Trying to Heal 💔

There I was being productive, I had been to the gym, done a food shop and prepped an evening meal when out of nowhere as I was drying my hair following a shower, it just hit me. Bam…thoughts of my ex and the tears streamed down my face. Whimpering words of “I miss you” and declarations of love with only my reflection in the mirror to see and hear me.

2 years on following the final split and there I am still crying for him; thinking of him.

I’m with someone else now and although its only been 3 months since the start of this new relationship, I get these terrible feelings of guilt and sorrow as I compare him to my ex. I know I shouldn’t do that but there’s certain things lacking with the new boyfriend that emphasises what is now missing in my life.

So here I am now feeling incredibly lonely as I have no one else to listen to me and all I can do is type these word to then press publish for them to get lost in the world wide web.

The Freedom Programme-Day 1

Following the last two years of change and transformation in my life (which I will come to explain at some point in a future post), I attended the first session of the Freedom Programme today.

For those of you who are not aware of what this is and you are unlikely to know unless you have been in certain situations, it’s a 12 week programme for women who are in domestic abusive or violent relationships. It’s also for survivors of such; which is what I class myself as. I am no longer in an abusive situation.

When I arrived at the course, I was surprised at how many women were there. About 30 of us, all sat on chairs in a circle.

I am a bit of a people watcher at times and as I looked around the room, I could see some were nervous, others looked like they didn’t want to be there and some appeared to be quite detached and depressed, understandably.

It’s quite a unique setting when you think about it. A lot of women with this shared experience, coming together in one space, all at different stages of their healing journey.

In society there use to be this perceived societal stigma of the type of women who end up in abusive relationships. I believe people are more aware now that it can happen to anyone, regardless of gender or educational background.

Abuse isn’t always physical which of course is the most obvious.

If someone punches you in the face then you’re going to know about it straightaway but if someone does subtle psycological things to you over a period of time and then makes you feel like you’re wrong for questioning the intention or that you’re making it up (gaslighting), then it’s not as obvious as a physical attack. The abuse is increased over time.

It’s one of those things that slowly creeps up on you and by the time you realise what is going on, it’s often too late and you’re deep in the shit and feeling as though you have no chance of escape.

Abuse can be physical, psychological, emotional, financial, sexual and spiritual.

It’s designed to slowly tear you down over time until you are left as a former shell of the person you once were. No self esteen, no confidence, overwhelmed, anxious and frightened. Not knowing who to trust or who you are anymore. It steals a part of your identity that you have to rebuild again.

Some women in the group today reminded me of different versions of myself at different stages in my life. I’m grateful to be as far as I am in my healing journey as I’ve done a lot of work on myself over the past year.

If you’re reading this and you know someone in an abusive relationship, please do not pressurise them to leave. It doesn’t work. Let them know that you are there for them and that if they do decide to leave. you will support them through it.

If you are reading this and you’re in an abusive relationship, please know that there are organisations out there that can help you. The UK has Womans Aid which is a good one:

Abuse can make you feel so alone in this world but know that there is hope and a way out.

Today was upsetting to listen to in parts, especially when different methods of how the abuser might carry out the abuse was described. However, I am looking forward to next week and learning more about how the last 17 years have affected me.

Back in the Blogging World



Hello fellow bloggers 👋

Is anybody out there? It’s been 3 years since my last post and so much has changed in that time. I would like to share my journey with you. It has been one of chaos, suffering, good times and bad, transformation and new paths in life.

I hope you will join me on this journey.

Sending peace, love and light  🌻🌸🌍

Celebrating Life

I went out last night which is a very rare occasion. As you can imagine, having three children, working part time and going to college doesn’t leave a lot of free time. I was nervous, sick with anxiety and regret during the whole time I was getting ready, waiting to be picked up.

However, I did end up enjoying myself very much. I didn’t get home till 2am and that was only because my sister had work in the morning. It was the first time we had ever gone out together, me and my two sisters. I am almost 31 so it was big for us. One is diagnosed borderline personality disorder and the other works in mental health. We haven’t kept in touch over the years because of our own suffering but last night we celebrated three very important things.

My sister’s birthday, my new job and Life. We have all been dragged through the gutter but we survived and we are still here so celebrating life was very important to us. I feel a little at peace today. I hope others have something that reminds them that life should be celebrated and cherished,

once it’s gone, it’s gone.

Stuck In A Rut-Career Changes

I feel very deflated at the moment sigh…

I’m in work tomorrow and I’m really not looking forward to it as it’s making me depressed.

When I started working for this company 6 years ago, I worked with a team who were exciting. I was managed by experienced leaders who pushed the boundaries, kept us engaged and passionate by providing lots of learning opportunities.

I loved waking up in the morning and going to work. It was experience and a good salary with benefits.

Coming from a poor family and abusive background, I have always tried to improve myself through my work. Ive used work from a young age as a coping strategy.

It’s been great for me as it’s kept me busy. Stopped me from slipping into deep depression. If im not busy, I become really depressed, a danger to myself with suicide tendencies and crisis moments. It’s kept a sense of normal-ness for me. My parents didn’t teach us how to deal with our emotions so this was good practice for me. It taught me what is expected in society as I’ve always been very isolated in my life so this was also a form of socialising for me.

When I was 7, living in a womans refuge in Halifax, West Yorkshire. I remember my mother telling me to not end up like her. We were running from my abusive father. I remember thinking I need to make a plan to not end up like this. I had a very black and white view so my thought was to go to uni, get a good job, have a nice house and car, get married and have kids= living a happy life with no problems.

Well in order to have the nice house and good car I needed to earn money and lots of it. So that was it, my life plan which has been the picture in my head since that day. What I didn’t realise then was that I setting my new core belief system which was not really reality. I took everything literally.

Well things didn’t quite work out like that fairytale dream which kept me in a dilusion for most of my life.

I’ve worked hard throughout my life for a career and now I find myself working in this company which I am starting to hate. My old team left a couple of years ago and the company has transformed into something I don’t recognise. The work is now dull and boring offering no challenges or any other kind of positive to my life. It’s actually put me off the field I work in which is unsettling as I almost feel like my world is crashing as it’s all I’ve ever known. My work colleagues are completely different to me and enjoy being extremely unprofessional, judgmental and complete arses.

What to do?

Tonight I applied for a new job, something completely different to what I do. It’s in an organisation which does a lot of good for people. Helps transform the lives of others so that they can live independently. I’ve used my personal experience and professional skills to meet the criteria.

I really hope I get the chance of an interview. It would completely change my direction in life both personally and professionally. The money is a lot less than what I could earn in my current field but for the benefit of my family,  personal growth and learning outweighs the salary potential.

Cheating Father Among Other Things

He was a narcissistic and controlling, physically violent arsehole who thought he was the best thing since sliced bread. He was an absolute nob.

He used many different names and told so many lies. He was Pakistani with a pale complexion and would tell people he was Spanish or Italian.

When it came to the ladies he thought he was the best looking man in the world and would lie through his teeth infront of me.

One time he told my mother he was taking me to a soft ball place but he didn’t tell her he was actually leaving me there on my own while he disappeared for an hour.

When he came back there was a young woman on the front desk, he started chatting her up telling her that he was a single dad and that my mother had died.

As we walked away he kept looking back at her and told me to wave. He told me to wait there as he ran back to her like a fucking scene out of Romeo and Juliet passing her his number.

We had a lot of people that would stay over at our house. It was a strange environment with odd behaviour and confusing events.

One time we had a married Pakistani couple stay with us over a period of time. I don’t know why they were there which at first seemed all friendly and nice. Until one day I was in the kitchen playing with the woman while my mother was out when my dad came in sniffing around and being his usual dirty slimey self. He started flirting and tickling her. She questioned if I should be in the same room as I was sat, playing with my toys next to them on the floor. His response was that I wouldn’t tell and that I didn’t understand. They started kissing and I was told to leave the kitchen finally after being sat there feeling upset at what I was seeing and to shut the door on my way out. He was in there for a while while I sat in silence in the other room. When he came out he went rushing off looking like a dirty cheating bastard.

When my mother returned I was upset and told her what had happened. They denied it and he beat my mother up while I was downstairs listening to the bangs and thumps through the floorboards. It was swept under the carpet. She then fell pregnant with his child and it all came out when my mother unknowingly helped her to book an abortion and then the penny finally dropped. It all kicked off into arguments with the husband finally ending up trying to slit his wrists on the kitchen floor. This man then went on to sexually abuse me that night.

Another great memory during one of those wonderful  (sarcasm) visits to Pakistan, he thought he would take me to the beech telling me we were going with a friend of his and her children but not to tell my mother. When we got there, this Pakistani woman with 4 children all sat glaring at me whilst eating on a blanket at the top of a cliff overlooking the beech. This woman was being off with my father and I could sense there was a problem. I was told to go down to the beech with the children. When I got to the bottom I looked back up and could see the slimey rat kissing and hugging her.

Well…when we got back to his family’s house in Rawal Pindi, Pakistan, my mother was upset with him and wanted to know where we had been. I told her we had been to the beech, with a woman and some kids and dad was kissing and cuddling her. I was angry and upset after what I had seen.

She broke down and he started laughing at her calling her names and telling her it was lies. She snapped and picked a knife up holding it infront of him shouting and screaming. This was the first and only time I saw her stick up for herself. He left saying he was going out and she locked herself in the bathroom leaving me on my own for about an hour feeling ashamed of myself and guilty for telling the truth.

Well that was a set of destructive lessons, thanks

He thought I was stupid a lot of the time time and because I was quiet he would say “she doesn’t understand”.

Other times I had to sit in the car for hours at a time waiting for the loser after he disappeared into a house. Obviously being a creep.

Well thanks for being such a great fucking example of the worst piece of shit and this is only a snippet of your twisted personality.

Intro: Childhood Struggles

My childhood consisted of emotional, physical and sexual abuse.I lived in the most confusing environments over two different countries. As a child, up to the age of 7, I lived a strict and very strange life as a Muslim child in Greater Manchester, North West England…

My father was Pakistani and my mother white British, converted muslim. I was born into a religious family with 2 younger sisters and 1 younger brother.

My father treated my mother really badly, had other women and would beat her up over the smallest of things. He locked me and my mother in the cellar once, pouring petrol over us and trying to set us on fire. I was screaming with petrol in my eyes and all over me. My mother begging him to stop. Thats one of my earliest memories.

He hated me as he wanted a boy but got a girl. He had a lot of friends that use to stay over at our house and they would sexualy abuse me from the ages of 3 to 7.

I was also sexually abused by someone I trusted who was a family friend. It was the one that effected me the most mentally when i was 6 as it was so disgusting what he did. The first time i felt real fear, anger and emotional turmoil. As soon as it happened i was in shock and disassociated. This was the one that broke me and has caused me years of pain. He took advantage in his role as Imam at the local mosque. Someone i trusted with my life took advantage when i went there to pray. Afterwards i had to go downstairs and sit with him and everyone else praying. I remember crying with my head down praying and begging God for forgiveness for what had just happened. I blamed myself and felt shame from that moment on. I was a frightened 6 year old

Back and fourth to Pakistan at least once a year for months at a time. The last time we went when i was 6, he took our passports and left, leaving us stuck there with his family. Who abused us all which I will go into further at a later date.

I had an arranged marriage planned for when i turned 13 which was arranged by him and an uncle when i was 2 weeks old.

His plan was to leave us all there in Pakistan for good but after 6 months my mother some how got us back home to England.

Soon after that she found her strength to leave with us 4 kids through the help of woman’s aid. We had to completely change our identities and names and moved across the country living in 3 different woman’s refuges as he kept finding us.

Unfortunately me and my siblings all have MH that is undiagnosed. We never talked about anything growing up and I watched my mother suffer a lot in her own way everyday when we were with him and everyday after we left.

Now as adults we continue to all suffer mentally but we still don’t talk about it. It’s hard to keep going sometimes. I’ve had to fight to survive all my life but I’m still here.

I’m in a better place now than I have ever been in the past and hopefully by writing, my healing process will speed up and I can finally move on and become a better person.