Who Am I? The teenage years

Life gets messy

How much detail will I go into here? Who knows, least of all me! Let’s just say, from here on in my life is rocky. Some self inflicted and some not. There’s a trauma warning for this segment.

Early teens I was having fun. First serious boyfriend at 12… yes, you heard it, 12. We lasted 2 years and only broke up because my father got on the phone and told him not to call me ever again. I was totally devastated and felt like I was hit by a bus.

My father decided we were too serious and there was a risk of us having sex.. I presume. He made a very bad mistake. This guy had asked… of course. When I said no, I was too young, he accepted that and never raised the subject again. He treated me with respect and we truly cared about each other. He was a safe person for me. It took me a long time to find another who didn’t want to exploit me in one way or another.

Next, I had a few boyfriends over the next year or so. I was rarely on my own. But there was one guy who was doggedly pursuing me. Initially, I disliked him - quite intensely. However, he put roses in my letterbox every day. Sent me drawings, poems and love letters. He wore me down and I finally started ‘going round’ (the current term in 1973) with him. Now this guy was not a safe person for me. He convinced me I loved him, that I wanted to have sex with him and, despite it taking a month due to pain on my part, succeeded. Of course, I was pregnant within another month.

I was in 4th year in High School and was 15 years old. Madly in love and determined to have this baby no matter what. My plan? To have the baby, stay living with my parents and decide when I was 18 if I wished to live with the father of the child. I hoped to finish school but was not all that clear on how this could happen.

Were my parents happy with this? Unsurprisingly, not so much… In fact, my father took me to Crown St Hospital for an abortion, without telling me. Just said I was going for a checkup. I was very puzzled when the nun told me I was ‘only getting it because I was underage’. I had no clue what she was talking about. When she told me I politely said I was there for a checkup and not an abortion and she said I was in the wrong queue. And, here’s where my story gets even more ugly. As I tried to stand up, my father pushed me back into the chair and told me to sit down. He explained we were there to explore all options. Then they sent me in for my first ever internal examination without any information on what that was. I thought the doctor was trying to rape me. I am now 65 but I still feel that young girl’s terror and cannot understand how a parent could do that to their child. Of course, I now know parents can do a whole lot worse. I am guessing they thought they were doing the right thing and just didn’t think the process through. I hope.

So, I was being forced into an unwanted abortion. Although the world was still pretty down on teenage pregnancies, the hospital did have a structure in place that gave me a voice. They sent me to a social worker who insisted on speaking to the father of the baby. When we both said we wanted to keep it, my father was unable to force the issue.

Of course, it soon became fairly obvious I couldn’t stay with my parents any longer. My father was getting a little violent - hoping for a miscarriage I believe. And, I was banned from seeing the child’s father. I was given the ‘us or him’ ultimatum which was a no brainer at the time.

I moved in with his parents until my daughter was born. August 1974 and I was 16 years old. Any further schooling was not an option.

So, we moved into a 3rd floor flat in Crows Nest, NSW. A little family of 3. Our place fitted out with furniture from the White Elephant. What’s now called an op shop. He had a full time job and when my daughter was 3 months old I started night work as a waitress. Money was a little tight but we were ok. We could pay the rent and eat pretty well - despite my severe lack of cooking abilities! So, life should have been idyllic… but no… Turns out the love of my life had antisocial personality disorder tendencies… Apart from having sex with anything on 2 or 4 legs, he started abusing me. Beating and raping me regularly. Initially a beating once a month got it out of his system but after 3 years it was once a week. The reasons? Generally because I hadn’t vacuumed the bird seed off the floor 5 minutes before he got home. His birds, not mine. Any earlier and there would be more bird seed on the floor. I used to listen for his motorbike and rush to vacuum before he could get up the stairs. Once he tortured me in the kitchen while our flat was full of people partying. One friend came in and asked if I was ok but left when told to get out. The only time anyone ever tried to help me. Another time, I was beaten up for… not having sex with his friend. Yes… for not having sex. In the end, the friend and I sat in the bedroom and talked and told him we had when we came out. Why did I stay? I was underage and unable to support my daughter as I couldn’t earn an adult wage. I was demoralised and felt I had nowhere to turn. In the end, I was pretty much a zombie. He took everything away from me including my art which he ridiculed. After 3 1/2 years.. he left me for another girl. That he called dogface. What a laugh. I know I eventually would have left but I am eternally grateful he took that decision away from me.

Let the healing begin. I was now 19 and determined I would never be treated like that again. I was a serial monogamist with young men that were made very aware that I was not there for the long term. Just for a good time while it lasted. It was very cathartic and, opposite to most people’s ideas, gave me back my self esteem. I think of each one of them with a great deal of fondness and am so glad they all contributed to my healing. And, I started work during the daytime. First off, a job in Woolies Deli in Chatswood. A smelly job but the staff were wonderful. Mostly older women who took me under their wing.

Things were looking up

My first ever pointillist work - a self portrait done when I was 22 from a photo of me when I was 14, taken by my cousin. Right when I was being pursued.. This was done in a black ink pen and it’s all fine dots. It has faded to sepia over the years! I was rediscovering my art after the years of demoralisation and trauma.

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