My name is Dr Peter McParlin.

I think it would be too grim to focus on my abuse, at least the sexual focus of it. For example, as a child I was whipped daily with a dog lead that chipped some of my vertebrae whilst being locked in an attic and starved for several weeks. I was six years old. When I was examined by the GP, who was also the reference for my foster carers to foster me, he said I had whipped myself with a dog lead. I do not want to go into the molestation I endured as it digs up too much memory.

My upbringing spurred me on to become a consultant psychologist, which is when I saw how ineffective professionals were and how little they knew about trauma. The lead psychiatrist where I lived at the time had only just heard of CSA, and yet had so much power and responsibility-this scared me.

My initial steps of healing came when I went to see a counsellor who told me as a psychologist, I was not very bright and that in a counselling session it was me as a survivor in the room, not me the consultant psychologist. (I think he misunderstood the defining position of being a survivor and being in the shoes of a survivor). He also told me he would have shot my foster parents, which I know this verbal gesture was meant to help. But somehow did not. I have had three stints of counselling over the years. The best was given to me by Ops two years ago. I had a very insightful counsellor.

For a period, I did a lot of keynote speeches on the subject of neglect and not being looked as a "child looked after," And was hit hard by some PTS (not D as it is not a disorder) afterwards. This made me realise I had to take time with myself and be honest about the multi-facetted abuse that had happened to me. Having no family, my references, and comparisons to how a child is brought up normally, needed to be reframed.

So, a refusal for me to accept this as the natural dimension of my life was the beginning of the journey to find calm. In the words of C.S. Lewis:

“I sat with my anger long enough until she told me her real name was grief.’

Grief for a childhood stolen and wrecked with fear.

Shame kept me away largely from a support network. My son’s family therapist helped when a booby trap exploded in our family session. I have only told friends in the last decade of my abuse, my foster sister too. I kept it under lock and key. I came out with help of Ops to speak about my experiences at a conference some years back. Ops Survivors were the source of my last therapeutic input which was of immense help.

I found the most beneficial tool in my healing process has been self-education to understand the long pervasive life reach of trauma. It helps that my friends now understand the rage and confusion I sometimes feel. It has helped me with my understanding of how I wish to God that a lot of my childhood had not been stolen by wolves in sheep's clothing.

I have reclaimed my sense of agency and identity by shouting out the abuse. Do you know when you sometimes go under an echo tunnel and just yell? It feels like that, but with the body, soul, and mind.

I suppose I have cultivated self-care through remnants of CBT- see the memories on the landscape and work out the used and practice escape routes. I also have useful and simple grounding measures such as going swimming, walking the dogs, or going to watch a movie.

A turning point for me was when I found the PTS early on left me wobbly for days. This recognition of being another person, frightened and angry, jolted me into action to seek help- or at least talk about it. But you do have to be careful because it is no surprise people find it hard to listen too. Thats too be expected. Horror is horror.

When the circumstances of the present conspire to bring back memories, for example a news article or a movie with the theme of CSA I must make instant decision. I must work out what to avoid. I have sometimes had to professionally excuse myself from similar narrations from clients. Who wants a professional being re traumatised in a session?

I am a fan of forgiveness’s cousin: mercy.

The quality of mercy is not strain'd.
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest:
It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes.

My advice for other Survivors is if you see it coming, as with any domestic violence, and if you can get out of the way then you should. For me I had to runaway at 16, I should have run at 15. In the world today you can and should tell somebody about it.

Reach out. Speak out. Be safe.

Be gentle on yourself. You did not instigate or action the abuse.