Posted February 24, 2019 07:03:54I am a survivor of sexual and domestic abuse, a mother of three young children and an author who has been called a hero by victims of violence.
My story is an incredibly sad one, but one that should be shared by anyone who has suffered.
In 2015, I was raped and abused by my partner, an employee of a restaurant I worked at in the suburbs of Sydney.
The abuse was a constant.
The violence continued.
The relationship between me and my partner became a daily routine, with me regularly being called names, threatened and told to stay away from him.
We never spoke of the rape, but I did know that he had been abused and that he was not the kind of person I wanted to be around.
When he was drunk and passed out, I would hide in the bathroom, unable to reach him.
I was told by a friend that if he woke up I would be in trouble.
In the weeks following the assault, I spent hours every night sleeping on the floor, unable, I realised, to reach my abuser.
I remember thinking, “My God, what if he wakes up and rapes me?”
I had no one to turn to, no one who could take the abuse and tell me to go to the police.
I had to go back to the abuser, and that’s when I started to fall into a cycle of blaming myself for everything.
I was afraid to tell anyone about what happened, because I was ashamed.
I wanted so badly to hide and hide from him, but it wasn’t possible.
The cycle continued, and I felt the pain and trauma every day.
I thought about killing myself, and even if it meant killing myself I couldn’t do that.
I knew that if I tried to stop, I wouldn’t get anywhere.
I didn’t want to live.
My life was in danger.
I went into a crisis, but the situation was so hopeless that I couldn’st stop the cycle.
I couldn’t see how I could escape, and if I did, it was impossible.
As the cycle continued I started having flashbacks.
I saw that I was being abused, and it made me feel even more ashamed.
The trauma had taken a physical toll on me, and my sense of self-worth and worth was diminished.
I couldn’t be with someone who was abusing me.
I had to put aside my fear of harming myself, even if I felt ashamed of it.
I started thinking about killing herself.
I became suicidal, and as I started cutting myself, I felt it was only a matter of time before I would have to kill myself.
I lost my job and started drinking heavily, and the cycle repeated.
At some point, I stopped drinking and went to see a psychiatrist, who diagnosed me with PTSD.
At that point, my self-esteem was at an all-time low, and when I saw my abuser again, I decided that if it wasn’t for the help of my counsellor, I’d have to commit suicide.
In that moment, I found myself in the middle of the world, alone, in my own home.
I started feeling trapped and powerless.
The last time I saw the abuser was in October of that year, when I was still living at home.
When I called him, I asked him for help.
I felt like I was trapped, that my life was worthless, that I had no hope and no support.
The only way I could do anything was by going to the emergency room.
I told my doctor that I needed to leave the country, that it was the only way that I could be helped.
The next day, I went to a mental health clinic to see my therapist.
She said that I would probably die if I didn’ t seek help.
She went to the nearest hospital, and told me that she would come to my bedside that night.
I don’t know if that was my final words, or the last time that I saw her.
She had been so helpful and loving to me.
When she arrived, I told her that I didn”t want to go through with it.
I cried and cried, and then, when the doctors asked me to lay down, I did so.
I went back to my home, and stayed there until the end.
At the time, I didn t know what to do with myself.
As a survivor, I struggled with guilt, depression, panic attacks and flashbacks.
At that point in time, it felt like suicide.
I think I was depressed because I felt guilty about my behaviour.
I blamed myself for what had happened, for having been a bad parent and for wanting to leave Australia, but at that time, there was nothing I could say to myself.
It was the last thing I wanted.
I felt like my life had become meaningless.
I believed that my abusers were going to leave me alone, but then, I heard that the police were going through a similar
