Something a little more personal.

I’m not really the type of person to delve into my issues from my past.
I really really REALLY hate it. Which frustrates my boyfriend but he’s learning to understand.
I guess I never really had a voice as strong as this before so I always put my feelings aside to help others when I have been able too…I’m not trying to portray myself as a saint but I really make it known to my friends that if they need my help in any way, shape or form, I’m the gal for them.

I guess my “story” starts seven years ago.
I had just come out of this icky emo stereotype and I was finally trying to find my feet again.
I was starting to get along with my mum after years of arguments and treatment she really didn’t deserve. 
I was happy, I was bubbly…a little naive but I was starting to realise I was a functioning human in this society and I was really just trying to find my place in the world. 
I met my now ex boyfriend at my Dad’s house, he was a carpenter and it really was love at first sight, he was beautiful and I was transfixed on his wavy brown hair, blue eyes and tanned skin. I never would have thought a guy like that would be interested in a little girl like me, he was older, he was new and he was exciting. 
He eventually asked me to my year 10 formal after my neighbour decided to play cupid and I was ecstatic, my mum was so happy to see me happy and Dad was apprehensive but what father wouldn’t be?
We went to the formal, I got a dress for the first time in forever and my mum paid for me to get my make up done, I was finally the girl she had always wanted and I have to admit it was nice to be all dolled up with a nice young guy to escort me to my first formal. 

Our relationship was (and this sounds lame) magic.
I was besotted with this guy, he was everything I wanted and I never wanted us to be apart.
In my eyes I had found the guy I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.
And it seemed he felt the same.

About a year into the relationship he started to change.
He became angry all the time, he was nasty and would say hurtful things.
He would call me names.
Slut. Bitch. Whore.
Just to name a few.
I was obviously hurt, the guy that I had fallen in love with had begun to turn into someone I didn’t know anymore. I was trying to reach out to someone who didn’t want me anymore, who was loosing a grip on his life and he began to fall.
He started smoking dope again, something he had once quit for me.
He was drinking more and  was spending more time without me than with me.
I was blind to this at first, because I didn’t want to see or believe that he was becoming someone else, in my head he was still that cute carpenter that caught my eye all those months ago.

It eventually got worse and the name calling started to get worse.
He would tell me that he hated me and that he didn’t want anything to do with me. That I could pack my things and get out of his life because he would be happier without me.
I can’t even begin to tell you how much it hurt and for how long I cried.
But I kept going back.
He would call and tell me that he loved me, that he was sorry, that he would NEVER call me any names again.
And me being the trusting person that I was, I believed him.
My mum could see the pain he was putting me through, my friends did, everyone saw it but me, because I chose not too.
I began to loose my friends.
My mum banned him from our house and said she wanted nothing to do with him and our relationship became strained.
I began to drift away from all the people I loved for someone who I thought loved me more.

Soon the violence began and he started to physically abuse me.
I don’t really want to go into it because it still hurts to think about.
The mental abuse kept happening too and he would call me wobbly gut because I was a little chubby.
I began to really doubt myself and would constantly tell myself that what he was saying was true, that I really was all those things. I really didn’t like myself at this time and I changed from that happy sixteen year old to the recluse nineteen year old.
People warned me, I didn’t want to hear it.
They told me he was hurting me. I didn’t believe it.
He told me that no one would ever love me than him. I felt like it was the truth.

Finally Nearly two and a half years of doubt, of pain, of tears and abuse I was free.
I was always too scared to break up with him in fear of what he told me. That no one would ever love me, that I was ugly and that I was a bitch, he ended it.
He told me he didn’t love me like he used too and that he couldn’t stay in a relationship like that.
Initially I was devastated, which I used to look back at think that I was foolish.
Now I understand that I was devastated for all the years that I lost, the confidence that never came back and the pain it had not only caused to me but the people who loved me.

Now, after three years.
After a year of therapy.
After meeting my soulmate.
I can speak talk about it with this new voice I have got.
I’m not looking for sympathy nor do I want it. I didn’t write about my story to get people to feel sorry for me, I don’t feel sorry for me, so neither should anyone else. I wrote about it for those girls out there, or boys, who are going through abuse to know that they are not alone because I know it feels like you are. I’ve gone through the lowest of lows and the highest highs, because abuse is a vicious circle because it sucks in its victims and refuses to let them get off the ride.
I am finally, at the age of 23, the person who I once was. I learnt to trust again and to let people in. I had to understand that people came and went, not everyone was going to be a ball of sunshine and they might be nasty but that was okay. As long as I didnt subject myself to people’s bull shit, I was going to be just fine.
Now I’m sitting next to my current boyfriend, he’s playing a guitar to the song I’m listening too. He tells me he loves me every day, he tells me I’m beautiful, he leaves me notes in the middle of the night so I have something nice to wake up too. He looks after me when I am sick and he tells me his deepest darkest thoughts and I can tell him mine too. H treats me with respect and lets me be me.
He adores me and I adore him.

So please, if you are EVER feeling like you are worthless because of someone else, do not stay. NO ONE has the right to tell you how you should think, especially about yourself and who you are. NEVER let ANYONE doubt you. Because who you are is beautiful 😉

Have a wonderful day peoples, I might delete this because I feel so weird being so super serious, so not like me, guess I’m feeling a bit confident



Dis is me.

Why Am I doing this?

I’m new to blogging. It’s a weird world I don’t really comprehend but since this is a new year and (hopefully) a new me, I thought I’d give it a crack.

I was first encouraged to write about my life and it’s conundrums after a dinner night with my sisters and cousin. It was the first time I had seen them since moving to the country and after i began rambling on about all the people I had met and some of the things I had been up too they all agreed it was something to write about. Not because I would inspire people with stories of my new life in a totally different environment, no, simply just to make people laugh at some of the stupid shit that I put myself through and the people that I involve myself with. 
I have to admit I liked the idea, but I didn’t know where to start, hence why it has taken me this long after six months to finally touch nervous finger tips to keys. 
I thought about writing a book but that seems too far fetched for a simple little country girl like me and when I finally started to write something I felt stupid for trying to concur something so big when I knew nothing about writing all. So blogging it is!

So I guess a little bit about myself. I was born in new south wales but grew up in Melbourne. I have four much older sisters (dad’s daughters from his first marriage) who all have their own kids and lives all around the country. I never saw our massive age gap as an issue and neither have they, we still love each other as sisters do, I just didn’t grow up with them. I came along when they were all adults (the youngest was 19 turning 20 when i was born), which would have been hard for them but they have never treated me any different and I’m really thankful I have them as sisters. I look up to them for inspiration and strength because they all are really wonderful people with big kind hearts. 
My Mum was 29 when I was born and my Dad was 53. Big age gap I know. It’s been weird  growing up with an elderly father since everyone thinks he’s my Grandpa and it’s never fun to correct someone because it just turns out awkward. I don’t want to say I wish I had a different Dad, because I don’t. Yes Dad can be very protective to the point that it’s scary and he is extremely old fashioned and we clash all the time because of it but he’s a great guy who would move heaven and earth for his kids. He reminds me of a mix of a leprechaun and a bull terrior because he of how jolly he gets on the drink and his determination to never, ever give up. I just wish he was younger. It’s never fun worrying about your Dad the way I have to at my age. He’s had three or so heart attacks, a double by-pass, numerous breathing problems (from smoking for sooo many years) and god knows what else because he won’t tell me. Probably his way of protecting me but I still worry. 
Mum on the other hand is still a spring chicken and I don’t worry about her half as much as I do dad. She’s a graceful little thing with the quirkiest sense of humour. I really admire Mum mainly for putting up with me and still being able to love me after the hell I put her through as a teenager. I was a little bitch back then, there’s no putting it nicely. I was angry and confused and I lashed out at the people who loved me most. I want to blame it all on puberty but that’s really only half of the reason. I was still finding it hard to deal with grieving for the death of one of my sisters and the only outlet I had to deal with my pain was to listen to hateful music, wear a lot of black and just be pissed off with the world around me. I finally grew out of it when I was sixteen or seventeen and my relationship with Mum improved a hell of a lot. Now that I’m nearly 23 I consider my mum to be my best friend, she’s always had my back and has always made sure my happiness comes first. She’s done so much for me and I really don’t know if I can ever repay her but for now I want her to know that I love her more than words and I really appreciate everything she’s ever done for me, even when I haven’t really shown it from time to time. And I’m happy she’s happy with my step dad, he’s a good guy who’s always treated me like a daughter, and has given me everything I’ve needed. 

Last but not least is my boyfriend. This guy is a total babe who I feel privileged to have met. After two shitty failed relationships and a few flings I have chosen to erase from my mind, I met mister right. We fell into each others lives at the right time, by this I mean we were both at an age when a relationship didn’t mean having someone for the novelty of having a boyfriend/girlfriend, like when teenagers fall “in love” and they throw themselves into a relationship that probably won’t work, not saying that all teenage romances are destined to fail just saying that the majority will. I met him when i was 20, I know not far out of my teenage years but growing up around adults it’s hard to act like a kid, I always felt older than my actual age. We’ve been dating for nearly three years now and even though sometimes I could skin him alive there really isn’t anyone else that gets me like he does. We fit well together and what I gain he lacks and vice versa, we have moulded ourselves into the perfect relationship that suits us and I like how comfortable we are with each other. Things just make sense when he’s around and I have never felt such a connection with anyone else before. I always like to say that he is my better half because in all honesty, it’s the truth. He brings out the best in me and makes me feel like nothing is impossible as long as I work hard to achieve my goals. I hope I do the same for him because he really is a special guy. 

That pretty much sums up all the people in my life, well not all but some of them. 
I really don’t know what else to say and all this will probably be some failed attempt that I will forget about in a couple of days, but after such a shitty year last year I just want to start this year off right with a fresh change, a clean slate so to speak. 

Everyone have a good day, and I’ll try to have the same 🙂