We wake in a tangle of sheets, warm and happy I mentally dedicate today to simple pleasures.

It is a beautiful Saturday, the early morning sky splashed with fluffy white clouds illuminated by the warm sunshine. I breathe in deeply, enjoying feeling my body and mind in a relaxed state, no conflict to face, no back to back appointments, no pressure and no finely timed plans. 

Just me and her. 

The following contains graphic information, if it distresses you please seek help:

Kids help line 1800 55 1800 or Lifeline 13 11 14.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The ice clutched in my little fingers melts too quickly, just as it soon as it begins to help sooth the burning, it cruelly liquifies and slides carelessly to the aged mattress, making a crude tainted puddle.

It’s school holidays in 1996, a bright sunny day in the middle of nowhere, known to us as the shack. My sibling and I are carefree, singing our favourite song ‘Ironic’ by Alanis Morissette and taking turns swinging back and forth as high as we could on the big swing near the dark farm shed.

I wake up with startling fear, my eyes watering, palms too warm, body damp with a sheen of sweat and throat burning from the drowning, coughing, suffering sensation experienced in my sleep. My traumatic reoccurring dream stirring me from peaceful rest again, I sigh deeply, saddened and frustrated. It's still dark outside adding to the dread which fills me as I think about falling back to sleep and risking the return of the torturous flash backs. 

My eyes are heavy with tiredness yet my heart is pounding, so loud I can hear it in my ears. I haven't noticed how hard I'm breathing, lungs gasping to return to normal, my central nervous system still in overdrive, in a state of confusion caught in between fight or flight in a place where reality mets deep scarred memories. 

The following contains information that may be distressing, if so please seek help:

If you need someone to talk to, call Kids helpline 1800 55 1800 or Lifeline 13 11 14.

This is written without shame. It is raw and honest. The intention is to heal, educate and show deep gratitude.

The beginning.

It all began on a harmless blind date, a blind date which she said yes to at the very last minute. They were meant to meet completely different people and lead very different lives. 

In a twist of fate the lives of her and her unborn children were written.

My life was conceived as a violent act of cruelty at the hands of an outwardly wholesome man and an inwardly perverse, aggressive and abusive husband. The pain and torture of my mother cannot even be imagined, the isolation, degradation and suffering for basic human needs of love, shelter and nourishment ripped away, on occasion falsely given back only if his perverse needs were met.