Post from Nomkhumbulwa...

Im going to share this here, because im practicing (and its a closed safe space) to share it with people in an open group which absolutely terrifies me. I hope you dont mind me sharing it. I know sharing it will enable others to do the same and also show my gratitude towards South Africa and her people. And I need to do it. But as yet I am scared because its an "open" group and all can be seen by anyone. I can understand that there is no reason any of it should be hidden, exposure is the only way to bring about change. But also my nerves cannot handle the thought of how "my" people will react to me sharing it openly. So I thought id put it here.

So my issue with losing my identity, doubting all my memories, hating myself, along with the daily dose of panic and self harm, nightmares and so forth stems from both recent events and childhood. When we are children we do not know what is normal and what isnt. We just accept it how it is, no matter how miserable and scared we are. However, due to my more recent events - the issue from my childhood came back to haunt me. I now live not knowing who to trust, avoiding the health service in the UK completely, and not knowing what is true and what isnt. My brain attacks me frequently, telling me to hurt myself, that I deserved abuse, that I am a terrible person, a burden on society etc etc etc....and it was all caused by various events.

I dont want to mention too much about childhood except that after several hospitalisations in Aberdeen - it was suggested to me that my mother had very strong Narcissistic tendancies. I then read and read everything there was to know about narcissism, and it felt like I was reading about my own life, like someone was writing about my own mother. I have never blamed her, and I still dont. Its a medical disorder, just happens to affect others a lot. I feel sorry for her, and I never intend to hurt her (or anyone). I had doubted it still for a very very long time, forcing myself to go back feeling so sick every Xmas - until 4 years ago when she was in such a rage she hit me in the face, just because I was going to spend a day with a friend who I hadnt seen in 7 years and the weather wasnt too good.

My mother has since justified her actions to every single member of my family, and they have all told me I "brought it on myself" / "I gave her no option but to hit me". I could have reported my mother at the time, but I didnt want her to lose her job, she worked with small nursery children, and I knew that they were not at risk, only myself. It had always been the same. I saw her at work many times, and she had so much love for those children, I knew they were safe. She was a kind, gentle, loving woman towards them. Something I have never ever felt myself from my mother. I used to wonder what was wrong with me, what I had done. Why she didnt love me. But year after year I forced myself to go back at xmas, as I said. Texting the samaritans as I could never escape to be able to call them, I was totally controlled by my mother. While I was there I had to wear only what she wanted me to, I was not allowed to speak freely, constantly criticised from everything from my ugly face and big forehead, state of my hair, stupid ideas, to the type of friends I had, and what I wanted to do. Absolutely everything.

The last time I saw my mother was before I went back to the Island in 2017. I had to go because I was going back to the island for the first time in 10 years - I wanted to take things for the family from my mother. Her own mother (my Nana) was 94, and I knew she had limited time. I went back, and my father already having a permit for Brize Norton was able to drop me off. Now getting on a plane is always horrific for me (!), but this time, I was both terrified and relieved at the same time. As I was relieved to be going so far from my mother whom I was so afraid of.

The whole plan was to escape. As I had recently also been in hospital again, on Arran this time, not Aberdeen - but this time I was shouted at by a psychiatrist (who no longer works) for about 30 mins. Right in my face. He had spoken to my abusers on the phone without my consent, told them I had made it all up, and that I was the abusive one. He screamed into my face that I was a manipulative liar, an attention seeker, and a burden on society. All I could do at the time was sit there and wish I was dead. I couldnt cope after that. I had no idea what was going on, whether psychologists had lied to me in Aberdeen (he also told me the health service in Aberdeen was sick of me) about my problem with my mother, I was in total shock., I began to question my entire life. I had to sit in the river to numb my entire body in the end. I desperately needed to escape. And be with my Nana while I still could, get as far away from everything but be surrounded by the family I still trusted and felt safe with. And be on my boat again....silly as that might sound. I wanted to be back on the island in familiar places, and smells, and where I felt was always "home". And most importantly - Dr Hart could not harm me from there. So I went.

All was going well. I loved being back. I loved being with friends and family, on both Islands (im not mentioning names of islands on purpose). I felt free, I did need help when I was there, but I found a refreshing trust in what is something the island does REALLY well for all its faults - it DOES have an amazing mental health team. I needed meds when there as I couldnt take enough with me, so I ended up getting to know them. And as well as my family there - these people were beginning to make me feel like I could trust myself again.

I made one mistake. I confided in a cousin, who had also confided in me, and told me about very sensitive things in her life. I felt safe telling her about my mother and the issues id had. That was a very very big mistake. I told her that for my own good I needed space from my mother. But in my most dire moment, she took it upon herself to actually phone and tell my mother everything I had trusted her with. And decided that what I really needed to do was fix things / be with my mother. My cousin hardly knows my immediate family - my mum has been back home far less than myself. She has only met my cousin twice (!). So they are not close. I was however, extremely close to my cousins. And aunties.

Everything went very bad when I was sexually assaulted by someone 30 years older than me, repeatedly for nearly 12 hours. I wont go into too much detail about that, but I ended up in the hospital with blood everywhere. I then ended up in a womens refuge (set up and run by South Africans), because to my initial astonishment - nobody in my huge family was willing to help me. In fact I then discovered they were all ashamed of me, and didnt even want to speak to me. They were angry. I will say that I believe I needed to go through that ordeal both to learn about the dark side of my culture, and to help several other local women (one of whom was looking after me in the refuge) to also report the same man. Some had been waiting 30 years. One was only 13 when she was assaulted by him, and only when I had gone to the police she did too, and discovered even worse that she wasnt ill all those years ago - that she was pregnant instead. At 13. I formed a very strong connection with this woman. She had suffered from her own family, but I was about to suffer from mine. Being completely ostracised for speaking out. Even for having the job in the refuge and helping women she was looked down on.

I stayed for 2 weeks, by now it was clear that I wasnt going back the same way I came as the runway was closed for 3 years, and I had no choice but to leave via South Africa. The ship also broke down so that added to the delay. My family attended several meetings with staff at the refuge to try and come up with a plan. Nobody was comfortable around me anymore. They actually said those words to the staff. Nobody was willing to help me with accomodation, they were all "busy", and it became apparent that I had no choice alternative but to return to the house where id been assaulted. They even told the refuge workers that they were "not my real family" and had no responsibility for me.

I had been visited by the cousin id confided in during my stay - although to my horror she then informed me that she had phoned and told my mum everything I had told her. Absolutely everything. I also was happy to be invited to my aunts house for Easter, or what I thought I was being invited for, but it turned out that it was a plan to then force me to speak to my mother on the phone (I was protected from this in the refuge). It was probably the second worse day of my life. I had to sit on the toilet, as two aunts then forced me to speak to my mother. All my mother did was shout and scream at me down the phone, tell me that I was causing so much damage, and that I was making everyone sick. Those words have never left me. She told me I didnt care about anyone, that I had made my cousin sick, and that I had spread nasty rumours about her to the whole island (in fact I had attempted to do the opposite - I confided in my cousin because I thought I could trust her NOT to spread anything, and I made sure she knew I didnt hold anything against my mother for how she was and didnt blame her). The terror of hearing my mother screaming down the phone at me that I should never have gone back, and that I was "asking for it" , as well as screaming about how I had caused her so many problems, never left me. It was only a week after the assault had happened. I tried to put down the phone several times, but was forced to hear it all again and again, hence needing to sit on the toilet. Afterwards, I was taken back to the refuge. And discovered that my family had done this to me on purpose - the people at the refuge had no idea that any of that was about to happen, as I was just invited out "for Easter". The local girl who I had become very close to was horrified. And it was after this I really started to feel like I had to trust my instinct - and that my mother really couldnt possibly be "my mother". There was no way this woman could be my mother? How did she not even care about what had happened to me and blame me for it? Although I should have expected that to happen, I know my mother like no one else does..... but still experiencing it like that was completely shattering, on top of what id just experienced.

Eventually I had to go back to the house. I panicked on the first night and called the police to ask what they were doing to keep him away from me, and they actually came to speak to me, and called someone from the mental health team. I was beside myself with fear. I stayed in the kitchen all night after, then the very next morning - I get another call from my mother. For my family had been in touch with her to inform her about the call out, so this time she was screaming at me yet again, asking me why I am doing this to the services, and again asking me how I could be so nasty and cruel, and telling me that everybody was so dissapointed in me for causing more problems having been back in the house for just one night. I escaped that day with a friend (who can speak to me no longer) to the beach where we swam in very rough sea. It felt like being in a washing machine with rocks being thrown at you. Helped at the time.

My Nana died a week later. I never got to see her again,. And I attended the funeral feeling totally alone yet surrounded by a huge family.

Apart from seeing the social worker and the police after that - I had very little contact with local family. They just didnt want me anymore. I had been a disgrace. Was dirty. Let the family name down.

I somehow got myself through SA from Cape Town to Jozi by bus all the way, knowing that as much as I loved the place, it wasnt the best place to end up after such an ordeal, alone, as a female. But I guess now that was my HUGE distraction. Having to do that, saved my life. Literally, had I gone back the same way, and had to meet up with my family in UK - I would not be here. I would have killed myself. As it was I ended up catching my friend Mary in Jozi and flew back with her to Aberdeen.

My mother made several attempts to force me to travel south, when for me the distance between Gloucestershire and Aberdeenshire was not enough. As for the rest of my family on the islands - they never spoke again. I tried to make contact, I know they are gone forever, and as well as the culture on the island, I know that my mother had done her part to turn my entire family against me too. To this day they wont speak to me. I miss them so much. especially my cousins.

I wanted to help the island though, I set up a website to share everything I could find about my people being abused, how long it had been covered up for, and how the UK Gov had even admitted to covering it up for decades. I felt sick to be British (still do). Knowing that my people (who they are in effect abusing) are more patriotic than those in the motherland. I still have that site, but I dont think it has got anywhere, and ive been asked even to remove it. But there is nothing hateful on there. It has now just become a dumping ground for my depressing poetry, But I wanted others on Island to know that they were not alone, so it is still there.

I came close with Rape Crisis Scotland to actually getting it to court after so many others had come forward. But the situation was mishandled - they told him, let him walk free before the trial, and as a result he hung himself. Which sent me into another episode of panic, doubt, and I became totally disturbed by the whole thing. I have ended up back in hospital since, but I was simply laughed at and told no one could help me - because of what was on my medical notes about me "making things up". I was terrified that day I didnt realise panic attack could make you lose control of your legs and bladder. I then began to protect myself by trusting no one. Only my blades, which relieved things for a bit. I lost contact with rape crisis for 7 months. I had seen a new psychiatrist with her Dec 2017 - but only to be told that nobody could help me. The woman from rape crisis was trying really hard though. But after his suicide and the reaction of the health service, I just lost contact totally.

I made contact only when my cat got sick in Nov 2018, and she did understand and had a plan to try and get me referred to someone else as she thinks I have C-PTSD, and this explains why I cannot let her help me. I have some sort of brain blockage caused by my narcissistic mother - that means I cannot take in things she says, and she was trying to get me referred to a residential place down south that specialises in long term trauma, and after that I could be ready to face the rape counselling. But my cat was so sick, I needed to care for her first. And since she has gone - I have not been able to make the voice in my head quiet enough to get back in touch with the woman from rape crisis.

My mother had me very stressed again over caring for my cat rather than going to see her for xmas. She also had a hip operation so expected me to be there, and although im never intending to be cruel, I think even if my cat had not been sick - I would have struggled to travel down south to my mother.

And its relentless. Trying to go "no contact" with a narcissist is not easy. They have total control over you. Or thats how it feels. Recently as it was my birthday, (which I spent in Aberdeen) the emails started coming again (I dont have a phone as im scared of it ringing) demanding that I go and see them, even telling me they will pay for me to travel. In all the explaining I have tried to do with my mother, she has never got the message. I panicked all day long on my birthday and then I couldnt manage to help homeless people in Glasgow as I normally do passing through, I couldnt even walk up stairs without panicking, then I missed my boat because of it, and when I finally got back to Lochranza, I collapsed at my gate and had to call the Samaritans, the fear was too much even to enter my house with no cat.

Now im scared of panic itself. And what it does to me. I used to lead people up mountains - and now I cant get to my gate without panicking. And I have a very loud shouting voice in my head, a combination of my mother, and Dr Hart, stopping me from ever making contact with Rape Crisis again. It is so powerful, and so are the panics, that thats what made me realise that its getting worse not better. And being somewhere where the health service thinks ive "made it all up" really really upsets me. It was when I became so terrified that I suddenly decided I needed to be back in SA. Or dead. But - I cannot risk having a public panic attack in SA - so I decided to think about finding someone to help me there.

I cannot afford private healthcare in the UK, but it occurred to me that I CAN in SA. (I would still use the public system to get all my meds, but the public psychiatric system is over stretched by a long way). Paying £25-30 a week rather than £300 is a HUGE difference. I realised I can afford it. I have friends to stay with. I dont need accommodation. There are psychologists and counsellors all over Gauteng province (where Jozi is situated) as well as psychiatrists to assess my medication. I know that it is probably my last resort - as I am able to trust people in SA. And it is where my adopted family (Sowetans) live. I always feel its a shame that no other Saints set foot into Soweto - as its like a "home from home" in many ways. The "good" parts of home. Those people, albeit living such a hard life - have actually saved my life also. I know for a fact that I owe so much to the city of Johannesburg regardless of its reputation - it is a HUGE underrated source of good people full of love. So - in summary, I know that South Africa has saved my life more than once.....and now im hoping it can save me again.

There is the issue that I have always had a major fear of flying, let alone on my own....and with my panic as it is at the moment, I may see the sign for airport and just pass out. And then there is the fact that when I return - the health service in the UK will have even more reason to believe I have the "fake" disorder - because people who really do have it - tend to seek help from alternative places!!!

cant win....and will probably never ever trust in this country ever again health wise. But to save my sanity...I may have to go with my South African idea...and just let everyone else carry on thinking im "a liar and attention seeking waste of space time and money". Thanks so much if you managed to read this ridiculously long piece.