I was asked to write a new post and I feel slightly obliged to do so. Funny thing is that I have no clue what to write about. I think I may just go over how I’ve felt for the last month or so? It’s been a tough month so I might just go with that.

As previously mentioned, my son’s father, L, is back in the picture. Along with his other son, D, and his ex-fiancé, S. Now, SHE does my fucking head in. The lass can’t keep her mouth shut. For some unknown reason, she has it in her head that I want to get back together with L. She’s wrong. Don’t get me wrong, when I first heard they broke up, I considered it. I apparently was the reason they broke up, she thought he had underlying feelings for me. He might’ve, I don’t care. But when I think back to however long we were together, we didn’t work. We had so many issues that we both ignored. We just weren’t good together. Since she wants to get back together with him, she constantly brings me into their arguments. That isn’t what bothers me. What DOES bother me is when she brings my son into them too. He is fuck all to do with her. She has no reason to have his name coming out of her mouth. She said she’s just jealous. I said I don’t give a fuck. I told L that if he had any feelings towards me then he needed to lose them. I don’t want to be involved in some pathetic love triangle. We’ve spoken the bare minimal to each other since then, which I’m quite happy about. Me and S don’t speak at all. Thank fuck.

Baring all that, it seems to have been a good month. Cory has been accepted into nursery. In fact, his first settling visit is tomorrow. He loved it the last time we visited, so I think he’ll enjoy it there. He’ll be attending every Friday, from 8am until 6pm. So, we both get a little break from each other. I’ll still have Aurora-Blu obviously, but it just means we get a little one on one time with each other. My mum has offered to take her for a few hours too so that I can go off and do my own thing.

Moving on. In the recent month or so, I’ve binge watched my fair share of shows; Vampire Diaries, The Originals, Shadowhunters and a couple other small timers. Anyone reading this want to send me some recommendations? Anything paranormal (supernatural) works for me.

OH! My mental health has gotten a lot better. Stress was always a big factor in it and I’ve started to sort myself out. I’ve finally started paying off the debts my ex got me into behind my back. £150 down, about 5k to go! Yay me. But it’s a step in the right direction. No one knows about my debts really except close friends. I could easily just tell my dad and he would pay them for me, but I want to do it on my own. Me and him are always doing tit for tat. I’d rather not give him ammunition against me.

I guess that’s all for now. Thanks. 😂

As a child you spend your time playing hide and seek or climbing the trees in your local park. For the rebel kids, they would tell their mam they were at their friend’s house around the corner and went into town or played knock down ginger. The angels would sit indoors playing with their latest toy or watching tv, maybe even reading a book. Maybe you would spend all day playing footie on the closest field or playing on those circle swings that would spin around while you and your four friends were all sat on it. I had that kind of childhood. I still have the scars from all the trees, I can remember the bruises that covered my legs from playing goalie and I can still feel that rush I’d get when I sprinted away from a front door. But everyone has secrets.

As a four-year-old child, it is unimaginable that they would have any worries apart from which toy your parents were going to treat you to this time or how many sweets you could get away with putting in the trolley at the supermarket. Or ridiculous that a five-year-old could be stressed unless it was because you weren’t allowed to have a fresh baked cupcake or sugar before dinner. It’s mind-blowing that a six-year-old could be scared for any other reason than your mam finding out you pinched a packet of crisps from the cupboard or you’d smacked a kid at school. It is so fucking unfair that a seven-year-old had things that stopped them from focusing apart from picking which cute valentines to pick for the asshole kid at school or they were arguing with their best friend over who had the better Pokémon cards.

As a four-year-old… I spent my time worrying about my mam finding out. At five, I was stressed that it kept on happening. When I turned six, all I was scared about was what he would give me for a birthday present. And when I was seven, I couldn’t focus because I was petrified someone would find out and they would get hurt. That someone would find out that I was being molested and had been for the last 4 years. If they found out, he told me he would have to hurt them and that’s why I never told. I see now that he wouldn’t have done anything, it was just his way of keeping me quiet.

I can’t even remember how it started. The earliest I remember is him holding my hand and taking me to a room. I throw up when I think any further than that. It happened for over four years and it kills me now that no one noticed. No one found out. I should have told. I should tell someone now, but it would tear so many apart. Especially my mam, I can’t do that to her. So instead I just tell a bunch of strangers on a blog, not sure if that’s any better.

I have had nightmares for the last five years. Every night without fail I have a nightmare of what he did to me. Whilst he is out there living his life with a family he built. I wake up every morning sick to my stomach while wakes up without a fucking worry in the world. I honestly think that he believes I’ve forgotten. I haven’t. I spent all my life trying to forget it and once the nightmares started, I had no choice but to remember. Every day I wake up in such a horrible mood and I must try everything I can to try and smile at my two gorgeous children.

The thing that sucks? I told my ex about it. We had a toxic relationship. But the whole time he blamed it on me. Y’know, because I was four years old and running around with my top off, I was apparently asking for it. Or that because I was so close with him that I made him want it and that I seduced him. And at first I was disgusted he’d even suggest a thing but over time you start to believe what you hear. I honestly hate myself. I caused what happened to me. I’m damaged goods, I’m dirty. Nevertheless, it doesn’t make it right what he did to me.

I would love to tell someone. My mam, my family, or even the police. But I’ve learnt that some things aren’t worth the destruction they bring. A broken childhood isn’t worth ruining families.