Claire's Story

I was suffering with a bad back and had been on pain relief without any problems for about eight years. One day, when I was really struggling with it I thought, I’ll just have two more codeine to relieve the pain. But I noticed it wasn’t just the back pain that it helped, it quietened down everything in my mind, all the horrific things that were happening all around me…

My son, who had been sexually abused by another child in school, had recently started attacking me. And that was bringing up memories of the abuse I suffered from his dad. I felt scared and overwhelmed. I was working in a mental health unit for children with disabilities, then going home to a son who would attack me and scream all night. My partner worked away. Bad memories of abuse were all coming flooding back. It was horrific. And those extra pills quietened everything…

Fast forward another year, and I was taking up to 80 pills a day. It had progressed so fast, and no one had a clue. Not one person. But the years of abuse were finally catching up with me. And I was really struggling.

………………..

I grew up in a very volatile family home. Dad was in and out of jail. Sometimes, he’d go out for a loaf of bread and we wouldn’t see him for a few weeks at a time.

My mam stayed at home and raised us, until finally my dad had an affair with a 16 year old girl and buggered off for good. So my mam kind of buckled a bit, but then she met my stepdad. Still, there was a lot of violence we witnessed as kids. We used to have contact with my dad on weekends, I think my mam felt forced into doing it, but dad was dead irresponsible and abusive. He used to put star drops, the cleaning solution, in my drink, thinking it was funny. And once, when he had us in the car, he tried running my mam over.

Through my teenage years, dad would flit in and out whenever he wanted. He’d pick us up hungover, he's crashed cars with us in the car. He’d dump us anywhere he could and there were different women in and out of his life. I felt that I had to see him to protect my younger brother and sister while they were with him. But he started hitting me, he used to punch me in the face in anger and stuff. It was just awful.

When I got to about 14 he went back to jail and I was so relieved.

But at that time, all Mam seemed interested in was my stepdad and going to work, and I felt like I was just left to raise the kids. So I started drinking at about 14. I started nightclubbing, and I’d disappear for nights and no one would go out looking for me - as long as I didn't go out during the times when Mam needed me to babysit.

When I was 16, Dad came out of prison and I decided that was it. I left home. I couldn’t tolerate him or my family life no more.

………………..

I’d never seen a healthy relationship, so I didn’t know what one was and fell quickly into an abusive one. I met my eldest son’s dad when I was 17, and stayed with him for five years, but it was a really violent relationship. He put me in hospital, and he tried to kill me. When my son was just two weeks old I just upped and out. I knew I couldn’t have this around my son. So I left, but the abuse went on for another two years. He’d turn up at the house in the middle of the night. It went on until he got into another relationship. It was such a relief when it stopped.

But I couldn’t be on my own, I didn’t know how to be, and I jumped straight into another bad relationship. I was with that person for 12 years, and I suffered sexual abuse. But from the outside everything looked OK. I was fully functioning – but then I had always been surrounded by women that were told to put up, shut up and get on with it. So that’s what I did.

By the time I’d had three children I noticed my eldest was slightly different and he was having real difficulties. But we didn’t receive any support, and it felt like nobody understood. He was craving attention from his dad who hadn’t been in his life much, so I thought the best way to deal with it was to move my whole family closer to where his dad and his new family lived. We were just three doors down. It seemed to be going well, everyone was getting on really well and my eldest son was thriving.

However, it was about two years later when my eldest was sexually abused by another child at school. I called the police and then had social services come out to assess me and my house and my family. I got a clean bill, they could see all my kids’ needs were being met. But, over time, my eldest started having more problems. His dad’s new partner said she didn’t think he knew how to play appropriately with their daughters and she banned him from the house. This meant he could no longer see his dad – even though he’d have to walk past his dad’s house every day.

It was around this time my son’s anger began to really come out and I started taking more of my pain medication - which got completely out of control.

I started thinking maybe it would be better if we moved away. But as soon as we did, I felt even more unstable and my using progressed even further. I couldn’t sleep, and I ended up abusing my sleeping medication too. I just couldn’t stop my head and all the memories of abuse I suffered since I was a kid.

Eventually, I tried to take an overdose. I just thought I’m done. I asked everyone to collect my kids from school and just tried to end it. When my family found out they rallied round and I ended up staying at my auntie’s for two weeks. I started working with drug and alcohol services too. But at this point I discovered that somebody had reported me to social services because they were worried about my children’s safety.

I later found out it was my mam.

………………..

Because of the report, I started working with an early worker – a kind of early intervention service for families for when problems first come up. I was trying to tell them how bad my using was but they didn’t believe me – they said I’d be dead if I had taken that much.

I continued staying with my auntie for a couple of weeks to try and get better while my mam looked after my kids but she dragged me back by saying I had to sort my shit out and get my arse home because my kids needed me. I felt desperate, like I couldn’t do it because I was too unwell, but I had no choice.

About two days after going home I asked my mam to look after the kids, telling her I had to do some housework. I took some medication, lay down, and fell asleep on my bed. However, my mam, not knowing what I was really doing, sent my children back home. They were aged between 5 and 3 so when they found me asleep on the bed they just walked straight back out the house and into the street alone.

I woke up intoxicated from the medication with three social workers around my bed, asking me questions and trying to get me to sign a Section 20. They said it was something I needed to sign so I could just get a little break. But I wasn’t thinking straight. I didn’t really know what I was signing.

Signing that piece of paper was like game over for my children and me.

My mam had the kids and I ended up staying at my dad’s house. I felt like I was getting attacked from all angles by social services. I was told I was erratic, that I was lying and that I didn’t know how to be honest. But I felt like I couldn’t get any support. When I tried to talk to the social workers I was told they were there to look after my children, not me.

Over the next six months I was having drugs tests, and each time they were clear. Usually my doctor did them but this one time I had to ask my drug worker. They told me there was a faint line for benzos. I said absolutely not, there couldn’t be, but they said they could see a faint line so had to call social services.

I flew straight down to the drug service, did another test, a mouth swab and a hair strand test, and all came back negative. But social services went with the first test and said that would be used in court. Of course, this all went against me and they tried to give my mam an SGO (Special Guardianship Order) to remove my children from me for good. I couldn’t bear for that to happen – it really would be game over for me.

I managed to get some counselling, but other than that I was on my own. My mam did try to share some of my early experiences of abuse with social services though, but it was as though they just thought that it was such a long time ago it wasn’t relevant. By this point, social services told me they put me down to see my kids once a fortnight, but then that became just four times a year. And I kept being told there was no chance of me getting my kids back so everything felt hopeless.

………………..

My mam started really struggling with my kids – especially my eldest who she couldn’t handle. He ended up not going to school for years and was smashing up the house. My three children ended up everywhere, every Tom, Dick and Harry had them. It was really unsettling for them all.

During this time, over a year after my children were removed, I finally got into treatment, and got myself well. The recovery workers were great, but I had different social workers – some helpful, others not. So my relationship with social services was really difficult. Although I was getting better, my contact with my children was dwindling again.

Eventually, my new social worker took over. She's the best thing to ever happen to me. She's fantastic.

With her help, I started getting overnights with my son starting twice a month and then once a week. I got three hours a fortnight with my other children, and this went up to weekly. But it meant that I had separate contact with my eldest. I also got an advocate who I really trusted through the rehab service who was able to stand up for me. It gave me hope.

So, I kept pushing and pushing for more contact.

………………..

When I hit two years of being clean and sober, Mam had a bit of a breakdown. Social services were now ringing me and asking me to go over and help with my eldest. Because he wasn’t allowed to live with me, I was getting four buses a day to get to my mam’s to take my son into school.

I told them it wasn’t manageable, and that I would gladly take my son to school but I wanted him to live with me. Finally, he came to me for a week, attended school full time, showered everyday, the change in him was huge. He was starting to speak with the social worker and he told her he wanted to live full time with me. But still, he was sent back to my mam’s, and the same behaviour started up again – smashing up the house, not going to school, not washing. His mental health was a real concern.

I started documenting all the phone calls, the times I was called over to deal with my son. I gave it to social services as evidence and told them I wanted my son back home properly and that I would go to a solicitor to help make it happen.

Eventually, he was returned home, he stopped smashing things up, and he now goes to school full time and sees his dad weekly too – which is going much better. But I was told there was no chance I’d get my other two children back.

More recently, my daughter began asking to come home too. She started being really distressed when my mam would pick her back up after their contact time with me. I told social services I wanted to be assessed to get my other children home but was told I needed to wait another six months.

This time I did get a solicitor…

I was then put on a parenting course, but after two sessions the lady who ran it realised I didn’t need a parenting course – my parenting skills weren’t the problem. The problem was that my life had become unmanageable after years of abuse.

I wasn’t a bad parent. I had been unwell.

………………..

My children have now been apart from me for far longer than they should have been. It took me a long time to get better because there was no positivity, everything felt hopeless. Being constantly told I wouldn’t get my children back, that I would likely use again after treatment - it felt as though I was being set up to fail. Like so much pressure was being put on me to test me.

A friend of mine who also lost her kids actually took her own life when she relapsed after leaving treatment. And I often felt that could happen to me. That if there was no hope of getting my kids back it was game over. They were my life. I would’ve probably died using...

But it was in treatment that one recovery worker told me that I needed to do it for myself. That I could lean on the treatment centre and recovery community for support. He said they would be like my new family. He absolutely empowered me to want to be a better person. And, with their help, the help of an advocate, and my new social worker, eventually I did find a ray of hope. And that’s when I started to progress, to get well.

I’m now three years clean. And I have therapy now, so I can constantly address any issues I have in my life. My children aren’t introduced to any men, and there is no violence in my life. I attend meetings, I’ve made new friends, I’ve gained some new qualifications and I take part in recovery coaching and volunteering too.

My son is ready to have his autism assessment and I’ve been able to take my children on holiday and for trips to Flamingo Land.

With my solicitor’s help, we’ve been going through the process of getting my other two back home. I raised those children on my own and I did a bloody good job until I became unwell. It’s been a fight ever since.

It’s now three years since getting clean, and I’m still waiting for my children to come back home full time. Thankfully, after a difficult battle, I’ve recently been told they will be living with me before the end of the year. I’m really hopeful about life now.

I just wish I had found that hope sooner.