Appointment went really well, just to wait for them to match me with a therapist now.

To hear the word “groomed” still fucks with me.
Found myself almost making excuses– “but I did drink..”
“But I… ”
She stopped me.
“You did nothing wrong. Everyone who has put blame onto you has done so for their own conscience, so they can avoid the guilt they should feel because they all saw it, they all witnessed his grooming for years, but they did nothing”

“Well, maybe they just didn’t–”

“They did, they failed. Your mother failed you as a parent, failed to protect, and normalised it. He took advantage of your vulnerability. It is not normal for an adult male to get a child to drink alcohol regularly, it is not normal for an adult male to joke and comment about a child’s breasts, it is not acceptable that the family members and family friends who witnessed it said nothing. He isolated you and so did they, it was the perfect storm for him to get to you.”

She made me see how much I blame myself and how ridiculous that is. Made me realise just how much my mom let me down and blamed me too and how disgusting that is.
It was deliberate actions built up over a course of six years, from the moment he entered the home when I was 11 and inflicting constant emotional abuse to the sexual abuse at 17. I couldn’t have known, I didn’t see what he was doing and that’s exactly what he intended. I was just a kid.

I told her that he only sexually abused me once and that sometimes I feel like I’m not justified in being so traumatised.

“He didn’t do it again not because he didn’t want to but because you made too much noise. You didn’t stay quiet, you tried to protect yourself because nobody else did. You told people, you brought it to attention despite nothing being done, you still sent him a message that you see him for who he really is. You never allowed yourself to be alone with him and you became hostile and would lash out verbally if he came near you. You were still terrified and you couldn’t protect yourself when he did it but you made it clear he needed to stay away. If you hadn’t, there’s no doubt he would’ve tried again, you destroyed further opportunity”



Lying is something I’ve always struggled with, never malicious lies, but constant little white lies.
Lying over small, inane things that have no place in a conversation. Lying when I do something wrong or make a mistake and panic.
I used to be convinced I was manipulative and nasty at times but that’s far from the truth.
I decided to write this because I read somewhere a few months ago that lying used to be part of the diagnostic criteria for borderline- unsure of how true that is, however, there is a reason for me bringing this up.
I wonder if this is where most of the “manipulative” stigma comes from? As I quite easily attached that label to myself for many years without thinking any deeper into it.
The reality is, my habitual lying was born as a survival tactical in my childhood.
When I made a mistake, I couldn’t just admit to it because the punishment would be severe. I was afraid to be honest, to say, “yes, I accidentally broke X”, “I’m sorry I misplaced Y”. There was never any safe space for me to see it’s okay to make mistakes or errors, it’s human.
I was very scared of his anger, I lived on egg shells from the first few months of him moving into our home and for the rest of my childhood and early adulthood.
Lying became my biggest way to attempt to avoid his wrath.
His behaviour made me hyper sensitive and afraid of people and lying became an instinctual reaction to whenever I would mess up around others. So desperate not to provoke anyone to react the way he did, so conditioned into believing that is how everyone reacts when you make small mistakes.
My lying is something I am not always consciously aware of but I do try to correct myself for the most part but this is not an easy feat.
People are unsympathetic when it comes to lying, even when it isn’t intended to hurt, it can still cause massive distrust. I am not saying it should be overlooked, not at all, but underlying reasons should be sought and understood before passing judgement.
To weigh up whether a person is unrepentant and has no conscience or whether at one point, a person simple had to lie to get through life, to cope, to avoid another day of strict punishment.

Christmas bitterness

Despite having a shaky start in the build up to Christmas, yesterday was fantastic.
No anxiety, no sadness, no tears.
Of course it played on my mind about how my biological family didn’t give a fuck but my partner’s mum reminded me, “you’re part of our family now, never forget that you are loved”.
I was sent a screen shot of my mom’s Facebook, in a typical self absorbed fashion, she wrote a passive aggressive status trying to upset me and my partner’s family, whilst simultaneously trying to make herself look like “the good guy”.
We were all pissed off until we realised, who’s missing out? Leave them to their bitterness and hate.
I won’t get into specifics but she was trying to make out that she was being prevented from seeing my son and act like the caring grandmother. She didn’t send anyone a message to see how his day was, send a card, she promised to send him gifts which of course never turned up. Nobody is stopping her from anything, she chose her dirty husband over everyone else in her life, she told everyone that she no longer wanted them in her life because they believed and supported me. She chooses a life of denial and as much as I love her, I can’t let her prevent me from being happy in life.

Coal for Christmas.

5 days until Christmas and do I feel festive? Not one bit. Morose, empty, very depressed.
I can’t tell anyone, I can’t ruin their Christmas.
That’s all I do, really, ruin how people are feeling, I’m sure of it.
Burdening people with the weight of my mental health, the stress I put them through..
I hate my mind. Last few days all I’ve thought about is how I don’t want to be here, I don’t see a purpose, I don’t deserve it, and I see no worthwhile future.
I’ve tried to help myself out but I’ve been in a permanent state of exhaustion, constantly wanting to sleep every moment away.
I’m going to be 23 in February and I just don’t know if I want to see any more years.
I can’t explain how awful I feel and even if I did try and explain, I’m sick of it just being taken for selfishness.
My life up until this point has been disaster after disaster. Tired of being hurt, tiring of hurting others unintentionally because I can’t just be normal or healthy.
I’m actually not adding anything to anyone’s lives at this point. Just disappointing and disappointing.
You can throw all the therapy at me in the world, I’ll put my whole heart into it, but will it change anything? Or will it just be another temporary relief then back to square one?
I just want to push everyone away, so I don’t drag them down any longer.


What is up with me tonight? I feel all over the place.
Having very random thoughts.
I keep fantasising about drinking myself into oblivion, what I loved about drinking was that I could just forget. No matter how long I go without drinking, I always miss it. Miss just not knowing who the fuck I am, just being a blurred human incapable of even stringing a sentence together.
Thinking about running away. Where would I go? Nowhere, of course, I’m just so exhausted by living.
Feel like I’m destined to repeat the same cycles. How many times have I been told to “stop living in the past”. Ha, if only things were so simple. Most people are so wrapped in their own bubbles they have no idea how extensive trauma can affect you and how it really isn’t as simple as just “moving on”.
I’ve been so broken for so long, I don’t think I can be repaired. What is the point?
I can’t stand the judgement, can’t stand the critical voices, can’t stand people telling me how I should deal and react to things. To always have people assuming who I am, wanting me to be different, just not accepting.
I know how people think of me. That I’m negative, hopeless, addicted to my own turmoil. I wish I could just let them think what they want and not let their words cut me so deep.
I am so fucked up. I am a complete mess. I am really a failure to everyone and myself.
The pain I feel in my heart drowns out all other noise.
I am a fractured human and I hate living in a world where I don’t belong, I cannot live up to anyone’s standards, I cannot live up to my own.
Those who do care, are just dragged down by my darkness, but I can’t get better at a quick enough pace that won’t hurt others in the time in between. The closer you get to me, the closer the darkness will infect you too.
There is a reason I keep to myself.

Sexual Abuse Advocate

So, the sexual abuse advocate came and she was AMAZING.

She’s going to help me apply for PIP and support me for as long as I need.

She’s referred me to two different counselling places and she’s speaking with my mental health team and explaining that I need better care because although I may appear high functioning, I am also having difficulty in many areas in my life and my mental health has been unsupported for too long under their services.

We spoke about my childhood and she was so caring. She helped me understand I grew up in a household that was full of domestic violence, even though it wasn’t physical, it was still 100% domestic violence towards me, my mother, and my siblings.

That’s one of the things I’ll be receiving counselling for.

I explained what happened with my police case when I reported him and the event and leading up to it and after. She told me that sadly, only 6% of sexual assault cases get taken to court. She did say she could check with social services and see if they’re still safe guarding my siblings and try and find out if they’re being protected long term. That she thinks he had been grooming me from a young age, hence why he made me drink regularly from age 11 onwards and that he was a “typical predator type”. That he spent time cleverly convincing family and others that what I said couldn’t be trusted because of my mental health issues and that his emotional abuse was to weaken and isolate me. That he made me drink the night it happened to weaken my case against him, just like how he made me smoke a joint (which I pretended to smoke) after he did it to make me seem even more unreliable to others. That it was calculated and well thought out.

That his abuse of my mother is unfortunately why she has stood by him but I did the right thing for my mental health to get out of the situation and report him.

She confirmed my questions about other incidents with him- such as him coming into my room to “talk to me” whilst I was naked (I was getting ready to go out to a friend’s) and he refused to leave the room even though I was naked and stood looking at me..

And when he would make constant comments about my breasts growing up.
That I wasn’t exaggerating or being “too sensitive”, that he is abusive and what he put us all through is and was abuse and he groomed and specific chose to assault me because he saw my vulnerability. He saw the lack of support in my mental health and knew he could twist and make it seem like I was just a bad child who made up stories. He knew exactly what he was doing.
I feel relieved. It was cathartic and she was wonderful. I feel heard and she really took it all seriously, she understood what I was saying and she helped me understand what he did to me a little more and reassure me I did the right thing.


Woke up in the worst mood.
A “what’s the fucking point mood?”
A few years ago, I was on track in life, felt secure in myself, life was manageable.
Through a cluster fuck of confidence destroying events, I’m the fucking jobless, insecure loser you see today.
Maybe I am stuck in somewhat of a victim mentality and that’s why I can’t heal but how can I move on from everything? It’s an empty, repetitive existence and I hate it.
I hate that I’ve let people tear apart everything I was and they’ll never get it, never understand what they did, never take responsibility.
Then again, they could apologise a thousand times over and it would mean almost nothing to me because they still did it. They’ll still try and avoid that they made me the pathetic mess I am today. It’ll be my fault, somehow.
In their eyes, I’ll just not be trying hard enough, or living in the past, or choosing to be this way.
Well, I never asked for or deserved any of the awful shit.
I used to be stable and healthy, you think it’s a coincidence?
And now I am truly ill because of people’s actions, nobody wants to deal with it or they feign support but only as a means of relinquishing their own guilt.
Probably can’t move on with my life because all I’ll ever be told is that I’m not well enough, not allowed to try new things, explore different passages in life, be a person because all people narrow me down to is mental illness.
I’m not crazy, and even if I was doing amazingly well, people wouldn’t believe it. Constantly having to prove myself in every little aspect, what a fucking life that is.
Being treated like a freak, people not even trusting me to make friends because of THEIR own judgements about my illness, thinking I’ll embarrass myself or get triggered around people or kick off or some shit. I’m relatively normal, so why do I keep being treated like I’m not? Like I’m incapable of living like a regular person? It’s so demeaning, so insulting.
People think I live in my own bubble, that isn’t true, I’ve been confined to the bubble. People telling me what and who I am. Telling me what I am and aren’t capable of. Restricting my growth.
Wish I was dead.

Festive Woes

It gets difficult at night. Always at night.

So many bad dreams.
I can’t tell if I’m excited for Christmas or apprehensive.
Maybe both.
It’s weird, any time of “big” celebration, birthdays, christmasses, etc, has always made me feel a little empty inside, the classic borderline void seems to grow, and I can’t really put my finger on why. It’s been like this ever since I was a kid though.
Maybe it’s because the year is coming to and end and I feel I’ve accomplished absolutely nothing.
I woke up during the night and in the darkness, I felt so alone with my thoughts, and I suddenly became overwhelmed by the thought of, “Can I do this forever? Do I want to? Do I see a future? My past has been bleak, the bad outweighs the good for the most part, and I don’t think I can escape it. I don’t think I belong here, life is only going to get harder, and I don’t want to always be drowning in my own misery for the rest of my life”
Cue to thoughts of suicide. Ones I’ll never go through with, of course.
But I don’t fear the thoughts, I just feel relieved and free.
It’s no fun living with a brain that cannot slow down, cogs constantly turning, every minor thing feels like a catastrophe.
Despite how much I complain, I feel a deep closeness with myself. My own best friend and my own worst enemy, I always say. I hate the way my mind works, yet I love the way my mind works.

Cash Flow

How am I doing? Hard to answer that. I mean, I feel good, but what does my subconscious think?

I don’t feel sad, empty, or lost.

I feel quite chipper, honestly.

But fuck, the spending. I cannot stop. Or maybe I can, I just don’t want to. It makes me feel good but it’s strange, I’m used to spending excessively when I’m depressed, trying to fill the void but this isn’t the same. I’m not trying to fill anything, it’s just greed.

£50 on clothes, £15 on make up, I couldn’t even count the cost of how much I splurge on food..  I just want more and more things. They don’t have to be costly items, I could easily spend the entire contents of my purse in Poundland. Spending just makes me feel so damn good, makes me feel like a whole person, makes me feel.. I dunno, grown up? Maybe it’s a control thing. Maybe it’s a craving for some independence? Who knows?

In my worst depression, I didn’t buy anything for myself and shunned gifts. There was nothing I wanted, nothing I felt I deserved. I didn’t want new clothes or make up because I didn’t want to be seen.

Perhaps I’m thinking about it all too deeply and critical, what if I’m just treating myself a little? Sure, it feels like a compulsion, but is it really? I’m not running myself into debt, I’m just being less strict with myself.

I think it just concerns me how much I enjoy spending. I do get irritable and pouty if I can’t, childlike behaviour. Drives me mad because I don’t consider myself a particularly materialistic person.


Been feeling slightly anxious all day, no direct cause. I was expecting it, my “comedown” from feeling so good for the past week or two, if that makes sense to anyone. There’s always a comedown.
I tried to keep my irritability at bay but found myself losing my temper over very little.
And feelings of shame associated with those bursts of anger.
I took myself off into my bedroom, to cool off, but ended up getting myself more worked up.
I tried explaining to R why I was feeling so strange, he was lovely, but I couldn’t quite convey what I meant.
I was jumping back and forth from anger to despair.
I kept saying to him, “you don’t know me, you don’t know anything about me. Nobody does. Why? I feel so.. Different.. But I don’t feel like anybody else picks up on how “different” I am. I want people to know I’m different. I’m not like everyone else. I have potential, I just–”
I could barely get my words out, it was just rambling, that really didn’t mean anything. I’m not sure why I was saying it, or why I felt that way.
I just felt such frustration in that moment, like an alien, like nobody could comprehend me as an individual.
It was a little delusional, if I’m honest. Not quite arrogance but just a feeling like I’m special and a desperate need for others to acknowledge it.
Not the first time I’ve seen an “episode”(?) like this but it always brings me mixed emotions. Embarrassment, confusion, exhaustion, sadness, emptiness.
And a little voice wondering whether there’s any sense in my madness.