My name is Trish Hinde.

I experienced sexual abuse and rape beginning at the age of six. It became almost a way of life, as I have no early memories from before the abuse started. I tried to report the abuse many times over a period of 20 years. It was not until 2019, when I reported it for the final time, that I was taken seriously. There were many missed opportunities to end the abuse. Unfortunately, my disclosures were repeatedly brushed aside and dismissed. I experienced inadequate and dismissive responses from doctors, teachers and social workers. I still struggle with those failures today, and the resentment is difficult to shake.

I was repeatedly told, ‘That never happened to you’ and ‘What happened to you was nothing.’ Realising both that it had happened and that it was serious was a harrowing moment for me. I had always felt that it was serious, but I did not fully understand the severity of the abuse until I widened my social circle and realised that other people had experienced very different childhoods.

Trauma-informed therapy has been the single most important part of my healing journey. I have been very lucky to find an excellent therapist. The tools he has provided have been lifesaving, without exaggeration. A major turning point came during a therapy session. Until then, I had believed that my dad abused me because he couldn’t help it and that, therefore, it wasn’t his fault. In turn, I believed that it must have been my fault! During that discussion, my therapist said something that has stayed with me ever since: whatever urges my dad experienced, he made a conscious decision to act on them again and again.

My husband has always been my biggest supporter and is the most understanding and accepting person I have ever encountered. My husband and children are the reasons I am still alive today. Without them, I would have given up a long time ago.

I am very grateful to have written my story in my book, Not My Fault: A father’s secret shame, a daughter’s living hell. This was incredibly therapeutic for me. It was almost as though I had written down all the events that shaped who I became during the worst years of my life, then physically closed the book on them. It was a powerful process, and one for which I am grateful every day.

I know that many people are going through similar experiences. If I could offer any advice to survivors, it would be this: when you feel like giving up, that is when you need to keep going. For me, some sense of closure came from knowing that I had done everything I could to seek justice. It was a long and difficult process, but it was so worth it.