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Would somebody explain?

the reasons for all this nastiness?

People belittling others, why?

Would somebody explain why women are supposed to have no sins, be better behaved than saints in order to make a complaint?

I’m talking in general. Pity those who have been abused for if they do want justice they will go through another hell, having to defend their own reputations and behaviour.

To all who are quick to judge, have you never lied? People who have never suffered abuse cannot begin to understand.

I do not know the ins and outs of various cases. All I can say is I feel compassion for all victims.

Don’t get raped (via blue milk)

Brisbane CBD and the Story Bridge, Brisbane QLD.

Image via Wikipedia

From Amelia Bentley’s article in the brisbane times (my use of bold in the excerpt below): A 17-year-old girl’s drunken night out at Brisbane club Friday’s led to her alleged violation and rape by two men, one of whom would later tell police he believed she had consented to sex because “she didn’t say no … she didn’t do anything”. And then… In the bedroom, the girl had consensual sex with a man and after he left the bedroom she saw three men … Read More

via blue milk

I’m a woman on the verge

Women on the Verge is a wonderful community of women, not afraid to speak their minds, coming from all walks of life and spread over the world. All wonderful women with stories to tell, experiences to share and most of all very supportive of each other.

It is an honour to be part of this wonderful community. I’d never joined one before but I’m glad I was introduced to WOTV. Wish I had more time to chat to all of them and in particular  Ana, it’s been a funny year, so much happening !I created my first post on their site, never realising how much I’d love it and how liberating it would be.

I’ve always found writing a good way to exorcise pain. As a novelist I write fiction, although there’s a little piece in me in everything I write and I don’t mean the blood, sweat and tears…Writing blogs posts on WOTV prompted me to start my own blog. Sharing experiences and pain lightened my soul and it’s amazing the response you get when you opened to people.

I’ve often been in tears because of it. Even if you only help one person by writing about abuse, heartache, grief… it’s a blessing. We all have a voice and experiences to share, it’s a powerful and amazing way to help each others.Long live women on the verge!
So go have a look :

http://www.womenontheverge.net/

When food is no longer food…

When food is used for comfort, to numb your feelings, the emptiness inside of you or the rage firing  you up.

When you no longer eat because you want to disappear, you no longer want to be seen.You want to stop the hurting and escape the perverts.

When you don’t know any better or don’t care, because eating junk is much easier , only to find you can never satisfy this hunger for fast food, you always want more of it.

When you spiral out of control and it’s so hard to rid yourself of all the emotional problems that pushed you into anorexia / bulimia.

When you become so ill, eating becomes yet another challenge.

So many reasons why food no longer is about eating and becomes the focus of your problems, masking the real issues.

Food for thought

❧❧❧

understanding eating disorders :  http://www.b-eat.co.uk/Home

Virgin suicide

As luck would happen while going through my notes the other day ( I’m a messy writer) I came across the first piece I wrote in french.

Why did I write it in french? Perhaps because I was in France and my memories had been stirred, I’d just gone through an amazing change in my life following a very distressing period of my life.

I wrote about this in my first poem,  in a funny way it was easier to express my thoughts in french, less hurtful.

The last few days I’ve been thinking about suicide anyway having read Ann Scott’s  powerful article in a french newspaper where she talks about the loss of her friends.

Why do some people think about suicide and others actually go through with it?
  • for some, it’s a cry for help.
  • others are determined to end it all.
  • some go through a moment of despair and are sometimes quite glad that they haven’t succeeded.


Children think about killing themselves too.They might not know what suicide is but they get so desperate that  they want to end it all.

I remember being one of them, I was very young when the thought of dying became much more appealing than living.I was a very unhappy child, one that suffered abuse.

I thought about it on and off through my childhood, for me it was the easy way out at the time.

Then I grew up and took control of my life.I never thought about dying past that point until one day life played another nasty trick on me.

I was going  through a very difficult and emotionally draining time.Everything was falling apart but I had my children and I was strong.

One day, I became pregnant again, was overjoyed, another little one to cuddle and love.I was very ill sure but it didn’t matter, except this time it was a lot more serious and soon I was  fighting for my life.I found myself at the back of an ambulance not knowing whether I’d see my children again.

Then it all went black until I woke up and the baby was gone.

There were times after that when I did not want to fight anymore and the temptation was there to let this illness claim my life too.Then I looked at my children and it sparked me back into action.It was a very small spark to begin with, it took time.

More than ever I respect life as always, life is precious and we all have something to give, sometimes it just takes time to appreciate what we can all achieve.

If you take your life, that’s final, you don get a chance to make your life better.I could never inflict that on my children.

I suppose I’ve always had a strong survival instinct, a belief deep down that there is always a light at the end of the darkest of tunnels.

That’s why I explain to my children that life is a long endless cycle.Many things may happen,little and not so little tragedies but sooner or later there will be rejoicing again.It’s the circle of life.

My mother

My mother had a habit of squirrelling money away, not that she really needed to, it was her safety net.When she died,it caused my father a huge headache, trying to trace all her different accounts, some active, others not.

She wasn’t materialistic and never spent much on herself, when she did, she’d hide the fact or felt obliged to justify herself.In some ways, I am a little bit like that too but I think it’s all too common for mums in general.

She did once tell me the story of how when her grandmother was dying, she told my mum where she  had hidden her little nest egg and she wanted her to have it.My mother, being a dutiful daughter told her mother who promptly took it all away.

My mother was at the time married to a violent man.He beat her up whilst pregnant with her son.In those days, divorce was much frowned upon.Eventually, despite her hopes of  ever happy family, she came to the conclusion that she would have to leave.

She was a formidable woman, not the kind you can push around easily, she was also very strong-willed and stubborn, it runs in the family, on the women side anyway.

It goes to show abuse knows no boundaries or classes.

My mother came from a very well to do family, her divorce was seen a complete disgrace.She struggled to raise her son without any help, her own wealthy parents never lifting a finger.

By the time she met my father, she’d done well for herself and had some security.She never fully trusted my father, even though they had a child together, yes, me.

I always remember her telling me that when I married, I was to hide all assets and not share everything I owned.

Sadly, she never did get to enjoy the benefits of her hard work and savings, she became very ill and died when I was a teenager.I watched her becoming very weak, a shadow of herself, yet, she could still terrify everybody, myself included.

I’m not materialistic at all and dislike talking or even thinking about money.I’m not a great spender either but do enjoy splashing out on my children.

When it comes to trust, I could not live with someone I didn’t trust wholly and completely.I’m not just talking about money but much more than that, this deep knowledge that you are loved and respected.

Friends who know my background have often wondered how I could talk about my mother in a positive way after the childhood I had.Well, first of all, she was my mother and I loved her, growing up, I didn’t know any different.

Piecing it altogether, I can reflect on the fact she also had an unhappy childhood and she endured many struggles.Her illness and subsequent death were an almighty shock.

The more I grew in myself, the more I understood her and how difficult life had been for her at times.

Even after all these years, I still think of her and understand a little more all the time.There are many things I wish I could tell her as an adult and no longer the frightened little girl I was.

When I became a mum myself, I watched friends with their mums feeling a little pang, we wouldn’t have had that sort of relationship, I know but…

I strive to do the best I can for my children, hopefully being a fraction of the mum I want to be.Nothing else matters more to me than being a loving mum with happy and well-balanced children.No achievement of any kind could prevail over this.

I’m the lucky one, I broke the vicious circle in my family, friends will know what I’m talking about.No matter what happens in your past, you can change and prevent history from being repeated.

P.S. I cannot re-read myself at this point,too raw.

This post was a long-time coming, I just had to find it in me to write it down.

It has also been inspired by my wonderful friend Ana and her post: http://www.womenontheverge.net/blogs/entry/Is-Money-a-Dirty-Word-

She is also the founder of a wonderful community, go check it out : http://www.womenontheverge