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So. I found out today that my auntie who is a year younger than me (21) has a house. This normally wouldn’t freak too many people out, but for me to hear this it was kind of earth shattering. I am envious. She’s had a lot of pay outs due to relatives dying over the past 5 years, meaning she got a fancy car and all the expenses of getting a licence paid, then to help get a house. I’m not denying she has probably worked hard to help get the mortgage sorted for the hoyseher and her fiance live in, but I dunno, I kind of feel hard done by in life. Looking back my family just seem to be dealt the shit cards in life. My mum had a terrible father (the father who completely denies the physical and mental abuse he put his first run of kids through and now lives his new life with the newest run) meaning she had a long string of bad relationships. The men in her life beat her, spent all her money and left her. Through leaving her it means us kids were abandoned again by another father figure who had emotionally scarred us. When mum finally found a man who would treat her right after her suicide attempt, we moved and tried to start a new life in Ireland. As a new family we moved to a couple different houses until we found our “forever home”. It was the dream house in the making, everything we needed and mum had dreamed of. Of course, the builder ended up being a cowboy, building an unsafe, completely below standard house, denying my parents had paid him and fooling them with his counterfeit paper work they had no proof we had. The court cases, the personal threats, the constant fear of being homeless every single day of our lives was so much my mums depression took a serious turn. Mum was bedridden for basically 2 years. I was 12 and my little brother 8, we had no money even for food. I remember eating potato croquettes and beans for dinner for a solid month. I tried to protect my little brother as much as possible, I became the mother to him and mum. I cooked nd cleaned as best I could in between school. At 13 I started working for the farmer who owned the fields around my house. It was extra cash and a break from the house that was in so much turmoil for me. I loved the farm work, it was hard work but so rewarding, plus I wanted to be a vet so bad. About 4 months into the job the farmer started getting handsy with me. I remember thinking it couldn’t be right but mum was in such a bad place I had no one to talk to. When I started secondary school I went to see the councillor, she told me he was just probably being friendly. The abuse for worse, I was being molested daily. I had no one to turn to, and he would black mail me with anything he could; I wouldn’t be believed, he’d make my life hell, I’d led him on, he’d even send animals I liked to slaughter if I didn’t conform with what he wanted. I remember at 14 years old in the school looking down the gap in the middle of four flights of stairs and trying to think of reasons why I shouldn’t jump. I told a friend at the time of mine what was going on, she told a teacher, the police were involved things escalated, the story turned to one where I was being raped which I wasn’t. When I went home after the police had confronted me in the school corridor about this the farmer was in my mum’s bedroom talking to my mum who was still bedridden asking what the he’ll was going on. My mum got accused of selling me to the sex trade, the farmer told me I was a lier and making him sick, the police were so insensitive and interrogated me over what happened. It was to much. I denied everything. I had to make myself out a lier. The abuse continued when things settled down. I definitely had no way out this time. It came to a head one night and the farmer pinned me down to rape me. I remember it so well, it was in his jeep, pulled up at an abandoned house he owned. I managed to talk my way out of it, talking about his wife and my mum. He kept hold of me telling me how happy it would make him. When I got home I had such a severe panic attack I thought I was going to die. Then walked downstairs like nothing had happened. I knew tomorrow was going to be the day I was raped. I remember going to the farm, my heart racing, I had to walk myself to be raped because I didn’t think there was a way out. When I got there the farmer was sick, he had a pain in his back. The pain continued, and turned out to be terminal cancer. Karma is a bitch. I self harmed a lot from everything that happened. My mum was still depressed, I hated myself and when through stages of binge eating, starving myself and bulimia. Fast forward a few years, I’m 18, still self harming, my best friend has overdosed twice, my mum is still depressed, but I had art. I was good at art, it was my passion. I worked my fucking arse off and got into the best art college in the country which wasn’t easy when you’re broke as shit. I had hope, I could make something of myself, I would never have to live like I had again, I had a future. I had one boyfriend before I met mark. I fell head ov er heels from day one. It took a while before we got together but eventually we did, everything was perfect. I had my own income from my job, I was in college, I lived in Dublin, and I loved mark to my core. One month into the relationship I got pregnant, it was my fault because I hadn’t taken my pill properly and forgot I hadn’t. I’m allergic to latex and they don’t sell non latex condoms in many places. My life fell apart. I had to go on the dole and sat alone all the time. I was so insecure I presumed mark would leave, going by what I had seen as a kid it was the only option. I had Everett, 3 months later I was back in college. Separation anxiety hit me like a brick. I didn’t want to return that early but everyone around me told me it was the only way I could become anything that could support a child. Depression set in, it took me. I had been self harming pretty soon after giving birth, I couldn’t bring myself to do it while I was pregnant incase I stressed out the baby too. I attempted suicide 3 times. Once I got close, only for my councillor being top notch at remembering what I said in my previous appointment she wouldn’t have gotten to me in time because no one knew where I was. I still went to my summer job the next day with a big smile on my face. I’ve since been diagnosed with borderline personality disorder and bipolar II, something only by best friend and boyfriend take seriously. I’m on a long waiting list for treatment, coasting on a bed of medication and breakdowns.

I’m trying so hard to be a functioning human being. I’ve had to drop out of college because the stress was too much. I have no home, I live somewhere in between marks and my house, changing every 3 days, being pulled apart by the grandparents need to see their grandchild and not have the other set see him more then them. I need to move out for my sanity, meaning I am trying to get help from social welfare because we can’t support a house of our own means, Mark doesn’t make much money, and what he does he has to reimburse in his camera gear. The joy of getting social welfare to help is that if I work, I am not entitled to much at all, even though my wage will not cover anything because I would just be working as a waitress or shop assistant. I would Love to work, I despise being on the dole. So I’m home all day. Looking after my son. Being pulled apart by grandparents, accepting that I cannot go back to college, mourning the loss of myself, living in my head, fighting constant battles, forever surrounded by bad luck and haunting memories. There is so much more, but this post is literally so long already.