my partner and my family.
DON’T JUDGE -if you can help it. That is a huge lesson I’ve learned. This piece of paper means so much more than the letters printed on it. It is a symbol – a tangible piece that reminds me of how I got to this place where I am today. I’m a bride to be with a gorgeous daughter who will be four in October. I’m working with mental health charities and I am a stable weight- super healthy. I don’t smoke. I drink mostly water ( with the odd cocktail of course) , I exersise. I am a success. I am proud of me. No one can take that from me. I won’t let them. Always be ready to learn a bit more. I may have officially finished learning but I will not let that stop me from learning in other ways. I treat every experience in my life as a learning curve. Always look for the silver lining no matter how bleak.
Self-care is something that gives you pleasure and nourishes your body, spirit and mind.
Ma petit fripon. Je t’aims toujours
It was 13/10/2011. Icelandic temperatures in the U.K. We had zero cash and I was not afraid. Everyone around me; My Nan, my Mom and my Aunt were giving me advice and asking me questions.
“Have a bath. Have sex. Have a curry. Have a bath. Have a … inundated with many opinions and suggestions
My daughter was still not due until a week later. In one week I had had three stretch and sweeps. My Nan had to give us money for fuel to get back to the hospital. After my lovely bath, I went to lie down but I felt rather contrary and decided to check back into the hospital. The midwives said I still had at least 5 cm to go.
So we trudged back into our car for the seemingly long journey home. 10 minutes into the drive home, I felt something that I thought could be a contraction. It wasn’t painful but it was consistent. and it was a real ‘feeling’. I turned to my Nan and said I think I may be contracting. The car swerved and headed back to the hospital. At the hospital, the contractions started to pick up in intensity (not sore just an ‘alien’ feeling). The nurses led me to a room and said they would be back with all their midwifery gear. My Mom and my Aunt arrived.
By this time I was going into panic mode because I didn’t know what to expect. I demanded my drugs and started hitting the gas and air (That was all I asked for). If only I knew how ill too much would make me. I sat on this massive pink blobby ball, bobbing up and down like a confused Buddha. Mom was massaging my shoulders like I was in the wrestler’s seat ready for round one in the ring. DING! DING! DING!
Out of nowhere, I had the urge to get to the toilet. I don’t want to be vulgar though the feminist in me wants to flip the bird and give all the gory details. We need to get over the fact that birth can be ugly.
Moving on. This immense pressure hit me and it felt like I needed a shit. REALITY PEOPLE! Though, it wasn’t the same feeling like the usual order of the bathroom purge. I ran/made a move to go to the toilet and I sat down on it. My mom followed suit and said to me,
” No grandchild of mine is going to be born on the toilet” so she and my aunt took an arm each and propped me up and headed in the direction of the bed.
I got on the bed and screamed out what I needed to do. I wanted to push.
“PUSH” they cried.
Okay…. so I pushed really hard. I heard my Mom say,
” I can see her shoulders, push! “
I gave one almighty push that started from my head (with thoughts of ‘ ‘one more push’ ‘body will obey’) One more push and it was ‘SHOWTIME’, I felt her shoot out of me. A chill stirred by my snakelike placenta laying frigid in between my legs. No cry. The midwives burst in at this moment with a Spanish inquisition manner of urgency about them. All tooled up for their big moment.
“We need to pierce the placenta.”
My little girl was born in the full sac. My body didn’t even have enough time to send a message to tell my body ‘waters you may now burst’.
Still no cry. Then a tiny mew of a cry and they placed her on my chest for a nanosecond and then took her away to make sure she was in top form. They took my girl to another ward to observe her breathing and to make sure the medication I take had not affected her in any way. The midwives broke my waters!
My Mom and Aunt were clapping like a bunch of sea lions and then kissed me on the top of my head and dashed out of the hospital to catch a bus to London! I almost looked around for any discarded popcorn.
I did grab for the gas and air because my daughter had torn me and I needed to be stitched all the way around like a hem of a skirt. I needed some post-labour-pain relief. The whole drive back to the hospital and the labour lasted less than three hours. My baby girl was born on the 13/10/2011 at 03:15 a.m.
All the other Mom’s were super jealous. The easiest birth ever. The worst part was actually having to go to the toilet and not scream out in pain when my stitches had been so cruelly awoken. She has never been a hassle from her birth right up to her fourth birthday. She is such
a placid kid, she is always smiling from morning till night. She tells people they are beautiful and she comments on what people are wearing. She sings and dances. She shares. She is so courageous. There is an old wives tale that children born in the placenta sac are ‘special’. Centuries ago men travelling at sea would wear a part of the sac around their neck as a talisman – it was thought that it would give them protection and stop them from drowning at sea.
So much has happened in my daughter’s 8 years on this planet. People expected you to act like some feral child but no you are the most chilled, charismatic, hilarious, intuitive and smart child I know. I see you blossom and I blossom too. When I hug you to my chest that connection. That surge of emotion puts everything in perspective.
I LOVE YOU!
Our pinkie promise: I promise to love you forever and ever and I will never stop loving you and you will always be my baby girl, pinkie promise.
I know a special girl whose heart is full of sunshine She dances her way around the world to deliver her own special punchline She laughs so distinctly that people cannot help but become infected It is a sight to behold when this observation is detected She is gracious and kind and is delicately inclined the phrase 'she is an angel' are the only words that come to mind Her name means beautiful-that of body, mind and soul and to have her touch so many lives confirms her title role She is my modern day princess -so noble and full of grace I love her with all my being and she is a person that I cannot replace HAPPY BIRTHDAY, my sweet child. You are the true gift I found it in your innocent eyes and that was the day my world truly began to shift
There are many types of Child Abuse
Emotional Abuse can be hard to spot and is easy to miss the signs.
- humiliating or constantly criticising a child-
When my Mom was in a Domestic Violent Relationship with my ex step father he would constantly tell me I was chubby, too clingy.
- threatening, shouting at a child or calling them names
- making the child the subject of jokes, or using sarcasm to hurt a child
- blaming and scapegoating
My ex -step father would shout at me for wanting to be close to my mom. He would drag me into my bedroom -my mom would stick up for me and she would get the brunt of my tantrums, clinginess, my eating issues.
- making a child perform degrading acts
- not recognising a child’s own individuality or trying to control their lives
- pushing a child too hard or not recognising their limitations
My ex step father’s idea of teaching me how to swim was to grab hold go me, jump into the swimming pool and stay under the water until I thought I would pas out. He would do this as a joke in front of his friends and laugh at me for being so scared. I was 5 years old
- exposing a child to upsetting events or situations, like domestic abuse or drug taking
My ex step father used to beat my mom up regularly because she dared to challenge him for cheating on her constantly ,for getting a 15 year old pregnant. He was always high and there were always parties going on with strange men and women around. I used to try and defend my mom until I became too afraid. I used to barricade myself in my bedroom. I would wait until he came home from work and hide under the bed.
- failing to promote a child’s social development
- not allowing them to have friends
- persistently ignoring them
I felt like my life was irrelevant. I wasn’t worth anything. I remember having an argument with my mom. She was struggling with her Mental health and the abuse. She came home from work when I was 5/6 years old. I was dressed up in her wedding dress and having fun. She screamed at me to get out her room .She was crying, I didn’t want to be away from her. She locked me out of the room because I started to have a tantrum. I went to the kitchen and got a knife out of the drawer and went to her bedroom door and yelled I was going to stab myself if she didn’t open the door. No reply. I heard her crying. I felt alone and that I couldn’t help her.
- being absent
When I felt helpless and angry. I would act out. I would binge on food, wet the bed conrantly and go and sleep with the dogs in the kitchen. I recall one day feeling so worthless and useless that I couldn’t make my mom better or please my ex step father that I packed a suitcase falloff toys and clothes. I needed to get away. I walked down the driveway (to my child self -it looked like I was walking a long way from home), When I reached the end of the driveway I looked left, right, I looked across the road and I thought to myself: What do I do now? I prayed that a car with two nice people would stop and pick me up and take me away from where I was. That didn’t happen. I had to accept my defeat and I walked back up the drive way angry. No body knew I had disappeared and I didn’t get the attention I wanted.
- manipulating a child
Manipulation can be so subtle. I recall a time when my mom had found out about another affair that my ex stepfather had. He turned up from work with a puppy for me. I was over the moon.
- never saying anything kind, expressing positive feelings or congratulating a child on successes
- never showing any emotions in interactions with a child, also known as emotional neglect.
SIGNS OF EMOTIONAL ABUSE IN OLDER CHILDREN
- use language you wouldn’t expect them to know for their age
- act in a way or know about things you wouldn’t expect them to know for their age
- struggle to control their emotions
- have extreme outbursts
- seem isolated from their parents
- lack social skills
- have few or no friends.
EFFECTS OF EMOTIONAL ABUSE
- wanting attention or becoming clingy
I never wanted to leave my moms side. I refused to go to school. I would have tantrums and do anything to be heard.
- not caring how they act or what happens to them
I became a child who started walking home from school on my own from 5/6 years old. I remember a group of older boys pushing me about and touching my breasts and vagina.
- trying to make people dislike them
I didn’t feel very likeable or good about myself so I pushed people away from me. I didn’t feel Could trust people and even today I will show people the worst parts of me to protect myself.
- developing risky behaviour, like stealing, bullying or running away.
The first time I stole anything was a 5 rand note from my mom so I could buy myself and people in my class sweets at the tuck shop. My ex step father refused to allow me to eat sweets because I was too ‘chubby’. I ran away from home many times as a teenager to get away from my mom when I was a teenager and my Nan and my Dad who refused to acknowledge me. I didn’t want my family to dictate to me. I didn’t want them to tell me they knew what was best for me. I wanted to escape and drugs and being around strange men seemed like the right answer.
EMOTIONAL DEVELOPMENT PROBLEMS
- feeling, expressing and controlling emotions
- lacking confidence or causing anger problems
- finding it difficult to make and maintain healthy relationships later in life
- higher levels of depression and health problems as adults compared to those who experienced other types of child abuse.
MENTAL HEALTH PROBLEMS
- mental health problems, including depression, anxiety and suicidal thoughts
I went on to develop serious mental health issues. I developed social anxiety from a young age. My first suicide attempt was at 12 years old
- eating disorders
I became obsessed with my weight. I couldn’t deal with my weight issues and I started taking diet tablets at the age of 15 years old. I abused cocaine and mandrax and ecstasy -any drug to stop me from thinking about food. I used to demand my mother take me to doctors to prescribe diet pills for me even though I was thin. I had huge problems and I eventually developed Chromic anorexia. I was sectioned twice in the U.K. In 2007 I develop Bradycardia. My BMI was 14. My weight was 39 kilograms. I wanted to die.
I don’t know why I felt the need to cut my legs in my Nan’s kitchen when I was 12/13. I didn’t know how else to express myself. When I lost my virginity to a guy who had left his ex and promised to date me and be with me. The next night his ex, myself and him herein his car and he chose his ex over me. I flipped. I couldn’t deal with the pain, the headache and I cut myself with a bottle neck and became uncontrollable.
- language development
- problems forming healthy relationships.
If you want to help some one who is being abused in all its forms or to help some one who is self harming.