Survivors' Story

Hi
My name is carol, and for 17 years my father sexually abused me. But I wasn't sure it was abuse until I got my first job. I was listening to the woman I was working with they were talking about sex. It started when I was 10 years old and ended when I was 27 years old, you might be asking  why at that age I couldn’t tell my mother or anyone as he told me no one would believe, me at the end of the day I was a child and he was the adult!

I am the oldest of 6 children and my role within the family was to help look after my siblings, because our mum was ill a lot during the time of the abuse. I was attending secondary school in south Yorkshire where we live and can’t remember my childhood below the age of 10, just the rest. All I wanted was to follow my nana and be a nurse but he sort to that. I loved doing school work and I suppose to block the abuse out I buried my head in it. During the abuse he also was having an affair with one of mum’s friends. When he had sex with me he would ask me to touch him the way she would. He would abuse me any where he could in the car, a field, a bed, basically anywhere. At the age of 16 he told me that I should tell mum I was pregnant but how did he know what I didn't know myself? I had set my heart on been in the forces as a nurse but he wasn't going to let me go! He wanted to keep a hold so the only way was to get me pregnant!

I couldn't tell my mother about the abuse, never mind the fact I was pregnant with his child! So, I still kept quiet until I was nearly 6 months gone when my sister and I had an argument and one of my friends was at our house, Chris my sister kept pushing me with the argument. That's when I took the knife in my hand to her and told her to leave me alone - by this time my hormones where all over the place. My friend said for god sake carol think about what you are doing! That’s when I said if only you knew what I am going through. Well I was little stricken with what followed. She told me she thought I was pregnant and that I finally knew that I had a life form growing inside of me but how could I tell my mum. In the end my friend Vicky was to tell my mum after her holiday with her friends.

I remember the day because it was Saturday, and the football was on the T.V. She came in shouting and screaming at me in a hysterical state, calling me a whore and a dirty little bitch and shouted when were you going to tell me about the baby your carrying. From then on my secrets continued as I couldn’t tell her who the real father of my child was, after all like he said who would believe me. She took me to the doctors who gave me a lecture for not getting help, as I was 6 months gone and still my father had a tight hold over me. On 28-7-77 I gave birth to a boy he weighed 8.1lb and was perfectly healthy considering. At first I couldn’t hold him my mum & my father was the first to hold him creating an instant bond, but again, he was trying to control me by telling me what I should call my own child, my flesh and blood which I carried for 9 months! It was my decision so, I chose a name for my child. When naming my little boy I held him for the first time, and made a promise to not let him get hurt the same way in which I had been. From day one of going home they took over mine & his lives telling me what to do with him, and how to bring him up. 6 weeks past and again the abuse started it didn’t matter to him that I had just given birth why would it. No matter what I did or how hard I tried, it was always wrong! He even took photos of my sister naked, in the bath but not a single person questioned this strange charade. I was hoping someone would start the ball rolling but it never happened.

Over the years the abuse and the threats continued and I still had to keep it to myself. 15 years ago my child wanted to know the truth about his dad, so I told him as he had a right to know. All those years ago I had to tell my mum who the father was, but I lied through my back teeth as sick as it made me feel! I couldn’t tell her the truth so I made a name up, I told her his name was Chris. I told my parents a story about a man I had met and where he worked to which they told my son all about. He didn’t believe me when I told him who his real dad was. This put a huge strain on the relationship between me and my son. Over the years I suffered from depression and ill health .It was in 1993 that I heard about someone where I lived had been abused too, and that’s when my nightmares started. I realized what had been happening to me.

I had been at work and called at my parent’s house on my way home, they were having an argument. I told them to stop but he bellowed “shut up or you’ll get a smack in the mouth!”

A little later my mum called to my home and told me that I should remember that no matter what he said or did, he was my dad! That’s when I finally told her the truth about her so called husband the person she loved, the father of all her children, the man in which she entrusted with her life, had been abusing me for years! Physically and mentally torturing me and also how he swore he would squeeze the very life out of me if I were to tell a soul!

That was the start of a long, hard, sickening road to hell with the nightmares of my traumatic past and the destruction of my relationship with my child, and my family. I told the police but I couldn’t go through with it but in 1994 I met my husband Neil. Over the years he has been my rock a sort of sanctuary to save my sanity. But again the nightmares continued and so in 2005 when my son told me I was no longer his mum, Neil went to the police and in 2007 my father was sent to prison for 16 years charged with 17 accounts of rape, I now have to start to get back some of my life back.

If I was to give any advice it would be, speak up be brave and stand your ground, you should not feel intimidated. It isn’t your fault!

Carol