Don’t look at the milk!

I’ve been writing this blog for weeks now but just couldn’t finish it, been mad busy recently, lots going on within my company and starting my own company, whilst also doing lots of work at home, never ending!

Anyway I’ve had lots to talk about, but it’s changed so many times what I was going to talk about

On a whole I’ve been in a pretty good place recently, happy and just getting on with things, being so busy all the time always helps me. I missed 3 weeks from AMC on a Monday, due to working away and being on holiday, I always know when I’ve missed it, it helps me so much

I noticed I drank a lot the week before last, every night, it was masking the fact that it was my c**t mothers and brothers birthday. You know when you start seeing dates on things like on bottles of milk, so from like the 1st of August I know that during that week it’s the c***ts birthdays. I’m sorry for saying that word, I hate it, but I can’t think of another word to describe her. All week it’s there in the back of my mind, and it drives me mad, I’m trying to plod on and get in with the day and my life yet how many times do you write the date down or ask what the date is. Just knowing it’s early August fucks me up, can’t helping thinking about things, I wouldn’t say it knocks me back, it just puts thoughts in my head

Then the Thursday came around of the birthday, all day just trying to work on site but the thoughts and little memories kept cropping up. Why didn’t she do something to stop my c**t step dad from leaving her bedroom and coming in to mine. We didn’t live in a big house, a small landing with 3 bedroom doors fav I got each other. So when he’s got up in the night and left her in bed to come in to my room, where he’s have been missing for some time, why didn’t the c**t question where he was. I’d wake up to the smell of his awful breath blowing in my face, at first it used to wake me up, but as time went on I suppose I was waiting for it, expecting it. Blowing in my face telling me it’s going to be ok and not to worry. Then his thumb would go in my mouth and with his really rough skin, he’d rub or more like scratch his thumb in the roof of my mouth, hard, so it drew blood and hurt. With his thumb still in my mouth, probably to silence me and keep me quiet, his other hand was under the duvet touching me and doing unimaginable things, horrible c**t

It would last for a short time then he’d go back to bed. But why didn’t my c**t mother question where he was, why didn’t she hear me crying or why didn’t she see or understand the fear in her own son. Why didn’t she protect her child against the man she loved.

The next morning trying to eat my breakfast was hard, trying to eat and chew food while the roof of my mouth was so raw and still bleeding, but I couldn’t show it, and would get in trouble if I hadn’t eaten my breakfast.

The birthday also brings back the last time I saw the bitch. When I’d finally spoken out about this after 30 years of keeping quiet, I’d spoken with the police and given full police video statements. She came round to our house and sat in the couch crying asking me why I’d done this and ruined the family, obviously she was the victim and I was the one in the wrong. She said she did t know what to believe and left shortly after. The following night I met her at a pub, very quickly she said she didn’t believe me and that she believed her c**t cheating awful husband, I got up and left, that was the last time I looked in to her evil eyes thankfully. How could a mother do that to her own son, her own child, take a mans word who’d been abusing her son for nearly 10 years. A man that cheated on her several years earlier with her best friend, you know what, they’re suited for each other, both lying twisted awful c**ts

So yeah, who’s have thought that looking at the date on a bottle of milk could bring all that up 😂 but good riddance to the c***s! I’m so much stronger now and in the best place in my life I’ve ever been in. It does obviously effect me, but nothing like it used to. Thanks to the support and the amazing work my therapist did, I can get past it and almost joke about it

We can’t change our past, it’s what it is, we can only embrace it and learn for the future, grow and get stronger for the future, and that’s what I’m trying to do in writing these blogs. If I can be as honest and as open as I can, talk about my past and put my hand up and say yeah this shit happened, but you know what, I’m the winner now, those c***s will always have to live with what they did, they will have to sleep at night knowing they abused children, I’m stronger and the better person. But also in me talking about it, it doesn’t break me, it doesn’t make me feel suicidal anymore. In fact the more I talk about it the stronger I become. I just would love other guys to read this and maybe feel strong enough to also speak out about things, you will be believed, you will be listened to! And with time you will feel so much better and realise that you’ve got so much to live for, and now know that I can’t let them win, in me taking my own life, not only have they got away with abusing me all those years and leaving the awful flashbacks and scars engrained in my head, but they’ve won because I’m not here to shout about it anymore. That’s not happening, I’m going to shout it from the roof tops to get men talking and get that confidence to open up about things, that stigma of men not talking is bollocks. I’ve just opened up even more and feel amazing for doing so

Some people say life moulds you, life doesn’t mould you, that’s a blest way of putting it, life calves you. And it’s the deepest cuts, the deepest chunks that get cut out of you, that scar you and make you the person you are. And it will either make you a masterpiece or or make you this horrible misshapen, bitter, twisted piece of wood, and that’s what life can do, that’s what your childhood can do, it’s up to you to make sure those cuts that are being cut and calved out of you, are turning you in to a masterpiece

Like I say, I just hope one man can read this and feel strong enough to talk

Please share and pass it on that it’s ok to talk and we need to spread the word that talking helps 💪🏼😊

Thanks for reading 🙌🏻😁

2 thoughts on “Don’t look at the milk!

  1. Whow such moving testimony, Simon you make me salute you, DO NOT shy away from your abuse, it was not you who brought it on. IT SHOULD NOT HAVE HAPPENED, But sadly it did, and you talking about it, bringing it here, allows others to know it can happen at every level, and does. Respect Simon x Thank you

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