Hello. My name is Pixie Belle and I’m 44 years of age. 

This is my story of triumphing over evil and vowing never to let the toxic, poisonous people back into my life who very nearly killed me. 

Pixie wasn’t my birth name but about 12 months ago I had an epiphany. 

I lost my old horse and rescued an ex racehorse and this prompted a huge catalyst for change in my life. Change for the better. A change that has made me stronger, a survivor and a warrior. 

For the previous 43 years I had experienced a whole lifetime and manner of abuse at the hands of the very people who should have loved me, protected me and never ever hurt me. 

Growing up I had an older sister who was perfection personified. I could NEVER compete with her because she was always cleverer than me, more academic than me, prettier than me, actually everything better than me. 

I can never remember ever having a “normal” mood pattern, a normal childhood surrounded by loving and caring parents. It was like living in a black and white lifeless and loveless world. 

The only light in my life came in the figure of my beloved Grandma. 

She was the most caring and beautiful soul that I’ve ever met. 

She treated me like I actually mattered and she loved me dearly. In fact the only happy memories I have of my childhood are of spending time with her, especially during school holidays when I’d stay overnight and we did really exciting things like going out for dinner and her driving me around in her old Riley Elf car. She even used to let me have a small glass of sherry or wine and I used to feel like a proper grown-up!!! 

I practically lived for these times. My school days were dreadfully unhappy and I endured far too many years being mercilessly bullied for being overweight. 

I did have a few friends during primary school but due to my severe unhappiness I had started to comfort eat and by the time I reached secondary education I was nearly double the weight and BMI I should have been and the consequences were absolutely devastating. 

Nobody wants to be friends with the fat kid. I used to spend all my break times and dinner breaks either hiding in the toilets or the library. 

As I was also having an incredibly difficult time at home as well I really felt like the loneliest girl in the world. I had nobody to confide in and on many, many occasions I felt like taking a rather drastic way out. 

Most lessons were just about bearable but Friday morning was always humiliation morning. 

Friday was PE day… 

The other thing I haven’t said, and I still feel embarrassed by it, was that my mother forbade me to shave my legs. 

PE lessons meant that I had to squirm with shame while I changed into my dreaded PE kit of tight white polo shirt and short gymslip… 

Even all these years later I can still recall that feeling of total dread and humiliation… 

Nobody wanted me on their team and I was rubbish at pretty much everything except swimming and netball. 

I can say, now, that having to live through all of those experiences does ultimately make you a survivor and it’s amazing to realise that it actually takes an incredible amount of strength to move on. 

Luckily better days were on the horizon and when I was 18 a kaleidoscope of colour flooded into my life… 

Yes, my wonderful stepdad appeared, just like the fairy godmother in the old fairy tales. 

He was everything that had been missing from my world. 

He had the most dazzling smile and he was the first person I’d lived with who actually listened to what I said… 

We laughed until we cried. 

We talked about everything, and I mean everything!!! 

I’d started to go out clubbing and he’d pick me up anytime of the day or night and we’d sing all the way home. 

The only sad part of it was that he was an alcoholic. Unfortunately he also had a very troubled childhood and alcohol was his coping mechanism. 

It’s truly scary to see what alcoholic can do to someone you love. 

I think one of the reasons that we got on so well was the fact that we were both troubled souls who bounced off each other. There was never any pressure in our conversations and relationship because we knew the hurt we’d been through and were going through on a daily basis. 

Whilst alcohol was his coping mechanism, food ended up being mine. 

Anorexia nervosa is a very difficult illness to understand, but after 2 hospital admissions and many years struggling, I’ve slowly learnt that I have to take things slowly. 

Devastatingly nearly 5 years ago, alcohol claimed my stepdad, my ultimate bezzie mate. 

In that instant, the prism of kaleidoscope turned back to black and white. 

For someone who had been so vibrant and full of life, the failing and poisoning of both his body and mind was soul destroying and I’ve never really got over it. 

Four months after his death, I suffered a catastrophic breakdown. 

My whole life literally collapsed like a pack of cards tumbling down, the ultimate domino effect. 

For the first time in many years I had no-one to turn to. I felt alone. 

Yet in a time of great crisis and tragedy, I ultimately found some inner strength. 

It’s truly amazing that when I hit rock bottom, and even lower, that I gained superhuman strength and between that and my sheer will to live got me through a potentially fatal admission for anorexia. 

In the six months that I was in an eating disorders unit being treated, I found myself, my true self. Without my stepdad I realised that, yet again, it was me against the world. My so-called blood family offered me no support or words of comfort or encouragement. After being told that I potentially had only 2 days left to live, I had no visitors and I promised myself that, from that moment on, I wasn’t going to be bullied or abused by my “parents” ever again. 

In reality it took another three years for me to achieve this. 

After the loss of my old horse just over a year ago, I finally gained the strength to cut every single family member off, and I can honestly say that this was THE BEST decision that I’ve ever made. 

Over the course of many, many years I had agonised over whether I could report the abuse I’d suffered to the police but always feared that it would be too much for me to cope with. 

I’m really proud to say that I did find that mental strength and I don’t regret it at all. My only regret is that I didn’t do it long ago. 

And then in May this year I set up my own charity to empower people who have been through trauma and abuse like I have myself. The tagline is #I’mProudTOSPEAKOutLoud. 

I’m also making some beautiful sparkly gift bags for women’s refuges as well as creating a mental health well-being group and a range of natural vegan beauty products. 

This is a massive passion project for me and if I can help one person, or a hundred or more then my mission will be successful. 

I’m living proof that you can experience unbelievable trauma and abuse, but ultimately come back fighting, like the warrior that I’ve turned out to be. 

Author: Pixie Belle Bradbury-Jackson Find me on Instagram