I come from a big family but it first started out small. to being with it was only my mum, dad, older sister and me. both my mum and dad fought all the time since i was small, and it started getting physical near the end of their relationship. even though it was ever directed at me or my sister and the fighting took place were they through we couldn’t see it it still effected us in so many ways.I still hate hearing people shout.
but when i turned 9 they devoiced and my dad lived in the family house my mum moved in with her new boyfriend, at the time i was happy that both of them had stopped fighting but as it turned out, their fighting was the least of my problems.
it soon became apparent that this knew man was an alcoholic and with in the first six months everything was ok in a sense, my mum thought she could change him but my sister hated him and i being the youngest didn’t really have an opinion. it was then he changed, his drinking made him violent to anyone around him mainly my mum and us. shouting and smashing things my mum would hold us while we waited it out, he always said he didn’t mean it but sometimes I wonder if he was just saying that so my mum wouldn’t leave.
the thing is she didn’t leave, she stayed with him for over seven years each one worse then the last, my sister had had enough and moved to my dads who at this time was with another woman and my younger sister and brother they were happy but i wasn’t, i was alone.
my sister was the only line of difence i had against the thing they did or said without her i had to face it with out protection and needless to say i didn’t cope well. somehow i blurred it all out to the point that the fighting became a norm, i would panic if things were to quite.
it was in the fifth year of them being together that my dad got custody over me. one day the fight had gotten so bad that my mums now husband had destroyed the kitchen and living room, i was hurried into the car with nothing but the clothes on my back and dropped off at my dads front door. or more dumped.
when i knocked on the door at gone eleven o’clock at night my dad simply said “You aren’t going back” and that was that i started living with my dad at the age of fourteen.
in the following year my mum finely left the man and moved on and is now living happily with a good man who doesn’t drink.
my dad sadly devoiced his second wife and lost the house we lived it. i had no choice but to move back in with my mum at 19 but now 21 I am saving to move out. my dad is now in a steady relationship with a woman who has daughters of her own but they are happy.
I still have a long way to go when it come to closer. i feel that my mother take all the credit for raising me when she wasn’t there when i needed her the most and worst she chose a relationship with a man who clearly loved alcohol more then her over her own children but then again they say love is blind.
i hope someday i find happiness of my own and that i can stay strong in dark times
thank you for reading XxxX