Surviving to Thriving

Still alive here, possibly much to the annoyance of the De La Salle order who are now, FINALLY (and seemingly reluctantly) admitting they literally f*ck*d up kids in their care.  

I was getting some therapy provided by an absolutely brilliant charity called Restitute  but as my 50 years or so survival issues with St Joseph’s College  in Ipswich are so deeply engrained, progress was slow and I reached a point where I felt bad for using up their precious resources.  I would like anyone reading this to please consider donating to them because they have been an enormous source of support to my wife and myself. I’m looking at you DLS, you owe them for at least 15 sessions. 

I say the DLS are probably annoyed because they are now having to fork out for my treatment.  For this, I have to acknowledge the Religious Life Safeguarding Service who, after a video interview with my co-survivor Pat Mills, have shown they actually have a bit of clout. So, treatment has begun and long-suppressed, disturbing memories can finally be professionally dealt with.  Apart from my blanking it all out for so long, why has it taken them this long to admit their crimes though, and then only issue a weak statement on their website where it won’t be seen by survivors?  I had serious qualms about reconnecting with them in any way, but eventually decided that sod it, the Roman Catholic church owes us big time and if I’m ever going to get any life back that was stolen, I’ll start with what’s available.

So today was session two and I spoke about the memory of my last day at St. Joes and my run-in with the vile and angry little Welsh thug called Brother Peter.  I can’t recall a single encounter with the guy when he wasn’t threatening something or someone, or when he was speaking civilly.  So after being caught skiving at Ipswich station (a.k.a. avoiding my abuser, _ ) “Brother” Peter had demanded a 3 page explanation on his desk the following morning. I duly gave my report to him and went to my class for registration, during which I was summoned into the classroom next door and made to read out said explanation in front of the class.  I got to the sentence containing “...but it wasn’t my fault because…” when he absolutely lost it and took a swing for me.  Having witnessed this scene played out before, I knew what was coming and ducked. This infuriated him even further so I just walked out and away over the  playing fields, equally enraged that not one single adult had my back, but feeling the sun on my face, smelling the green grass and an opportunity to take the trickier, but infinitely more appealing path through life. 

Back then, that poor kid never had the language to express what _ had done to him.  He has now though.  Possibly in a court room at some point. 

I’ve just done my first ever stand-up routine because one of the legacies of CSA is wanting to hide and not wanting to put yourself forward for anything that gets you noticed. It went well, though I was expecting a buzz afterwards.  I felt nothing.  I think it was more huge than I realised. I’m pretty sure though, the next gig will contain quite a lot of material about Catholic boarding schools, the DLS and a certain teacher. Any objections from Catholics? No? 

Oh, and if you know or support a survivor of CSA please get involved with this RESTLESS awareness campaign on Weds 20th Sept 2023.  Thanks x.