I cannot have a relationship with my mother due to my father.

When I was just 10 years old, I made the decision to stop talking to my father. It was a difficult and painful choice, but one that I felt was necessary for my well-being. It was the year 2012, and my family had just received the shocking news that my 16-year-old sister was pregnant. In response, my father kicked her out of the house and physically abused my mother. This wasn't the first time he had been violent, but something inside of me finally snapped. My once happy childhood, filled with carefree moments and family vacations, had suddenly turned sour.

I wish I could say that things got better after that, that my father apologized and we were able to repair our relationship. But the reality is, I am now 21 years old and I haven't had a real relationship with my mother in over three years. All because of my father's actions and the lasting effects of PTSD that he left me with. In the weeks following my sister's pregnancy announcement, I spent a lot of time visiting her in temporary housing. Meanwhile, my mother would lie to my father about my whereabouts. When he asked me where I had been, I would ignore him or even swear and shout at him. He would then chase me to my room and lock me in from the outside.

At this point, one might question why social services were not involved in our situation. Unfortunately, this all happened during the "austerity years" of the early 2010s, when budget cuts resulted in me losing my social worker. Social services needed proof of criminal convictions in order to intervene, and without that monitoring, I felt completely alone and helpless. My bedroom door was locked more frequently and I lived in constant fear of going home.

In the three years that followed, my mother attempted to leave my father several times, and I found myself constantly bouncing between different couches. But no matter where I went, I always ended up back behind that locked bedroom door. The unpredictable nature of our family dynamic took a toll on me, and I began experiencing anxiety attacks and even developed bulimia. It was clear to me that my mother was no stranger to the concept of domestic abuse, as her job was to support victims. I remember having a conversation with her the day after England lost a match in the 2010 World Cup, and she was exhausted from her work. It's been shown that reports of domestic abuse increase by 38% after a major football match, and yet my mother continued to work tirelessly to help others while keeping her own struggles hidden. I couldn't help but admire her strength, but at the same time, I couldn't forgive her for enabling my father's behavior.

There were times when my parents would even go on holiday together while I stayed at home alone. Other times, we would all gather for special occasions, but I would either lock myself in my room or leave the house for a few days, seeking refuge on a friend's couch. I resented my mother more than my father at times, as I couldn't understand why she wouldn't just leave. In my eyes, she was an accomplice to his abusive ways.

Now, I know that things are not always so black and white. Leaving an abuser is not an easy feat. And if any of my father's numerous arrests had led to a conviction, perhaps our family would have been spared from this ongoing nightmare. But unfortunately, none of his arrests resulted in charges. We were all too afraid to give police statements, and the authorities were too under-resourced to properly investigate.

It wasn't until I was 14 years old that my mother finally left my father. He had threatened to harm me with a knife and a rock in front of our neighbors, and the police advised my mother to get social services involved. She didn't want to risk losing her children, so she found the courage to leave. We were given high priority for social housing and moved to a new town. For the first time in years, I felt safe going home. I slept better, my anxiety attacks decreased, and my bulimia symptoms eased up. It was a huge relief and I finally thought that my nightmare was coming to an end. I believed that I could finally have a normal life and be a carefree teenager.

But unfortunately, my relief was short-lived. A few months after we moved, my father broke into our new house in a fit of rage. He believed that my mother had a new partner and proceeded to leave fist-sized holes in the walls, smeared with his own blood. I was at work during the incident, but when I came home and saw the damage, I began hyperventilating and eventually passed out. Even hours later, my heart was still racing with fear. My safe haven had now become just another place that caused me anxiety.

If you or someone you know is experiencing domestic abuse, please do not hesitate to reach out for help. In an emergency, call 999. If you are unable to speak, you can dial 55 and the operator will respond. Let's break the silence and support those who have been through this painful and complex experience.
When I was just 10 years old, I made the difficult decision to stop talking to my dad. It was a tumultuous time for my family, as we had just found out that my 16-year-old sister was pregnant. Instead of supporting her, my father's reaction was to kick her out and physically harm my mother. This wasn't the first time he had been violent, but something inside of me snapped. My once happy childhood was now filled with fear and tension.

One would hope that things would have improved with time, that apologies would be made and bridges would be mended. But the reality is, I am now 21 years old and I haven't had a real relationship with my mother in over three years. All because of the PTSD my father has left me with. In the weeks following my sister's pregnancy announcement, I spent most of my time at the emergency temporary accommodation where she was staying. Meanwhile, my mother would lie to my father about my whereabouts. Whenever he asked, I would ignore him or lash out in anger. The situation became so bad that my bedroom door had to be locked from the outside to keep me safe.

Many may wonder why social services didn't intervene in such a volatile situation. However, it was the early 2010s, a time of severe budget cuts and austerity measures. As a result, I lost my social worker and social services would only get involved if there were criminal convictions. Without anyone monitoring my situation, I felt completely alone and helpless. The fear of going home and being locked in my room became a regular part of my life.

In the three years that followed, my mother attempted to leave my father several times. Each time, I would end up couch-surfing and eventually returning to the locked bedroom in my family home. It was a constant cycle of fear and instability. As a result, I started experiencing anxiety attacks and developed bulimia. It was a difficult time for me, especially knowing that my mother's job was to support victims of domestic abuse. I couldn't understand why she wouldn't just leave and why she was enabling my father's behavior.

Sometimes, my parents would even go on holiday together while I stayed at home or they would all attend family gatherings while I sat alone in my room or stayed with friends. I resented my mother more than my father during this time. I saw her as complicit in the abuse and couldn't understand why she would let it continue.

This series aims to shed light on the complex issue of familial estrangement. Every situation is unique and we want to give a voice to those who have experienced it firsthand. If you have a story to share, please email jess@email.

I know that things are not always black and white. Leaving an abuser is not an easy task. If any of my father's previous arrests had led to a conviction, things may have been different. Unfortunately, this was not the case. We were all too afraid to give police statements and the police were under-resourced to properly investigate.

Eventually, when I was 14 years old, my mother finally left my father. It took a violent incident where he threatened to kill me for her to find the strength to walk away. We were given high priority for social housing and moved to a new town. For the first time in years, I felt safe at home. I could sleep peacefully and my anxiety attacks lessened. I was able to spend more time with friends and my eating disorder improved.

I was relieved, thinking that my nightmare was finally over and I could move on with my life. But unfortunately, I was mistaken. A few months after we moved, my father broke into our new home in a rage. He believed my mother had a new partner and left a trail of destruction. When I came home from work, I was so overwhelmed that I suffered a panic attack and passed out. This was no longer a safe haven for me.

In case of immediate danger, please call 999. If you are unable to speak, dial 55 and the operator will assist you. Domestic abuse is a serious issue and no one should have to live in fear.

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