Can’t even put into words how broken I feel

They say that you as an adult, when thinking back to your childhood, that you don’t remember days you remember moments. Moments in time that were experienced by the little version of who you are now. Do you remember the innocence you held? Can you remember the love that others felt for you in them moments?

My adult life started when I was extremely young. I can remember not wanting to wait until 18 to leave the home that I grew up in. We moved around quite a bit after my parents divorce. We moved initially over the other side of town to a small flat that my mother could afford after she left my father and then into a four level mansion that sat upon a hill that overlooked the entire town. I remember that my cubby house was larger then the bedroom I had always known as mine up until the divorce. There was so much room in our new home and the pool, the cubby house, the spiral staircase down to the front door all made me feel like we now had lots of money.

Christmas time was something that was very new to my brothers and I as we had been Jehovah’s Witnesses up to the point of my parents divorce. Now we had a religion and a God that gave us a lot more material goods – Christmas presents, a pool, a mansion, new bikes, new clothes – you name it, my mother seemed to ask God and it was provided!

But can I remember how I felt back then? Does it matter how I felt walking around that new big house where I lived now? How did my little brothers feel about it or were they just to busy playing cowboys and indians or tag or red rover in the amazing pool that we loved! Where were my brothers ? Where was my mother? Where was my father and who was this man that was sharing a room with my mother? How did my father feel about living in the home that we once shared with him? I remember all of the things that we now owned and through the divorce what we had all lost. But was any-one else feeling the loss? Every-one else looked extremly happy! My brothers and I enjoyed the bed time stories that our new step-father would tell us. Stories of Greek Gods and Goddesses that would have names like ours and would fight dragons and mythical creatures such as Medusa with her head hair made of snakes and so forth. They were the best stories that I have ever heard. They were filled with bravery and magic and the way that they were told were with such education and explanation. No more bible story studies of doom and gloom for humans and lessons of turning people to salt or drowning all of the bad people. Our new lives seemed amazing and these stories some-how gave me and my brothers excitement and hope for our new lives. Would they be as amazing and full of truth, honour, courage and defeat over the monsters that stood in our way too? Would we feel as amazing as we did playing our parts in the mystical stories we were told before bed every night?

How long do our moments last for when remembering back to our childhood? Why do we only remember some of the moments? Why can’t we store every night and day, every conversation, every feeling and why can we not access it whenever we want like going to a filing draw and searching the exact file we wish to remember? What is the use of a memory if it selective and why can’t we select what gets stored? I am positive that as a child I had so many amazing moments. Moments when my mother was actually really sweet to me or when my father made me feel like he would never abandon his love and would always be right by my side? And do our children only remember all of the times you let them down or weren’t by there side when they really needed you?

I have for most of my adult life never wanted to think about any memories from when I was a little girl. I generalised when explaining my childhood. I kept stuff extremely brief and never did I go into talking about stuff that made me uncomfortable or would make me feel ashamed or nervous to even say out loud. I didn’t want to think about how I felt as that little girl. I didn’t like it. My friends that I now had were hardened people, most criminals and most with worst stories than my own. I didn’t exactly sit around with dangerous drug dealers and business associates or clients and think that discussing my childhood would get me further in life.

Could I talk to my brothers about any of what we all experienced together? I only really saw my family at christmas time and I guess when my brothers had drunk to much and there wives and kids had all gone to bed we could remeniss about how funny some of the fucked up shit was… maybe.

The truth is is that I couldn’t really even remember a lot of it. It wasn’t very funny either and who wants to sit around at christmas and talk about shit like that? My brothers all being successfull and probably having got over there moments from there childhood a long time ago. I know that they want to help and I see my eldest brother bring up stuff some-times with my mother challenging her memories and her ignorance of all the pain and suffering that her decisions and anger caused and her denial of it all and how it grates on a person. I now understand why he would in a way antagonise the shit out of her. With every-one else, especially my new step father, wondering why he is causing another disturbance of my mothers mental health state yet again. But I understand it now.

My brother of course had his own pain and his own moments that were disturbing from his child hood. But I know that he was creating disturbances by challenging her on her denial of moments and pretending in front of her husband like she was an amazing mother whilst we were growing up. I know her annoying memories of things that happened are false too! I literally am screaming in my mind so loud it feels like my head is about to explode as every one laughs at jokes shared around the dinner table. Its filled with so much love now, spending all that she can on the best seafood, we all eat crab, bugs, prawns, oysters and so much alcohold that every one is relaxed, full and drunk! I can barely eat anything though. I hate sitting around the table with everyone and there perfect looking familites, I feel like I am making my daughter look bad. I take everything as an insult and snap at anyone who fucking tells me what to do or to be happy. I’m usually trying to even fit my plate on the fucking table and get the odd chair that is way to small for the table. I look like the odd one out always. The extra familly member that they haven’t really even included on the guest list as my making the actual event is never an assured thing any-way. My brother, he watches me struggle every christmas. It is him that usually drives me. I try to get out of it but I do it for them. My brothers, my daughter, it grates on him to watch me over the years not able to stop the pain and push through and grasp a hold of some-thing in the  now that can keep me anchored in some kind of a life that makes sense to him. He knows my pain. He knows he left me behind in it. We all had to dig deep and try save our souls and what is worse being the child that is stuck amongst the darkness unable to escape. Feeling like your mind, body and soul are trapped like your in a pit of dark muddy quick sand or is it being the child that had to let go of your hand to use both of theres to pull themselves out and then turning around to watch there sibling slowly struggle year after year unable to have the strength to pull themselves out. Throwing me life line after life line, knowing that all I have to do is use both hands but just unable to do so and all the while still sinking, drowning in the blackness of the dark sand that will one day take my life by taking my last ounce of strength and breath.

I have always been melodramatic. I have never always had confidence though. I was shy as a child and still am until I get to know you or speak to you for a bit and then people say that I don’t shut up. I ask a lot of questions and I can be quite pushy. I am now one of those people that will fight for other women. Often girls are drawn to me for strength, advice or even help. Men are scared of me and fear there girlfriends even associating with me. I have even made men cry! Several occasions! I have no trouble standing up to people and putting even big burly bikies in there place. I say the shit that everyone else is only thinking and I can really dig the knife in with my words. I have beaten men up and thrown them out of houses before. I can fight for a stance I have taken in regards to womens rights or what I believe is a rule that has been broken etc. I have no problems being assertive with governement, police, officials or even emailing my points of views online, to news channels, members for parliment on issues that are unfair or unjust or incorrect from my point of view. I guess I have changed heaps since I was a little girl. But have I?

Do the things that we experience or feel as a child follow us like these childhood moments we have stored in our memories? So, I guess I should be honest with you right now. Why am I talking about all of this… the memories or moments from childhood and then the catchups with family at christmas and then the feeling of drowning in quick sand and how it all fucking relates to a feeling of absolute emptiness in the now. Especially when I have just said how fucking strong and shit that I am. I mean why the fuck would a person that acts as an advocate for other womens rights, a strong worman be unable to escape that want to just not go on. Does she suffer from depression, bi-polar, ptsd, repressed memories or is she just an idiot that is confused. Unable to make sense of her mind? Ha, there it is! Her mind is mush… that means drugs? Alcohol? Both?

Well, guess what? I don’t give a fuck. This is me. Most people see me in the street and wouldn’t have a clue. I am older and you wouldnt even believe my age if I told you. I actually look that fucking good that most men think that I am not older then 25. Lol if only they knew and guess what? The ones that do know, don’t care, they love that too. But my looks… they have got me this far? I guess that they have helped. Thank you plastic surgery and botox butnot that I really needed it. Yes I was gifted with beauty and beautiful skin. But its been my heart and my personality that has got me the furtherest and also been my mortal enemy. It was as if God gifted me the beauty but also the beast. What you see, what others see, is not what I see. What I see is numb, its had to be – what i see is the pain or the numb – nothing else, unfortunately – and yes my mind is mush, my mind, body and soul, also my life – DRUGS – yes that white magical bag of powder or rock or what mostly resembles crystal – drugs have helped, helped actually is an understatement. Up up up up …. yes, UP until they didnt…….


Memories, moments in time, critical decisions that others have made or that you have made or that were made by others forced by the hand of the law or decisions that others made that were far removed from your life that had lasting effects like a ripple in time that just continued with momentum for seconds, minutes, days, weeks, years. Fuck fuck fuck, please God, just not lifetimes!!! Some have the potential to ruin, kill, hurt, traumatize. But adults are resilient, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Doesn’t it? But what if these ripples in time, what if they crash over a small innocent child ? Smashing them from the already wobbly stance they are sucked under the water like watching a child be hit by huge white wash from a big wave at the beach. Under they go, missing from sight, unable to even see what has happened, what they have experience in the most frightening moment of there little lives up to date. Unable to even comfort them after the event. Its already happened. Already experienced! Or maybe it was your fault.. dropping the ball you have looked away for a second and missed the danger or underestimated the danger or size of the wave. Or perhaps you miss the entire thing.. sunbaking on the beach consumed with your tan you have been working on and the child has suffered and you don’t even know about it, nor does the child express what has happened and they suffer in silence unable to make sense of the fact that the most scariest moment of there lives happened. Either way, that child suffers this ripple, and so it then carrys with them on there life journey from that point forward. Continuing to effect everyone in its path.

Ripples are traumatic so lets refer to them as both. Trauma must effect everyone at some point with so many that are so innocently just simply living there lives the best that they can with what they have been given. Have you been effected by ripples like this in your life? You would know if you have or were you gifted with protection or luck and have been able to be happy all throughout your existence? Have you been a ripple creator? Do you think that you can contribute to slowing down or even stopping these ripples of mass destruction so they stop with you and don’t go on to effect any more! Do you know your exact ripples and do you know how youve participated in keeping it alive by passing on the effects to others ? Are you self aware or does denial look better on you – do people even think about all of this shit? Do you honestly just live your life happy in every fucking moment? Why am I so effected?What the fuck is in my past that has created the fucking point I am at now? Must I understand every little last thing about myself? Why the hell can people study for years upon years in psychotherapy and I end up walking out of the office where they practise this great service that costs me more than my shopping bill each fortnight to be told the most stupidest shit ever. But you try telling a Psychologist that has studied for over ten years sometimes that the meth addict with no degree and little education that they are wrong…. yes I know the last psyche wanted for me to leave….. laughed all the way to the front door which they held open for me whilst inviting me to walk the fuck out. This is metaphorically speaking of course whilst having a laugh and shaking there head in disapproval of me questioning there practice of mental health help.

Well…. I would just like to say for the record… I do and I dont think that I am smarter in regards to what officials, doctors, counsellors and just generally normal people in positions that fall within the above industries. I have experience and nothing beats raw witnessed data and the data you collect on yourself. Does it? You tell me – does your fucking childhood and how you reacted and endured the problems and parents etc have a lasting effect on  you mind, body. soul and life now and in the future? Can we as adults change any of that or is it so ingrained in our psyche and subconcious that we are who we are, warts and all and that is that? And if I suffer from depression or addiction because of the trauma from back then does it mean that this problem willl never go away…

Are the charity workers, the advocates, the individuals that dedicate there lives to fighting the injustices of the world the people that create the opposite effect? How do these ripples of evil and destruction begin? Is it when a person chooses evil over good? or themselves and there ego over self sacrifice for the happiness and success of there children? Is it when we allow religion, religious leaders or the leaders of countries to do hideous things in the name of patriotism, religion, communism or some other form of pitting one type of human being against another. Do the ripples start with the big things? How is hate on a large scale taught and spread? Or is it inside of each human being? Why do some people feel the pain of others and others just have an absolute stoic nature of success of themselves and the family that they are responsible for? And so thy are just able to be successful and happy  no matter wat. Why do I care so much about everyone elses pain and situation? When I can’t get my life, my mind, body and soul to align to a form of not feeling like I am drowning in a pit of quick sand every day?

Why do I feel pain so fucking much its debilitated me, killed me twice and  kept me hostage in a life of chaos, drug addiction, criminality and just plain unhappiness all of my life? How the fuck do I grab hold of the life lines and pull myself the fuck out? And when I do how do I continue enjoing the moments afterwards… I mean, you’d have to be fucking happy after an achievment like that. Wouldnt you live every day to its fucking fullest? I mean who in there right mind would want to climb back into the muddy pit of quick sand to slowly continue to drown day in and day out? Is it that other people have fallen in to the pit over the years that you spent in there and they call you back in and you miss them or is it that you think that if you get back in you can show them the way out again? Or is that you know it, youve got comfortabe being in there? You miss it, you miss the people and now you can share your story of how you got out once!

What is seriously wrong with me? Or did it happen directly to me or was it just some stupid random ripple?

Truth is, its freezing when you pull yourself out! You forget why you had fallen in the first place… maybe you tripped, you jumped or you were simply pushed! Everyone has forgotten what happened at the beginning cos for years now you have been known as the quicksand girl drowning and weak and unable to save herself from her own shitty situation…. by now you have had many life lines thrown to you and youve been able to use them to help yourself, you even took some of them for granted and threw them back into peoples faces, lots of people have walked around you in the pit, judging you and missing the fall themself. Do they have no sympathy for your plight and as you have struggled over the years youve sunken further and further so it now youve just about ruined anything that you have, you have also had to try and raise children whilst it all engulfs you and everyone around you! No husband, family, limited number of true friends, no financial savings or consistent job to have a somewhat normal life afterwords. You now have a criminal history so no one will hire you, no one wants you as a long term girlfriend, and most of all your parents don’t even see it all.

So why did I end up there? Does this need to be explored? What was the flaw I possessed that rendered me unable to pull myself out, jump back in after I had pulled myself out and how the fuck do I get out, stay out and be happy and move the fuck away from the pit so I no longer even have to look at it. Or do I hang around helping others out as well or do I turn my back and never look back like my brothers did all them years ago. Is it only fair to assume that one cannot be helped out of it? How can I live with myself knowing that they will all perish, can I atleast yell out to them how to do it? Is that what I am doing when I return only to be diseived and pulled back in or fall myself?

Drug addiction is classed as a disease to a lot of addicts all around the world. They have a Narcotics Anonymous Program that helps addicts get clean and abstain from the drugs of choice that have usually ruined there relationships, there bodies and there lives. It helps the members identify a flaw in themselves that they had no control over, a little like just getting cancer and not being able to of controlled it but being able to fight the sickness and help you through recovery from that sickness. They rely on a Higher Power, a God, bigger then themselves that they really thank for the recovery and for saving them from this disease that essentially wouldn’t this same fucking God of endowed them all with? Wow, Flash back triggered memory… Me at 16 years of age, the despair, the desperation, the confusion and the pain…. the addiction had taken hold for some years by this stage but so had the isolation, the boyfriend that was atleast ten years older than me and when I wasn’t getting beaten I was being abused emotionally, mentally and sexually and since I couldn’t think with my absolute childs brain that was now mushed by drugs that had been injected day in and out…. I was now at the point of really just begging that same God for hours on end for the courage to inject something that would end all of the suffering and confusion and need of this drug to numb it all for as long as it could. Sitting on the bathroom floor, five bottles of cleaning agents, chemicals, really strong poisons. A syringe full of harmful shit that I could just injject into my body, if God would just hear my calls, my prayers, my tears!

Rock bottom….. soulless, feeling so alone, trapped and isolated. Death would be a welcome situation. My mother and father unbothered by my 40kg body, full of black eyes broken ribs, black eyes, sunken in cheeks, needing to take shelter at odd times of the day or night… coming home to my fathers and sleeping for days at a time, eating everything that I could and having no life path. No job, no study, no friends. My mother never seeing me unless it was christmas but I was a waifed  sickly looking vacant personality with track marks version of the girl that once was atleast happy sometimes, had some life and soul with a health of mind body and soul so much more then what they all had to look at now. Yeah I was traumatised ,abused ,pot smoking naughty, promiscues teenager but it was a million light years away from the sickly version of the teenager junkie that I become.

Can I say, that they let me become? Yes teenagers make stupid decisions. Some I have had a hand in my daughter making, some they have made for themselves and yes most definately most I think are just simply peer related and predator related. But can you see how bad your teenager or child is becoming? Well, if a meth addict, uneducated idiot can see it and often I have to help it. Yes thats right, I am the one that is helping your daughter with everything. And sometimes it shocks me how much parents will bend over backwards and do all that they can to fix what they can see is broken but what breaks my heart is when they actively choose to not accept and admit there own faults and shortcomings and allow there child to slowly kill themselves trying to escape pain, painful memories etc and most of all the parents inability to tell the truth – the truth being that if your child or teenager has any faults that its there fault and its on the parents. I am not trying to blame others for everything. But these are more so the parents that will kick there kids out onto the street rather then work with them to get to the root of the problem. Which you guessed it – is fucking usually them.


Have you ever wanted to die? Like I mean… you have actually killed yourself on purpose and died and some random person or whatever has saved you and you have woken up in ICU after being in a coma until the doctors could assure your health and return you to conciousness or something simply along these lines? Did your parents or family be there upon you awaking. What did they say?

Have you been in absolute pain in your lifetime. Desperate calling your mother for help or advice or even fantasising about the fact that just maybe one time in your sad and fucked up life she could do that thing that you see in magical kids movies from the fairy godmother. She waves her magic wand and magically fixes you or atleast can give you an exact run down on what you must do and why and you will have an amazing life from then on in. Living and breathing your new found happiness , castle , prince and position in society/job.

I have never blamed my parents. Neither my mother or my father.  I never wanted to blame anyone or anything for the crappy life I have mismanaged all the way threw. I wanted to just find the fault in me and fix the fucker so I no longer needed to do something day in and day out that stopped me from living an enourmously amazing life and being the absolute perfect human being as well. I envisaged deleting the need to be in this cycle of looserville would allow me to cycle into a life like Kate Middleton, Angelina Jolie, Joan of Arc…. another amazing woman that embodied all I truly hoped I was minus this annoying need to be a retarted person cos of my brain that I just had to turn to fucking mush everyday. Why didnt Kate Middleton crave this shit drug. Why did she make all of the right choices, meet the right man and be the perfect person, wife, employee, student, daughter and mother.

Am I jealous of women like this? Am I deserving of all that she has? I think about her, would she ever think about me? Would I of been as great as her without the crappy childhood and all of those evil ripples of trauma that I had to endure. Why do my mother and father not have any sympathy for that being the difference of me being the child that is now the adult that they feel only disappointment from? Do they both lay in bed at night and think, I did that. I blame myself for my failing as a parent and a decent human being when I made them concious decisions to not be honest with my child about why she was in so much pain and to not kill herself trying to mask it as it wasnt about her. Did they try to make me see and feel that they knew it was on there back and does my pain even effect them…. Like is it selfish to know that everyone has focussed on my faults as a drug addict and criminal now for years including me.

I get messages of you will get through this from my brothers. And friends encourage me in my moments of weakness, whinging and even in moments of release where they have to just simply hold me in there arms whilst I sob and sob and sob uncontrollably about the pain. The pain and the lack of love from my childhood and then the non acceptance of there bad parenting when I was a teenager and then young adult and now I am getting above 30 where they failed to provide the five simple things that a mother and father should but by now the focus is on my failings and my failings alone and I actually dont think that either of them care if I died tomorrow. They know that at my funeral and afterwards they would be safe as fuck. Safe from any one finding out that the sad part was there parenting and there selfishness and first and foremost it was at them critical moments where they had to choose admit they selfishly did wrong over the years always choosing themselves and just knowing that there would of been a point where they could of taken the limelight off of themselves an elevating themselves as the hard done by parent with the fuck up of a daughter that they have just tried to help over and over and over again with there pathetic excuses of what they call helped me and I know this how…….?

This is what has broken me, it snapped me in half the moment that I had this enlightened thought! – I could of at a pivotal point in my daughters life chose to let her go down the rabbit hole and get beyond fucking fucked up. But I fought. I thought that there was no way I could use my kid and her going down a fucked up rabbit hole and play the victim when she got really fucked….. like lie and lie to everyone and make out like it was out of my control, like it wasn’t due to me and my fuck ups as a parent and I could of let her think that she had limited help and that she was to do it herself. That I couldn’t be there for any help she asked me for. She could of had me totally not want to hear it, not involve myself and be there for her when shit went south. I could of abandoned her and made her feel like it was not on me and that she wants to make stupid decisions then I didnt want to hear about it and that she was old enough to do deal with it herself.

With all of the bad parenting decisions I have made and all of the abnormal life and even the fact that I am honest with my kid about my weird out of the box shit that I do. I feel like she knows that any fucked up part of her life or her that happened to her or she was in with fucked situations. That none of it was on her. No fault of hers, no faults but that of mine and not on purpose and that I took ownership in any way that she needed me too. I also was honest about all of me, warts and all and that my 100 percent was just that and it may of only looked like 20 percent of other mothers and fathers but it was never not my intention and there was never a lack of trying or love to be at full capacity. She is my only true love and anything else is nothing. We have each others backs and I will hate her enemies and those that did her wrong and I will slowly poison there lives and torment them for life out of my love for her.

My daughter is the only true thing that I have never disassociated from. She is what I must spend my life putting before myself, sacrificing myself, my body, my dreams always for the happiness and comfortability or needs of hers. If she asks I die trying to get it for her. I am far from perfect but she is in my corner and I am in hers and I would unllike a lot of parents out there do the sickest most hideous of things without one ounce of care to ensure that whilst society may think of me as a scum parent and the lowest of the low in society, that monster is her monster if she needs.

So, why did my mother and father think it was me. Why did they think that I owed this to them too? Why when the choices had to be made did they choose themselves and that I must live to serve them and not worry about the fact that they destroyed me as that innocent little girl, then they allowed me to walk straight into the arms of the waiting monsters. turn there noses up at the survival to fight and fight and fight all the while not even letting them know how much and how hard and all them things that I endured alone and scared so broken that death would of been a welcome situation?

Should I be upset about it all. Why would I fight the monsters alongside or for my daughter to the death and should I be proud that I didnt let them kill me… that I had to become one.. and one that other monsters now feared – is that all that they see is the monster? Is that all that they ever saw. Or were they actually thinking that I wouldnt of made it this far? They have no idea. I am proud of myself. I would be proud of my daughter no matter what she was accomplishing and when it turns to shit I fight when she cant and I push and encourage her to know that she doesnt deserve anything but the best and the goodness in life. I can eat the monsters for a snack these days. Its the fact that I never had a person that loved me fighting for me or beside me when I was still only young and they made me feel like I had flaws that were the problem in my life and that no ownership needed to come from either my mother or father and swallowing any pride or sacrificing any thing to continue with a relationship must be done by the person with the fault or should I say flaws….. I have got this far.

And I will never again think that the parents that chose themselves above there own children are the bigger monsters then I will ever become. On paper, like a paedophile catholic priest looks better then a truck driver in stubbies and a wife beater you would all probably assume that they are the hard done by parents as they think. But I had to make the same decisions that they were faced with a few times and my daughter is exactly a result of them choices I made.

God didn’t intend on a lot of shit that is in the world but I can assure you one thing….  if you are a parent who knows that your child is suffering and it is a result wether indirect or direct because of you and you choose to help yourself  instead of swallowing pride and saving there arse then you are nothing short of the opposite to all that is good in this world.

There heartbreak and failures are on you and you alone.














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October 13, 2021

“I know her annoying memories of things that happened are false too!” My Mom has dementia, and I have no idea if that is what you are referring to here, but I just want to say two things. I love your writing! and I have personally experienced people remembering things very very differently from each other, even in relatively recent times, when there was an emotional reason surrounding the memory.

October 15, 2021

@thirteendogs Thankyou so much for your compliment. I don’t even really re-read what I write. I just know that I have to express all that I am feeling and thinking because it just festers on the inside of me and I cannot bare it some days. Thank you for sharing with me. It must be hard dealing with dementia. I am so sorry xxxx


October 21, 2021

I try not to re-read what I write, but I often do.  However, this is what I LOVE about Open Diary — you can write what you want without your family or regular circles reading it… until you are ready… (or never! ok too!)  that is all the things I love about this space.