First of all let me start off by saying I’m not writing this for sympathy, I’m hoping this may help someone who has been through or is going through a similar experience.
I cant remember the first time he hit me, not because of a bad memory, simply because it happened so many times its hard to pinpoint which one was the first time.
Right from the start i didn’t like my mums new boyfriend, something about him made me uncomfortable. As soon as he moved in he started implementing his own rules. I was timed in the shower, with him banging on the door if i took too long. I had always been a bit overweight and he liked to tease me about it, never in front of any of my family so they had no idea how nasty his comments were.
unfortunately, my mother married him and things got worse. there would be arguments over small things that would result in him hitting me. one day we were sat eating dinner and he mentioned something about when he was little, being a typical teenager and thinking my parents were really old, and i said,
“yeah, back when the dinosaurs roamed the earth,”
And that was it, a punch to the side of the head which sent me halfway across the couch.
One of the worst times, i don’t even remember what the argument was about but i remember being hit repeatedly over the head with my muddy P.E. trainers in a plastic bag while i cowered trying to cover my head on my bed. He then picked me up and threw me into the wall opposite my bedroom, and dragged me down the stairs by my hair.
eventually, I decided I’d had enough. After another argument he grabbed me by my head and tried to smash it on top of the cooker, I mustered all my strength and pushed him off me and he fell onto a cupboard and hurt his back.
He never touched me again after he knew I’d fight back.
Not long after that I managed to tell my older sister what had been happening and she encouraged me to report him to the Police, which wasn’t easy for me as he was a Policeman himself. After many harrowing interviews they decided it was in no ones interest to take it to court.
My mother finally left him and i lived on my own in a bedsit, smoking cannabis and snorting cocaine to try and block out the memories. After many years of drug abuse and drinking to excess I moved back in with my mum who had an amazing new man, who has been a second dad to me and I love him dearly, they helped me get my own place.
I now have an amazing partner, two beautiful children, and although i still take anti-depressants and suffer with anxiety I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. There is always light at the end of the tunnel, you must believe that you are a good enough person to deserve happiness. I blamed myself for so long but I now know it wasn’t my fault, it was his.