Growing up in an abusive household
Both of my parents were alcoholics. I grew up on a farm; it was a happy existence until the age of 4 when I became aware of my Dad battering my Mum. I will never forget the screams and the chaos as my older brother and myself ran in to protect my Mum.
From that day onward, I was aware of my Mum being nervous and quiet, always trying to please my Dad. However, nothing she did was right in the eyes of my Dad. He would call her names and batter her freely. I told myself that I have no dad, and that I would do anything to protect my mum.
We left the farm when I was 11. We left in the cover of darkness as my Mum now had the strength to leave him for good.
Before I turned 9, my Nana died - she was my Mum’s mum. My Mum went into a deep depression and she met a man who was a heavy drinker.
She started to leave us for days on end without food or money. I started to clean cars in order to make some money for us.
I told my Gran what had happened. Mum threw me out of the house at 16 because she said that I should have kept my mouth shut and it wasn’t my Gran’s business.
Mum was a great mum until her mum died. Then she because someone I no longer recognised.
Even after all these years, I still collect my Mum’s groceries and clean her house every week. You must think I'm a mug. I think that sometimes. But my mum's bedbound so I feel it's the right thing to do.