I always dreaded Saturday mornings growing up.
Instead of me and my siblings being able to relax and maybe have a lie-in after a week of school, we’d have to be up early to do chores – mostly cleaning. We weren’t allowed breakfast until we’d finished – this was one of my stepmum’s house rules.
One Saturday, I woke up really hungry. I tried to ignore the gnawing in my stomach as I started my weekly tasks but I couldn’t. My stepmum was in another room – if I was quick and quiet, she wouldn’t catch me, I thought.
I snuck to the kitchen for a snack but froze when I heard her footsteps. She’d found me.
This piece contains descriptions of abuse
The next thing I knew, I was being dragged to the living room, where she beat me with a belt. She then proceeded to mix black pepper in water and ordered me to pull down my pants. ‘I’m sorry!’ I screamed, over and over again, as I tried to make a run for the door. But she was stronger and held me down while the torture continued. She rubbed the stinging pepper mixture into my eyes, and between my legs.
This kind of abuse was common in our household ever since my dad married my stepmum, his third wife. I never really knew my real mum – I don’t remember her face, and only have blurry memories of what she was like.
I have searched for her pictures around the house and in all the old photo albums, and it’s almost like she never existed. I only heard stories about her from my dad, who told me that they weren’t just compatible and the marriage didn’t work out.
They split up when me and my sister were really young, and she was pregnant with a third girl. That baby came to live with us soon after – I was told my mum was struggling with her bills and returned the baby to my dad.
My dad remarried almost immediately, and had a son with his new wife. Everyone paid more attention to him, neglecting my sisters and I.
My dad was barely around as he was always away on business trips, and even when he was, he would be out late with his friends. His second wife was more focused on her son and largely ignored my sister and I.
But the worst was yet to come.
His second wife died from breast cancer in 2008, and he remarried again – and that’s when things took a dark and terrifying turn.
At first, my new stepmum was really nice and peaceful – she bought us gifts and clothes frequently. Like many abusive people, she wasn’t nasty all the time.
The opportunity to go to boarding school came when I was 10, and I grabbed it
But that side of her didn’t take long to show. She got angry over the littlest things and dished out the most insane punishments if things didn’t go as she instructed.
She would accuse me of stealing from her, and say she had to show me how thieves were treated. She said my younger sister was ‘evil’ and had her subjected to different spiritual exercises to cure her of this so-called evil nature, like exorcisms that were carried out by a prophetess that she hired.
My sister (who was only about 12 years old then) was made to wear oversized clothes as her whole body was meant to be completely covered. She had to fast for three days straight and was only allowed to drink water.
My stepmum also bought candles, olive oil and holy water in a bid to ‘cure’ my sister – and she would beat her mercilessly and tell her that she would rid her of this evil spirit.
My life became a nightmare. My stepmum would bang my head on the wall at the slightest provocation, and she subjected me to mental abuse too, telling me I was too tall, not beautiful, and that no man would ever be attracted to me.
No matter what my siblings and I did, she found a way of putting us down, and told us we should be grateful she took care of us when our mother abandoned us.
The opportunity to go to boarding school came when I was 10, and I grabbed it. I remember the joy and excitement I felt, knowing that I would be away from home for months. I worried deeply for my siblings at home, but they were close in age to me, and soon, they’d be going to boarding school too.
When my dad asked me why I wanted to go, I told him it was because all my friends were going, but I’m sure he knew that I was lying as I barely had any friends – my stepmum’s abuse had taken my voice, and I was scared of approaching people or getting close to them.
When I was 18, I ran away from home. I’d hoped when I was old enough I’d be able to start standing up to my stepmum, but I couldn’t
I made a few friends there but found myself really envious of their relationships with their mums. A friend once told me how she was harassed by a guy and when she told her mum, she supported her in reporting the guy to the police.
She also told me how her mum was fully aware of her current relationship with her boyfriend. I was in awe – I’d never had such a close or supportive relationship with a parent.
My friends didn’t understand how bad things really were with my stepmum. They’d tell me I could fix it. But God knows I tried – I did everything she wanted, dressed and spoke how she wanted, but it was never enough. All it did was make me lose my sense of self.
When I was 18, I ran away from home. I’d hoped when I was old enough I’d be able to start standing up to my stepmum, but I couldn’t. I was terrified of her.
I stayed with a friend for over a year before my dad and stepmum realised I wasn’t coming back, so they agreed to pay my rent for an apartment that I currently share with my sister.
I’m 21 now, and my stepmum’s abuse is still affecting me. I struggle with depression and anxiety, I still don’t see myself as beautiful and this has weighed down my self-esteem and communication skills in general. I struggle with relationships because I don’t feel like I’m worthy of love. I’m constantly weighed down by the events of my childhood.
I realise that my stepmum probably acted how she did because her parents might have treated her similarly. But that doesn’t excuse it or make it any easier for me. I’m determined to break the cycle – if I ever have kids, I’m going to love and support them, and be the mum I wish I’d had.
But for now, all I hope and dream of is working hard and being able to afford my bills so that I can get away from them completely.
I don’t hold any malicious intent against them, I would just like to be free.
Degrees of Separation
This series aims to offer a nuanced look at familial estrangement.
Estrangement is not a one-size-fits-all situation, and we want to give voice to those who’ve been through it themselves.
If you’ve experienced estrangement personally and want to share your story, you can email [email protected] and/or [email protected]
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