The abuse that Stephanie Steadman suffered at a tender age paved the way for a string of negative events, which turned her from a happy child into a victim of all types of abuse.
My story has a sad beginning. With a childhood that was lacking a father and a home that looked like hell, my mother, brothers and I were all sad and oppressed.
An addiction can make every day unpleasant; it can take away all hope for a future and a normal life.
The death of my father when I was growing up meant that I became a nomad, being passed from one person to another because my mother didn’t have the means to look after me.
My pathway to self-destruction had already been created when I was abused by a family member at 14-years-old. I kept the dirty little secret to myself and refused to tell anyone.
“As a boy, my father would beat me for no reason. You have no idea how much pain this caused me. I began to hate him and I remember telling him that one day I would kill him. I meant it.
Imagine being labelled as the black sheep of your family. Despised simply because of your gender. Plagued with insecurities and questioning your existence because of the constant reminder of what you turned out not to be.