"To the beautiful souls who have created this space, I would like to share my untold story with you in hope that it may be able to help even one young girl."
I was suffering severe depression at the age of fifteen. I had attempted suicide numerous times and spent many nights in psychiatric wards feeling very out of place. I met a man five years my senior just before I turned sixteen and fell in love... He held my hand by my hospital bed and administered my medication to me in the mornings to be sure I would take them.
Six months on I fell pregnant... we were both stoked, he convinced me that this would be something worth living. His mother wasn't so convinced on the idea and forced me to have a termination. I was booked in for a Wednesday morning, I attempted suicide the Tuesday evening and ended up in yet another psychiatric ward. A week later I went through with the termination, returning back to the ward afterwards.
Once I was out, things started to change... I noticed little things at first, like how he wouldn’t agree on what I was wearing and soon enough he was dictating the friends I saw, the clothes I wore, the places I visited. Before I knew it, things had gotten extremely out of hand and he was becoming very abusive.
I convinced my mum to let him move in with us, he barely worked as he couldn’t keep a job and spent all of his money on drugs.. I became a heavy weed smoker, it was my only escape. I’ll never forget this one day where we had argued non-stop, he hadn’t had any money to buy any weed so his temper was short, he started pushing me in my bedroom and things got heated quickly, I was trying to get out of the bedroom but he had refused, taking my phone so I wasn’t able to call anyone, even though deep down I was way too frightened to tell anybody.
He’d pushed me so hard and I had fallen back and screamed so loudly that one of our neighbours who I had known for many years had phoned the police to report a domestic violence dispute. I remember the police rocking up, him looking out the window before grabbing me roughly and demanding that I lied and said we were just playing.
Years had passed and I was now almost nineteen, things got worse by the day and I would often go to sleep hoping I wouldn’t have to wake up next to him. It sounds pathetic but I was petrified to tell anybody. I had lost all of my friends and relationships with my family were soon fading. We decided it was best for us to move into our own little home together. The first three months were great. We barely fought, he was finally working full-time and he had me believing that it was all because of the stress of living in someone elses home... but of course, things quickly bounced back to how they use to be but this time worse.
We were alone all the time and the abuse got so bad sometimes that I couldn’t even visit my own mother because of the bruises. I was so ashamed, I thought of myself as such a strong girl but deep down I was drowning. We spent almost an entire year in our house by now, I’d packed my bag so many times and he’d locked me inside, thrown my belongings everywhere and threatened that if I ever left he would kill me.
He started asking for me to give him the money for rent instead of paying my half straight to the real estate, I didn’t think much of it at the time but soon enough, we were getting letters from the real estate saying we hadn’t paid rent. I was so humiliated, he refused to let me deal with them and said he had it all sorted. Finally, things had gotten so out of hand that I built up the courage to leave, I packed my belongings whilst he was at work and moved straight into my mum’s.
Sixteen months have now passed, I’ve celebrated my second birthday without him (21 YAY) and I’ve just lost my amazing step father of nineteen years to lung cancer.
Count your blessings, every single day and don’t ever forget how important it is to reach out for help. To all the beauties going through a tough time, stay positive honeys, never forget it.