The Blemished Rose

On the morning of my recent birthday this year, I quietly contemplated my life and previous celebrations. A tear rolled down my cheek as I started to remember my younger self trying to look happy, but on the inside she was in pain and felt very confused. It was such a powerful memory because as I delved deep inside my soul, I was able to tap into a buried emotion that I didn’t know still existed. Upon reflection, I realise that I felt overwhelmed by people’s kindness and attention on that annual day; behaviour that can easily confuse a child who is being abused. And the end of the day would culminate in an anti-climax that would often lead me to feel very low and tearful. That poor little girl was crying out for help internally but no one could hear her. Over the years I haven’t always enjoyed or wanted to celebrate my birthday and I now understand why. The low self-worth that was ingrained from a young age remained with me for a long time, and as a result, I didn’t feel worthy of ...

I recently saw a thought provoking question on Twitter and felt the urge to answer. It said: “If you are a survivor of abuse, what might have helped you to tell someone sooner?” It is certainly a difficult question to answer because I can’t imagine how things might have been different for me. I was a very open, talkative child but still I stayed silent. Survivors of abuse carry a lot of shame and will therefore keep the secret to themselves for a long time, usually for as long as about 20 years. However, as a society it is within our power to change this pattern and ensure that children are protected and able to speak openly. Firstly, I believe it is the responsibility of adults, such as parents, teachers and doctors, to be aware of behaviour in children and how it differs in those who are being abused. The next step would be to arrange a therapeutic intervention with a child that might enable disclosure; this could be made easier for children if they are educated on the topic of a...

It’s been over a year since the town of Rotherham made headlines across the world. A damning report that was ignored by the police in 2006 finally emerged last year. Some of the 1400 children who were abused have bravely spoken out about their experiences. The sad outcome to this is the fact that these children were not listened to. Many girls reported the perpetrators to the police but apparently many of those reports were unrecorded. Greater Manchester Police say that they were driven by targets and that child sexual exploitation wasn’t one of them, instead their priorities were burglaries and vehicle crime. One can hardly make a comparison between exploiting a child and stealing a car. It’s such a shame that police are blinded by targets and fail to prioritise in a sensible manner. Never mind the stolen cars, what about the thousands of stolen childhoods? It’s not easy for survivors to come forward and speak about traumatic experiences. Survivors deserve to be listened to, s...

I mentioned in a previous post how music can trigger good or bad memories. I’m sure that most people can relate to this. Today a song played during the closing credits of a TV programme and it triggered an old memory. The song was “Shout” by Tears for Fears. Listening to that song took me back to the summer of 1985 in Italy, when I was 7. A young Italian boy there didn’t speak English but he knew the lyrics to that song and he kept singing over and over: “Shout, shout, let it all out, these are the things I can do without” The lyrics are rather poignant and it’s ironic how the boy didn’t understand what he was singing. That boy was another one of the poor children who suffered at the hands of my abusive uncle. The point I’m trying to make with this post is that survivors don’t constantly live in the past, however, there are things that may happen in our everyday lives that force us to remember the times that weren’t so nice. Many of us have memories that have been repressed for m...

As I’ve previously mentioned in posts, I’ve reignited my passion for the things I loved doing as a child, such as: writing poetry and songs, drawing, taking photos and dancing. Ballet was always my first passion and I started training at 4 years old. I’ve started doing more ballet recently for pure enjoyment and because it’s such a good form of physical exercise. As I’ve started remembering steps and things I learnt, I’ve also started remembering things I experienced in the dance world. I have fond memories of dance competitions I took part in and a memory of an adjudicator referring to me as “a budding little dancer.” It was when I got older that I experienced how cutthroat the theatre world really can be. A theatre performance can seem so glamorous with all the fancy costumes, dazzling smiles and dramatic lighting but the real drama often happens behind the scenes in a world that is so competitive. Performers can be so critical of one another, as well as themselves, and won’t hesitat...

About 4 years ago, I started taking self-portraits; I didn’t really know why I was taking them other than for enjoyment. I would usually take the photos when I was in a particular mood, for example if I was feeling very happy or a little sad. In the past couple of months I’ve realised the reason behind my self-portraits, I believe they are for therapeutic purposes. After having felt so ugly and worthless for many years, the photos have helped me improve my confidence and self-esteem. In some photos, I do ballet poses; I feel this has helped me connect even more with my inner child who loved ballet so much. I’ve not only developed a photographic journal but also a love and passion for photography and modelling. Photography was another hobby I enjoyed as a child but as I gradually gave up on life, I inevitably gave up on my creative skills too. I’ve been reflecting on my life and, although I’ve been successful in the things I’ve chosen to do, I also feel that so many years were wasted....

It’s the time of year when many families around the world come together, and celebrate in unison. It’s unfortunate that many of those families don’t unite in peace but instead, old family feuds are brought up and emotions intensify. I think that when most people think about Christmas, good or bad memories spring to mind. For some people it might bring them joy and peace when they think back to Christmas festivities. For others it might bring painful memories of suffering and miserable times. In my case, I have a mixture of both positive and negative memories. Although I experienced abuse as a child, I have to say that most of my childhood Christmas memories are good. I have fond memories of my Nan coming to stay with us every year, enjoying good food together and opening presents from under the tree on Christmas morning. There was only one Christmas spent in Italy, in the company of the abuser. Ironically, it’s been in adult life that I’ve had to live with stress and strong em...

Music has healing powers and can affect people in many ways. Oftentimes people associate songs with memories, whether they are good or bad. Sometimes a song’s lyrics can really have an impact on us and it might seem as though the song was written about a particular situation we have experienced. That’s how music connects us so much in the world. We’ve all been through different things in our lives but some of us have been through similar experiences and can empathise with one another. Music is an international language and such a great form of expression. I’ve loved music for as long as I can remember and I feel it’s really helped me in my healing process. Dance was my first way of expressing myself to music. As soon as I could walk, I would twirl around the house on my toes, and still do! I also have memories of me as a child, sitting on the swing in the garden, and making up songs. I remember how I used to imagine I was in a music video while doing it. It all progressed from there...

Wine Coffee Ice cream A conversation about Things we love In the land shaped like a boot Ping! I’m triggered Like a shoelace slapping me in the face While I could devour it for hours, It also makes me shiver as it Trickles down my throat Take it Have a gelato Eat those ice creams! Which one do you like? Leaning in the car window As though seeing off her lover She tells him what she likes

Yesterday evening I had a conversation about the country my father comes from. Although I like many things about Italy, unfortunately there will always be negative memories attached too. We got on to the subject of ice cream and the word for it in Italian, which is ‘gelato.’ Suddenly, I was transported back in time to a familiar scene on a bench outside my father’s childhood home. It was as though I was a ghost revisiting my past. Sat on the bench were two young girls in shorts and t-shirts, slurping chocolate ice cream from a tub. I watched as the younger of the two followed my uncle up to his car and leaned in the passenger window to tell him which ice cream we wanted. During the night, I dreamt that I was at a table by that bench with my mother and the younger girl’s mother. She was speaking in Italian, a language I speak fluently, however I couldn’t make out what she was saying. She called over her daughter and she hadn’t changed at all or grown up, she was that same little girl ...

This week I've been back in the classroom teaching a group of primary and junior teachers. I had flashbacks while I was in the classroom but they were surprisingly pleasant. They are only little things but they have helped me realise how far I’ve come. The first flashback came when my colleagues were looking at a teddy I had on my desk; I said that I might keep it there for the rest of the day as a mascot. A few seconds later, I was suddenly transported back in time to my old school gym where I took my school exams aged 16; sat on my desk was a little teddy as a mascot. The second flashback came a few hours later when I was monitoring my adult students having fun and getting excited while playing snakes and ladders. It looked as though they were having such a good time that I didn’t want to stop them, this took me back to my school days and how at exactly the same time (3.20pm) I would often not want the day or activity to end. I always loved the game snakes and ladders too! Writin...