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When Karma Comes Knocking….

 

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.

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Robbed As A Child, Robbed As An Adult…..

 

 

Welcome to my next installment.

Firstly, let me apologize at how long it’s taken to write this next installment, I know many of you have been patiently waiting and I thank you so much for that. Some parts of this blog have been very difficult to write. When I’m explaining to someone face to face I can talk about anything and everything all day long, but writing about it I have found has set off a whole heap of different emotions but it’s Okay,  Its finished! It’s quite long as there was a lot to cover, there’s still a lot that’s been left out as i’m only writing a blog not a book! Ha! But grab a cuppa and get comfy…..

Lets recap…

In my last blog I spoke about my childhood and my sexual abuse, how it all started, the bullying and the lack of relationship with my mother. I finished at around 17 years old and now talk about from 18-26…

So, I had not long turned 18 and mother was in yet another relationship ( Keith ) and had been for around 6 months. I had only met him a few times but I didn’t really like him. He was strange. And not her usual type. Which is why I was confused after 8 months of being with him she wants to give up the only home I known for 18 years and a council house to move in with a man she’s known for less than a year and someone her child doesn’t like. You’d think any normal mother would put her child first. It didn’t make sense, so one day I asked her, “what was her reasoning for this move”. Her reply was “ Well you’re 18 now, I’ve done my job. I’m need to live my life now. It’s time for me to settle down”. At the time I thought that was a normal reply as throughout the years all I’ve heard is “ I’m responsible for you until your 18, unless you move out you live by my rules”. And that was that.

You just have to look at her Ex’s to know she had a type and Keith was not it. She all of a sudden she changed her type of man and looking at Keith kind of backed that up. He was a business man, wore a suit everyday. Had enough money to be buying a house hence the all of a sudden move. The bottom line was: He had money. That was her reasoning. So we packed up and moved to Colchester with a man she’s known for less than a year. I found job in a nightclub and I loved it, until I had to give it up to look after this dear ol’mother of mine.

One afternoon around 4 months of living in Colchester. I had friend over and we were all about to go out with mother, we got in the car, seat belts on, about to reverse off the drive and she says “ My head feels funny” in an instance her body is flung back in her seat, everything went stiff. She was making weird sounds and noises, her eyes rolled back, I remember her fingers going like crows feet and her body was tensing up and fitting. I’m glad this didn’t a couple of minutes later because she would have been driving. An ambulance was called and she was rushed to hospital. She was having a brain haemorrhage. One of her blood vessels in her brain had burst and was in intensive care, that’s were she remained for 3 weeks until they woke her up.

When she eventually got released I had to give up work to look after her as she couldn’t walk as her muscles had seized and she couldn’t hardly talk, she could barely even hold her own head up. She needed round the clock care and I had to give up my job to look after her. At the time I didn’t mind, I didn’t know she knew about my childhood at this point and my thinking was “ this is my mother whose brought me into this world for the last 18 years, its kinda my duty to look after her” and so I did.

It wasn’t easy. Everything you do for a baby I had to do for her in her 50’s. Bath her, Toilet her, Clean her, Dress her, Feed her as well as the Shopping, Cooking, Cleaning, Running all the errands etc etc I never got no help from Keith as he was working all the time and then when he got home he’d eat dinner id cooked and go sit in his office for the night. This continued for a couple of months until he grew the balls to say that we had to move out. He saw her as damaged goods and didn’t want to go through the hassle of caring for her and didn’t want to be with her no more but at the same time he didn’t want to help us move either and between us we had no income. Things became awkward around the house, I asked about getting my job back which she wasn’t happy about. Apparently, didn’t want to be left on her own with him which made me suspicious and worry. Why would she say something like that? But I called work and cancelled the reconsideration for my position back.

One week, he left a note saying his gone away for the week for business. We were glad as by this point we were sick of the sight of him. It actually turned out that he met a new women from America and spent the week at hers. Whilst he was away the electric and heating went off and he wasn’t answering his calls. I was trying to keep us warm with blankets and candles and normal chitchat for entertainment. Take away for food but rationing so it lasted 2 days as he still wasn’t answering his phone. Turned out he hadn’t paid the bill. Out of anger and having a rant I blurted out “ if I had the balls id go on the game and get us out of here” It was an off the cuff comment. I was desperate at the time. I had enough with looking after her, clearing poo up everyday, re-making beds because she pissed herself again, the endless list of things to do all the damn time! The nagging, the shoulder to cry on, the verbal punch bag because she’s having a bad day! And I get that not being able to care for yourself, or not being able to support yourself or the not being able to get out of bed and lack of independence and mobility has left you feeling a little worse for ware but I’m here, no one else is! I get that she was frustrated but she never once understood my frustration of my life is on hold for you, I should be enjoying the most important years of my life exploring and partying, making my own mistakes and being irresponsible and travelling before I have to adult myself later on in life! I could of really done without her spiteful words. It was always about her and her life. I felt she was being selfish and unappreciative and I was just about done with looking after her. So yes, at that point, I would have done whatever it took to get her out of here and recovered so she can stop being so bitter towards me like as if its my fault she was in this situation, she wouldn’t be saying these things if she was well. But the idea of it was frightening and shrugged it straight off once I had calmed down. I explained to her that I’m going to have to go back to work, and explained to her that I couldn’t do both looking after her and earn money to get us out of here and said that I will look into getting a carer to come in whilst I’m at work. She wasn’t happy about this and started sulking. She made 1001 excuses of why I couldn’t leave her. I explained she would be safe and that carers would come in a few times a day to check on her. I also got the 1001 reasons why she didn’t want carers one inc. that she didn’t want strangers coming in and “touching” her. We had a long discussion where I explained that if I got my job back how long it would take to make the minimum for a deposit on somewhere to live and that I cannot work and look after her at the same time as she would be left on her own for too long. She eventually came around and agreed to some carers. In the early hours of that night I could hear her crying so I rushed down as I thought something serious was wrong but she was crying over the carers. When I say crying, I mean in a complete sobbing mess. A pyramid of used tissues beside her, face streaming with tears, eyes all red and inaudible blubbering, “ Please don’t make me let strangers touch me” over and over. I felt awful and told her that I wont and I’ll find another way just to calm her down and went to make her a cup of tea. By the time I came back she had her laptop out and said she wants to show me something. She started off with “ I’m so sorry to ask, It’s not something I want you doing as you are my daughter but we are desperate and I’ll never ask anything of you again” She added “ Just until we can find somewhere to live, to get out of here, were obviously not wanted here” She turned her laptop around and it was an escort website. I told her No id rather do my old job than to do that job. I explained I was confident I was going to get it back because I was good at my job and they were sad to see me leave. All you have to do is allow the carers to come in, so I can earn the money” Her face screwed up and started crying again with more indubitable blubbering. God knows what the neighbours must of thought at 3 am?! I was at the end of my tether, I was tired and just told her to leave it with me, let me look into it properly and how it works etc but not tonight, you need to give me a few days. She calmed down and went to sleep.

I went back to bed and now too awake to fall back to sleep so I investigated the site she had found. I saw heaps of profiles and what they had written about themselves. I saw that you could work from home and got to choose which customers you want to see and those you don’t. The sites safety feature meant that you’re always protect where your personal safety was concerned. Mentality it seemed easy but I couldn’t physically imagine myself with someone face to face, so decided I had to try and convince her to having a carer.

I invited 2 female carers without her knowing. When she saw them she was instantly in a fitting state of crying, almost like a 2 year old having a tantrum. It was actually quite embarrassing. I explained to the nurses that I need to get back to work and need some rest bite now and then but she doesn’t want me to leave or she doesn’t want careers, she’s obviously confused at what you do exactly so can you help just answer any questions she has to put her mind at ease otherwise at this rate were going to be homeless… They politely accepted and requested I wasn’t in the room which was fine as I hoped she would open up and clear up any worries she may have but to embarrassed to say in front of me… After 15mins or so, the living room doors opens and the nurse says “ I’m sorry, we can’t offer care at this moment because we cant give care to those who decline it” She added “ because we may have to see your mother undressed time to time she feels its too embarrassing for her to face at the moment” And then they left. I was so frigging angry at her I stormed in and shouted “ WHY WONT YOU COMPRISMISE WITH ME!!!” They haven’t even got to see you naked, Your freaking arms semi work – if your that worried – USE THEM – It might even help your arms get stronger so you can start moving yourself – its like you don’t want to recover!!! Now it was my turn to be in a blubbering mess. I stormed back out the room and went to my bedroom and sobbed my heart out. I wanted to be out there living my life exploring and making new friends, not this. I felt so trapped because I cant just get up and say fuck this and leave because she’s a fucking vegetable incapable of wiping her own fucking arse! If I leave god knows how long she’ll be left there for considering twatty Keith still wasn’t home yet. I cried myself to sleep and got woken up to her calling for me. As I’m walking down the stairs I had this feeling of fuck it, your obviously not going to help me out on this, life’s hard enough without the constant battle with you, something had switched off inside me, it was like I knew there was no way out. I was the only one looking after her. I had no help. Who was I going to turn to? There was no one. Plus I kinda knew what was coming. This poxy website malarkey again. I just knew.

Pushed the door open and she says I need a drink and need a wee. As I was sorting her out I could just feel she was heading for that subject. She says “ Why don’t you make us both a cuppa T and see what biscuits there is and we’ll sit and have a chat” I knew exactly what was coming.

She starts off with, “ I know you don’t want to do this job but we kind of don’t have many other options. In life sometimes we have to sacrifice ourselves for the greater good, there’s been plenty of times as a parent I’ve had to do the same for you but its what you do for those that you love. You do whatever it takes for family…” The nerve of this women! Like as if I haven’t done enough for you as it is!! We’ll I felt like I had anyway. It had me questioning myself whether I have done enough or not. She seems to at ease asking her daughter to do such a job, I dunno maybe its normal. Maybe that’s why it does seem easy for her.

She then showed me a profile from the escort website, I thought it was an example profile but turned out to be a profile for me, with all my details and some face pictures. I was angry as hell as she didn’t even asked me! She conveniently reminded me about the greater good and how I will give her hope if I just gave it a try. The thought of a happier her is what sold it for me. Her daily negativity was drowning me! So I said Okay and to give me a few days to prepare myself and went to bed. The next morning I could hear creaking noises coming from the living room. She had managed to get herself to the loo. Didn’t manage to get back in bed mind but its a great step to recovery. I instantly thought that if she can do that then maybe in a week or two she can get to the loo and back to bed herself and I can go back to work. But, It was quickly shut down with a laptop screen being shoved in my face with a long list of emails. She was all excited about being able to move herself and she was all happy with herself so with these emotions she decided to show me what I thought it was loads of individual emails but it was a conversation between her posing as me and an potential client. She explained that she had told him that I’m nervous as its my first time doing this and that I wasn’t very experienced. She said He was happy with this and wanted to arrange a booking for TODAY! She looked at me like a little excited child and asked “ Do you think you can be ready today?” I said to her “ that I said to give me a few days and that I couldn’t do it this soon” She just said “ Ah you’ll be fine, think of the money and getting out of this place or dont you care about me getting better” I couldn’t be bothered to deal with the argument and within a few hours he was knocking on the front door. I didn’t want to answer it and when I did I almost told him he had the wrong house but just before I did mum said about it’s just for a short time until we have somewhere to live otherwise were going to be homeless” My hand on the handle and I imagined myself as a child again with no choice and switched off. Opened the door, he walked in, paid and took me upstairs…. Annnd, Im sure I don’t need to explain what happened behind closed doors but it wasn’t pleasant. Once he was done I saw him out and sprinted up the stairs to the shower where I scrubbed myself and my teeth clean and cried to myself. After, I headed down stairs to give her the money, she asked if I was okay, I wasn’t but I said yes anyway. She replied, “ Okay, Well I wasn’t sure how you were going to be after and some one is waiting for a reply for an appointment later today but I just wanted to make sure you were okay first….?” Standing there feeling quite insulted on the mare fact that 1, She’s made a profile up without my consent 2. Speaking and arranging a customer without me giving her the go ahead 3. For taking charge so easily that within a few hours of first having this conversation there is someone knocking on the poxy door to now having the damn audacity asking me am I ready for round 2!?!? If she wasn’t my mother…. I was sooo bloody angry with her, I just said “I’ll let you know in a bit, I need have a few errands to do first” I didn’t. I just needed to get out of the same building as her and her glaring eyes waiting for an answer. Got in the car and went and sat somewhere quite. Tears of anger streaming down my face in utter frustration with this women, I just cried and cried until I was just staring into space numb and frozen in my seat only snapping out because someone was coming passed with their dog. I started to really think about what just happened. How long would I have to do this for? How long before we made a deposit for somewhere to live? How much is a deposit? How many clients does it translate into? I just made £100 for 1 hour booking but he was only there for 35minutes. Is it really worth keeping the peace with mother because I was just about done with her negativity and the constant verbal lashings from her. Is it worth the peace? Yes, it is. Purely, for the peace. It don’t matter if you understand why your some ones verbal punchbag because what life has thrown at them, you can expect some frustrations but if your the only person who is there who else is going to share the brunt of it. We all take things out on those closest to us and we sometimes push them away even if we don’t mean to, when you do it to someone on a daily basis, it hammers you down and there comes a time that if you could do anything to make it stop, just for a little while, to have a break from it, to keep the peace, you would do it. So yes, its worth keeping the peace. Once I decided to suck it up and deal with it I started looking for houses and how much deposit roughly is needed and then I converted it to how many jobs that was and how many hours it was take to make the money. The main thing was getting them in and out as quick as possible. The less time I spent with these men the better.

Cleared the window screen and drove home and thought about the peace I would gain and the time frame of being out of here. I got home and told her, I don’t want to talk about it but go ahead with the next job and went up stairs to breath and to sort my cried out eyes.

Within 3 weeks I had made the money to get us out of there and we moved into a nice little 2 bedroom house. I decided to carry on for 1 more week so we could furnish the house as we had very little. Towards the end of that week she asked if I could carry on and pay her loans and credit cards off and then I can stay home to help her recover and we can live off of her credit cards until she’s recovered and can go back to work. I reluctantly agreed and worked for 3 more weeks to pay her credit cards and loans off then stopped the job. We we’re in a new house with new furniture and debt free. I felt I had done my part in sacrificing myself like she said I had to do. I wasn’t proud but I felt a sense of achievement for stepping up and getting us out considering where we were, now I can give her my undivided attention and recover without financial issues since I just paid everything off. Plus with her positive change in attitude I wanted to help her recover, she wasn’t a chore any more. She was more tolerable to live with and care for.

Nearly 2 years passed and she was fully recovered. She was capable again. And I looked forward to getting my life back again and looked forward to moving out. When DVLA sent her licence back it was confirmation for me that she was well enough to be left on her own. It was an exciting time. I found somewhere to live and moved out! It was a house share but the owner was never there so it was like having my own place but I didn’t care. I had my own front door. As much as I loved my mother it was a relief.

I was there a week, Mother phoned me in tears. The owners of the house have given her notice that they were selling the house and she needed to find somewhere else to live. I told her not to panic and that everything was going to be okay. Explained that we will get the deposit back and you can use that for a new place. After a lot of stress ( mostly unnecessary ) she found a place and was due to move in, she packed the house up and was ready to move… A day before said move she received a call from the estate agent stating that the owners have pulled out and no longer want to rent their home. Which meant because she had no where else to go she had to move in with me. I kinda told my landlord instead of asking since she didn’t have anywhere to go and that she was my mother. He was okay with it but wanted extra rent since she was taking another room which is fair enough. However, we didn’t expect her getting ill again. After a routine mammogram about 5 weeks after moving in she was diagnosed with breast cancer. Our lives were about to be turned upside again. I feared I would have to care for her again but was unsure as I never knew what cancer was about. I most certainly did not expect what was about to come. We had many trips to the hospital before treatment and was told what to expect and they explained that treatment would make all her hair fall off which sent her hysterical especially as she was someone lucky enough to have natural long blonde hair and it was her pride and joy. The thought of it falling out for her made her lose control of herself. She stormed out the doctors office saying she wasn’t having treatment if its going to make her hair fall out. After some calming down and reconsideration she returned to accept treatment.

At her first chemotherapy treatment she had to share a room with other cancer patients to have treatment. They were all very ill and when you walk in you do get the sense of “ you don’t know what is about to hit you” They have this same look of sorrow and sympathy for new comers not knowing… She has her session and we went home, things seemed okay at first. It was just like someone who was drunk, It was kinda a giggle at first, that was until you can see them suddenly projectile all over the place! Puke everywhere! Cleaned her up and put her to bed and that’s where she stayed for 3 weeks. Every 4th week was treatment week. On treatment weeks over time you could understand the look on cancer patients faces and the atmosphere in the treatment room when someone new comes in. Nobody, warned us or prepared us for what was to come with cancer. It was absolutely horrid. You literally watch it take the life of someone to the very edge with no guarantee of survival. On the other hand, I’m thinking how have I gone from moving out and getting my life back to her now living with me and now caring for her again. I felt quite selfish but that’s how I felt.

We cracked on with treatment for a few more months and then she had to have a mastectomy because treatment hadn’t worked and they needed to remove the tumour. This didn’t go down to well with her. Especially as she felt she had lost here hair for nothing when she would of just had the mastectomy instead since the treatment has made her muscles weak and was wheel chair and bed bound. The day she found out about having a mastectomy so was very angry and bitter, I could sense a vent was coming from her, time to be her verbal punchbag again. One minute she’s crying and wants a hug from you and then next minute you have a plate thrown at you followed by verbal abuse.

In the mean time, our landlord had come home and wasn’t to happy and felt his home has been taken over. I explained that we have been unfortunate with health recently but we are on the mend now and that the bedroom will be restored to the way it was before once she’s well enough to leave… He wasn’t to happy and asked that we both find somewhere else to live which I took offence to because we pay our rent, were never late and I can’t help medical situations. He said that his house smells like a care home and wont put up with it. Now, I was reallllly offended because he made me feel like were dirty people when I know were not. He didn’t understand that were not dirty people but chemotherapy makes people smell and they cant help it… Well he wasn’t having non of it. He didnt want either of us there and hat was that.

I asked her for the deposit money from the old house that she was going to use to move in with on her new house that fell through to go look for somewhere else to live and she reveals there isn’t any deposit money because she spent it all because her credit cards were maxed out again already. I asked her where the money had gone because there was more than enough to live on for a couple of years, especially as the bank upped her credit limit for paying it all off before!!! I was livid and told her that now she’s going to have to deal with carers because I have to go back to work and there is no way I’m going back to that job! I was so angry I demanded to know where all the money had gone all she kept on saying “ its the cost of living it all adds up” which I felt was BULL! I knew how much money were on those credit cards and there was no way we had done it all. I blurted out “ you selfish bitch “ Not only can you not support yourself physically again, were practically homesless again and no fucking money again – WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH ALL THE MONEY!?!?! I Shouted so loud and angrily I scared myself and she started crying. And I instantly felt bad. No one wants to make their ill mother cry but I wasn’t going back to that job. I went to the housing council to seek help, based on her health alone all that they could offer is a communal home for the homeless. Our landlord wasn’t being very sympathetic and requested for us to be out ASAP. I put all our stuff in storage and moved us into the homeless centre where we had to share a 1 bedroom bedsit with 2 single beds and small kitchen and a communal toilet/shower room which was fun trying to get her in there at 4am if she needed the loo…

We had to live on top of each other and out of suitcases after a few days I had a breakdown – I was so close to having my life back and going back to work and now I’m homeless with a sick parent and have to live like this for 3 months before we get housed somewhere. And even then we have no money because she’s maxed out the cards again which was still nagging me to where it had all gone… I knew I was going to have to go back to the job but I couldn’t do it from a homeless house and then it clicked. Doing out calls means I have to go to the customers house which was pretty freaking scary as you didn’t know what you could be walking into but you had extra safety feature within the website to protect yourself should anything go wrong and the police have to be notified but it also means I get out of here and away from her now and then like a rest bite. The thought of doing nothing and stuck in that room with her was depressing,. So I sucked it up and dealt with it again. Okay, It wasn’t the best solution but when you’re feeling stuck you do anything just to feel unstuck for a short time and if I’m honest, I was grateful for the time I wasn’t around her.
So I started outcalls, visiting their homes. Which somehow felt safer maybe because they didn’t know where I live. I had a choice and some sort of control to what services I provided. Some times when the customer was not my type, I’d take their money first and to avoid sleeping with them i’d request they join me in the shower, I’d get undressed slowly and I’d wait until they were naked and wet so they couldn’t chased me out there house with their money when I did a runner. They didn’t know where I lived and their not exactly going to go to the police. Yea, I felt bad stealing their money but they didn’t feel bad about paying me for it so I didn’t let it bother me so much plus it meant I didn’t have to touch them or vice versa and for me that’s more important. Anyway, 3 months passed. I paid her debts off again. And the council moved us into a 2 bedroom house were she can recover from this breast cancer. And I carried on working until she was recovered enough to physically support herself again. By now, I had been looking after her and financially supporting her via escorting for 4 years, I was 22! I was bitter, angry, frustrated. This was not at the top of my careers list, not by a long shot! I already knew I wasn’t going to get far in life because of the lack of education I had because of being robbed of it in my childhood. I was feeling like my childhood was robbed and so was the most important years of my life are to! I was getting sad & depressed I got involved with some heavy drugs after a client offered and after some time my mental state starting downward spiralling until one day I took a blade to my wrists and attempted to kill myself. My dear old mother says “ What the hell have you got to be down about? You have your life and your health unlike me! If anyone should be thinking about killing themselves it should be me for everything that I have been through, don’t you think I’ve been through enough to warrant that?” Before I could say anything she shouted “ And stop trying to gain attention for yourself, its across for attention and long ways for results!” And slammed the door on her way out. I was mortified. I said in my head what I would have said to her if I had the chance to get a word in “ Its because of you, You C**t that I’m in this situation. Its because of you my mental state is all out of whack. Because your making me do this job and be your carer and your spiteful venom you spit at me when your having a bad day which was like every damn day, its un fucking bearable- Cant you see I would rather be dead than be looking after your ungrateful ass” Obviously, I couldn’t say this to her because she is my mother after all. I just laid there crying into my pillow and feel asleep for a while. I woke still crying knowing I had to go the hospital embarrassed by my actions. After being stitched up the Mental Heath Team visited me, They were trying to be really supportive but I didn’t see the point. There was nothing they could do even if I did talk. I’m already embarrassed enough sitting her with attempted suicide plastered to my arms without telling them I’m a prostitute with a drug problem! It wouldn’t of changed anything back at home, when I leave here I still have to go home and see to her, listen to her bollocks, make her food, clean the house, run errands, do that fucking job and put up with her bitter mouth and ungratefulness. So, I kept quite. Said I was fine. “I scared myself straight. It wont happen again”. And declined there help. I didn’t need their help to find out what the problem is. I knew what the problem was. It was her, that dear old mother of mine. Somehow, I found the strength to go home and say nothing. I walked through the door and she called me into the living room demanding to know what happened at the hospital and what was all this all about? I could feel the fire in my belly about to ignite and explode at her but I had to remember that we wouldn’t be like this if she wasn’t ill, she cant help the way mother nature intended for her health to be so sucked it up and dealt with it again. I said “ It don’t matter, do you need anything, drink? Something to eat?” I wanted to give her everything she needs for at least a few hours. I didn’t want to see her or talk to her. I needed time to myself without her annoying patronizing voice in my ears. I got her what she wanted and disappeared upstairs and that’s where I stayed for a almost a month occasionally popping down to see if she needed anything. I stopped being in her company and I stopped general conversation with her. I made sure everything was done around the house as quick as possible just to get back upstairs, the less time spent around her the better. In that month upstairs I mostly cried and slept withdrawing myself from the drugs. If there is anything I don’t want to give her something to moan about its drugs. She’s never touched them and she’s never touched alcohol. The moaning I would get if I had a drink, if she found out about the drugs I know it would have given her the ammo to say “ well that’s why you’re trying to kill yourself, its the drugs I told you about drugs all your life at what point did you want to listen to me” and the drugs would have got the blame for my attempted suicide and not her. So I didn’t say anything about it and dealt with it myself. The first 2 weeks were the hardest but I eventually won that battle but the depression was still there. Now the feelings and emotions are more intensified because the drugs weren’t there to cover them up. I still felt trapped. I was desperate to have my own life but I was doing this on my own. I already told her I wouldn’t put her in a home and if I did she’d hate me and would never forgive me and I cant just leave. So once again I’m compromising and decided to carry on with the job until once again she was better. I went down stairs and told her that as soon as she gets all clear from the doctors that I’m moving out. Her response was “ Well I kinda gathered that, you ain’t given a shit about me for the last 4 weeks, what makes you think you even give a shit when I’m better” “Stupid bitch” I thought to myself. Ain’t no one been here for you except me for the last 4 years at what point do you think I don’t give a shit. Luckily, Id given myself a good talking to before I came downstairs and was fully prepared for some kind of venom. It made it easier to walk away leaving her hanging without a response.

Months passed with the silent treatment but I made sure I gave her nothing to moan about. I carried on working and supporting her as promised and made sure everything was in order. That was until we were forced to talk when I had to call an ambulance for her because of chest pains. I’m not going to lie, I kinda hoped it was the end for her but it wasn’t. Turns out that chest pain she had was Lung Cancer! – My.World.Crumbled.- How? How have I been sooo close to getting my life back TWICE and denied twice. What have I done so bloody wrong to deserve this. I wasn’t not one bit sad for her at all. I was sad for me because I knew it meant more treatment, more care for her, more puke, more piss and more shit everywhere and more of that poxy fucking job!!! Why? How? She was only A month or 2 max. away from being cleared. I had been strong with the reward of moving out for so long just to have that time frame extended to another year! And then I realised that her body hasn’t fully recovered and if she goes another round of treatment for a different cancer now she surely wouldn’t ever recover – Her muscles have been obliterated by previous chemotherapy treatment, what hope is there? Especially as the doctor said he wants to give her chemotherapy and radiotherapy and believe me when I say that no one and nothing can prepare you for the side effects that came with radiotherapy.

She now was completely bed bound and wheel chair bound Annnnd completely and entirely 100% now dependent and reliable on me 24/7 for everything!. Which meant no moving out, no getting life back and still doing that fucking job! The treatments were harsh on her, anyone just had to look at her to see that. I was trying to figure out how much longer she had left, I was being generous and gave her 5 years which would have made me 30. I wasn’t happy to do this another 5 years but decided if she was still alive and kicking when I was 30 no matter what she said she was going in a home.

But that year proved, she wasn’t going to make 5 years. She had a lump on her head that came up suddenly, it wasn’t a cancerous lump. It was called a rodent ulcer. Although it wasn’t a cancer it was still something just a spiteful. A Rodent ulcer once they have broken the surface of the skin they eat there way back down. Hers was on her head so it would have eventually got to her brain. So more treatment. At this point in time I didn’t care, the more treatments the less her life span gets the sooner I can quit this job and get my life back. As selfish as that sounds, I was so freaking done.

Shortly after, she went blind in one eye. The result of nerve damage when she had the brain haemorrhage. Shortly after that her stomach ballooned up and doctors had no explanation for it therefore no treatment for it either. She had no control of her bowls, had to start wearing adult nappies that would need changing regularly as everything just went straight through her. Because of all the chemicals from treatment it smelt so bad, I needed a bucket which was for me to puke into when I had to change her. This is NOT what I wanted to be doing with my life. The best years of my life 18-25 have vanished doing this when I should have been out exploring life and having fun, travelling, concerts, festivals, holidays etc. I knew this was it now until she died but I sensed it wouldn’t be long to the point of preparing myself before I come down in the morning just in case she passed during the night. Coming down the stairs to the living room door, hand on the handle and take a deep breath and expect the worse Or if I’m coming home from somewhere, deep breathing walking up the pathway, another deep breath putting the key in the door. Even though I was super bitter towards our situations and events throughout the last 7-8 years she was still my mother that I could see was dying. Despite the last few years I was still sad, sad that she had to spend her last few years of her life in this mess, sad that her suffering and pain had been dragged out this long but on the other side of me I was excited at the thought of having my life back, finally being able to crack on with ME.

October’12, One night, I suggested that it might be nice to have a sleep in her own bed upstairs, I said that I would carry her up upstairs for it and that she might be more comfortable getting a decent nights sleep in her own bed. Ya’know, how we all like our own beds. I eventually got her up stairs, she was easy to carry because she was just skin and bone from all the treatment. I settled her in for the night and got an early night myself. During the night I could hear her calling me, I rushed into her room and she had slipped down in her bed and couldn’t pull herself back up. I sorted her out and sat on the edge of the bed with her. She was a little upset but not like normal. I asked her what’s wrong? She said ‘ I know’ What do you know, I replied. She said “ I know I haven’t got long left, I can feel it” I didn’t know what to say! She went on and explained that she slid down in her bed on purpose because the mist was going to get her. Confused I asked her what she meant. She said, “Someone was standing in the corner but they were gone when I opened my eye properly and then there was black mist swirling around the ceiling, I got scared and tried getting under the covers but got stuck getting up again but I know I have to leave soon because someone’s waiting for me” I just stared at her totally gob smacked and freaked out. I did not know what to say! Apart from that it was just a bad dream, Tucked her back in again and went to go back to bed, just as I was about to close the door she said to leave it open and leave the landing light on. Officially freaked out I scattered back and jumped into bed as quick as possible, with the covers over me with one eye keeping watch through the peep hole, Lol.

In went into her the next morning and carried her downstairs. As soon as I put her on the bed she started fitting. I called an ambulance and they took her in. She was was alert again by the time we got to the hospital. They gave her loads of tests and found that she has a cancerous Brain Tumour with the news of that the mass was too big to treat and that she has 6months max to live! All she said was “I told you I didn’t have much longer left” I felt so bad for her because now hearing those words “ 6 months to live” from the doctors mouth rubber stamped that my mum wasn’t going to be here soon and I felt bad that she has to go like this and for all bad stuff she’s been through with her health. It didn’t matter what I had been through at this moment I time, My mum was dying.

I took her home and decided that because past Christmases she would be too weak or in hosiptal to celebrate it we decided that since this was going to be her last Christmas we would make it special and we did. Got a tree, decorated it and the house, lots of flashy lights and Christmas ornaments, tinsel galore, a full Christmas dinner with all the trimmings and best of all Christmas songs! After we had all eaten and everything cleared away she had a kip, well I thought she was asleep but she must have been going down memory lane or something because she just woke up and burst into tears. I just thought it was because she knew it was her last Christmas and that she was scared about dying as that would be utterly understandable but all she kept on saying was “I’m sorry, I’m sorry” I thought she was saying this because of everything she has put me through the last 8years looking after her but now looking back, I now know what the reason was for her tears. (Which will be explained in the next blog for it to make sense)

Anyway, we have a nice Christmas and she makes it to the new year. The intensity of when I have to get up in the mornings has got almost unbearable not knowing if I’m about to open the door to her passing or not. Since she knew she was close to dying she started to have friends come see her to say bye ETC. – One weekend, a friend of hers comes to stay, Berni. She’s been in my life all my life so she was one of mums best friends but she had come to stay for a few days so I decided to pop out for some me time only I didn’t get to my destination because I had a car accident, I wasn’t wearing a seat belt and was flung to the other side of the car and knocked myself out. I woke up to a nice lovely yummy fireman and stars! They had to cut my roof off my car to get me out, neck brace round my neck, strapped to a backboard. I was very lucky to have walk out the hospital the next day.

1st week of January my Car got stolen 2nd week in January I had a car accident in my other car & 3rd week of January Mum Died.

One morning she sits up in bed and says “ I think its time I go into a hospice” I knew what this meant but couldn’t help thinking “oh now, you want to have carers” Anyway I rang the hospice and made arrangements to have her taken in. She had an hour to get ready as she was booked in as a priority patent. She had to go into hospital first to have a few checks done before she went into the hospice. We were sitting ( my brother who I didn’t have a great relationship with at the time ) on a ward next to her bed, having a laugh and a giggle etc. We were there until late and I had to head home because the dogs had been left on their own all day and night. I gave kisses and cuddles and said see you in the morning, with a little wave through the window just as she is no long in sight. With her waving back with a little smile on her face. The next day I had received a call from my brother saying mums unconscious and might not wake up and the Dr. has said that if you want to do goodbyes now is the time to do it. I couldn’t have got to that hospital any sooner if I tried! I found her in a coma, the doctors said that there’s nothing they can do apart from make her as comfortable as possible until her passing. I was okay, I guess I had plenty of mental preparation because of not knowing if was going be walking into her in the mornings and not being with us any more or not. I sat with her for 18hrs until my eyes couldn’t stay open any more. I said to my brother that I’m going for a lay down in the family room, stay with her as I don’t want her passing on her own. This was at 6.50am. By 7.45am I was being woken saying that mum has passed, I jumped up and ran down the corridor to her room, my brother said he just went for a coffee, he was less than 5 mins but she died on her own. (at the time this mad me angry but now because of what I know I’m glad she died on her own)

Anyway, It hit me. I’m free! As sad and as selfish as this is that she’s just died, I felt nothing but relief! People thought I burst into tears because my mother had just died but I’m not ashamed to say I was happy to finally have my life back. No more selling myself was the biggest factor. The day she died was the day it stopped. Call me selfish but I wasn’t crying for her, I was crying happy tears for me. At the time, of course I loved my mum, my loyalty and dedication to her over the last 8 years proves that but my god it had been the worst years of my life, I probably could have dealt with working a normal job and looking after her if she had only accepted carers but her asking me and pushing me into prostitution I was and still am super super bitter about especially recently founding out that I never even had to do that job, EVER!!

Since she had a really bad last few years of her life I wanted to make her funeral special, which I did. A horse drawn carriage, top of the range coffin and a big do after, all of which I’m still in debt for today. She was cremated 2 days after my 26th birthday.

A few days later I had a visit from the council, they explained I had to move out and that they will re-house me to give this house to a family who needs the space. So this forced me to go through all her stuff where I found 3 insurance books. One for her, one for me and one for my brother. She had been paying into these accounts since we were born, my brother is also 11 years older than me. I could see how much she had been paying in every month all these years from the statements and it was a substantial life changing amount. I called the details of the company, explained what happened, gave them the reference numbers and the lady says “ I’m sorry but there is nothing to be returned as the accounts were cleared out 4 years ago!!!” WHAT!?!? This immediately raised questions “ where has all this money gone???” Why did I have to sell myself if she had access to this much money??? I’m not joking, It was a massive amount But I couldn’t investigate as I had a whole house to go through plus a garage and 3 sheds and move myself into somewhere new. I just didn’t have time.

About 2 months after moving into my new place, I had a phone call from Berni, Mums best friend. Some how we got onto the topic of my childhood and the sexual abuse and I mentioned about there being an argument when I was 12 years old but I don’t know what it was about but I just know that never saw Dave or Joan again, and she replies with her exact words being “ well that’s what the argument was about because mum found out that Dave was touching you so she kicked them out” My exact reply was “ Hold on a minute, I didn’t tell mum what was going on until I was 14 years old, so are you telling me she already knew when I was 12 years old? Her exact reply was “ Well, she told me at the time the argument happened, so yea I guess she did. My reply was “ What!!! And you both done nothing????” I didn’t wait for a reply, the phone got put down on her, I was shaking, I was fuming, I could literally feel my brain over loading, the room was spinning but my emotions were in slow motion, loads of flash backs and heaps and heaps of questions. Why didn’t she go to the police? Why didn’t she get me health checked? Counselling? If she already knew what had been happening to me at 12 years old when I didn’t tell her what had been going on until I was 14 WHY didn’t she do something? And raised separate questions of Why have I been giving her all my money if she had all this other money in savings? Why did I have to pay her credit cards and loans off? AND most of all, Why did I ever have to sell myself? Things just didn’t make sense.

And from this moment, I was slung into a spiral of depression worse than ever before…..

Next I’ll be writing about:

  • How I coped and how I pulled myself through.
  • How I investigated my whole life to reveal the truth behind her sex ring
  • Coming to terms, getting closure and how I obtained revenge on my dear ol’ dead mother
  • And how I turned it all around and beat the odds….

Until next time,

Adios….Cx

Something No Child Should Ever Go Through….But, I Did!

So, growing up wasn’t easy for me. At the time it was easy because it was normal. I didn’t know any different. Until i grew up and friends would be telling me what they got up to. What shopping center they all hung out at. How great there birthday party was and all the gifts they received and holidays they’d been on and i started wondering why my life was so different. I don’t remember exciting birthday parties, or gifts or holidays. I knew our lives were different but I never knew how much different. I started noticing the connections between mother and child among my school friends and remember feeling jealous. Parents would be happy to pick their children up from school, all kisses and cuddles and smiles and happy to see each other. But my mother wouldn’t be there to greet me like that. She”d either be waiting in the car moaning at how long its taken me to get out or she wouldn’t be there at all and i’d have to walk home. So, i knew i never had that mother daughter connection, among-st many other reasons.

When i was 5 years old. I fractured my fibular, snapped my tibuler in my leg and cracked my growth plate in my knee after playing tag on the school field. I fell down a small hole and the chasing boy behind me fell on top of my leg snapping it backwards. The dinner ladies picked me up and moved me to the library where i waited for my mum and paramedics. When she eventually got there i was expecting some loving. Obviously I’m a hysterically scared and in pain 5year old – you wouldn’t expect my behavior to be any thing less. I didn’t get any loving or and hugs. I got told to calm down and stop making so much noise because its embarrassing her. I don’t remember much after that. I woke up with a full leg plaster. Toes to Hip. After being discharged and sent home. Mum was panicking over not being able to work and look after me at the same time so she had arranged some friends from Devon to come and live in and look after me. David & Joan. My dad wasn’t really around anymore. I got to see him weekends when it suited my dear mother!

They were nice at first. Joan and I would bake cakes and make biscuits. And David was always working so never really saw him. But, they moved in and mum carried on working during the week and at her boyfriends the weekends – She would come home weekday evenings and depending what time she got home i might see her, i might not because of having to go to bed etc.

Some time had passed and my leg was out of plaster. I still need to have reconstructive surgery as my leg started growing wonky because of the cracked growth plate – to fix it they had to re break my bones and set metal plates in – i need to have this every 5 years until i stopped growing. But this was an inconvenience for dear mother and let Dave and Joan move in permanently. Which at the time everything was fine, they were great. It was nice finally having someone greet me like they were happy to see me at the school gates, mostly Joan but never Dave until he was made redundant and he started picking me up. I was excited because I knew someone was picking me up but didn’t know who whether it was Dave or Joan and it was a nice surprise to look forward to as a kid especially when you were used to having no one pick you up.

One day it was Dave, usual walk home asking about my day and what i learnt. Nothing unusual. We got home and told me to change out of my uniform were going to take the dogs for a walk. Well, we used to live next to some woods. The street would all be playing through it in the summer – hid and seek – runs out etc so i knew my way around it. Half way walking through it David stops me and kneels on his knees and tells me not to move. His face came attached to mine with his big slobbery lips all over my face. He said ” Don’t tell mummy or i’ll kill her ” You can imagine whats going through a 5 year old’s head at that moment. Scared in case you get mummy killed by telling someone what just happened so you have to stay quite. It’s now became a regular thing, if it was him that was picking me up after school i know that we’d be detouring through the woods where he’d do exactly the same with his big slobbery lips again. It went on for months. Now, i wished no one was picking me up from school again. The excitement had turned into dread to who was picking me up. In the end, It was always David.

It was time for my reconstructive op which i had been looking forward to because I knew I would be having time off school and wouldn’t need picking up and i’d be at home with Joan for the next 6 weeks or that someone would always be around. This time I only had a half plaster ( toes to knee ) One day, Mum and Joan decided to go bingo! Leaving David to sit me. I felt because I had broken leg with fresh plates in and a plaster on he might feel sorry for me and leave me alone. But, I was wrong, They could barely be out of the road when he pounces. He must of been rubbing his hands when he knew he was going to be sitting me alone in the house for the night with no one to stop him. He sat next to me on the sofa picking my leg up to put on his lap and starting stroking the top of my thigh. Its never gone this far before, I was scared to do so but i pushed his hand away and in that same moment he snap slapped my hand and started to put his hand down my plaster cast. I had an 11inch freshly opened scar with stitches less than a few days old and he pinched it so hard it bruised that i still have today, i was in was instant pain and instant tears with his other hand he grabbed my face and said ” Dont you ever do that again or i will defiantly kill mummy and you’ll never see her again ” Push me back and proceeded with his hands where they shouldn’t be. He stood up, pulled his trousers down, got his (man-thing) out and started wanking. Told me lift my nighty up and he ejaculated over my chest and belly. Got him self dressed, got some baby wipes, threw them at me and told me to clean myself up. I was desperate to tell someone but knew I couldn’t because i didn’t want mum to die. The week after they’re off to bingo again and low and behold i was being used as his Ejac-Rag again. oh guess what, the week after they’re off to bingo again, and the week after that and the week after that so it became a regular thing again for months!

I was out of plaster and back at school David was back at work and things went back to normal for a little while. My bed used to be in my mothers room – she always left the door open – The spare room where they used to sleep was across the landing – David used to finish early hours – he got into the habit of waking me up as he could see me from where my bed was and got me out of bed when he got home and take me into his room. His hands all over where they shouldn’t be and his stuff going where it shouldn’t be going -and his hands over my face to stop me making any noise – and now this has become routine – How did no one here nothing? Well, they did! but i’ll come to that later.

One morning – he gets me into his room – i sensed somethings different – I was more scared than usual – he was getting fully undressed which he never did – told me to get into his bed which i never did as it was always on top of the covers – and for the first time ever in over 3 years of this torrid abuse he penetrates me! It was so painful – but i couldn’t scream as he put a sock on my mouth and then covered it with his hands. I could barely breath let alone scream with his fat arse squashing me. Again, Became routine.

Getting home in the morning then again when i got picked up from school and then again once a week for bingo! Which would of been 3 time that day.. It became very normal in the end. Years it went on and I couldn’t say nothing not because he threatened to kill her  but I felt no one would believe me and because I never said nothing for so long I didn’t want people to think I must of liked it. Obviously, I didn’t! I was just a child! Especially, as we had just done sex education at school and stranger danger and what rape was and what pedophiles were- Imagine yourself in school and realizing that you’ve been getting raped daily by a pedophile – in a classroom 30 strong of people and you have to be as composed as possible because you don’t want people finding out because it’s embarrassing. But, at least i knew what what happening to me and why i felt so different to everyone else. Why i didn’t fit in.

At around 12 years old there was an argument and I never saw him again. I never knew what the argument was about and I didn’t care either. I just knew it was over. My head was buggered but it was over. I didn’t tell no one what had been going on for the last 7 years until i was 14 years old and I told mum everything. Her response was: Well its too late to do anything about it now, you should of told me sooner. Plus do you really want to re-live it all again and embarrass yourself in court? “To which i replied: ” No” And it was brushed under to rug and left alone. No consoling, No police, No health check no nothing, Not even a hug! and life went on.

Then my daddy died shortly after. I found out from his new girlfriend after she left a message on the answer machine. I started dropping out of school, bunking, smoking, drinking, drugging. I was getting bullied and one day beaten up by 6 other girls. Kicked, punched and stamped on. Everyone just watched and done nothing. I’d never had a fight in my life, iv’e never been taught how to stand up for myself. I was black and blue & my eyes swollen, my lips cut and large boulder swollen lumps all over my head. A friends dad scooped me off the floor and went to take me home. Only he turned the wrong way and took me to a lorry park in burnt mills where he parked up  and tried it on with me. I was beaten black and blue, blood all over me and he wants to try it on!! This time I actually said ” No, Please take me home ” and he stopped and said “Okay” and took me home. I walked through the door and mum screams ” What the F*ck have you taken now, F*uck off upstairs , I don’t want to see you right now ” I couldn’t even say to  her ” Mum, look at me. Its not drugs. Iv’e just had 10 bells kicked out of me ” before she screams ” OUT!!!!” She didn’t even come to see if i was okay or to clean my wounds or take me to hospital to make sure i was okay. She got up as usual in the next morning and went to work without a care in the world…

Among-st other stuff that went on – I was struggling with my weight after they left and put on heaps of weight. This was embarrassing for mum. I was put on a diet and locks went on the cupboards and she would take the keys with her- she would leave me rashens out but if I ate them and she was having a late night I would have to wait till she got home which could be anything like 10-11oclock at night. Rashens would be 2 slices of bread without butter, warm ham as the fridge was locked and some veggie sticks. I remember being so hungry one day my 1 friend brought down sandwiches and crisps and stuff from her house, And if she forgot to leave me something out then my friend would share her dinner with me. Best friend ever! (L.P if you ever read this –  Thank you ) ……. I’m kinda angry writing this bit at this point because even if she didn’t know what was going on with the sexual abuse you don’t treat your child like this. It was like she now had a damaged goods child why should she bother. Iv’e never really felt the love from my mother anyway but how much must she dislike me as a daughter to treat me like this. The dogs got treated better than me, as least they had dog food left down for them for the day. Anyway at 17 years old i was already 18 stone!!! And that was a huge embarrassment for my dear ol’ mother…..!

I’m going to leave it here for now. Coming in the next blog is 18-26.

  • How my life was put on hold through a brain hemorrhage, breast cancer, lung cancer, skin cancer and brain tumors
  • How i was pushed into prostitution
  • How my mother was my secret pimp
  • And… how she met her D Day!

Next Installment Coming Soon…..

Thanks for reading

Adios For Now

C…x

Intro’s Up!

Helloooo…

And welcome to my corner of the world and my very first blog!

I’ve so much to write about and instead of writing long status’s that i keep getting moaned at for I’m going to give blogging a go! Ahh!

Over time i’m going to tell you about my amazing life transformation with a real fairy tale ending and adventures as i get up to them.

I will explain in great detail how i over came being sexually abused and groomed as a child and pushed down a route no women ever wants to go. I will also explain how my mother played a lead role in my torturous life for 26years! How i grew to over 27 stone and how I’ve lost over 12 and continuing to lose.  How I’ve beaten the odds of self destruction and talk honestly and openly about depression, suicide and P.T.S.D and how i have over come it all. How i found my real life hero and fell in love. How I’ve ended up in sunny Spain (not so sunny right now, its raining!) and of course my big O’. My excess skin removal surgery. There will be a lot of pictures and videos no doubt but i will be sharing my whole operation, recovery and rebuild, I can not wait!

As i said, I’ve just moved to Spain. Everything’s new again. Lots of exploring to do, new people to meet, sights to see, places to go, I need to exercise the tourist within me and take photos of random stuff and say hello to people I’ve never met before and buy stuff that’s going to sit on the shelf and do nothing for the next million years but this rain…! I cant! Its wet! I drove 1400 miles to get away from the wet and being stuck in doors and look at me now…. Trying to write my first blog without it sounding like I’m blabbering on about utter Bo**ocks and sitting indoors because its raining!!! I didn’t need to travel this far, I could of done this in the U.K. Although, i have heard the U.K is being blanketed with the white stuff right now so i really shouldn’t be moaning about my see through stuff. Ha! Stay safe England!

Sooo, Lots of heartbreaking stuff is coming but there is a happy ending… Its a true transformation.

Just wanting to give a quick intro and an insight of whats to come.

I hope i can uplift and inspire and give people who have been through similar experiences some hope again, if not anything then i hope it makes an interesting read.

Adios for now

C…x