My Story - survival, courage and help to make a new start. We are not alone.

Today’s blog is an amazing tale of survival. Alanah shares with us her tale of growing up in very hard circumstances, ones that no one should have to cope with. Her stories tells of the hard times and the things that ultimately enabled her to get help and start a new life.

Alanah wished to share her story to give others hope that there is help available and things can change, but it can take courage to ask for help, and if the first try doesn’t work to try again as there is someone who will listen and help. We thank Alanah for being so brave in sharing this story. Please note Alanah’s story contain content that some may find upsetting – please see contacts at the end of the blog should you need help or assistance.

Hey guys- My name is Alanah. I was born in Scotland, but when I was two, my mum took me away from my Dad, applied to be an Australian citizen and never returned. Soon after, my Mum moved in with my stepdad and that’s when it all started.

Ever since I can remember, I’d lived with my stepdad and Mum. I don’t really remember when my stepdad started to be abusive, but I think it was around the time my little brother Caleb started to grow up. No matter what he wanted, my parents would get it for him- and if he did something wrong, he wouldn’t get into trouble. More and more they would ignore me, to pay attention to my brother. I began to steal food, in about year 3, after my parents started to feed me less and less. They used this as an excuse to tighten the reins on my already very restricted life. I began to get locked outside, and I began to dread the time when the school bell would ring and I would have to go home.

Soon after this, we moved, onto a property that was on an island. There are 48 homes on it, but we were totally isolated from our neighbours. Crossing the river was the only way to get off, and we used a barge to get across each day to our car. It was soon after this that my parents began to remove entire meals as a punishment if I did something they didn’t like. At this point (and up until I moved out) I was being fed a bowl of soggy cornflakes for breakfast, and a cheese sandwich for lunch, and one again for dinner. I was eating almost nothing every day anyway, missing meals just made it even worse, so I continued to steal food. Each time I did I was punished by not being fed.

I began to tell the teachers at school what was happening, after they noticed I was stealing from school too. Often I would come to school not showered, and I didn’t play with the other kids, preferring to sit and read by myself. I found out later that though the teachers documented everything I said, they didn’t believe me and so did nothing about it.

As I progressed to high school, I became severely bullied. Not showering, not being allowed to wear deodorant, or shave my legs and armpits coupled with my very short boyish haircut that my parents favoured, I drew unwanted attention from everywhere. I was asked several times a day if I was a girl or a boy, and I began to hate every aspect of my life, both at home and at school.

I began talking to the school Chaplain, Ben, after I got caught stealing money to buy food. I broke down and told them everything that was happening at home. Nothing happened, but they encouraged me to ring the Student Help Line.

There are telephone helpline services that can help you. Check helpline numbers at the end of the blog.

I used the school phone, and got through to a very nice lady whose name I forget. After talking to her for hours, her solution was to try and contact my biological dad, who I was rarely allowed to see, and tell him what was going on. She didn’t seem to understand that I wasn’t allowed inside the house, except for the toilet once a day and to sleep, when I was locked in my room. Looking through the house, let alone using the phone or computer was impossible.

I continued through school, and as I got to Year 11 struggled quite a bit, as I wanted to do my TEE/HSC to get into University, but my stepdad wouldn’t allow me to study at home, and so I was slugging through in my recess and lunch trying to get it done.

My friends were very good around this time, as was my little brother. He would try and sneak me food whenever he could, and water, which was especially important, as I was only allowed a centimeter of it in the bottom of a glass, and over weekends this was not enough. My friends would bring me presents for my birthday, as I wasn’t allowed one at home, and then would take home with them in their bags the items so I could have access to them each day. Things like sunglasses, lip gloss, necklaces all got passed from person to person. They really were lovely. One of my friends even bought me razors so I could shave my legs. I got in a lot of trouble for that at home but I didn’t care.

I was heaven. I could get lost in music.

Towards the end of year 12, I took up music again. I had played Clarinet in Year 6, and loved it, but my parents hadn’t wanted me to continue, and so I hadn’t. my brother had recently started playing bass, and he came up with a story  that the school band would not be allowed to operate anymore if more clarinet players didn’t filter through. My parents knew Caleb loved band, so they agreed to let me play. I was in heaven. I got so lost in my music, and didn’t have to worry so much anymore. When my parents kept me locked out at night, I remembered the fingerings.

Around this time, my dad sent me a letter I was allowed to read, and he put his email down the bottom, urging me to contact him. I memorised it, and emailed him from school. I told him all he horrible things my parents were doing, but told him not to do anything. My dad was furious, but guilty, and nothing came of it, but at least I was in contact with him again. I mentioned that I wanted to learn tenor Sax, and he had one sent for me for Christmas to the school. One of my band friends looked after it, taking it home for me and bringing it back.

We had a performance outside of school with band. I was supposed to wear black pants and black shoes, and my parents sent me in blue pants and white shoes. During the performance one of the parents of the band noticed something was wrong, and told me that if I ever needed a place to stay, I could come live with her. When my stepdad shoved a wheelie bin into my leg while crossing the river on the way home after I thanked him for allowing me to perform, I flipped. I decided then and there I was leaving and not coming back. I had left home several times but they had always said that they would be nicer to me, so I always came home. This time I was over it. I had exams to study for, and I life I wanted to get on with. I left home, with a few belongings, and I never went back.

My Life is so different now.

I wouldn’t have been able to get through the ordeal without the help of my friends, and my music. I’ve been living independently for over two years- I have nearly finished my Diploma of Technical production- and I work for a P.A Company, helping to set up concerts, and operating the gear. It’s awesome, and I love it.

My life now is so good compared to before, and I wish I’d got help sooner. If you’re in a situation like I was TELL SOMEONE!! You haven’t done anything wrong, and don’t have to be scared. There are so many people out there that can help you, and will. But you have to ask!! No one can help you if they don’t know what is happening. Be brave- it’s worth it.

Peace!!

All names in this blog have been changed.

Helplines and Websites

Please check out these helplines and websites should you require assistance.

Kids Helpline

Phone: 1800 55 1800 (free call from landline)

Lifeline

Phone: 13 11 14 (cost of local call from landline)

Emergency Services

Phone ‘000’ or get to a hospital now if you are in immediate danger and can’t get through to a help line (like Lifeline or Kids Helpline)

Thank you to Student Edge for supporting the development of this blog through the provision on a rather fantastic Goodie Bag.

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Image Acknowledgement

The images in this blog were sourced via and Flickr and a creative commons licence

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