Overcoming

The journey of discovering what I blanked out goes on with the support of some great counsellors and of course, family and a few friends. Needless to say all my attempts at engaging with De La Salle on social media are still completely ignored while they attempt to keep building their shiny image.  Here's an interesting example.  Now who else likes to use the pentangle symbol? Let me think... 

I'm not suggesting they are a cult or anything (much) but when they constantly tweet about building "Utopia" and hold conferences in Rome proclaiming boldly that they are all working towards a common aim, producing smooth corporate videos that show they are short on substance (see screenshots below) it appears they are only interested in some self-serving, self-justifying agenda.  I shudder to think of the money the Catholic Church wastes on these vanity projects.  All my life growing up Catholic and up to the point I left, I always got so frustrated with talk of 'helping the poor' but never once saw any evidence of anyone DOING anything to that end.  Sure, there were special collections to go to some priest or other supposedly working in some far flung poverty-stricken outpost but now I'm looking back thinking there was zero accountability for that money and zero chance of anyone challenging the Church.  Now that is beginning to happen and survivors are speaking out, they really don't like it.  There's an army of rather inept trolls trying to discredit survivors and their stories on social media.  We won't be silenced. 

None of this is from some anti-RCC standpoint. Experience is just the best teacher. It seriously breaks my heart that my former church is content to leave a trail of broken souls in its wake who somehow didn't measure up to its standards.  Growing up, I was aware of people in my community, suddenly not being around any more.  The girl who got pregnant (worst sin in the world!); the priest everyone loved suddenly being moved on. I remember being fobbed off with unlikely explanations. (Note to adults: kids aren't stupid. They usually know when you're lying.)

I learnt that lying is wrong and thus, I am simply pointing out that for all its supposed "good" (not really seen much evidence) the RCC is a corrupted, abusive institution and I believe anyone with any degree of righteous ambition should abandon it as quickly as possible.  I can guarantee you Christ exists outside it if that's what you're worried about. 

And the Big DLS Idea is... (please hold)

De La Salle - busy looking inwards.

Meanwhile, back in the classroom, reducing and keeping contact with this guy _ to the absolute minimum became my top priority. Probably from the age of about 12 to when I got myself kicked out of St Joes at 15.  He was into his sport and, as I may have mentioned, I was the kid who avoided football because I wore glasses and didn't dare get them broken. He even used this as a way of goading me.  What he hadn't realised I think, was that I was no slouch and began to excel at sprinting.  This was the one passion I had at school and of course it wasn't long before he started taking the occasional athletics session after school. I remember one of my classmates, one of the nicer boarders there, coming up to me after a race and asking me where I hid the jet engines.  This filled me with great satisfaction. That just wasn't something a boarder said to a day boy!  

As a St Joes team player, I found myself going to inter-schools competitions and soon discovered that I was running for the glory of the school.  Well given that I was being abused at the time, I wasn't having that!  After an accident when I slid off a haystack and sliced my knee open on an upturned barrel edge, I used it as an excuse to stop running.  My dad was mortified because he knew running was my main passion and I had quite a job convincing him that the four stitches I'd had signalled my retirement from athletics. It broke us both.

Fast forward (pun intended) fifty years, and as part of an attempt to recall more details of the abuse (to be as certain as possible I am not falsely accusing someone), I am in the kitchen doodling items of school clobber. I draw my old blue Adidas running spikes purchased from (was it Mick McNeill's?) a sports shop in Ipswich and immediately burst into tears, realising sprinting was another thing stolen from me. I'd been so proud to own those spikes.  Minutes later, I was on Amazon choosing a brand new pair of blue Saucony Spitfire spikes and a stopwatch.  I was having my sprinting back!  

50 years on, I measured 100m out at our local park and timed myself at 14.6s but wasn't too sure about the accuracy of the distance so booked a track session at Northgate sports centre, Ipswich.  In my first attempt with the spikes, I recorded 13.78 so for the time being I am happy to pick up more or less where I left off and have joined a veterans athletics club. 

A few years ago I did a similar thing because I know _ is a bit of a cricket fan.  I joined a club, scored myself a single, officially recorded run and then retired just to say FU to him and lay that particular ghost to rest.

I've just returned from a drink with an old classmate and another St Joseph's old boy he knows.  Inevitably, conversation turned to the old place and I've now had it confirmed by two separate  comments from former pupils concerning this individual abuser:

1) " He was an arrogant b*st*rd"

2) "Yeah, he was a bully"

So my dudes,  basically, if you have been abused as a child, I encourage you to think about taking back whatever was stolen from you however, wherever, whenever you can because, well... it feels great and you deserve it!