My abuser was a retired member of the emergency services and local to my community. He knew me from when I was ten years old. From that age, he would always show specific interest in me and use flattery towards me, often in front of my parents at Christmas parties: “She’s so inspiring, you must be very proud”. I’d hear him tell them. I just thought he was being nice, everyone said he was nice.
Slowly, he learnt my routine, knowing the times I would come home from school. I recall frequent occasions were I would see him watching me from his study window as I turned the corner into my road. Or he’d be in his garden at that moment to try and talk to me…. I’d pretend to be on the phone. One time, I remember specifically when I returned home later than his “preferred time” due to the bus being late. He expressed how he was “worried that something had happened” to me. I found this really strange – like he was overly concerned for my well-being and where I was.
On another occasion, he mentioned to me very casually that he’d come to the front of my house, playing it off as speaking with my dad, but told me that he came to the front of my house to “see if your curtains were open and if I was awake.” I was getting ready for school at the time. He specifically chose to tell me that. He knew exactly what he was doing. I remember feeling uneasy about that specific comment and the situation still plays in my mind today.
He gave me his mobile number and took me for chips in a local park with his dog. We talked, often about my then passion for theatre and acting. He was always very interested in what I was doing and in my passions – even when I was 13 or 14 years old. I only wanted to go for these walks because of his dog.
Later, when I was about 15 or 16, there was a situation where I was in his kitchen. But unsure how I got there! My abuser was extremely manipulative and charming. He told me I was “very beautiful,” tucking my hair back behind my ear. I remember telling him at that moment “thank you.” Then, he gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek which lingered too long. It was not a peck on the cheek, it was deliberate and slow. I remember him also seemingly being aroused by this. I felt sick instantly and froze. That exact feeling returns when I’m triggered. I remember being terrified of what could happen next. I didn’t know what to do or how to react. I left quickly, my mind racing with panic. There wasn’t any protest from him, thankfully… I later told my parents what had happened. They believed me instantly. A few weeks later, he died of a heart attack before they could speak with them.
I felt for the longest time that his death would be the end of the story. I felt that because “nothing more happened,” in my eyes, I played it off as not being as serious or not being abuse… It was not until watching the Paris Olympics in 2024 and hearing more of America gymnast Simone Biles story, someone who I greatly admire, that I came to realise that my own experience was abuse and, because I was a child at the time, it was child abuse. This label has been hard to sit with, particularly because he died, so he didn’t face the justice I wanted him to, or thought he deserved.
The collective silence surrounding speaking about child sexual abuse is deafening.
This silence only deepened my shame and confusion as a teenager being groomed. My abuser was in a position of authority, retired from a profession designed to protect. They used that knowledge and manipulation to go as far to the line as they could without crossing it, until one day. In that second, they knew they had crossed the line.
The confusion of never been able to call it “abuse,” so I thought, triggered my anxiety, the harmful thoughts, self-hatred, panic attacks, a deep fear and a lack of trust in men which I still held onto so intensely; this distrust in men was a barrier and the highest wall. It was a nervous feeling I’d carried for over ten years. Until last year upon meeting my boyfriend.
I never understood that these complex feelings were the result of targeted sexual abuse.
Perpetrators, just like everyone else, exist normally in the world. I couldn’t understand how my abuser could lead a double-life; having dinner with his family, while simultaneously grooming me.
I was fearful of men and didn’t date. If I did, they would be passing romances lasting a month or so… only because most young people my age were dating, so I felt I should also, but there was no affection. I didn’t know what love was really. I had a twisted view of it because of the abuse I was experiencing at the time.
I met my now boyfriend first in 2023, shortly before I moved to South Sudan for six months where I was working as a humanitarian in advocacy and communications. We remained friends but still, I was abroad and expanding my early humanitarian career as it was then – dating would have been too difficult. It wasn’t until September 2024 when I was back that we started dating.
My boyfriend has been my saving grace. After my realisation in August 2024 that I am a child abuse survivor, he, my family and friends have literally held me up. There were many moments that I wanted to end everything – my PTSD hit with a vengeance. I didn’t know how to pick up the pieces or what “being a survivor” meant, when I only felt like a victim.
Step by step. The patience my boyfriend has displayed with me has been nothing short of miraculous. I told him early in our relationship that I didn’t think I could be loved or allow myself to love. I remember telling him weekly “you can leave if you want to”. I felt that my mess was all too consuming. I felt it was all anybody could see. But he always saw deeper than that.
His love, patience and kindness has made my walls and mental barriers crumble. He is my best friend and my safe place; the kindest soul I’ve ever met.
We talk frequently about our future; getting married and having children one day. I think for survivors of child abuse, there can be this sense of wanting to reclaim what was taken, a take back of control. So for me now, there is a defiance almost in that path: to love, to get married, to have children; almost saying “you tried to take everything from me. Now I’m taking it back.” I had given so much mental space to not trusting anybody, that suddenly when you find your person, life just makes sense and is not scary.
The journey to healing is rarely linear, but there is such power and beauty in reclaiming your worth and finding your strength in your own way. I want other survivors to know that it is possible to achieve everything you thought you never could.
I explain it to people as; I’m so much more than what has happened to me. I am a Christian, my favourite colour is purple, I have a Masters degree, I have worked in Uganda, Serbia, Morocco, Bosnia and South Sudan and I am a child abuse survivor. What part of my story resonates the most? For me, I want to be a relatable face for people. Survivors exist in the world, we are people with hopes, fears and dreams; not to be hidden away.
Looking forward, I’m back in the UK, I want to complete my ISVA practitioner diploma and subsequent ChISVA training with The Survivors Trust. I desire to use my theatre background and incorporate creative play; supporting other child abuse survivors to know they are not alone in their experiences; that their voice matters, and that they can have a life which is fulfilling and meaningful after experiencing abuse.
