Addition to the blog...

I have added a little bit of my own story to my blog. I thought it was important to show where I came from and where my emotions stem from. No it is not a pretty story, but it, like the rest of my blog is honest and doesn't hide or gloss over anything.

I wanted to post it as a Blog Post as it is really important for people to know where I came from:

My Story

I was born in the town of Stafford to Mr and Mrs Fullard in 1987. I was an awkward child, and I never really mixed with the other kids. I was a weird kid so its not surprising really. I never made many friends, but the ones I made I loved deeply and they were rocks of strength for me.
I went through Primary school without too much trouble and enjoyed it for the most part, but when I went to Weston Road High School in 1999, my family's reputation followed me and I was branded as so many unpleasant things. I spent 3 years there and was raped by one of my school bullies at the age of 12, it wasn't a standard sexual intercourse, but he forced he to perform oral sex. I felt so worthless and the gleam in my eyes started to fade. I never told people because I was so afraid.
My home life wasn't a bed of roses either. I was pretty much ignored by my mother, abused by my father in so many ways, and a physical and emotional punching bag for my older brother Stephen. I remember very well the mornings when my friend Leona would come to walk to school with me and the scenes she would witness. I would be lying on the floor being punched, kicked and strangled. Always in places I could hide by clothes. I would tell my mother who would accuse me of "making it up", "hurting myself" or "provoking Stephen". At that point I did none of these, unless wishing someone a good morning was ample provocation for a good kicking and a strangling.
I was lonely and depressed by the time I was 13 and spent much time alone in my bedroom harming myself with pencil sharpener blades and other kitchen implements. My friend told people what was going on at home, things went sour as a result in my brother's relationship. I took the blame each time and the beatings got worse. The result is a slight crushing of my larynx, which I had to explain to a bemused doctor as to how it happened. I felt so cornered and there was no escape.
By the time he left home, I was a terrified little kid that was so scared of leaving the safety of her own bedroom. When I was 14, I had my first nervous breakdown and I attempted suicide in my bedroom with blades and pills, although my mum came in before I took them, and was taken out of Weston Road. I spent 13 weeks at home until I started Rising Brook that September. In that time, I attempted suicide a few more times as I felt as though I just couldn't cope anymore.
The rest of my school years passed OK, I got counseling for my depression and anxiety disorders and began to heal my wounds. Until I was raped at 15. I never felt so worthless and I trusted no-one. I attempted suicide again, fortunately, my mother and then Step-father (who I look upon as my Dad) hid the really sharp knives and the ones I could find were dull and blunt.
I then had my relationship with Mike, which had it's ups and downs until we split up.
I now live with Steve and things are looking up. We have had our issues but what relationship hasn't, I now know that he loves me for who I am and respects me for coming through hell, still smiling.
I am who I am and I am not ashamed of that person.

Thank you all for reading.


Wendy x