would one go through all the questions, endless waiting,
emotions, interviews, taking the stand in a public
courtroom; three times, in order to bear witness against
someone who had sexually molested them decades before?©
story, short: because I became aware that the
same sexual abuser was; once again, living with a woman
with small daughters.
as long as I could remember; I knew what he had done to
me. I remembered most of the details. I knew who was
aware of what he was doing to me and possibly my sisters.
came to accept, grudgingly, that no one was going to
protect my sisters nor myself. Our safety was our
responsibility to the best of our capabilities.
the time I was 18-years-old, I was Mother to a newborn son
and a 2-year-old daughter (by a boyfriend of several years
- not the sexual abuser - although that same boyfriend was
abusive in every fashion thinkable - different story or is
it 'the road less travelled; I chose not to take?)
parents, on learning that I was, once again, involved with
the father of my daughter packed up their house, sold most
of their belongings and departed Brantford, Ontario in the
Summer of 1970 with my daughter.
I called the police for help I was told that: "They
did not become involved in 'domestic matters.'" It
was of no consequence that I was working full-time, had an
apartment furnished for the needs of a child (crib,
clothing, food, etc.) and that I was the birth Mother.
felt helpless, angry and lost.
a week I was contacted, by the police, because my parents'
car had been found abandoned in Northern Ontario with
questions about their whereabouts. I had no answers, I did
not know. (All these decades later I can still taste the
bile of fear rise into my throat and tears brimming into
my eyes as I recall that time of terror)
the eleven days of that summer of 1970, I was introduced
to marijuana, LSD, domestic violence at the hands of my
'lover', gang rape by my 'lover', my best women-friend's
husband and three other men/boys I do not recall who they
were. (Many decades later I recalled that one of those men
did not hold me as tightly, nor did he avail himself of
the invitation presented by my 'lover') and anal-rape at
the hands of my 'lover' who forced my face into a pillow
during the act.
left the next morning while he was out of the apartment
and refused to speak or have any interaction with him
after that time. I stayed with my woman friend and her
husband for a couple of months. During that time I was
introduced to a male friend of theirs who wished to date
our first date I told him that I believed I was pregnant -
about 2 months and had a daughter who was with my parents;
however, I knew not where, although I had some thoughts
that they most likely had returned to British Columbia.
a short period of time I moved in with this man (he had
promised that he would send me to be with my daughter as
soon as I found out - yes, I prostituted myself for a
train ticket). I had managed to find yet another man who
was violent - during an argument I told him I was leaving
and he choked me until I lost consciousness. When I came
to, laying in a heap on the floor to find that he had
returned to the sofa to watch television without concern
for my well-being. I thought better of pursuing the issue
at that time.
again, the next morning, I sought refuge at the same woman
friend's home. After a week of phone calls (which I
refused to take) I was told that my friends could not keep
me in their home any longer; so I returned with the
understanding that such behaviour would not happen again.
1971; I was bought a train ticket to Vancouver, British
Columbia and enough cash to perhaps feed myself and the
child I was carrying along with a bus ticket from
Vancouver to Victoria.
arrived after 4 days and 3 nights via coach - 7 months
pregnant; late at night to the Victoria bus station with
my Mother and a cousin awaiting my arrival.
next morning when my daughter awoke, she had no idea who I
that time and the birth of my son (May --, 1971) I made
arrangements to find an apartment and move out of my
I spoke to them of my decision, I was told that they would
never allow that to happen. My response: "Try to stop
me and I will tell of everything that has happened
in this house!"
further was said, in fact, they did what they were capable
of doing to help out with expenses.
middle sister moved out and lived with me also. She stayed
with me until her marriage. Shortly after that I moved to
a different apartment and my youngest sister came to live
with me; she also stayed until she moved in with the man
who is still her husband.
the time prior to the birth of my daughter I had left
home, got a room in a rooming house, quit school to work
full-time - realized I was pregnant, made my first attempt
at suicide - pills and booze - of which the result was
days of vomiting and the lose of my employment. I returned
to my parents home, gave birth to my daughter and went to
work full-time when she was 3 weeks old.
1973 while under the influence of 'street drugs' I
attempted to blow my head off with a 30_06 (jammed) the
same night I attempted to gas myself and took a razor to
a few days I was self-admitted for my first stay in a
psychiatric ward, 21 years-old, 33-years-old and shortly
after my fortieth birthday. Each time because I was having
suicidal ideations. Not until my 40s did I begin to reach
a level of healthiness that does not allow suicide as an
option to whatever is going on in my life.
of 1993 I attended Aurora House in Vancouver, British
Columbia for a 6 week inpatient program for sexual abuse
survivors and substance abusers after a period of 2 and
1/2 years of being 'clean and sober'.
that time I became truly aware that I was not responsible
for the actions of the adults in my life. Nor was I to
blame that my body responded to some of the stimuli I had
undergone during my father's attacks on me (legally, my
step-father; however, the only father I ever knew and I
still refer to him as Dad and did at his trial when I told
him: "I love you, Dad. You are the only father I have
ever known. It is my hope that you will use this time to
get help for your behaviour" (words to that effect).
had the opportunity to scream out what I had never said
before which left my throat sore and parched for days
after, a long drawn out "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
thank all the therapists who were such a help to me
throughout my healing over the decades and all the persons
I came to know in different group sessions. "All my
all who listen to this be aware that even when you are not
actively healing, that you are healing when you listen,
share and empathize with your sister and brother
this time in my life, there are still regrets; yet far
more deservedly wonderful gifts in my life, relationships
with my eldest children that are closer with wonderfully
healing, listening, honouring and nurturing love, a
relationship with a man who has been a wonderful gift to
me in the last two years+, attendance in a Graphic Design
course, after 2 years of correspondence studying in Fine
Arts to realize that I am an artist of some talent (when I
had thought previously that the testing done must have
been out of whack as I could not recall ever drawing an
object or representing my feelings in a two dimensional
fashion ever in my life - some of my works are online and
linked to this site.)
have come to have male and female friendships of a depth I
had not believed possible without sexual congress.
came to a time where I realized that all the material
possession of my previous marriage trapped me into a
situation of always having to have room-mates in order to
have enough space for all the furniture. I gave notice,
packed everything to be picked up by the auctioneer,
packed my clothing, a few sentimental items, photographs
and books and moved into a rooming-house.
that time I did a major amount of volunteer work, walked
endlessly during times of insomnia and went to twice a
week counselling, once a week with a group of other women
like myself and the other session a one on one with my
therapist. I continued this for the two years prior to the
correspondence art courses.
submitted my art portfolio to the university's Graphic
Design program. 14 of my pieces, an interview against 200+
other applicants all of whom were younger than my own
months later I received a letter of acceptance for one of
twenty-four seats in the first year and during the second
year cut received a seat for one of the twenty seats.
I voiced my concerns that "I don't think I can manage
a second year." I recall being reassured that I would
be able to handle a second year. I did not complete the
second year and continue to learn as I study via the
school of 'hard knocks'.
am currently the grandmother of 2 young gentlemen -
27-years-old and 17-year-old as of February 21, 2017 as
well as a grand-daughter who must be almost 10-years-old
that I am not supposed to be aware of her birth.
digress. When did I decide to take my information to the
I was living in the rooming-house, I realized that I had
made my existence untraceable (non-published phone number)
no lease or public utilities in my name. More than that,
when I was attempting to complete some government business
phone calls and was becoming angry out of proportion with
what was going on at that moment.
took a few minutes to search within myself as to what was
I truly angry about. When I had my answer, I phoned and
made an appointment to speak with the R.C.M.P.
the interview I was only able to cry and stutter as I had
for so many years beforehand.
was asked to take my time and write out what I could along
with a timeline. Three weeks later I returned with 17
pages of legal-size with point form notes.
was thanked and told they would 'get back to me'.
waited for two years while the Crown Counsel (D/A) made a
decision on whether there were grounds for laying charges
and enough of a case to proceed to trail. During October
1995, my father was brought to the preliminary hearing on
two counts of having sex with a female under the age of
14 who was not his wife.
testified at the preliminary hearing - returned to my
hometown and took refuge in a friend's apartment as the
child within waited for the retribution that was surely to
come for having 'told'.
of 1996, my mother and two sisters testified; as did I
over a period of three days. I speak of this time in more
Gives a Person the Will to Live?
the time of this writing, August 30, 2000 - the convicted
child molester is on conditional parole and has chosen to
stay at Sumas Halfway House (in ill health, heart and
glaucoma). He has waffled tremendously about whether he
"touched any of his daughters inappropriately"
to "on advice of legal counsel" to "could
have done great harm to his daughters psychologically".
lingering effects, decades later, I could not abide the
thought of him, possibly, grooming another set of children
for his possible use as a paedophile.
most important thing, to me, that I have learned is that
"The shame is his, let him keep it. None of the
shame was ever mine!" Also, that 8-year-old girl,
just a skinny little thing did not have a chance against a
grown man of almost 200 pounds. (if you disbelieve me,
take an afternoon to observe children in a school-yard,
look for a slender child of about Grade 3 and think....
could that child stop any adult from doing them harm?)
know that I am not alone. Wherever I might go in this
lifetime, there is a Higher Power who keeps me safe, no
matter what awful things I might have attempted to do to
myself in the past. Worse things were done to my body by
others who did not honour that I am a separate being who
wasn't capable of consenting to any of the acts committed
on my body and psyche.
same Higher Power has a mission for me, to tell
simply to tell
my story and to keep telling it until there are no more
children ever abused.
is one Survivor of sexual abuse by adults who will never
as an excuse/reason/rational for
using children to get your sexual thrills.
MORE Children. Ever. In no country. Stop!