The pain of abuse given from your child is sickening and hard to keep it together. as a parent we like to think we are doing the right thing, but some times we have created a bad thing. Trying to change what he is use to getting away with is the hardest times I have faced.


I used to cave and give into his continuing to ask for some thing as it easier than conflicting. I have created this and now I am not caving in and am sticking to my word I am getting the biggest abuse from him. he is swearing at me, throwing things at me and breaking things around him. I feel I am in danger and don’t feel safe around my own child.


This also brings up a lot of memories of 20 years of marriage, being abused and me shutting down to protect myself and feel nothing. to not have feelings again scares me, I like to feel happy and love and don’t want to shut that out but all I feel is hate towards abuse. my thought is noted and my gut is sick and I walk around with that plastic smile again.


My safe place is lying in bed after he is asleep, know there are no more words to hurt me. This also brings up child hood dads abuse against my step mum. She was verbally abused and thing thrown at her head and guns getting pointed at us to get out of the house at night (cold frosty nights ) I would sit there with her bring us warm cups of tea, we would hold them tight to keep our hands from freezing. We waited until he fell asleep at about 2am then sneaked into bed quietly. I had a short sleep as I had to get up for school the next day most of the time.

This is my child I cannot hate him, I would not hurt him and I would not leave him, but to sit back and take the abuse again not know what to do as nothing I say or do is working and it is eating me up inside.

Every time I eat I feel sick get pains in my stomach and as for crying I am a mum and must hold that in. we as mum need to be strong and feel strong to make sure we are there when they need us.

I am a single mum and here are some more stories

I am also a life coach and try to help myself and others in seeing the positive ahead of us.

Mums story the end

Mums story the end

One day George said to me he wanted to go to England to find his family “just like that” that sounded OK! To me I understood this need of knowing and wanting to find out why and what happened for him to arrive in Australia and yet some part of his family was still in London. So I said go do what you have to do and said good bye to him as if he was going to work, I was used to him coming and going but it was usually just a drug binge some were close. This was “England London where in the hell was that”. Continue reading Mums story the end

The Past Abuse

Wow, where to begin. As I am trying to think of which bad experience to right about, my neck starts to tighten and my throat feels like someone is choking me, my mouth is filling with saliva not knowing what to say, so I am going to start with what came up when I was self coaching myself the other day.

I use to get called dumb and stupid a lot, this was when I was around 12 years old (well I remember it always happening) by my step brother and then I married into that, how does that work? the fears and disbeliefs we go through as a child we carry that into our adult hood, unless we learn to stand up and believe in our selves,  we will still keep attracting it.

Continue reading The Past Abuse

The Dirty House

Yes this is the house I grew up in, the high school days. My sister nick named it the “dirty house” which I never could see it as dirty only a poor house. The house was just off a busy main road slightly lower than the road, on a hill. It was a normal looking house front, door in the middle, with windows either side of the door, the kind of one you see in kids stories. A little garden at the front. Off to the left as you stand facing the front door was a big tree and a concrete hill under the tree, this is an important spot my foster mum and we used to sit at night until dad, who would be drunk, stopped abusing my foster mum and he  fell asleep.

Continue reading The Dirty House