Discovery From Experiences

I was born in 1948. Ages ago now. I have two sisters who are quite a bit older than me. We all have kids of our own and some grandchildren. When we were growing up our mother did everything she could to keep us safe, but our father was violent and we were all frightened of him. He was physically and verbally violent with my mother and my sisters, and we all suffered emotionally because of his behaviour.
I think I was worried in my child’s mind that one day my father would kill my mother or my sisters. I was especially anxious at meal times – about the only time when we all sat down together. Who would he start on? What would happen? Who would get hurt? What could I do to distract him? What could I do to escape? I think like any little kid I just lived from moment to moment; hoping my Dad wouldn’t come home after work, hoping he would die – or at least hoping the violent part of him would die. When it wasn’t happening we never talked about it and I think I tried never to think of it. The violence, fear and anxiety were part of our life, part of my life, part of me.
It’s taken me a long time to really understand the devastating effect it can have to grow up in fear, in a confusion of violence, love, anxiety and fear. By the time I was about 13 or 14, I knew Dad wasn’t going to hit me. One day I stepped in between my parents and told Dad to leave Mum alone. I’m 57 now and looking back it could have been dangerous, so I wouldn’t recommend it, but it felt much better than sitting back and pretending it wasn’t happening. Looking back I suppose for the first time I was naming what was happening. When I went with Mum to the police station the officer said that there really wasn’t really anything he could do.
Other people must have known something was wrong, maybe guessed that Dad was violent. Maybe it would have been good for me if someone outside our family had said something to me, said that what my father was doing was wrong. I know that these days there are people you can talk to, people who are supportive and helpful when children and women talk about family violence, including some police. I think it would have helped me then.

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 becos 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.

My father used to touch me in a horrible way when mum was at work at night. I was 10 years old when it started. I felt so sick when I knew it was a night that mum had to work, worrying about what would happen. I was tense and stressing out all the time.
I was scared to tell anyone – I thought it was my fault too because I didn’t stop it. He used to say I shouldn’t tell anyone and that mum would kick me out if she found out. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want anyone at school finding out, because I felt like they’d all look down on me.

This has been going on for the last 4 years. This year we had a health class, and someone came to our school to talk about abuse. I knew that what they were talking about was what was happening to me. At the end of that class I just sat there when the bell rang, I felt like my head was about to explode. The teacher asked me if I was ok. I kind of avoided the question for a while, but how it must have shown on my face. Then everything came out.

The school rang mum. She had to come in and meet with the student welfare co-ordinator. They told her what I had said. Then they called me in. I was terrified that she would blame me or not believe me. She looked totally shocked, asked me if it was true and I said it was.

It’s hard to remember what happened next. Me and my brother had to go and stay at my auntie’s place, and now mum has come to stay there too. I’ve also had to speak to a counsellor about it. I haven’t spoken to dad for a couple of months. I don’t know if I want to or not, and mum says I don’t have to. It’s confusing, I feel like I should love him because he’s still my dad, but I just feel like I hate him. Even though mum has looked really stressed out, she told me I did the right thing. I’m so glad that he can’t get at me any more. None of the other kids at school know about all this, and I’m not sure if I’ll tell any of my friends or not. I’ll see how it goes.