Story #52

My mother couldn't got pregnant they said, and the five times she tried, she failed.  The sixth time, she didn't fail I still wonder why sometimes...

It was a hard pregnancy, she was in a hospital for six months.  When I was three years old, my parents divorced.  My father with a nervous break down, throwing himself in his work, and my mom with the start of what turned out as anorexia nervosa.

After some years, my mother found a new love.  He was very tall and broad built.  Everything seemed okay at first, and they got married.  But within a year he started drinking, and he got very abusive (also sexually).  He started to beat my mother up, and at night I would fall asleep hearing her scream.

This went on until my 12th birthday. I began a court case against her, because I wanted to live with my father. It was hard, because she took it very personally, I just wanted out. The court case went on for one whole year, I did win eventually, and my mother lost custody over me, so I left to move in with my father.

After 3 months 'I must have been around thirteen by now' my father fell in love with a woman who also had two kids.  One girl was 3 yrs younger than me, the other was 1yr younger, but severely autistic.  Suddenly where there  was peace and space to come to peace with the past, there was a whole crowd, plus a child that needed more attention than me.  I never got along with them, and there where many vicious fights.  I guess I couldn't accept that I had to share my father with her and after 9 months I decided to run away from home.  Looking back on it, it was the most stupid thing I could have done.

I ran away at 13 living in several squats, but still remained in contact with my father.  I got into a youth helping program and after a while they placed me in a youth house in Denmark (Odense).  I had a great time there, I met other kids with the same anger and fear and I felt at home.  I also lived with one of those kids in a foster family there for some months, It was great!  But I had to go back to Holland as the regulations said, this was very painful.

Back home I started running away again, and met a Turkish busker called Orhan.  He was very nice and understanding to me, and I sat many night beside him.  His girlfriend and him decided to take me home, they contacted my father and somehow arranged for me to stay with them legally.  The woman Elly had a 6yr old daughter called Sora she really looked up to  me and I loved her, Elly and Orhan were great, and I  finally felt like I was living in a family and being wanted, I thought I finally found my place. (Somehow I started doing self injury for the first time.)  After approximately six months Orhan got into trouble, his Visa had expired, and he had to go back to Turkey.  Elly and Sora went with him, and so did I, but the government made a problem out of that, and I had to come back to Holland.

I moved in with my father and stepmother again.  I was really depressed for some time, and hung around a lot with a guy called Joost who really listened to me, and he made it all a little better somehow. We did a lot of self injury together.  At 16 after a bad fight with my stepmother, I called up Joost, and we decided to run away.

We were planning to go to Amsterdam, but while hitching decided to go London.  On the boat we met a Scottish busker called Dave, he was hitchhiking as well so we decided to hitchhike to London together.  When we were in London, we decided to go with him and we ended up in Scotland (Kelty).  We stayed at his house for a while, and played around with a lot of drugs, I don't really remember a lot from this period, we spent our days cutting on each others arms and taking every drug we could get hold of, drinking and sleeping.  All I can remember clearly was calling my dad to tell him I was OK,  because I felt guilty towards him, as he was the only person I cared for.

From Scotland we traveled with Dave to Belgium (Antwerp) he said he could make better money there, because the terraces were great this time of year, and we went with him. We met some punks and lived with them, it was a time full of breaking rules and anarchy.  In the late summer in Antwerp, I met a guy called James he was a 26yr old busker and I fell totally in love with him, I met him and the next day I moved into his place.

James was into very mysterious things and used a lot of drugs like LSD and XTC and Heroine.  We made the plan of traveling through Europe and went hitchhiking one day with two English dudes one of them called Jimmy and the others name I can’t remember right now.  I had totally forgotten about Joost, and didn't even tell him I was leaving. We ended up in Luxembourg were we met some street kids, and lived with them for a while.  When everything got to chaotic we went to France where we met a group of 14 Germans with 7 dogs who where traveling as well, we jumped trains, and even got evicted out of France; but managed to hitchhike back into France by hitchhiking in groups of two.  We said to meet each other in some town I forgot the name of, from there we hitchhiked in groups again to a place I remember being called Pavilion (but I'm not sure). There we met 4 other travelers under a bridge, their bus had broken down. One of them, was an English guy called Zed with a dog, who was called Spliff; the other English guy was a happy guy called Terrence (Terry) and the two others where a couple. The guy was German and the girl American, I don't remember their names.

We hitchhiked all to Pavilion Le Plage ( the sea-side) and we lived on the beach it was a great time, but after a while the police found out, and sent us away. The Germans decided to go home.   Zed, The Couple, Terry, and I went hitchhiking again. We ended up in Gruisan a little sea- place at the south of France, and I  remember this period clearer than the others, I don't know why.  We slept under bridges, and played music for money at night. Terry and I fell in love secretly, but we never did anything with it. After a while the stress in the group became too much, and James, Terry and I decided to go back to Antwerp.

In Antwerp, I realised I had not had a period and I got a test, I found out I was pregnant. I really wanted to see my dad then, and we all hitchhiked to Holland (Groningen). We stayed a month at my fathers home (the three of us); where we decided to move to Ireland, and so we did. My son Chavez was born two days after my own birthday, 14-02-96, in Mullingar. It was hard for me, because I didn't know what to feel, or how to be a good mom.  I started to freak out a lot, my moods began to show very clearly and in reaction to that James started to use a lot of drugs. Terry and I began to grow very close at that time, and James realised this. There were a lot of fights, physical ones also, between him and me.

At the beginning of 1997 I decided I had enough, and I went back home. I stayed with my father, and he helped me to get a house here.  James followed, but things only got worse,  and I missed Terry.  The relationship completely ended by march of that year, and James went back to Ireland. Around the end of April, being 19 yrs old  I went back to Ireland again,  because I started to miss him.  The stress of it all was too much, and I almost ended up dead.  With blue marks on my throat I returned to Holland.

On my own, in Holland, it was pretty hard, many lonely nights full of crying and questions. Questions I've never got an answer to. I started to fall back into the punk scene somehow, and I met a guy called Jasper.  We fell in love and I think he was the first person I trusted (besides my  father). Somehow I began to long for a steady life, but then something happened.  Chavez went to James for one month, and I went to Antwerp to clear my head.  I worked 12 hrs a day, and I began to drink again.  Jasper visited me there.

After a month James called me, and told me I would never see Chavez again.  The owner of the Irish-pub in Antwerp felt so sorry for me;  he bought two tickets and I flew to Ireland (Dublin) the next day.  He would join me a week later.

In Ireland, I found a chaos and a pain, I would've never imagined to feel.  I was told that I had sexually abused Chavez and beaten him up as well, (this hurt so much).  I never had laid a finger upon him.  I had always been afraid that I would end like my mom.  This was my worst nightmare, the court case that followed lasted seven months.  In that seven months, I started drinking so much that once I actually overdosed on whiskey and ended up in hospital. No one from home came to help me; not my mom, not Jasper, and not even my dad.  I do not remember ever feeling that alone. Jasper eventually broke up with me over the phone.  Which somehow made me feeling less again.  I somehow won the case, and went back home with Chavez.

Arriving at the airport, my father and Jasper and mother etc. were there.  Jasper held a rose in his hands, and hugged and kissed me, telling me he missed me.  Everyone acted as if they had given up the world for me, but the truth wouldn't leave my head.  Jasper and I tried to build up something for a while, but it didn't work out.

After that, I don't think, I've been able to 100% trust a man again in a relationship.  I guess there's just been too much pain.  I've had some relationships after him; some short and some lasting a little while, but every time they end because I start getting into moods and push them away.

I'm 23 yrs old now, and I know I have bpd.  My life has become easier since I found out.   I'm learning a lot about myself, and I'm starting to accept it.  I'm beginning to realise why my life has turned out this way, and why I did these things. I know I'm only on the first step of an enormous staircase, but I feel as if a whole new world is opening up to me.  One that I could learn to understand.