I talk a lot about the fact that I’ve faced many challenges in life. Most, I faced alone. But I realise that I’ve never revealed what actually happened. You all probably perceive my accidents as my fault, or a victim of bullying. But get rid of any pre-existing thoughts you had about me, because the truth is awaiting.
I always thought that living in Australia meant that I was safe. That because we have laws to abide by, that I was protected. I used to think I was safe. But I wasn’t.
I was your average thirteen year old girl enjoying the last week of school before summer break. I remember eating lunch with friends on a table outside and we couldn’t wait to spend our holidays together.
But then, it happened.
Out of no-where this guy threw his jumper over my head. I couldn’t see and I couldn’t breathe. He grabbed my ankles and pulled me off the table onto the ground. He began kicking me to the ground, screaming at me saying that I deserved to die. He punched me repeatedly.
I remember crying out for help! But no one came. My friends just watched and cheered him on, and the passers-by just kept on walking. Finally I was able to kick him off and run away.
But I couldn’t hide from it. It happened. It was real.
The next day I woke up with bruises all over my body. I remember covering my face in make-up, just so I could pretend that I was normal again. I tried to tell myself it was all a dream, but it wasn’t. I went to school that day and suddenly my friends weren’t my friends anymore. I was all alone. I just wished I could have turned back time to yesterday when everything was perfect. But I couldn’t.
I was in a very dark place, I felt guilty. That it was my fault. I lied to my parents to make them believe I was okay, but I wasn’t. I was lonely. I was depressed.
I used to cry myself to sleep every night. At least once a week I had dreams, well, nightmares really, that he was coming back to finish the job. In these nightmares he would come back to kill me, or to rape me. But in these nightmares I was no longer a victim. I used all of the strength that I could find inside of me, and managed to finally fight back. I remember one particular dream where I was being sexually assaulted, I found a pair of scissors and stabbed him multiple times in the chest until I was covered in his blood. I woke up screaming and crying. Unable to catch my breath. I had scars all over my body and somehow managed to scratch deep into my skin in my sleep. I turned my bed-side lamp on and my body was covered in my own blood.
This happened at least once a week. But the worst part was that in the nightmares I was fighting back, but when I woke up, I was fighting for my survival.
When I was at school, I could hear his laugh echoing in the corridors. His face, was everywhere I turned. It was a struggle getting from one classroom to another. Thinking that was bad enough, the constant reminder that I was a loner, that I had no friends seemed to constantly linger in my mind. I made my way, sometimes walking home for lunch, other times, reading in the library. You could call me your average nerd, I’m not ashamed of that. But what I am ashamed of is the way that I felt victimised, weak.
At home my sisters used to tease me. But it was worse than usual. They used to fight me and leave me with more scars. I tried laughing it off, but sometimes it was just too much to handle. They used to tease me about not having any friends. My sisters always had friend, one in particular, was lucky enough to be ‘popular’. Something I was always envious of. When they teased me saying that no one liked me, or nagging me to invite friends over for a sleepover, it made me even more depressed because what they were saying was true.
After a year of hiding it, a year of being friendless and alone, I told my Mum. And that was the turning point for me. My Mum was amazing. She helped me see a councillor, or two, or three. I was able to recover slowly, but surely. And once I was diagnosed with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Severe Depression – needing medication, Anxiety and Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, and the possibly having Borderline Personality Disorder, it became easier to label my demons and to fight them for good.
This changed my life forever. This was the turning point, the cornerstone. But, I believe that everything happens for a reason. That something good must come out of this. And it has. I can promise you that.
I’ve been rebuilding myself by helping others to see the light in the dark tunnel. I immersed myself in organisations like the White Ribbon Foundation which advocates for Violence against Women to stop. However I felt as though that wasn’t enough. That’s when I became the youth advocate for the Board of Mental Health (mifsa). It made me feel empowered because I was able to help others who were struggling, just like I was.
Someone once said that:
“You never know how strong you are, until being strong is your only choice.”
I never really gave much thought to it, until now. You see, I had to depend on myself. I was my rock, my own protector. I was my friend, I was my company. Can you imagine what a year of loneliness does to a young girl? It made me grow perspective. It made me thankful.
So five years on and what’s changed? Well I am free of my demons. I no longer suffer from a mental illness. I am a completely different person from the girl I used to be. I am proud of my achievements. I never thought it was possible. I never thought in five years’ time that I would be this successful.
So I’m glad this happened to me, because now I have the strength to get through anything. And if you’re out there fighting your own demons, I know that you will have the strength to get through it too.
Claudia Meg Bailey 