A proper introduction..

So Einsamkeit asked me whether I had posted an introduction and whilst I have, it was not a full intro to me and my past and I did mention that later I would, so, here is my story..

My name is Kim and I am from England. My mother was 16 when she was pregnant with me and my father was in prison. My Mum had postnatal depression and she left me with my Dad when he was released. This was the only real time I ever spent with my Dad and apparently he took to it well. When my Mum was stable again she took me back. I was one and a half maybe. My Dad was initially upset made threats and then he didn’t bother. My new step dad was wonderful we bonded straight away and for the first few years my childhood was wonderful. Then, when I was six they broke up. We had to live in hostels for couple of years moving around London and change schools and I had a new step dad. He had it in his head I was spoiled as an only child and made it his mission to push me around and make me feel unspecial. He was clever. He didn’t leave marks. I started wetting the bed and he’d drag me up and out of bed and into the bathtub with the sheets stark naked and pour buckets of ice cold water over me. The only reason I stopped wetting the bed was because I was terrified every time the special alarm went off. So he would bully and push me around and at the time, my mum seemed to be in cahoots with him. I was made to feel abnormal and a nuisance and so between them and the people at school and my neighbours I was bullied and weak- growing up in South London this is not what you want to be. I had nobody, I was scared, I felt worthless my life felt meaningless and I was confused as to why I was so different what was wrong with me? When I acted out or cried for help I was attention seeking. Therapy didn’t help because my step dad made sure I was scared enough not to say anything. He threatened me, made me feel like nothing- the only thing he did for me and my mum that I can be thankful for was give me my two beautiful little brothers. I went away to my Aunties when second one was born and I was abused there. Then suddenly they wanted me back everything was going to be perfect, Aye he had calmed down a bit because of my brothers he was not a bad dad to them I give him that. The straw that broke the camels back was the end of a year in Spain. Everyone had gone out I cant even remember why but he had me pinned right up to the spikey painted grit wall hissing and spitting, hand around my throat and suddenly smacked my head against it. My head cut, he said if I told anyone I would never see my mum or my family again. I later passed out. I was melodramatic apparently. Well mum left him finally just as I was entering my teens, thank god. But I was still bullied at school, no friends and I blamed her for everything and we clashed. One thing I will never forget is smacking her head against my door frame. Not nice is it? I screamed. I regret that. I was already cutting and Od’ing by this time and no one understood. My wee brother would always come to my room after an argument and sit on my bed with his Simpsons and Spiderman comics. She kicked me out at 16 and for a while I wondered if I would ever see them again. By the way the only reason I never kicked their dads head in is just that- he’s their dad. I swore if he ever touched a hair on their heads that that consideration would go out the window but he never gave me that opportunity- shame. So in my new found adulthood/ independence I reclaimed my childhood (some of it anyway) partied hard, loved hard.. Looking back I wish I had focused on friends and college more but I had an empty void that needed to be filled; I needed to feel loved and I made the mistake of looking for father figures in my relationships and treated girls like sexual objects. At one stage I was ashamedly “invincible” now it’s all self hatred I’m tired of blaming others and questioning why? Why me? Now I blame myself and beat myself up because there’s no one around to do it any more. I guess I feel ashamed. There are people, many people who have had far worse than me some even made something of it but me? I’m stuck. In a self-loathing bubble of regret. I’m sorry if I make you feel sick, I make me feel sick too, I promise. Thanks for reading.