This Awful Secret

Posted on 14/09/2010 by admin

Just eight years old, an innocent
Too young to have this torment
Love from granddad, or that’s what he said
If that’s so, why do I have nightmares in bed?

Too afraid to tell mum or dad
He said if they knew, they would think I was so bad
My body so sore, it can’t be right
I’m so afraid each day and night

Now I’m grown, but still the nightmares come
I wish with all my heart I could just up and run
Like granddad has done, a new life he’s made
Whilst I’m still here waiting for the pain to fade
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What MOSAC has meant to me

Posted on 9/09/2010 by admin

The abuser of my two children was an extremely charming, charismatic and highly intelligent man who, slowly over 12 years, made me feel as though I was mad. He used charm, manipulation and lies to destruct my relationship with my children, family and friends. By the time the abuse was disclosed, my children believed that I didn’t love them and they didn’t trust me at all. There was so much anger, upset and lies, that the house was a miserable place for us all. I was desperately trying to undo his hideous actions but didn’t know how and the children wouldn’t let me close to them.

I also had to cope with the counter allegations of the abuser. I was being investigated and I couldn’t believe all this was happening to us.

Friends and family all accused me of being negligent in some way of my children. Surely I should have known? There would have been signs? They have abandoned us gradually cutting off contact.

I was completely isolated, victimised and desperate. I contemplated suicide as I felt like a total failure as a mother. I thought I was having a nervous breakdown and I simply couldn’t cope. I had turned from a competent business woman and home maker into a gibbering wreck. I then found Mosac.

Mosac have offered me kind and understanding support from women who really understand the devastation and the terrible dynamics operating in cases of child sexual abuse: The destruction of trust, of loving relationships, of family and friend networks, the fear, despair and guilt. Mosac have made me feel that I am not alone, or mad and we can get through this as a family. I feel safe and understood at Mosac. I do not need to lie about how I feel and consequently I no longer suffer the same depression.

Mosac have also offered my youngest daughter Play therapy. She doesn’t like talking about the abuse and play is ideal for her to express herself. Mosac make this therapy child lead and my daughter is able to express herself to me in a place we BOTH feel safe and supported. We have therefore been able to open up to each other in a way we could not have done any where else. Our relationship is 100,000 times better and I feel as though she feels loved again. I know this process will be long and full of ups and downs but I also know that Mosac will be there with us for as long as it takes… not just a few months or limited number of sessions. That’s what’s really needed.

Thank you Mosac.

Rock the boat

Posted on 30/08/2010 by admin
I’ve always believed in happy endings. Drizzly childhood afternoons spent watching old romantic films. Enjoying the emotional journey as the characters stumbled, freewheeling, towards a moment of clarity. To an understanding. A mate for the soul. To a happy ending. 

Look at his mum and dad. Together for forty five years, devoted to each other, finishing each others sentences. How sweet. Suburbia. Coffee mornings. The Daily Mail. Non-smokers, non-drinkers. The house like a show-home. Something niggled me, but that’s just my dark brain. Ignore the uncomfortable feeling. Nothing I could put my finger on, just a feeling. What sort of daughter-in-law thinks like that? A warped and suspicious mind? Or instinct?

Occassionally. We only saw them occassionally. The blessing of a two hour drive. Be nice. Force yourself to relax and trust. Look how they dote on my babies. She loves them almost as much as I do. He. He doesn’t say much, just keeps her happy. Her dramas. Her demands. Her never-ending health scares. Our attention always firmly held on her as we wait for test results, referrals and relief. Her fussing over carpets laid with the wrong pile direction. Months of letter writing and phonecalls. An almost arrogant expectation for perfection. The curtain pleats. Perfect pleats equals perfect life. What would the neighbours say? How many neighbours have you had? Why so many?

She can’t deal with reality. She edits the highlights and buries the rest. Tutting at the scandals of others, when under her nose sons with drink problems and a daughter who moved away at twelve. Twelve. To live up north with her nan. Why? Why does a young girl want to leave her family and friends? Horses. She was horse mad and nan had horses. Simple as that. Did nobody wonder? Did nobody ask? Were they paralysed with politeness?

Spick and span. Routine. Joined at the hip. Not my idea of excitement but it was sweet to see a couple so devoted to each other.
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