Given the events of the last 24 hours and that I have deleted, restored, deleted, restored, I really have had time to reflect on life and how I got to this point in my life.
I have acquired this freakazoid skitzo stalker - one of the perils of online dating, I suppose - and he wants to ruin my life - 'destroy' me, in fact. This of course, initially instilled fear in me as such a threat naturally would, but then I realised what exactly is there left of my life to destroy.
Here is a quick summary of factors that have 'ruined' my life, to date- and this is in an effort to save the aforementioned stalker the effort of airing all my dirty laundry, as I am sure he has a very busy schedule of freaking women out via the internet.
I was conceived in effort to trap my Dad into a relationship and to raise and provide for my three older siblings. That is where my usefulness to my mother ended. I grew up rejected for existing and blamed for ruining her life. As I got older, it got worse. I grew up in a house of alcohol abuse, emotional abuse and physical abuse. I obviously have rejection issues (to put it mildly) and have this 'hero complex' where I want to be rescued by men because I feel my dad didnt do a enough to protect me as a child.
When I was fifteen, I got into a relationship with a man ten years my senior. This obviously caused issues with the parentals. They reported it to the police, got intervention orders in my name and locked me up in an adolescent psych ward for a week (as you do). After my stint in the whack shack, I discovered I was pregnant. Given the police investigation, I was coerced into having an abortion - something I disagree with on a moral level and definitely not something I wanted to do in this circumstance. The police charges were dropped (due to lack of evidence) and the intervention orders ran out on my 17th birthday.
I fell pregnant with my son Lucas at the end of year 12 and I was estatic but it obviously came with it's dramas. I was induced at 41 weeks at the Royal Women's Hospital which was an epic fail culminating in an emergency c-section under general anaesthetic. My mother tried to steal Lucas from me when he was two weeks old and have me 'committed' again. I left home that night and lived with Lucas' father, Ben.
It took til my first bank statement to arrive at that address for his gambling problem to become apparent. The majority of my $3000 baby bonus went down the pokies.
When Lucas was six months old, my parents (who had not seen Lucas since he was 2 weeks old) made a false report to the police and child protection that Ben had beaten up Lucas. A police officer came to our house at 3am, requested we undress Lucas to his nappy and did a full inspection of him. There wasn't a mark on him and the 'investigation' went no further. But that didn't stop my drug addicted sister and her deadbeat boyfriend rocking up on my door step the next morning, trying to steal Lucas and assaulting Ben in front of two police officers. Intervention orders against my sister and dad followed.
When my daughter Bethany was six months old, she ended up on life support with bleeding on the brain. We were accused of shaking her and while she was in hospital, Lucas was removed from our care. She ended up needing two lots of surgery and on the date of her second surgery, I was in Children's Court -alone- defending allegations that I had assaulted and nearly killed my own child. In the end, after a full examination involving a full body x-ray to look for old fractures etc, it was determined by some professor or something, that in fact we had not harmed Bethany.
Fast forward, things start to fall apart between Ben and I. He is a useless father and he was getting slacker with covering up his gambling. He racked up a whole lot of credit card debt in my name and defaulted on a car loan also in my name. Our arguments escalated into domestic violence which the police laughed off and dismissed every single time I called. The breaking point came when Ben had taken all my money and I didn't have enough formula for Bethany for the day. If it hadn't been for free sachets from the health nurse that day, our baby would have gone hungry.
I left Ben in June 2008. He was arrested trying to break into someone's house in August 2008. He was bailed and breached his bail in December 2008. We visited him in prison until one day we were told he had been moved to protection and that he could have no contact with children under 16.
He did not see his children til September 2010.
In January 2009, the children and I moved to Bendigo. On January 28 2009, I was raped in my own home by a member of the Legislative Council. I tried to kill myself for the first time in March 2009. Getting word that I was going to press charges against him, this politician got an intervention order against me in April 2009. It was thrown out of court the day of the hearing because I had a phone full of text messages from him saying all the dirty things he wanted to do to me. I tried to kill myself again in April and twice in October. The children were never in the house at the time I overdosed and were always in appropriate and safe care.
In the middle of all this, some psychotic bitch from a mother's group I was briefly a part of lodged a false complaint with police that I had 'keyed' her car. Apart from being questioned by police, the matter didn't go any further.
I had my children removed from my care in October 2009. I had an extensive psychological evaluation and was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder.
Lucas and Bethany were returned to my care in September 2010 and I was in a relationship with the man of my dreams, Shane. Ben tried to see the children every weekend. DHS intially said he could have them every weekend in Melbourne over night as 'respite' for me. I explained there is no way in hell that my children would be given unsupervised access with a sex offender who hadnt seen them in over a year, least of all 150kms away from me. He intermittently saw them every weekend supervised by his mother for four hours. He was inappropriate and incompetent, even when 'supervised' and a lodged a complaint with DHS after every access visit. It all came to a head on Christmas day and weekend access was stopped and he was only allowed to see them supervised, at DHS, during the week. He has not seen them since Christmas Day.
So I fell pregnant with Lincoln, my kids were home and Shane and I were engaged. It was perfect. Then the baby was born and everything fell apart. Shane seemed to lose the plot a bit and when my newborn baby was 6 weeks old, Shane took off with my baby. Long story very short, Shane's Dad committed suicide when Shane was 10, his mum worked three jobs to provide for her boys, Shane feels indebtted to her, Shane's mum always wanted more kids and there we have it: a perfect way for Shane to 'repay' his Mum. My baby boy. It is sick and twisted.
I didnt see that baby for a month. I know get to see him twice a week for four hours 'supervised'.
I called the police and DHS on the day this happened but they didn't give a fuck. And why should they? I later found out that Shane planned this all in advance and even gave DHS the heads up so they could come check up on ME!
So I put the kids in voluntary foster care, try unsuccessfully to kill myself - again.
Then I have to concede that I, in fact, have to deal with being alive. So I turn to drinking, sex and self harm just to deal with reality.
Shane was the 26th boy I have had sex with, I am now up to 51. I have done my fair share of slutting around - and hell, there were quite a few freaks in amongst those numbers, too.
So cut to the present day, I am getting back on track. The issues I am currently facing are a incompetent Department of Human Services on strike, no solid plan for reunification, my children being in a placement with seven other children with a carer who can't be bothered taking Lucas to the school I legally retain the right to enrol him in and I have to deal with the fact that the needs of my autistic son are simply not being met. On top of that, I have to fight this department CONSTANTLY to stop a registered sex offender, who has made NO effort to contact me about the kids welfare or even send a card for their birthdays and who complains about having to pay off his $2000 child support debt at $40 a fortnight (which has now stopped altogether), having unsupervised contact with my children.
And you know what, I am still fucking here. I have spent more time in family court, childrens court and in meetings with DHS, fighting for my children who I have never harmed or neglected in any way, shape or form, to be home with me, where they belong. I have Borderline Personality Disorder which is one of the most self-destructive disorders I have ever come across that isn't treatable by medication. And I have a seven month old baby boy who I have not seen for two weeks who is growing up without me.
So, buddy, if you think you can 'ruin' my life - go right ahead. Because if none of the crap I have dealt with from the moment I was born hasn't killed me. Then I doubt any 'dirt' you have on me that you may have gathered in the week that you have 'known' is going to make an impact. Sure it might be entertaining to watch you try, but you are really the least of my concern.
So today, I am grateful that I am still here. That I have three gorgeous children who mean everything to me. That even though I feel defeated sometimes, I still have some fight in me left. I will always fight for my children and what is best for them. Always. Nothing will ever stop me fighting to have them home, to have them safe, happy and healthy and at the educational instituions I deem appropriate. I will always fight to keep them safe from sex offenders and anyone who tries to remove them from my care. I will always do the what I think is best and try my hardest to cater for and manage Lucas' additional needs. I'm not a perfect person and I am far from the perfect parent - but it cannot be denied that I love my children and always -regardless of any circumstance- try to do what I feel is best for them.
I'm still here. I'm still fighting. And sometimes it is damn hard to even get out of bed in the morning. But I will be damned if DHS, or a registered sex offender or god help me, some guy on the internet, is going to ruin my life. But if you want to try - bring it the fuck on.