• Past Articles

When You’re The Scapegoat In A Toxic Family Of Origin – By Marty Jones

It happened again! The perpetual cycle of me allowing my mother to get close to me, then tearing me apart, me forgiving and learning to trust her again….and round and round we go. To say it’s exhausting and degrading and soul destroying is quite the understatement. And to allow myself to stay in this cycle is even more soul destroying. I’ve worked far too hard and far too deeply on myself to be okay with continuing to be part of my own systematic abuse. So, I’ve decided once and for all to support myself fully, stop denying what is happening and detach from my family. I come from a dysfunctional home (who doesn’t?) where my father drank and womanised all his life. My mother tried to cover it up and put on a show for the rest of the world and was enabled to do so by her own family….because… Continue reading

A Sexual Abuse Survivor In Recovery – By Marty Jones

WARNING: Contains sensitive material. The violation began at an early age for me….and not just by one person. I’ve had years of therapy and talked about it endlessly yet nothing can replace the part of me that they stole. Some of it I blanked out for years. I refused to let my thoughts go there. Of course drugs and alcohol do a superb job of removing memories, or at least sedating them. I buried the thoughts and memories deeply, believing that if I didn’t entertain them I would be okay. But the evidence of sexual abuse plagued my entire life and I didn’t even realize it. “You don’t know how to be treated by men, or by anyone,” …a friend informed me a few months ago. And they are right. As much as I hate to accept that fact, my friend is perfectly, disturbingly and incredibly right. I have a… Continue reading

Sober Heartbreak: By Marty Jones

“In short, the greatest gift of relationship proves to be that as the result of encountering each other, we are obliged to grow larger than we had planned.”……James Hollis I thought of a drink today. Thankfully that thought made me sick. I also toyed with the idea of a sparkly white line of speed, once my favorite drug; that made me sick too. Apparently I’m recovered enough to pass on the chemicals. And apparently I’m recovered enough to pass on begging and pleading and standing on my head for you….fucking good for me! The pain in my chest from the loss of you though is enough to kill the strongest human. I must admit there are moments during the day I think I’m going to keel over and that will be that, but I’m not dead yet….and I’m not going to die either motherfucker. Your favorite way to describe me… Continue reading