Again, So sorry it’s taken forever for this new blog. Trying to fit everything into the right places and trying to make it make sense was somewhat challenging. I’ve written and restarted, edited and re-edited and I’m still not truly happy with it but there’s only so many re-edits I can do and I think you’ve waited long enough, So….Here go’s !
After finding the news out shortly after moving into my new place that Berni shares the shocking info that mum knew about my child abuse long before I told her. It raised many questions like, WHY:
- Didn’t she do any thing about it?
- Take me to a doctor?
- Go to the police?
- Talk to me about it?
- Console me?
There was nothing! Not even a hint that she knew, life went on as normal. I had to find out, Why?! However, I didn’t have the energy for it. The shock of it wiped out any life I had left in me. I was so angry and not because of finding out that she knew all along but because I had just put the most important years of my life on hold for her. Cared for her, nursed her, looked after her even sold my god damn self for her and as much as she was a spiteful cow with being her verbal punch bag and the things she said, up until Berni opened her mouth she was still my mum who I loved and grieved for like any other normal person. If I had known sooner, she would have been put in a care home far far away so no one can have time or expenses to travel to visit her and forgotten about a long long time ago, I wouldn’t of even told anybody where she was. But sadly that wasn’t the case. Another reason why I felt so ripped up angry is because the realisation of the question I wondered to my self when she first asked me to sell myself. How can any mother ask their daughter to do such a job? I remember feeling like this seems to be too easy for her to be asking me. And now finding out she knew about my childhood tells me she was grooming me for prostition all along. I bet she was sweetly rubbing her hands when she very first got ill with the brain haemorrhage because now she’s got me. All she had to do was use the sympathy card on me.
This made me feel worse which soon turned to absolute horror because another realisation was the amount of money I had made over the years was sickening and I just willingly handed it over to her when there was no need to. She was secretly loaded. If you remember in my last blog I mentioned that I found 3 payment books that she had been paying into for the last 30+years only to find that she wiped out the accounts 4 years before she died. So why did I have to do this job? Where was that money? I had so many questions and no way of finding them out.
I felt my whole being had been stripped. Whoever the ME was, was no longer with me. I may not of had much of an identity before but at least I had one but now I didn’t even know who I was. I felt like I had just been born just for their sexual financial gain and now there all gone I felt I’d served my purpose and I was kicked to the kerb into the real world and told to get on with it. The Adjustment and transition into the normal world was agonisingly cruel. I knew I had been living in a completely different world. The world and life how I knew it was normal. I mean, I know my world wasn’t normal because being a prostitute wasn’t normal but in my world it was, it was all I knew and I always brushed it off with “ Well, I’m doing what it takes to look after my family, clearly I have no other options otherwise id be taking them.” But the fact I was sexually groomed and emotionally blackmail to make it seem like it was my decision when it never was just makes me feel like a fool and betrayed because of course if I knew the truth I would of stood up for myself and reported the leech and got myself some justice. . But instead, I was going down hill. The questions were tormenting me. I couldn’t stop thinking about everything trying to piece to puzzles together, digging deep into the memories filling cabinet trying to connect anything, something but I couldn’t. My emotions were too high, my mental state had spiralled, I stopped going out, stopped talking to people, locked myself away, slept all day, cried all night, stopped getting dressed, in the same clothes all the time, hardly washed, probably smelled bad, ate bad and some days I wouldn’t bother even getting out of bed. I just wanted it to go away. I wished Berni didn’t even open her big mouth. I felt what I didn’t know wouldn’t hurt me, at least id of been cracking on with life instead in mental crippling pain, like my brain is suffocating with some ones grip around each blood vessel with a throbbing headache that only went away when I slept. There was absolutely nothing I could do about it. I couldn’t go to the police because their all dead. And the only 2 people still alive wont open up truthfully about it. I didn’t want to be here any more. Well I did want to be here but the pain was so immense it was mentally decapitating me. Of course I wanted to be here, life wasn’t so bad before Berni opened her mouth. Yes, okay I was a little messed up from the last 8 years of looking after mum and that job but she was dead now and it was game over on the job, The way I saw it was after 21years, life was finally mine, I always thought to myself that if I can get through the bull from the last few years then i’ll get over anything. But then Berni threw a spiteful curve ball and opened her mouth and I melted like lava. WHY did Berni wait until mum was dead to say something, what was her point? Was there a purpose? Was she and mum THAT screwed up that they plotted the last stab at me from beyond the grave,? And, ifso WHY? What was her motive? Was it some messed up physiological message from her, like rubber stamping what she’s been doing, taking credit for her work and the fact that she’s got away with it? Berni, only just saying something now was as spiteful as you can get. Now, if you knew Berni you would learn very quickly that she most certainly is not the brightest spark in the box. A secret as big as this would have slip out of her mouth without her even realising that she said it long before now, so why hasn’t it? From Berni’s actions alone I can characterise her as someone who supports paedophilia. Her actions or lack of when she first learned that I was being sexually abused and not alerting the police and instead keeping the secret warrants this characterisation because any normal person who learns of any child being abused in any way shape or form would step up as a fellow human being and do the right thing. But Berni is thick as Sh*t! Not that thick to know a child being raped is wrong but thick enough to not do anything about it! So she must have a common interest with the subject to keep the secret somehow being persuaded to keep the secret and to put in the finale knife in my back for the final curtain pull on mums show? Did the money that mum had been paying into a saving account that she cleared out before she died and cant be accounted for go to Berni for her silence? I cant prove this. But its something that runs through my mind regularly. Considering the things that have come to light since the big revelations I cant put anything past any possible question. With 3 of them dead and 2 alive unwilling to talk I have to go with the most plausible reasoning whether I like the out come or not. Yes it seems a bit extreme but this is an extreme situation.
Mum had a weird phobia. She was absolutely petrified of the colour Pink! Yes, scared of a colour! It’s a real thing called Chrematophobia! She would freak the hell out if anyone in pink came near her, I never got to wear any Pink, Nothing pink was allowed in the house, Anything associated with pink like Barbie, little girls clothes, hair ribbons. Any colouring crayons or pencils the pink ones would be removed before leaving the store. Couldn’t even say the word pink. It was always known as the “P WORD” So, I had to seriously question this behaviour. Did she allow everything that happened to me because I was born the wrong gender because girls are associated with pink? What could I have done so wrong between being born and 5 years old to warrant her actions?? Obviously I know I haven’t done anything but there is a reason for everything, what was it? Being born the wrong sex is plausible because of this history with the colour that is associated with the gender.
I don’t know where the phobia came from. I remember her saying something like that whenever pink was around as a child bad stuff would happen. Being born a girl did she see me as a bad omen? As bad luck? When she was younger her mother used to put her hair in pigtails with pink ribbons and she would always feel sick and that her mother used to torment her with the colour. She never had a good relationship with her mother, her mother was abusive to her to. Her mother would poor boiling water over her and use a hot iron on her. She was 1 of 4 (I think) but she said she always got it worse than the others, so it makes no sense that her herself would turn into an abusive mother. You would think she would know better. And yes, I get that some abused people will go on to be abusers and some will come out the other side. But, I can accept more what’s happened to me more because of being born the wrong gender over “ Oh because I was abused as a child to” How insulting! Especially, Now I’m older and look back to what iv’e gone through compared to what she went through and think to myself I know its not a competition but what she put me through compared to what she received as a child is just a drop in the ocean compared to what she put me through and I still would know the difference in right and wrong parenting when and if I have my own kids. I’d of much prefered to have the child hood she had then the one she gave me. Hell, a life in foster home hoping would have been better! What was she thinking??? If it was because I was that bad then get rid of me, let someone else bring me up right! Don’t rip a child’s life apart before its even got started.
I couldn’t ever see myself living a normal lifestyle because I felt I didn’t know what normal was since I hadn’t grown up in a normal environment and from the age of 5 sex had been normalised for me. The only normal lifestyle I knew was sex & prostitution. I hadn’t much work experience, social experience, normal people experience by which I mean the people I had been surrounded with were far from normal, I have no grades and no qualifications. I had no hope for my future and felt I was unable to transition into the normal world. I was considering in going back to prostitution as it was all I knew. For me it was my safe zone. I hated the job but at least I knew who I was. I had no clue how to operate in the normal world, with a normal job, with normal people. But luckily, I had Mr. VIP by my side. ( Mr.VIP is my boyfriend of 5 years, We keep our relationship off social media so not many people know about him. However there will be a blog coming dedicated just to him soon) Although I had his support, I still never saw a way through. I felt like I was proper damaged goods and he was better off with someone else. I didn’t understand why his setting him self up for a difficult life to be with me. But as I say, luckily he stuck around for me because I could of easily giving up on life or I’d of gone back to prostitution. We hadn’t really been together that long, less than a year maybe but it was difficult to open up to him and talk to him because I felt it would either scare him off or I thought what’s the point? I can’t be bothered to put in the effort to explain everything to him just for him to walk away anyway. He never pressured me to open up but would remind me that he was there for me when I did want to. Its not that I didn’t want to. I didn’t know how to. Or where to start plus it was super embarrassing, Saying it out load somehow made it more official, rubber stamped the situation. Keeping it to myself meant nobody knew just how naïve and gullible I had been. I knew I was somewhat brainwashed but I felt so stupid to have fallen for it all. She orchestrated years and years of the perfect manipulation and got away with absolutely everything, I felt like a fool! And another reason why the transition into the normal life was so difficult, If my own mother can do it to me so easily what could a stranger get away with? Would they see just how gullible I am to. I must be gullible for such a thing to happen right under my nose playing out right in front of my eyes and I never suspected a single god damn thing! –G.U.L.L.I.B.L.E–
My turning point was when I received a call from the funeral parlour asking when I could pick her ashes up 10months after her funeral which I’m still in debt for now. I thought I couldn’t collect them until I had paid the bill and since I wasn’t spending another penny on that women I assumed I wouldn’t get them back. Not that it mattered, I had already accepted that they were gone. But since they were asking me if I wanted them without paying the bill in full, I took the chance and went and got them. Walked out of the funeral parlour, box of ashes in hand, opened the car boot and slung her in there. Went home and put her in the shed and that’s where she stayed for over 8 months. Somehow not letting the demon in my new home was like her not infecting my space again. Something had changed inside me, I was less angry and able to think clearer. I was sleeping better, getting up during the day, getting dressed, eating better and found myself thinking less of the anger of the situation and finding constructive memories in the memory filling cabinet that started to make sense and puzzles were clicking together. So I opened up to Mr.VIP and told him everything. He was fantastic. He literally just spent hours just listening to me, even when I would diverse off because saying it out loud made me hear what I was saying and started to question theirs actions rather than wanting actual verbal answers and answered some of my own questions, LIKE:
- Why didn’t she take me to the Police or Hospital to be health checked?
If she took me to hospital to have a health check the doctor would have seen that my vagina was not intact. The hospital would have then been obligated to contact the police who would have called social services. The police would have done an investigation where they would find all the evidence they needed & the scale of the abuse. They all would have been arrested and put on the child sex offenders list and put in prison. And we all know what happens to child abusers in prision! So of course she’s not going to go to the police. Doing that would have been handing herself in.
Her actions of not doing anything about it at all is the actions of someone who is guilty of something or has something to hide because any normal mother whose just found out their 12 year old daughter had been sexual abused for 7 years would be wanting justice and the perpetrators exposed and put away.
I did argue the debate of “ She may have just been to embarrassed to tell a stranger she just found out her daughter has endured 7 years of hell and to ashamed to admit she knew nothing was going on OR she didn’t want to put me through the stress of court at such a young age” But something else rubber stamps her actions of knowing what was going on is:
He used to come into mums room most mornings to take me out of bed and take me into his room.
Firstly, I have been round friends who are mothers houses and the kids are in bed. You could be sitting there and friend says that their child will be down in a minute. The next thing I know the door is opening and the child is coming through it. It’s like a magic trick, I heard nothing.
I have known many mothers who have said “ I could be in the deepest sleep but the moment my child stirs in bed, I hear it and i’m awake!
You can’t escape mother nature and a mothers instinct. Like my mother didn’t know!
Secondly, Who has the perfect nights sleep every single night? Especially when you’re coming to the end of a standard 8 hours sleep with it becoming early morning. There is not anything she can do or say to tell me she didn’t know about my childhood. Nobody is going to have the perfect night sleep for 7 years in a row and not hear or see something or suspect something for 7 whole years!?!?! I’m just not buying it.
And Thirdly, Any normal mother would put her own emotions and feelings aside and do what is best for the child no matter what she feels. If she had nothing to hide, why didn’t she do something?
Once I opened up, I couldn’t stop talking to Mr.VIP about it. He is a fantastic listener. We talked and talked and talked, one day he says “ Paedophiles only associate with paedophiles because normal people wouldn’t be associated with such people” And it triggered some memories.
One being From the last blog, Remember I explained about the night when I was beaten up. My friends dad offered to take me home but instead took me to a lorry park on a industrial estate and tried it on with me? Well, how did he know he could do that? What made him think he could try? Did him and mum know each other? He was the caretaker at school so they’re paths may have crossed. Was mum angry with me because I turned him down and that’s why she didn’t seem to care I had been beaten black and blue and didn’t even check on me to see if I was okay?? This I will never have the answer to. Although, Because of little delivery job I took on I now know where he lives after delivering a parcel to his house and his wife answered the door. Coincidently, he lived less than a 5 minute walk from my old home and still alive to be questioned! But, it happened a long time ago and he’ll probably be like the other 2 and unwilling to talk.
Anyway, I started to wonder what to do with her ashes. I wanted some kind of revenge but also trying to remind myself that despite whose ashes they are they are still human remains.
One half of me was angry enough to not care what happened to her, she had the last laugh when she took everything to the grave with her then rubber stamped her actions from beyond it. I was so angry with her that if I had been giving 1 wish, it would have been to bring her back just so I can kill her again myself, by my own hands. I needed/wanted to punish her somehow but the other side of me was like yes but they are human remains, you have to respectful of the dead, you’re going to go to hell if you disrespect these ashes. All sorts superstitions and cliches ran through my head and then I thought that this woman didn’t even respect me when she was alive why should I respect her now she’s dead! The last person she deserves any respect from is me! She had too much from me when she was alive so now she gets nothing!
And one day, it came to me. We drove back to my childhood street, where it all began. Forced myself to acknowledge my feelings knowing what’s about to come. This absolutely has to be the right thing for me and only me. Once these ashes are gone, their gone. So it was super important to get it right. I stood outside the front door of my old house. All those memories flooding back with every intention of leaving them there after today. All the bad feelings, all the bad thoughts & the bad stuff that’s happened to me gets left at this house today and I’m not taking them home with me. They have no involvement in my life and no more control on how I feel. I was literally buzzing, like I was omitting an invisible tunnel of all the bad stuff leaving me and being locked into that house. I turned towards the woods where Dave first touched me and continued to do so for years after school. I never thought I’d ever be back here again. I was shaking and everything felt hollow but I knew exactly what and why I was there for and that was to bury everything and finally get some closure in my little bit of revenge, my little bit of justice, it felt right and it felt good.. When we arrived at the very spot I took her out the box, It was the first time I saw her actual ashes, I remember thinking they were like white broken seashells. I sent her a little message in my mind. “ You may be dead and you may have got away with everything but your spirit and sole does not get to cross over with a final resting place, This is where you now get to stay and and its nothing short of what you deserve!” and I just flung them everywhere, all over the very spot where she first failed to protect me as a mother. Plus she had always hated the area and couldn’t wait to move away so to be back there for her final resting place I know is tormenting her spirit.
That was her final resting place, in the middle of some woods over a drainage sewer system which some of her ashes fell down and where no one knows where she is. She don’t get no visitors. She don’t get no flowers. She don’t get no headstone. Infact, she’s on a dog walking path where she gets urinated and crapped on everyday and that’s good enough for me. So good that I can remember feeling on a high on the way home. Like that chapter is finally closed. But, the feel good feeling stayed intermittently, I would have good days and bad days but anything was better than what it had been like over the last few years. I found myself thinking less about the situation and wanting to do more with myself. And this is where the weight loss journey started which ill blog separately
Looking back from where I am today. I’m glad I got my revenge but I didn’t need to. Because when I look back “Life” punished her. It taught her a lesson.
The way I see it is…
She interfered with “Life’s” original plan for me at 5 years old when she failed to step up as not just a mother but as a human being to. Her first punishment was the brain haemorrhage. Do you know how many people actually survive that? The percentages are not stacked high. In fact, a friends mum died within hours of having one not so long ago. But “Life” kept her alive for another punishment. Imagine the mentality of yourself if you couldn’t fend for yourself any more and no independence. Life was no longer how you knew it. One day you’re fit as a fiddle the next you cant even clean yourself. That is going to be a mental strain for anyone but you know you’re going to get better and look forward to fully recovering so you can live life again. Which is what she did as she got her driving licence and independence back but not for long because life was teasing her, shortly after getting the all clear from the BH which she had spent 5 years recovering from “Life” then threw breast cancer at her and 2 years of treatment and then gave her lung cancer like it was a gift and another few years of treatment. Again, How many people do you know that has survived 1 cancer let alone 2 of them, again years of treatment and recovery until the brain tumour which is what killed her in the end but not before giving her other health complications that despite the cancers and BH life also slowly took her sight, it gave her organ complications that doctors were unable to explain nor diagnose therefore unable to treat. Her mouth was full of sores, her tongue looked like a crater, “life” stripped her of everything before taking the only thing worth taking. All the pain and suffering she has been through with the side effects of chemotherapy and radiotherapy which in turn made her bed bound which made her muscles waste away and made her weak, which meant she couldn’t do nothing for herself. Imagine yourself 1 day being completely alive and kicking and independent to fighting for your life and ending up completely dependable on others. You cant make the decision to go make yourself a drink without the aid of some help let alone being independent enough to go get in your car and go shopping for the day. She had the last 8 years of her health slowly taken off her physically, emotionally and mentally stuck in looking at the same four walls most days and stuck in bed to weak to move, watching life go past out the window yearning to be apart of the world that you once knew, it’s enough to turn anyone stir-crazy! Yes, it sucks that I got dragged through it all with her and ‘life’ could of just bumped her off in the first place but I just see myself as collateral damage whilst karma was teaching her a lesson. Statistically, after what I’ve gone through I should be on self destruct, turning to drugs and alcohol especially considering my back ground with them, on the streets, in prison, still a prostitute, in a mental asylum or worse still, dead! But I’m not. I’m alive, I’m mentally stable (ish) Okay, I still have my down days even now I have episodes where I hide away for a week or so hence why your news feeds are being spammed with my posts one week to another to just a little post now and again but anywayyy. Everything good that has happened since I got closure has been my reward from life for being strong through my childhood and where I am today is an apology from life for putting me through mums karma. But Either way from where I stand today “ I am one of the lucky ones” Where I got my inner strength from I do not know. Of course I feel a sense of proudness about myself but I also feel it was nothing really. I did what I had to do to keep my sanity and not let it destroy me. Somehow I learned from an early age that it doesn’t matter what happens to you in life the only thing that will keep you sane is to protect your sanity because if your sane you can be strong and with strength you have a chance because without it you could make life more difficult for yourself as you wont be sane enough to make right and good decisions for yourself, who knows where I could of ended up if I don’t hold onto it. Okay it has damaged me to some extent, of course it has there is no denying that. Like when people say “ You must feel so proud of yourself” When if I’m being honest, I don’t feel anything. This is the damage. It’s like my default feeling from many years of being switched off like a coping mechanism that I don’t know how to switch back on but that’s okay because I recognize this and life could be so much worse for me. Instead, I’m turning the negatives into positives and trying to build the life I was always meant to have.