Day 1,187 Of Domestic Violence – Lie To Me

I often wonder what it is about the masses and their need to lie to each other. To make up stories and better yet lie to themselves. Is it really that hard to own up to your shit? I know I’m not perfect but I do try to be as honest with the rest of the world and most importantly myself.

Life seems to me more than not filled with one liner crap that is both not helpful and to me patronising. ‘Be the bigger person’, ‘enjoy the little things’, ‘follow your dreams’, ‘two birds in a bush’ and the list honestly goes on. How about ‘bored of being bored because being bored is boring’. There you go now life all fixed. No? Why not? I thought saying generic crap just fixed everything? Like ‘why didn’t you just leave your abusive partner’. Wow thanks that’s where I went wrong ‘I baked him a cake instead hoping he’d stop physically, verbally, emotionally abusing me and destroying anything and everything he could in an attempt to exhaust me and drive me to the brink of mental breakdown so that I would stay in the relationships and endure more torture because he get off on that shit’. Sometimes life isn’t black and white. Sometimes people have a shitty day and have the right to feel like they have been treated unfairly. Sometimes they are just venting and not looking for a hero so can we all listen a bit more and suggest shitty obvious answers a bit less? Is this why we give up on relationships so easily? The honeymoon period is over and things get tough? It’s a fact of life and I think we throw people away too easily.

I want to find another human who is simply just a nice person, confident in themselves (in a healthy way), independent and will stand beside me and support me when I need it and for me to do the same. The biggest things in this life that make me furious and are an absolute dealbreaker are liars, cheats and people who will step on others to get what they want. I never thought it would be this difficult.

Now I am human which means I am not perfect. ‘I have never been exactly this old before so give me a break because I’m doing it all for the first time’. I mess up and I can’t expect to be justified in feeling wronged if I can’t first admit that I have, whether on purpose or not wrongs someone before. Otherwise we are all right but we are all wrong and let’s face it it’s not working currently is it?

Sometimes I snap and overreact to situations. Sometimes I just take things out on the wrong people because the right ones are not around to feel my frustration. I’m sure that everyday I make a mistake and I hope that I at least own up to it, especially if it effected someone around me I cared about.

Since when did it suddenly become ok to do just about anything we want, right or wrong as long as you lie about it and that lie sticks? It’s ridiculous really, I’ve heard some top shelf ones including, ‘have you ever heard of Bowen Hills Liam?’. I had to ask this ‘dickhead’, ‘did you actually just say a suburb followed by your name?’. The answer is yes. Wow! He also told me his mother was a prostitute who lived in Central Australia and dying of cancer. He told me how he grew up in the streets, doing it tough amongst other things. Turns out 2 years ago ‘Bowen Hills Liam’ was happy and healthy, play fighting with his siblings in a delightful photo on his happy and healthy mothers Facebook page. He had no tattoos, his mother did not look like a prostitute and she wasn’t in Central Australia dying at all. What do I say to that? Seriously if I told a story like that and people found out I’d move countries. I would be mortified beyond belief but here he was casually strolling around pretending everyone didn’t notice. I’m sorry but what the fuck? His mother was in his friends list so he didn’t hide her too well. I still tell that story because I can’t even believe it happened it’s so stupid!

This is what I mean. Why the hell do people make up these crazy stories and think no one noticed it wasn’t true?

Why are we all lying to ourselves so much though? Do these people actually believe their own stories in the end? Is this where it’s going wrong. Kinda ‘fake it till you make it’ but on steroids. Don’t you want to live an honest life or at least live one we want to share because we are proud of who and what we have become? If not, doesn’t that just make us our own puppets in our own pretend Hollywood blockbusters lives we’ve made up because it sounds better than our actual life, you know the one we’ve actually lived.

So when it comes to teaching children about domestic violence I’ve been hit with comments like ‘oh no, year one is way too young to be talking to them about that’. This concept completely perplexes me as I am not sure if people realise that some kids in year one actually live in a domestically violent environment and have never known any different. Does that mean a lot of people don’t believe the existence of domestic violence or is it that not until we are 18 that we can become potentially susceptible to it?

Ok let’s stick our heads in the sand then shall we. It’s not working the way it is now why the hell should we try something new?

How about if trying this way doesn’t work we can go back to the way it isn’t currently working and we will be no worse off?

Why can’t we help educate children as early as year one as to what a domestic violence situation looks like? Don’t you think that getting to them as early as possible and educating them about how what they are experiencing at home is not a healthy way to live? Who knows maybe they will speak up and intervention and/or help for mum or dad might begin sooner and save a hell of a lot of trauma and future broken adults abusing substance, self medicating and generally having poor self worth due to an entire childhood of trauma and abuse?

Food for thought I guess.

I am not ashamed of what I’ve been through but it certainly won’t define me.

So to all those liars out there. It is not glazed over when you are caught out. You look stupid! It does not excuse shitty behaviour and it certainly doesn’t make it ok.

Love your life and be proud of the decisions you make and the person you are.

Anything less is a waste of everyone’s time.

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Day 2,103 Of Domestic Violence – Pain Is Only Skin Deep

Pain. When I look around lately it’s all I seem to see. A sea of faces from all walks in pain. One thing used to numb that pain bringing people who ordinarily wouldn’t have crossed paths together with one common goal in life. To numb that pain.

So is it a case of the world and it’s people being in more pain than ever or is this just a different crutch we use and humans have always felt this much pain?

I read up on the Great Depression earlier this year as I met a lovely lady who was in her 90’s. She had been apart of the Salvation Army since then and credited much of her surviving the Great Depression. She told me how she would sneak off and have morning tea provided by the Army and without that much needed food probably would have starved as food was scares. To this day she was eternally grateful for the opportunity she was given and enjoyed every opportunity she got to pay that kindness back.

How does that translate to today? Do we as people care more or less about those in pain? How do we stop so much pain or is it something we need to just accept will always exist? Is this the key to our journey being easier?

How do I make this journey easier for my son. It pains me to think of him feeling anything close to what I’ve felt thus far. I almost feel guilt for his existence as I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.

More and more I have less answers. They say that the older we get the wiser we get but I question whether that is true.

I guess this is where I leave this one.

Day 2,042 Of Domestic Violence – Where Do You Go When No One Cares?

Maybe I’m just extra specially unlucky or maybe no one really cares? At this point I’m not sure which one it is.

Recently I wrote to the Crime and Corruption Commission (CCC) regarding failures I have been involved with first hand when it comes to the Queensland Police Service.

My complaint covered things such as:

– Police refusing to intervene surrounding the kidnapping of my then 6 year old son by a family member who was unhappy about my domestic violence issues being reported.

– My previous complaint to the Queensland Police Service which resulted in a phone call from the Sandgate Police officer in charge. I was informed that further training would be done and I would be updated but obviously was not taken seriously as I never heard back.

– Complaint about my ex partner who I was in a domestically violent relationship with was using a current officers who he went to school with to intimidate me. I phoned the officer who said this matter would have to be delt with and I would need to talk to them but I never heard anything.

– Break and enter resulting rape, documented by he GP immediately after and reported in the state members office with his office manager present as I made the statement. This was made to the officers who attended the scene and the same ones that told me to drive myself to the station. A station where they failed to log the call out and subsequently this is how I fell through the cracks and no one came to see why I didn’t attend the station as no one knew.

And the list goes on!

I received a reply! Insufficient evidence apparently. Isn’t it enough that I have documentation from Victims Assist classing incidents as rape? Letters from the GP documenting the incident moments after it happened? How about email and an official letter from the state members office stating I was in the office and someone from their office was in the room? How about he name of he detective that told me himself it was not recorded?

Excuse me but it’s a fucking disgrace. Insufficient evidence? Here are the photos taken moments before they attended the scene. Now tell me how you forget to record an incident?

So I ask you where the hell do you go when no one cares?

Day 2,033 Of Domestic Violence – Home Is Not A Place It’s A Feeling!

Recently I said good bye to the last place I considered home. It was a home I lived in about a decade ago full of fond memories I will cherish forever. I am officially an orphan now and it’s sad to not have that safe place to return to when I need a break from the big bad world. It seems that with finally breaking out in my own has come to the point of no return.

It seems as if that had been happening a lot in 2018. Earlier this year I lost my own home, the first one on my own and one I wanted to share with my son. My Nana’s home was sold as she went into a nursing home as well.

Christine Avenue Varsity Lakes was my home for a few years in 2008. It was the last remaining place that I ever felt a part of a family. It was safe but now that place it set for sale and the occupants to move on to a simpler life away from the hustle and bustle of the Gold Coast’s bright lights.

I lived with a very load family. This family consisted of Mum and Dad (substitute parents), my boyfriend at the time, adopted brother and myself. Let’s not forget the family Pet, Spike!

Just like all naughty children we kept our parents on their toes. No wonder they needed a stiff drink somedays.

This family left an ever lasting impression on me and I will hold them all dearly in my heart forever. I remember terrorizing my adopted brother much like I would had he been my real brother. I love that him and I have stayed close over the years. Some famous words from the wise old adopted father who loves country music are ‘for f**k sake Scott…..’, ‘what’s the f**king point?’, ‘oh f**k off’ just to name a few. In fact I have already named one of my previous blogs in honor of him (‘what’s the fucking point’, on 7th May 2018) I regularly use terms made famous by him in my dad to day living. I remember that afternoons consisted of Bold and the Beautiful at 4.30pm and a glass of wine before my substitute mother yelled ‘guys dinner is ready’.

Apart from occasionally at my Nanny’s house this was the first place I ever consistently sat at a table to eat a meal. Growing up my dad fed us McDonalds or nachos in front of the tv. My mother was always at work so my sister and I sometimes ate at the table together but I remember it being really quite and lonely just the two of us until my stepdad walked in the door between 7 and 7.30 and after catching public transport home by which time we had usually eaten.

Eating dinner at a table as a family might be ‘just a thing’ for some, for me it was massive. It is something I tried to implement in my own life after having my son.

Now this family may have had there issues but I have never felt so much love in one room before in my life. It was almost immediately after moving in that I felt like one of them and it’s a feeling I will hold close to my heart forever. Eating as a family was consistent and everyone knew their rolls, the cooks (parents) and cleaning crew who got fired and rehired every night (three naughty children who snuck off after dinner only to be found smoking and put in their place).

Even though I broke up with this particular boyfriend almost 10 years ago now I have visited this home many times over the last 10 years. On these occasions I have sat at the same table, in the same seat, not alway with all the members as one may have been ‘away’ on a vacation. I even brought my son here when he was a baby to meet my adopted family and see my old house because it was a place that I always treasured.

Saying good bye to it has been a roller coaster of emotions so for the occupants I can only imagine how emotional it will be as they pack up and say good bye.

Officially having no safe place scares me and I hope the future works out in the end. more often than not I have received the raw end of the stick so anxiety sets in when I think about the future.

I have found another new job that if all goes well should result in a more than stable future for my son and I. It’s exciting being part of a business starting at ground zero. With a tight budget and individual fueled with an idea and a whole lot of passion is exciting. When I look at my new bosses face throughout the day I can tell that the old me is returning. I have always been capable, driven and someone talented beyond most.

It reminds me of a show I watched a few years ago, ‘Hold and Catch Fire’. So far it seems like two misfits led by a gentle yet sometimes mad genius who looks somewhat like a teenage kid when he walks around with a backpack on.

Domestic violence took away a lot of my confidence. It began in a subtle way through comments and ended in scary violent scenes. Just as I didn’t see it in the beginning I didn’t see it when they took my son. It has taken time to get back my confident self and I know in time my son will return. When that happens I will make sure that is the last time.

Never before have I heard the advice on how to deal with your daughter upon discovering she is in a domestically violent relationship is to throw her out in the street, attempt to move her violent partner in and use her as a scapegoat. Never have I heard that even though you were a first hand witness, you should lie about what you saw and refuse to tell the police what you saw. Never have I heard that you should write letters of support for the man you saw with your own eyes violently slamming your daughters head into a window sill while she attempted to shield her child underneath her. Never have I heard that you should take away her rights as a mother by exposing her demons and covering up her violent partners. Never have I heard that you should take away two years of her seeing her son grow up because she no longer wants to live with your controlling behaviors. Never have I heard of a mother even thinking such cruel and damaging things. You don’t deserve to call yourself a mother as you are more of a monster who seems to enjoy breaking a person. Your actions have in the last driven your daughter to want to end her own life to escape the pain you inflict upon her and her son first hand.

From the beginning all she asked for was the support of her family. Just the space to get the help she needs and only knows what she needs. In the end I promise you I will never give you the opportunity to know the new me. You deserve so much worse but all you will get is a good bye from me. To live out your days alone and the day you die it will not concern me. You made me hate myself and made this journey so much harder than it needed to be. There is no excuse but if you think you have won the war then just you wait and see.

To my son, one day this will all make sense to you and you will see the truth. Then you can make an informed decision about who you want in your life.

Home is not a place it’s a feeling!