When I was eleven years old, my mum’s new boyfriend moved in with us. I thought it would be good for mum cos she had a drinking problem and was depressed, and I thought it would make her feel better having him there. At first he was ok and bought me presents, but then mostly he ignored me. Then after a few months he started doing things that made me nervous, like when I was at home alone with him he’d walk around naked. Then he asked me to touch him – I tried to avoid him all the time, but sometimes I couldn’t and I was scared to tell him to stop.
I didn’t know how to tell mum what was happening cos I didn’t even know what to say. One day when I was 13, we were fighting because I said I hated him (mum’s boyfriend) and she got angry with me. Then I told her how she doesn’t know what he does when she’s not around, I said ‘he tries to touch me’. At first she said I was making it up and exaggerating. Then she said I shouldn’t wear skimpy clothes around the house. It upset me deeply because it seemed like she didn’t really care about me and she didn’t blame him for what he did, it was like she thought it was my fault. I started staying over at friends’ places and avoiding going home. I told my friends I hated mum’s boyfriend but was too embarrassed to say I’d been abused by him. Sometimes mum told me I couldn’t go out, but often she was too stressed or pissed to notice what I was doing.
I couldn’t handle the way I was treated at home. Sometimes I’d sleep in empty buildings in the city where there were other kids, or couch hop at different people’s houses. I hung out with older guys and stayed with different guys for protection or for somewhere to sleep because I had almost no money. Sometimes I went back home but it was too hard being there and my mum’s boyfriend was openly rude to me, like he’d say ‘Oh the lying bitch is here is she?’ I tried to go to school but I drifted away from my friends and I got into using drugs, which made it harder to keep up with school. I was angry all the time and even the slightest thing would set me off yelling or walking away from people. It felt like nothing made sense, I hated myself and I didn’t know if mum really cared about me. Once I ‘OD-ed’ (overdosed on drugs) in the city and someone called an ambulance and I went to hospital. They called mum and she was upset, but when I was back at home nothing changed.
At first I avoided talking to youth workers cos I thought they would call the cops on me and send me back home. I was worried they’d find out I was using drugs, but actually the workers were nice, they helped me to find a place in a refuge [**read more about refuges and leaving home]. They also reported my case to Child Protection [**read more about Child Protection services] and I had to talk to a Child Protection Caseworker. The Caseworker asked me about why I didn’t want to go home, and I told her it was because of mum’s boyfriend. She kept asking me about him and eventually I told her that he tries to touch me. She was nice and said she’d talk to mum. Meanwhile I stayed at the refuge. All the kids staying there would watch TV together and everyone had their own problems, so you didn’t feel like a freak. If you were stressed a refuge worker would come up to you and ask if you were ok.
Mum must have listened to the Caseworker because suddenly she decided she was going to make her boyfriend move out. The Caseworker said he would be charged for abusing me and that the police will want to know what happened. For a while it was good at home with mum, but I knew she would end up drinking again and that she would take him back, and she did - she started seeing him again. When the police interviewed me about the abuse I didn’t tell them much even though they pushed me to talk, but I was too scared of him.
At fifteen I was sent into a foster care family. At first I used to yell at my foster mum or dad or refuse to speak to them for days. But I think I was just turning my anger on them and I was kind of jealous that their family was so normal. It took me a while to get used to a totally new family life. But my foster parents are nice, their kids are older and don’t live at home. They help me with school work, buy me things, and I can invite friends over when I want. In some ways they act like they are my parents and they really do care about me, but they still make sure I still see my mum.
Now mum says she’s sorry that I’ve got hurt because of her problems, and that’s made me feel a lot better. In some ways I have been more hurt by mum’s reaction than by how her boyfriend treated me. I was devastated by her reaction to the sexual abuse – she is my mum and she should stand up for me. I hate him for what he has done and I never want to see him again. But I think me and mum are working stuff out now. My life feels a bit more stable even if I still feel sad and confused about everything that has happened. I don’t use (drugs) anymore, I’ve seen what drink has done to mum and I want to keep my life together and try to get some good school results so I can get in to a uni course.
it isn't my story....i just read it and i want to write it here...
I didn’t know how to tell mum what was happening cos I didn’t even know what to say. One day when I was 13, we were fighting because I said I hated him (mum’s boyfriend) and she got angry with me. Then I told her how she doesn’t know what he does when she’s not around, I said ‘he tries to touch me’. At first she said I was making it up and exaggerating. Then she said I shouldn’t wear skimpy clothes around the house. It upset me deeply because it seemed like she didn’t really care about me and she didn’t blame him for what he did, it was like she thought it was my fault. I started staying over at friends’ places and avoiding going home. I told my friends I hated mum’s boyfriend but was too embarrassed to say I’d been abused by him. Sometimes mum told me I couldn’t go out, but often she was too stressed or pissed to notice what I was doing.
I couldn’t handle the way I was treated at home. Sometimes I’d sleep in empty buildings in the city where there were other kids, or couch hop at different people’s houses. I hung out with older guys and stayed with different guys for protection or for somewhere to sleep because I had almost no money. Sometimes I went back home but it was too hard being there and my mum’s boyfriend was openly rude to me, like he’d say ‘Oh the lying bitch is here is she?’ I tried to go to school but I drifted away from my friends and I got into using drugs, which made it harder to keep up with school. I was angry all the time and even the slightest thing would set me off yelling or walking away from people. It felt like nothing made sense, I hated myself and I didn’t know if mum really cared about me. Once I ‘OD-ed’ (overdosed on drugs) in the city and someone called an ambulance and I went to hospital. They called mum and she was upset, but when I was back at home nothing changed.
At first I avoided talking to youth workers cos I thought they would call the cops on me and send me back home. I was worried they’d find out I was using drugs, but actually the workers were nice, they helped me to find a place in a refuge [**read more about refuges and leaving home]. They also reported my case to Child Protection [**read more about Child Protection services] and I had to talk to a Child Protection Caseworker. The Caseworker asked me about why I didn’t want to go home, and I told her it was because of mum’s boyfriend. She kept asking me about him and eventually I told her that he tries to touch me. She was nice and said she’d talk to mum. Meanwhile I stayed at the refuge. All the kids staying there would watch TV together and everyone had their own problems, so you didn’t feel like a freak. If you were stressed a refuge worker would come up to you and ask if you were ok.
Mum must have listened to the Caseworker because suddenly she decided she was going to make her boyfriend move out. The Caseworker said he would be charged for abusing me and that the police will want to know what happened. For a while it was good at home with mum, but I knew she would end up drinking again and that she would take him back, and she did - she started seeing him again. When the police interviewed me about the abuse I didn’t tell them much even though they pushed me to talk, but I was too scared of him.
At fifteen I was sent into a foster care family. At first I used to yell at my foster mum or dad or refuse to speak to them for days. But I think I was just turning my anger on them and I was kind of jealous that their family was so normal. It took me a while to get used to a totally new family life. But my foster parents are nice, their kids are older and don’t live at home. They help me with school work, buy me things, and I can invite friends over when I want. In some ways they act like they are my parents and they really do care about me, but they still make sure I still see my mum.
Now mum says she’s sorry that I’ve got hurt because of her problems, and that’s made me feel a lot better. In some ways I have been more hurt by mum’s reaction than by how her boyfriend treated me. I was devastated by her reaction to the sexual abuse – she is my mum and she should stand up for me. I hate him for what he has done and I never want to see him again. But I think me and mum are working stuff out now. My life feels a bit more stable even if I still feel sad and confused about everything that has happened. I don’t use (drugs) anymore, I’ve seen what drink has done to mum and I want to keep my life together and try to get some good school results so I can get in to a uni course.
it isn't my story....i just read it and i want to write it here...
What child abuse means to me..
Stop child abuse once and for all!!!
Cursing at the innocent child
Hating them for no apparent reason
Ignoring their cries for help
Leaving them without love
Destroying their childhood
Answering them with a smack
Building up fear and pain in their eyes
Using them as you own personal toy
Sacrificing them to a life of pain
Ensuring that their lives will never be normal again.
Stop child abuse once and for all!!!
Cursing at the innocent child
Hating them for no apparent reason
Ignoring their cries for help
Leaving them without love
Destroying their childhood
Answering them with a smack
Building up fear and pain in their eyes
Using them as you own personal toy
Sacrificing them to a life of pain
Ensuring that their lives will never be normal again.
Child abuse is emotional -- constantly blaming or putting down a child; excessive yelling, shaming.
Child abuse is sexual -- incest, any forced sexual activity, exposure to sexual stimulation not appropriate for the child's age.
Child abuse is neglect -- a pattern of failure to provide for the child's physical needs, such as food, clothing, shelter, and medical care; a pattern of failure to provide for the child's emotional needs, such as affection, attention, and supervision
My mask is slowly crumbling. It is getting harder and harder each day to pretend everything is ok. I know I have to wear a mask made of stone, but every stone cracks once in a while and mine is just beginning. And when my mask finally comes off, the truth will finally be here. But until that day, Until the day my mask falls off my face I will stay standing In the hallway of pain, right in between the doors of Love and Hate, waiting to see which door will open first. Not screaming. Not breathing. Just waiting. Waiting for the day that someone saves me. Saves me from another day of beating. Waiting for my mask to fall of my face. Waiting....