I had behavioural issues – my family’s response was to abuse and assault me

I was around four years old, and reading in bed. But it was past my bedtime and when my mum caught me still awake, she – in a very precise, controlled way – attacked me.

As with so many of my early experiences, the memory is very fragmented – my brain has blocked so much out. But I do remember the aftermath: lying in bed hours later, watching the sunlight creeping through the curtains, and feeling completely dead inside.

I’m now in my 20s and I’ve endured a lifetime of abuse from my family.

The abuse has been physical, psychological and sexual – and a lot of it seemed to stem from my family perceiving me as ‘different’ from them.

It got so bad that, finally, I ran away.

My dad disappeared when I was four. He left me playing with a doll, drove away in his car – and never came back.

A lot of my other childhood memories centre around my mum abusing me.

I was non-verbal as a young child; I couldn’t talk until I was in primary school.

I’d have tantrums in the supermarket, age three or four, and my mum would be furious with me because I couldn’t control my emotions.

At school, I had a lot of behavioural issues – I lacked self-awareness.

Sometimes, I’d be quiet and reading; other times, I’d be yelling in class, running around in circles.

I also didn’t have a filter. I had no idea what was, or wasn’t, appropriate to say. 

It was like my mum was trying to mould me to fit her expectations, as if to say: ‘If you’re not the way I want you to be, then you’re not good enough’. 

I think one of the reasons I was able to cope with all the abuse I endured was because I dissociated from it

I lived with my mum when I was young (and later with my mum and my gran) but, because my mum was very busy, my gran took care of me a lot. Together, they’d physically abuse me.

If I behaved in ways they didn’t like, I’d get a whack around the face.

Occasionally, I’d wet myself as a kid. My mum would get extremely angry at me for that.

I couldn’t tell any of my extended family what was going through, because they all saw me as ‘different’, too.

As a child, I sometimes had a ‘baby voice’; but I wasn’t aware of it. My family didn’t like that voice and would make fun of me whenever it came out.

I also used to be a bit of a gamer as a child. My family would mock me, or say, ‘You’re so antisocial’, to try and make me talk to them.

I’ve since been told I probably have undiagnosed disabilities; but, while they knew something was ‘off’ (my grandad once said they had ‘no hope’ in me as a child), they chose to blame me instead.

They just saw me as being ‘bad’.

But it wasn’t just mocking and bullying; I endured covert sexual abuse, too.

There were always inappropriate boundaries; especially between me and my mum. Instead of teaching me to shave my body hair, for example, my mum jumped straight to doing it herself.

She’d directly cut the hairs off my body; and she’d use that as a way to make comments about my private parts. I can’t remember a lot of the sexual abuse I went through, because it was so traumatic. In fact, I think one of the reasons I was able to cope with all the abuse I endured was because I dissociated from it. 

And my mum and gran continued trying to control me.

My devices were strictly controlled – I once had my gaming device banned for a year because I had a tantrum after losing a game.

I had to wear clothes that passed my mum’s regulations, and I wasn’t allowed to go for sleepovers.

My gran, meanwhile, would always tell me that I didn’t fit in with the family; that I didn’t belong because I was so different. My achievements were never good enough for her – and if I ever told her anything about being sexually harassed, she’d say, ‘Well, it’s done now’.

I lived with them into adulthood. At one point, I was working – but I faced sexual harassment in that job, and I wanted to quit. My mum told me I was weak and that I should stay in the role.

I quit anyway; but my unemployment status was held over me. My mum would say, ‘Why don’t you pay some bills first, and then your opinion will matter,’ when we disagreed.

If I spoke to my gran about my aspirations, she’d say, ‘Well, you’re not good enough – you haven’t got any options available to you’.

Gradually, I withdrew from them both – but they didn’t like it when I stopped speaking to them and started threatening to move out without me.

It was when I was working abroad that I realised I needed to leave for good.

While I was away, I could finally take a break from everyone – I didn’t need to follow the family duties any more. I wasn’t happy while I was working, but I realised it was still better than what I was experiencing at home.

‘If that’s the case, I need to get out,’ I thought.

I’d reached a point where I felt ill and suicidal around my family, and I had nightmares about them all the time.

It wasn’t an easy process, though. I had to go through doctors, mental health teams, the council and charities. I needed a place at a refuge, but I had to tell people about the abuse to get that; and that was hard.

I’d reached a point where I felt ill and suicidal around my family, and I had nightmares about them all the time

Part of me was still struggling to accept that the abuse was even real back then, because I’d suppressed and dissociated from it, pretending it didn’t exist, for so long. Also, a lot of the abuse was historic; so a lot of people weren’t interested in helping me.

Eventually, I got help from a charity, and I’m now at a refuge – but it took nearly a year.

That first day, once I’d left home, was incredibly freeing – I finally felt like I could breathe.

But it wasn’t long before everything I’d been through started to catch up with me. I started to realise quite how unwell I am and that I’ve got complex mental health issues; and that the trauma’s probably impacted me for life.

I don’t have any emergency contacts now; and it’s hard to make friends. People want me to talk about everything going on in my life, and I don’t want to tell them.

I feel very isolated. I don’t have a lot of the basic concepts of life, and self, that a lot of people were taught by their families.

I stayed in touch with some cousins and aunties for a while, but they were dead set on the idea of me going back home.

And, after everything she’s put me through, I don’t think I’ll ever speak to my mum again.

She sees me as being created to meet her needs; and I don’t think I would ever stop being an object to her, or my gran.

At the moment, I’m struggling to find stable ground, or a sense of peace. So, for now, I’m just trying to learn how to live again.

As told to Izzie Price

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