WARNING – Not a child safe story – A Survivors Tale
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NB: Warning this story is very heavy and it is painful to write. I can’t even re-read it. I am just sharing to provide some context to some people and also to heal. I was not going to post it, but I feel I need to right this very second. I know its just a short “clip” of my life. But I hope you understand I will share what I feel safe to share when I am ready to share it.
Please do not read if you are someone who has experienced abuse and may be triggered. I do not want to cause anyone any harm.
A Survivors tale – By Matty Angel
For most people living begins the moment they are born, the moment they are held in the arms of their mother… embraced… kissed, named and welcomed. We associate living with life, this is why we celebrate the day we were born each year… why we wear our age as a trophy, even if at times we are scared of it.
I envy those people, I look at them and wish I was given the privilege, I cry and ask why I was denied the chance to live at the moment of my birth… why I was a ghost for so many years before I was able to truly take my first steps. Why… well I could go on forever.
For a long time growing up I was ignored. I think my brothers and sister were to… but I am not so sure as its not really possible to ask them. There were four of us and my father was very absent. My mother… well I think she could not cope or perhaps there was something with her mentally? I am not sure.What I am sure of is that I was rather unwanted. I heard it often from my mother. Although not from my father, but its not like he had any attention to give me anyway. However this story starts off with me as a teenager. At least this particular one. I was a rather quiet child and teenager. Most talking I did was to myself. And what conversations I did have were basically trying to guess what others wanted to hear and parroting things they had said. Even when I did not understand them. This I think might be why it was so easy to be neglected, bullied, abused and have so much hate thrown towards me.
I could write more about growing up but… I will be honest, I do not want to. So I hope you don’t mind I will start this story from when I was 17. A time after many years of heartache, bullying, crying, a few suicide attempts and a lot of rejection.
Having autism meant conversation and learning was difficult. My life skills were very lacking and I was struggling emotionally, physically and most importantly… mentally. The school in the city where my father was, urged and asked me to leave. I was not achieving, my father was not paying the school fees… and to be honest. The bullying from both staff and students was becoming overwhelming. So on an adventure I left where my father was to go be with my mother again.
To say it was a terrible decision was an understatement. It was a household of constant yelling, screaming, anger and quiet crying in a corner at nights. My younger sister was the problem. I am not sure what was or is wrong with her. But she as a teenager was having giant toddler like tantrums. I mean hitting the floor, breaking things and even hitting my mother and bruising her. I think this is why my mother was the way she was towards me… not that its a good excuse … but … I think my mother was unable to cope with her and the fallout came towards me.
For that short time I was there I heard all sorts of horrible things said to me.“You are a monster I wish you would die”
“You are a horrible nasty, nasty child”
“I wish you would jump in front of the train”
“You are a lazy terrible thing”And many, many, many more. In fact the worst of them I have yet to share because part of me is afraid they might be true.
It didn’t help that I was struggling with anger also. Mostly from frustration and the constant screaming. I was finding it harder to breathe and think. Also I was dealing with the question of if I wanted to live any more.I had been trying to go to a course at a polytechnic (Technical school) to do with getting some credits towards further education. It was creative art and it was something I had wished to do for many years prior but my father had disapproved of. In fact he frowned so badly upon creative subjects that… having them around him resulted in him scolding you.
However when that finished, (Which I failed too by the way) I had no idea what to do. Not because I didn’t want to do anything, but because I honestly didn’t know how. The disabilities I have made things so complicated. I can’t really remember the process of how it happened but I ended up a youth centre.
It was here my life was truly saved. I began a few counselling sessions with a volunteer doctor. She had gotten a hold of a psychiatric assessment that was done because a school requested it, from when I was 10/11. She was shocked to learn that many things that were recommended and requested were never followed through. Occupational Therapist intervention, further appointments and testing, and most important, screening for autism.
For some reason, my parents would not get these things looked into. I think now looking back it is because they were afraid of what it meant and how it reflected on them. They hated difference. My home growing up was full of homophobia, hatred, mockery of the disabled and transgender phobia. Even now as an adult if I told my family I had autism they do not believe its possible a child of there’s could be this way. It makes them angry. I also think maybe this is why my sister did not get treatment for her issues growing up. Its easier to neglect and ignore than accept.
Things began getting slowly worse though even with a doctor who was now trying to help me. My mother had begun calling the doctor and trying to tell them things about me, very negative things. And also trying to get information on what I was saying. She told me that I should leave.
Then one night, I had become upset at something. I am not sure what the trigger was but I am sure it was frustration. I was scared, confused, angry, lost. I began to cry. I was out of control, everything… all the pain in my life exploded. I don’t really remember in detail what happened exactly, but here I was… letting out everything I had been carrying. I told my mother I need this to stop. It was then however, I truly realized I wasn’t safe.
It was in this fit of rage, confusion and sorrow that my mother attempted to kill me, she threw me on the ground and placed a foot upon my stomach. I felt all the breath in me escape, everything… it was as if I was spitting out a demon… something ancient and powerful that had long ago possessed me. As everything left me, my vision turned white, everything… white. I saw death I think, but I didn’t just see it… I welcomed it. In my head I was smiling… I wanted to die and she wanted to kill me.
However a younger sibling intervened and stopped her… why? I don’t know… but as I came back to reality, gasping for air I had a new found thought… whatever demon I had just coughed up, had allowed a new word to enter my world… The word Run.
I took what I could and I left. I knew someone through the internet in another city called Christchurch. I told the Doctor and she gave me a piece of paper and said if I get there, there is a place like there youth centre that would help me. A stranger I did not really know helped me get on a plane and go. Looking back this is the stupidest thing I ever did in my life, and also the best. Before I went, with the youth centres help I stayed at some shelters who helped me clean myself up, and showed me a few things in how to care for myself.
It was enough to get by and not stink out a room! And on a plane I went to Christchurch. The person I had never met before helped me go from airport and for a short while I slept on the floor of there bedroom. From there I made my way to the youth centre and with there help a journey of recovery, healing and becoming who I truly was began.
Now here I am at 30. No longer the smelly teenager that everyone thought was homeless. Who wore clothes far to big for them and didn’t have shoes. I managed to make it through quite a few suicide attempts. A lot of self harm. Not to mention whooping cough, scurvy, malnourished and gosh knows what else.Now I am a 30 year old who doesn’t throw their head on the wall crying all the time. I learned what sensory processing disorder was and created a calm safe place for me to be able to function. I discovered that I can talk and with help of various therapies and support, found a voice I never knew I had, a way of life I never knew possible and a joy inside me I didn’t even know could exist. I learned that I love art, writing and expressing myself through dance.
I have care workers who come in each day to help me live a life that is clean, healthier, and safer than I could ever imagine. And I have doctors, a counselor, and other people in my life who ensure that I am never hurt again or sick. Not to mention a dentist that put me to sleep and fixed all the problems scurvy caused.
I hope the good life I have found can continue forever.—
Dear friends
First thank you for reading what I have written, words have no value till someone reads it and I am glad you have put some value into my words.
I know those of you that know me very well, know I skipped over a lot of the darker things I have experienced and that happened. Especially some of the more serious neglect in my earlier teen years and abuse before that. But its just not the time for me to talk about them in this way yet.
I love you all very much. And I am so glad I can even say that I love people. I never knew what love was for a very long time.
About The Author
Matty is a 36 year old girl who is an Autistic Poet, Writer and Artist and lives alone in Christchurch New Zealand with a kitty! Matty has given many talks on autism and about being unique in a world that's often not accepting, Matty has also engaged with artist and worked on Art projects Matty usually works on an Art project at the same time as a writing one! This means posts can be a bit delayed!
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***HUGS***
Matty you are remarkable. You survived something that many people would just give up on. I admire you so much and your story really does need to be published to show others that what you have overcome, regardless of your current situation, shows you as one of the most amazing people we have ever known. We are humbled by your report.
Sending you hugs
I love you so much, and i am so proud of you. Thank you for sharing this. I really hope you put together a book someday. People need to know what you have been through.
I feel I know and love you even more thank you for being v you you truly are a treasured angel in my life xxx
Dear Matty, feeling for you, glad you had help to get to Christchurch and found some good support. Art is so very important.
*big hugs*
You are so very brave and so very strong, so much braver and stronger than you think you are! I am so, so proud of you!
Your words are love
Hi Matty,
I stumbled upon your page after reading your reddit post. I don’t know you but wish I did. Thank you for sharing your story with the world. Its a very brave thing to do! I’m so happy you found peace and happiness in this crazy world, you deserve it.
Thank you for sharing. You may have the start of a book here about your journey through life so far.
You are a warrior princess!