A Note From The Writer

Welcome to the archived blog posts (when I was a wee blogger, wet behind the ears and not aware of spell check and various other gramatical structures!) I have kept the writings unedited or reworked as I am in the process of doing a massive rewrite of my entire life, many posts I have yet to publish and this blog was merely writing practise for the massive job of sorting out my emotions whilst retelling the story as cuttingly real and dramatic as the real memory was.. some of the posts contained are raw, streaming emotion.. many posts although painful to write, had a tremendously cathartic effect - cheaper than therapy one would say. I welcome new and old readers to keep in touch via my author email (sensualexplorersatHotmaildotcom) if you have any questions or wish to share the feelings and emotions raised by my work.
I will announce the publish date and title whenever it happens and I have been clean now for three years. It is possible.
But it is never easy. It's a lifelong journey, I will always be an addict, but I must stay one step ahead of myself and protect all that can be ruined in the eternal struggle to be
at ease once again, comfortable in this skin.
Thank you for being a part of my story.

Friday, December 10, 2004

But Who Will Care For Me?

Welcome new readers !! I am getting some lovely visitors from Raymi (thank you) and it was something really good to wake up to. I have to share what happened to me last night (after I went and curled on the bad futon watching Donald Trump wishing I could slow dance with that hot blonde that is a lawyer and thinking how much I am like caroline just without the mean streak.) Am I not the only one constantly amazed how she resembles a raptor from Jurrasic Park? But I digress, this is not a "funny ha ha" post. This is also not a death threat and in advance sorry to my sister.

This is part of my healing and I hope you understand if you are my family. I am not about to perpetuate the abuse and not talk about it in my own diary. I know you don't read it (parents) because you don't care enough about me to even know I am writing or healing. But my sister does, so If you ever read this post ( in between checking your emails and messaging punk emo boys) and you decide want to talk about it - break your silence and pick up the phone. I'm always here for you and you have NOTHING to fear by talking about our family. I know I have always been the one in the family that was so good at fixing things - I just never could fix my heart as it was broken constantly (but not permanently). I promise that I didn't post this to hurt you. In time when your a bit older than 18, I will try and explain it and we can make sense of our family - together.

I recently hauled hiney to my local library after I decided I should probably get lots of books and read them and learn grammar that way. I placed a memoir entitled
"A Child Called It" by Dave Pelzer into my basket, thinking it would just become research on writing a memoirs. I simply wanted to see how it was handled by a professional author. Magnificent. Groundbreaking and inspirational are adjectives that spring to mind to describe this memoir. I began reading his book last night and finished the whole thing by 2am. I have so much to spew out here that I appreciate the moment to collect my thoughts and order them into some kind of no sleep semblance of something.
This post is just going to word vomit.

Today I am feeling pretty angry and upset. But today I am more a survivor than before. I am still crying right now and I feel crumpled emotionally. I will just write it all out and hit publish - I want to remember this day. Thesedays, I'm dealing with being emotionally and sexually abused from the ages of six through to 15. For the new readers - I don't mean going to therapy, I am dealing with this by writing a memoir of my life. Trust me, it unearths the hell all over again and half the time you are a headcase. I try to be brave and do it for others that may not have the strength yet to tell their story. Remember that we all try to make choices that dictate life's direction as well as we can but you must always remember that we all have the right not to be harmed, in ANY way. When we are harmed - your life is never the same again.

When I turned 15 I left home as soon as I could - I ran away and never came back. I had no idea how I was going to survive but it felt great regardless. I felt alive for the first time in ten years, as her screaming faded behind me. My parents tried everything to get me to return home but I hid very well . I cowered behind people that could stand up to The Stepmother. I prayed you would just for once in your life, leave me to be myself. I needed people that unlike me, weren't scared of you.
Yeah, I found Heroin and I found trouble instead butI don't like to blame my childhood for this. I know that blaming you would make you mad. I know that others will say it's my choice to sell myself and take drugs. I wish it was that easy. I know it was my choice and then what ? I am meant to just live with myself as a mystery - never asking why and maybe doing myself even more damage.
I took heroin for not just one reason (to get high) but for many reasons that I may never ever discover. But I want to discover them. I want to let them go forever.
I had no self-esteem instilled in me as a child to really know what that meant as an adult.
All my choices to be a happy kid - taken by you.
All my chances to just feel safe and loved - taken by your son.
I was so out of practice in making my own destiny that I made several big mistakes. However, I am proud to say that is behind me. You never helped me to get better or make better choices instead you turned your back. It's all you know how to do. Poor you. I stand back from the storms of my childhood, trying to build something new. I want to be brilliant and I want to be loved. I am starting to think that maybe this is possible ? Maybe.
I will keep hope alive though, because I know only too well the strength that hope can give a person in their darkest hour. I am living proof and you hate that.

To take nothing away from this Man's extraordinary courage and bravery in the face of pure evil, I spent most of the night sobbing into BF's arms. As I read the retelling of his experiences as an abused child, I pictured the whole "set" as my childhood home. The kitchen where his Mother tries to burn his arm under the gas - it was still their story but it was in my kitchen from when I was abused. The whole story morphed into my own and I was gorging myself on the shock and realization of how I felt about the Stepmother. My stepmother told me when I first met her, that I would never be loved as much as her son. This hurt more than you could imagine as my birth mother had dropped me at school that week and told me she had to 'go away' and she couldn't be my mummy. I couldn't tell her that someone was sticking their hands in my underpants, I thought she would never come back then. Not ever. She didn't return anyway.
I remember listening with my internal fear radar to sense where she was in the house. I would trace her heavy footsteps but sometimes I would forget and she burst into my room and screaming at me for no reason and threatening to slap my face or jibing me with cruel taunts. Sometimes, when she was really mad she did. I fought back and I got vile with my rage. She would hold me under the freezing shower, telling me that I was crazy and I better calm down or I was going to hospital.. When I went away to camp she raided my room and spread my underwear out on the bed. I was wetting the bed and I hid my underpants, scared she would tease me and tell my father. She would collect me from camp and I would sit in the car while she was nice to me and I would think that maybe she had missed me. Then I would take my bag upstairs and see the undies laid out on the bed. I felt so much shame and panic. She would leave me in the room frozen with fear for a few hours and then punish me by isolating me to my bedroom for the rest of the holidays. She made me go to bed at seven thirty every night even as a teenage so I sat in my bedroom in darkness , counting down the days I could leave and be happy. Singing to the stars and thinking of how much I wanted to be back at school , to my friends and the saftey of my teachers. I was good at pretending that I had a mother like the girls at school. The stepmother made me feel like I was a burden and the more she pushed me away, the more I persued her meagre affections, like the 'little begging puppy' that I fucking hate in myself. She didn't drink - Dad did. That was her excuse to be a cunt. I finally fucking realized last night that I probably hate her. This was some relief. A shackle broke away. I'm still terrified of her because of the emotional abuse that I suffered after she found out her son had sex with me in the room across the hall and she had no fucking idea. Or did she? I just want it to be over. I want to start my life again without her in it but I can't and it makes me so infuriated and hopeless. I don't want to change me -I just don't want her in my life. I'm angry with Dad for bailing on me emotionally and getting pissed . Nothing has changed for him and I can't worry about him anymore. If he wants to drown in drink - then I'm afraid that's what he will do forever. I have tried to show him that you can kick an addictive substance , I've begged him to stop drinking spirits at least and offered my help in doing so - but the rest is up to him. I know this only too well.
He still lives with The Stepmother and my younger sister is now the girl being dragged into the shower. I want to save the kids still left there, make a stand for the people that I love - people that are my blood. The stepmother and Her Son - they are nothing to me, but they have tried to do nothing but bring me down and shit on me. Fuck you.

To them I write with a warning ; I hope you read this blog now so you're ready for the book.
It's gonna the best thing I've ever written.
Everyone is going to know about you, you fucking evil spineless bitch. As for your son, well he will get his own special chapter of my book as I close that down in reality. He won't get off lightly. His wife will know and so will his kids. Oh well.
I hope you read this and get all crazy and then I don't have to spend Christmas in your madhouse, watching you try and play happy families. I am seriously considering spending Christmas away from everything, but I am trying to think about my brother and sister. They love me. I won't have to put up with your guilty fucking face - trying to STILL have a piece of my light and love - after you realize now that NOTHING you can do will ever bring me down to your level. Your evil fucking son doesn't even let his children around you - and he was abusive himself - how does that make you feel. Is he evil like you said. Did he not come from inside you ? You both make me feel like I need a shower.

The BF made me say aloud last night (in between my hysterical sobs)
" I am not afraid of her."
That I was safe now.
"She cannot hurt me anymore"
I couldn't for ten minutes. I felt like a phony as all I have ever done is fear this woman after years of her conditioning my mind. Now we are going to say it every morning together in the mirror. It's our new thing. I feel a bit silly but if it helps me get over this horible fear of her and ANYONE that even resembles her (like BF's ex-wife) then I will finally be free so who cares if seems a little dramatic. Whatever works - I will give it a go ! I'm tired of not thinking about it and then wondering why my life just doesn't "seem right". I have lost count of the times she tells me that my Mother doesn't want me and how hard it was for her to be in charge of three young kids while Dad was out drinking. Dad let her say these things and I guess he let me down bigtime. I still don't know what I did wrong for him not to protect me. What did I do Daddy? Maybe he was just scared of being alone after Mum left him. We don't ever really talk about his feelings. Never. No one ever talks about it when someone in the family goes a little bit evil. We all just clam up and try and pretend that it will go away. It almost never does, it just festers and spreads through generations.
Well the cycle must stop with me. I don't want to pass this shit onto my children and if I have all this bottled up rage then I am a ticking time bomb. Fuck that. I am coming for you as this is only going to be between you and me. It ends with us.


When I come to "your house" I don't feel your sincerity, you don't really care what I am doing ( I see it in your eyes ) In fact you only care about how it can make you feel as a Mother. You are always trying to reassure yourself that I got off Heroin to impress you. To begin to woo you again, loan you my heart to play with again. But you didn't count on being wrong.

I always called you Mother, but you are not my Mother in so many ways. Just like Father. But I was always just a child, in many ways I still am.
You did nothing when I told you I was a escort. You cried when you found the needles and found out about the abortion. But why??? Why fucking bother ? Who the fuck are you trying to kid anymore ? Comon, we aren't kids anymore!
The jig is up - you're pure fucking evil.
One day soon, I will be able to tell you to your mean and cruel little face.
You will beg me to stop as I shine a mirror of truth to your ugly mean soul.
Wither in my light, cower by my strength.
I'm getting stronger every day. I have someone that loves me like you never could. That person is myself and then I found true love on top of that. What a miracle !
I am blessed for finding him even though he insists it's the other way around.
He is my angel, my everything and the beggining to who I always wanted to be.
Honey, have I told you lately that I love you ? Of course I did, it's something we do often.

I'm safe at last I am starting to finally believe it's coming to a close.
You can't get me anymore and this time I won't be let down by someone I love. He 's not going anywhere. He is helping me fight the demons inside myself and when we are done, we are coming to see you. If I get knocked to the ground, he will step in and take you on ( I think he dreams of this day actually) On that day of redemption, I will tell you all of this and much more. I will do it not so I even hear you speak one word - but to hear my own spoken to your face. You may not even talk to me again. I will be ready for this. I will be ready for your insults, your tricks, your emotional abuse.

What will this confrontation solve? I guess I don't know all the answers yet. I know very well you are emotionally retarded and incapable of discussing your feelings, so I picture that it will be a one sided and emotional exchange.

Your life hasn't changed. Your still depressed, angry and bitter. You still live amoungst your own shame and you will die in that home that I left so many years ago, still thinking the world did you bad and you did the best you could to cope.
I was a child. That is the final and most devastating thing. You were three times the size of me, both physically and emotionally.
But that is now, not then.

I know the worst punishment will be your own shame and regret because you lost me the moment you told me that you could never love me. You lost a chance to replace my mother, a compliment that has since been retracted. I finally understand that you are sick and you battle with yourself to keep it in check. You let a little flare out with me and I bet it made you feel good huh ? Indulged that sick and twisted side that you just don't get.
Well I get you, I am right behind you now and soon I will be standing in front of you.
In your fucking face "Mother" and then I will be gone.

Someday you will ache like I ached.

I'm coming , so you better be ready.
I'm coming to get that little girl back - she is mine.
Unlike you, I want to love her and she will be loved.
Make no mistake about it .

Hang in there little girl - I am coming to save the day. Hold tight !
I have NOT forgotten about you.
Your chance to play in the sunshine will come
Together we shall dance
I am somebody. I am me. I like being me. And I need nobody to make me a somebody.
-- Louis L'Amour

sad girl
[ shown here at Age 6]


Doom/Blondie said...


deanne said...

Get on to writing that book gal!

When you're done and it's published, you can send SIGNED COPIES to her and her miserable son.


HeroineGirl said...

Goodness, that would be SUCH a big thing for me to do.
I would love to though, I often dream about hugging Oprah and mum is watching me at home in the suburbs, cramming her face with creamcakes and crying about how pathetic she has become.

Signed book, sent in the mail (of course) may be more realistic. I am writing the book, when I do memoirs.
I am writing it all down and my book is the FULL memoirs, with no spelling mistakes and of course the ending and the moving forward parts.
Blogging is my writing practise.
I have never wrote before about this stuff and my engliuh teacher at school damaged my confidence.
I am just starting to believe you guys, that I can actually string a sentence together and you guys get it.
I always hoped I could be what I am becoming.
Isn't that great ?!!

I love you Deestar XXX

HeroineGirl said...

English teacher*

hahahaha. I am a tool.

Sarcastic Ornery Barista said...

Love the shoes!

Dacia said...

"It ends with us."

That's one of my favorite parts, because you are really owning your shit - while also not taking anyone else's shit. A difficult but important balance.

I have infinite love and respect for you my dear.

HeroineGirl said...

I just got off the phone to my sister.
Major shit has gone down at home since dad has been away working on an island. My sister was pushed over and hurt and doesn't know what do. Mums in one ear , telling me to stay out of it as sooking her just makes her ruder. I just sort of nod numbly, to scred to confront her. I just want to scream at her.
She is on the blower to me now, telling me how she has bought my a nice present and I am floating on the ceiling aboe her words. My sister is bawling her eyes out and wants to leave home forever.
She is scared that she will be poor and not be able to enjoy being young and a kid.
Mum is like back out and don't help her.
She needs to appreciate what I do for her.
But why does she push her around.
Why did SHE tell her to leave?
She lies to us all and she likes it.

I will never "get" this family.
I just hope that one day, that house is empty.
No more suffering.
No more sadness.

Just her.

kimberley said...

Your voice will get stronger as so many stand behind you.

Kim said...

Yes, write the book, get it all out, purge all the hidden corners. Gaining closure works.

Hugs from Paris


Doom/Blondie said...


I would utterly recommend that you read "The Lost Boy" and the "A Man Called Dave" which are the two sequels to "a child called it"

And I promise you, I find your own writing as riveting as his work. So much so that when I was commending your writing before (in my mind) I was comparing your with his.


Garrison Steelle said...


You have done some wonderful work with this post.

But then, you're an incredibly wonderful person.

The book? Yeah, best seller all over it.


wowedout said...