Inspired by the recent news story of ‘Andrew’ being removed from his royalty and military titles and ordered to answer to charges around sexual abuse in the US, I began considering how the survivor must feel to have received all of this news. Then, thinking about that, has led to this post about my journey through reporting the abuse I experienced, how I coped when my abuser told the Police he was completely innocent, advice I’d give, and some helpful resources…
“WHY DID IT TAKE SO LONG?”
The very first time my abuser hurt me, I fought back, and I screamed.
When he clamped a hot, sweaty hand over my mouth and muttered some very
believable threats, I immediately knew that it wasn’t going to be the first
time he did this. And that from that moment on, I couldn’t tell a single person
about it.
And I was right on both counts. Firstly, the abuse continued for
maybe three or four occasions per week for the following six months. And secondly,
I didn’t tell a soul for that entire time because ironically, the longer I
stayed quiet, the more opportunity I had to come up with even more reasons not
to report it…
1.
My abuser’s threats that he’d physically hurt me and/or have me
kicked out of school
2.
The doubt that anyone would actually believe me
3.
The thought that I deserved it
4.
Wondering why anyone would even care
5.
The worry of what my Mum would do to him(!)
And the list could go on!
SILENTLY
SCREAMING
Whilst I had so many reasons to stay silent, that didn’t mean I
wanted to. To the contrary in fact because I, actually, wanted help. I was
desperate for someone to stop it because I had come to recognise and accept
that I was incapable of doing anything to help myself. And so, I began (what I
would call) silent screaming.
I thought that if I couldn’t tell people, then maybe I
could show them. And so, I let in to all the difficult thoughts and
feelings and began exhibiting behaviours which – professionals and others are
frequently taught – are signs of abuse. I self-harmed, my attitude towards
people in general changed, I stopped engaging in or caring about my schoolwork,
and I started taking multiple showers and spending up to an hour each time!
Unfortunately, though, I was in my teens (I was fifteen when the
abuse started and turned sixteen during it) and so a lot of my change in actions
and attitude were explained away as teenage rebellion, or just plain rudeness in
a lot of instances. And this resulted in my Mum being asked to attend a meeting
with my abuser. It was held in the room he had been using to hurt me and at one
point, I couldn’t stand to be there any longer and ran out crying. My Nana had
been there, so she came after me and my Mum said that my abuser had started to tear
up and at that time – not knowing any different – she thought it was because he
was really invested and cared that I was in so much trouble. She told me her
was a very good person. Knowing what she does now though, she – and I – believe
he was upset out of fear that I was going to tell my Nana why I was crying. He
was scared for himself. He only cared about himself and the consequences he
might face. And that had always been true of him.
SIGNS OF
CHILD ABUSE
ü
Unexplained changes in personality and behaviours
ü
Becoming withdrawn
ü
Seeming anxious
ü
Becoming uncharacteristically aggressive
ü
Lack of social skills
ü
Poor bond or relationship with a parent
ü
Knowledge of adult issues that are inappropriate for their age
ü
Running away or going missing
ü
Wearing clothes that cover their body
For more
info: Spotting
the signs of child abuse | NSPCC
THE STRAWS
THAT BROKE MY BACK
In my mental health and abuse journey, the notion that there’s
been a point where one extra thing has been one too many, has always been
there. And it’s what comes to mind when I begin to start talking about my
eventual decision to report the abuse… Because it wasn’t based on just one
decision. It was based on the fact that I had made the decision over and over
again for six months, and on April 20th 2007 I realised that I couldn’t
keep making it for a number of reasons:
1.
My Mum calling him a ‘good person’ and the realisation that so
many others would agree with that, which couldn’t be any further from the truth
2.
I was drained from behaving in ways that I didn’t want to – ways that
weren’t me and I was tired of being judged as if I was that person
3.
That when I got a boyfriend, he told me if I didn’t breakup with
him, he would start hurting another girl because I’d be ‘useless’
4.
His attempt to spoil my sixteenth Birthday by telling me he would
take care of my absence from school so that I could go to Disneyland Paris, and
then he didn’t
5.
The recognition that if things continued, I very likely wouldn’t
achieve the grades I needed at school to have the further education and career
that I wanted
WHEN I WAS
CALLED A LIAR
All these straws seemed to come to a head on April 20th
when my abuser and I were arguing in an otherwise empty corridor, and I yelled “think
of your wife and children!” just as my abuser’s boss lurched out of his office.
He demanded to know why I was speaking to my abuser in such a way and finally,
I told him.
Saying what had been happening out loud for the first time was… I
don’t know… It was relieving and suffocating at the exact same time. I felt
terror and comfort in unison. And with those conflicting thoughts and feelings
overwhelming my head and body, I remember leaning against a wall in the
corridor just to keep myself upright. It was like the ground was constantly
moving beneath me and I was struggling to find stability. Struggling to keep my
footing as my entire world was turned upside down by those few words I hated having
to say. And which I resented my abuser for, because he gave me reason to say
them.
Sort of ironically, even though I had that huge fear that if I
told someone I wouldn’t be believed, when my abuser’s boss called me a manipulative
liar; it still felt like a punch to my stomach. It was still surprising and
still upsetting. Even though I had that fear for six months, it had meant that
I still wasn’t prepared for it to actually happen. With the utter shock, my
abuser’s boss had to tell me twice that I was being banned from the building because
it wasn’t until the second time that I shook all the horrible thoughts from the
front of my mind so that I could be aware of what was actually happening.
I spent the entire time I was waiting for my Mum to come and pick
me up from the building crying hysterically because all I could think about was
that there was absolutely no way I could tell my Mum what had happened. I mean,
looking back; I wish I’d trusted that my Mum would have never reacted the way
my abuser’s boss did; but things weren’t exactly stable at the time and so I
didn’t consider it. I just clung onto the fact I’d finally told someone and
wasn’t believed. So, why would I go on to tell anyone else?
When my Mum came, I spun a story that was as close to the truth as
I could make it without actually telling her the entire thing. So, she asked to
speak with my abuser’s boss and when I heard his voice around the corner from
the reception Mum and I were in, I peered around just in time to see him
shaking hands with my abuser. Not in a ‘pleased-to-meet-you’ kind of way. More
like an act of ‘congratulations!’ And I just remember my eyes widening so far
that I felt the urge to pull them back into their sockets!
TIPS
FOR RESPONDING TO A CHILD DISCLOSING ABUSE
ü Give them
your full attention
ü Use open and
encouraging body language
ü Being
compassionate and understanding
ü Reassure that
they’ve been brave in speaking up
ü Respect
pauses and don’t interrupt the child
ü Respond to
their body language and wording
ü Reflect back
what the child has said to check your understanding
For more
info: Let
children know you’re listening | NSPCC Learning
HOW
I COPED WITH THE DISBELIEF
Now, I think that a hugely collaborative factor in the reasons why
I used unsafe and unhealthy behaviours to cope with my abuser’s boss’ response,
was that until the abuse; I had an ideal childhood. I hadn’t – at least in my
memories – ever experienced any real hardship or challenging situations growing
up and that meant I hadn’t developed or learnt any positive coping skills. To
be fair, even if I had, who’s to say that I would’ve used those in this situation?
Instead, for the two years between the end of the abuse in 2007
and my first suicide attempt in 2009, I engaged in some detrimental and
sometimes dangerous behaviours…
1.
I restricted my eating, self-induced vomiting, and began over-exercising
2.
I started smoking
3.
I binged on alcohol (yes, even though I was underage!)
4.
I became friends with a group of people who were, in short, a rebellious
influence
5.
I began self-harming
The turning point to numbers 2, 3, and 4 was when my friendship
group became involved in a fight with another group. One of my friends was held
against a fence by his throat, and the boy I had been dating pushed me in front
of him when another guy swung a punch in his direction. When the Police became
involved, my Mum just kind of… put her foot down and said I wasn’t allowed to
have anything more to do with the group.
HOW
THE POLICE GOT INVOLVED
The next person I talked to about the abuse was a patient on the Psychiatric
Intensive Care Unit (PICU) I’d been a patient on since my second suicide
attempt in 2009.
I had been admitted to a low secure psychiatric ward initially,
but after numerous instances of running away, I was transferred to the PICU. I
remember being given a ‘tour’ by a member of staff and as we walked down the
corridor to my new room, a lady was walking along another corridor and she had
huge, white bandages on each arm, from her wrists to her elbows. I was
terrified. However, after a few days on the PICU, I was sat out in the enclosed
courtyard when she came out to smoke and for a reason that I still can’t remember,
we started talking.
After a while – and I mean a ‘while’ because it had started
to get dark – she told me that she’d been abused by a relative and suddenly it
was like someone had just poured warm water through my entire body. I felt reassured
and comforted. It was as though I hadn’t even realised just how lonely I had been
feeling until her words freed me from it. And just as suddenly as all those
thoughts and feelings happened, the words just as quickly fell out of my mouth:
“I was abused too.”
We spent the following few hours with her trying so hard – and eventually
succeeding – to encourage me to tell the ward’s staff. And the next thing I can
barely remember is being sat in a long, thin room with the ward’s Manager
telling me that she was now obliged to call the Police and to tell my Mum. I
won’t lie; I was more anxious at the thought of the Police than my Mum. And I
hope that it’s kind of obviously not about me not caring about my Mum’s
reaction… It was just that the Police’s response would be more influential on
whether my abuser experienced any – very warranted – consequences for his
actions.
WHY
I TALKED TO THE POLICE
I don’t think I was actually given the choice for whether or not my
report should go through the police process, but if I had been? Well, I’d
thought about reasons why I should cooperate with the investigation…
The first, biggest reason came when the inpatient said, “what if
he’s doing it to someone else now that you’re not there?” Initially, I felt
terrible that it was something I hadn’t considered. That feeling mostly stemmed
from the immediate conviction that sprung to my mind that yes, he would be
doing it to someone else.
I’m a big believer that I know my abuser better than others do
(including his wife because she likely doesn’t even know the side of him that I
experienced) and so I feel confident that I’m not making ‘assumptions.’ I’m
certain. I’m certain that he wouldn’t have thought that he shouldn’t do it
again out of concern that I might still report him. He would’ve thought he’d
gotten away with it because it was two years later and he would’ve thought that
if I was going to report him, I would’ve done it by now. He would’ve been arrogant
about it.
After prioritising others, I began to think about myself; and had
the realisation that if I didn’t do everything I could to make my abuser ‘pay’
for what he had done, my mental health would very likely, never improve; and I’d
spent the rest of my life in and out of psychiatric hospitals. And I very
obviously didn’t want that. I knew that I didn’t deserve it either. But he was
deserving of all the consequences that he had the potential to receive if I
pursued the report with the Police.
“THAT’S
HOW I REMEMBER IT” – RECOUNTING THE ABUSE TO THE POLICE
In all honesty, I don’t remember many details from my interviews
with the Police… I do remember that I was going to begin the statement process
whilst an inpatient of the PICU, but the staff thought I would use the trip to
the Police station as a means to run away. But then, having disclosed the
abuse, the psychiatric staff thought that was a big step forward in my mental
health journey and I was discharged.
I was still poorly though, and at that time; one of my biggest,
most frequently used coping mechanisms, was that when reality was difficult and
upsetting, I’d distance myself from it. It was a protective thing; I was just
desperately trying to escape the possibility of going through another traumatic
situation. And so, even my most vague memories of the Police interviews are scarce…
I mean, I kind of remember it being discussed whether I needed an ‘appropriate
adult’ present and then I remember being sat with a Police officer in this dull,
dark room that had toys in the corner and a camera almost immediately in front
of me. The toys were a very obvious and upsetting nod to the fact that children
had to experience interviews like this. It was a heart-breaking notion. And a
notion that was a big reminder of just how long it’d been since the abuse,
because if I’d reported it at the time… I mean, I doubt I would’ve been asked
to point to areas on a doll, but it could have been a vastly different experience
to what was happening now.
Since I was over 18, I think that it was assumed that I would be
able to use language that I actually wasn’t at all comfortable with both using
and hearing. In fairness, the Police Officer did explain that they needed me to
use (or at least confirm their use of) particular words to add to the validity
of my statement. And looking back, I completely understand the necessity of
that, but at that time it felt as though things were just escalating. That
rather than feeling better with the knowledge that what I was doing (talking to
the Police) was ‘right,’ I was beginning to regret it. I was beginning to wish
I hadn’t opened my mouth that day in the hospital courtyard. And I was starting
to wonder why I’d agreed to speak to the Police at all!
Aside from using the language I wasn’t comfortable with – and I’m
still not, to be honest – I was also required to go into a level of detail that
I struggled to provide. With my coping skills centring around remining somewhat
absent from reality, it meant that during the actual acts of abuse I recalled
them as though I were watching from a spot on the ceiling. I was seeing these
horrible things happen to some poor girl that I didn’t know and couldn’t help.
Remembering things in that way, meant that I couldn’t describe
some aspects that had I been able to, might have ‘helped’ my accusation. They
might have made it more concrete and believable. But instead, me trying to
protect myself had turned out to actually be harmful to my future-self!
For info on
the UK’s Police investigation and legal process for child abuse:
Investigation
and Prosecution of Child Abuse Cases | The Crown Prosecution Service
(cps.gov.uk)
FINDING
OUT HIS COLLEAGUES HAD SUSPICIONS
The next part of the Police investigation process was when they
gave me the results of their interviews with my abuser’s colleagues. Even
compared to the part about having to use horrible words, this was the hardest
part of the entire thing.
The Police told me that comments from his colleagues varied from “I
didn’t see it, but I can imagine it happening” to “I did wonder…” And before
that, I hadn’t thought it was possible for my head and heart to hold any more
anger and hatred than it already did. But this news proved me to be wrong. I
was so overwhelmed with intense anger and hate that I felt I could’ve punched a
hole in a concrete wall! I mean, my previous advice about screaming into a
pillow or throwing your frustrated energy into something productive? Well, if
anyone had said these things to me at that point, I could’ve told them where to
go. I’m not a violent person but that? Well, hearing those comments could have
brought me as close as I ever have been.
A huge part of my anger stemmed from the very reasonable but
uncontrollable thought ‘you suspected it?! Why the hell didn’t you do anything
about it then?!’ I was more than aware that I had the potential to have stopped
the abuse myself… I mean, I recognise that I could have physically fought back.
I could have reported it as soon as it started… They’re notions that I’ll never
forget and will probably always continue to struggle with feelings resembling
regret; so, I definitely don’t need to have them pointed out to me.
Regardless of this, I think it’s still fair for me to say that the
responsible adults who were around at the time and were – apparently – suspicious,
were equally well placed to end the abuse. They could have and they chose not
to. They chose not to help me. They chose(!) at a time when I honestly felt
like I had absolutely no choice or control over my own life and the situation
at all! And I honestly hope that in learning their suspicions had been correct,
they recognised that they’d have to live with their decision for the rest of
their life. And I hope they feel terrible for that. Because I definitely have!
WHEN
MY ABUSER TOLD HIS BIGGEST LIE
The next result I was told after the investigation was that my
abuser had claimed to be innocent. I think that out of the entire journey and
process of reporting the abuse, this part is more easily understood and
appreciated as being difficult. Like, I got/get the feeling that I don’t even have
to explain why I struggled with the biggest lie of his. It was so expected that
when I was told what he’d said, the psychiatric professionals seemed to panic a
bit – almost just assuming that I would end up self-harming or making another
suicide attempt. And yes, they were right in a way… But I found it helpful to still
have the opportunity to explain why I found it difficult.
So, I think that the first aspect of his denial that came into my
head was around whether or not I had expected it. I said earlier that I believe
I know him better than anyone and that one reason for my reluctance to report
the abuse sooner had been the conviction that no one would believe me. Well,
the reason I thought this, was because I was completely certain that he would deny
his actions and people would be faced with the conundrum as to who to believe.
And what were the chances they were going to choose me?!
Expecting the denial/lie begs the question as to whether that made
it any more or less difficult to cope with when it happened. I can honestly
tell you that I feel like it was easier… I don’t think that this would be true
for everyone; some people might massively struggle with disappointment or the
notion that no matter what their expectations, they weren’t prepared for them
to come true etc. But for me, being passionate about having control over a
situation meant that I was somewhat reassured to have been right and to have saved
myself from experiencing any kind of surprise.
Believing my abuser would plead innocent mainly stemmed from the
knowledge that he also liked to be in control and that he wasn’t about to voluntarily
put himself in a position where he lost that control in being imprisoned and sentenced.
And being in control made him arrogant. Arrogant enough to believe himself
above consequences. Above the law. That attitude probably wasn’t helped by the
fact that when he was abusing me, all his colleagues and others he interacted
with had looked up to and respected him. No one questioned his behaviours. So
why would he allow the Police to? And he maintained his ‘respectable’ image when
the Crown Prosecution Service (CPS) determined there to not be enough evidence
to prosecute him.
HOW
I COPED WITH HIS DENIAL
Over the years, coping with my abuser’s refusal to accept responsibility
for what he had done has been an ever-evolving journey. Whilst I found that his
denial was – sort of – satisfyingly in line with my expectations, that didn’t
necessarily make it a good thing. I mean, he was still lying. He was still insulting
the impact of what he had done by denying it had even happened.
Initially, I was already very unsafe (I’d made two suicide
attempts by the end of the investigation), but his denial did seem to be
massively influential in leaving me feeling more suicidal and at greater risk
of self-harming. But over time, I developed a very healthy question: ‘why
should I be the one wanting to die?!’ Like, how was it fair for the one person
who did something wrong in the situation to not receive any consequences? To go
on to live his life! For him to actually end up getting a promotion at work
whilst I was on life support after a suicide attempt?!
This feeling of wrongdoing gradually gave me a lot of energy to
put into my efforts to achieve my mental health recovery and was a huge reason
why, whilst I was in a psychiatric hospital in 2013/2014, I agreed to tell the
Police just how bad it had gotten. I mean, to use the words… I’d reported the
abuse but not the one instance of rape. And I think that because I was in the
hospital and had finally started to engage in Dialectical Behaviour Therapy
(DBT), I had finally begun to realise that I had a future. That there was hope.
And that led to the equally important realisation that if I didn’t tell them
everything, I would always be carrying it with me. I would never be free of it.
And how could I live a happy, full life with that darkness constantly looming
above me?
After reporting the rape, and my abuser claimed to be innocent again, CPS decided there still wasn’t enough evidence to prosecute him and I coped with their decision by repeatedly telling myself that at least I have literally everything in my power to stop him hurting someone else. Anything that happens beyond my reports? Well, that’s on him… And CPS.