My childhood was always a struggle to survive. My parents divorced when I was six and after this my mum hit the drink hard, she became abusive and unhinged. My dad wasn’t to be seen at all. I would often have to take my two younger brothers to school, feed them, and find my mum in pubs to get the house keys from her. During this time my only escape was staying with my grandmother on a Friday night. She was a devoted Catholic and had a huge influence on me. She often prayed with me and gave me the strength to get through the week.
My mum would go out on weekends and leave us with random people. One of my male cousins would babysit for us. For over a year, between the ages of seven and eight, he would take advantage of his position and sexually abused me whenever he would babysit. This made me withdrawn, very meek and placid. I was confused, hurt and scared. I didn’t know what to do, how to stop it. I finally plucked up the courage to tell my mum one night. This was 11 November 1995. ...
Subscribe to one of our subscription packages
to get digital access to our articles.