I chose the name ‘littlewhitefeathers’ for my blog because in recent years, I’ve often come across little white feathers, sometimes in random places where a feather wouldn’t normally end up, such as in my shoe, or coming out of a job interview once and finding my entire car surrounded by them (no cats around!). They are always the same small, white fluffy kind. Perhaps I’ve always had these ‘gifts’ around me, but it’s only recently that I’ve really started noticing them, and in increasing numbers. Finding a white feather is meant to be a sign that your angels are near, they want to help and are guiding you. White feathers are a symbol of hope and that’s often given me comfort through some really difficult times.
I was physically and emotionally abused as a child for ten years. No one knew until recently when I started talking about it, and even now, the few people I’ve told either haven’t believed me or don’t want to know. That’s the hardest part-not being believed, but I can’t think of a single reason why anyone would make this stuff up. I’m an adult survivor but I still bear many unseen, emotional scars. I think growing up, all I ever really wanted was to have a mum and dad who loved me, and I really believe every child deserves at least that.
Now, many years on, I have my own child, I thought I had the perfect life, with a man I loved very much, but he also turned out to be emotionally abusive, and left me when my child (who is absolutely the very best thing thats ever happened in my life), had just turned two years old. Admittedly, it wasn’t all his fault-we argued a lot, we were both stubborn and headstrong and I was deeply insecure, but he did nothing to help with that as I’ll explain later on. I still very much love him, but he doesn’t want me, so now I find myself alone again (except this time I have a small child by my side most of the time, so life is much better than being totally alone). The very last thing I wanted for my own child was to grow up as I did. I so desperately wanted him to grow up in a loving, stable family unit with both his biological parents around all the time.
So now I’m writing this blog, about my experiences, in the hope that the act of writing, all but retrospectively, is therapeutic, and also that maybe this can somehow help others-I’m not sure how, but I know it’s helped me in the past to know I’m not alone when reading others’ blogs and comments with similar experiences. (Not that the internet really existed to the masses when I was growing up, but it has helped me as an adult). I guess I also want a permanent record of what happened to me, for some reason I’ve really had the urge recently to get everything down on paper-so in time, others who knew me can know what happened, and what my life was really like.