Epilogue

I could have gone on a lot longer with my story because the troubles didn’t suddenly end when I got back together with my baby’s father. But I have told you all I really need to tell. I wanted to try and convey that even when horrific things happen to you as a child, you can pick yourself up, dust yourself off and make a good life if you choose. I chose to be a survivor and not a victim. No, it wasn’t easy, not for a minute.

With a great deal of pain and introspection, I have told it all in grim detail. After keeping such secrets for thirty years the telling has been therapeutic in one way and troublesome in another.

Lawrie and I stuck together much to our family’s disgust--at first--and we married when baby Lilly was four years old. She was my bridesmaid. I was pregnant with our second baby then too, and we are now blessed with two beautiful girls. We had to go it alone in the beginning and struggle through because everyone was against us. We moved in together one week after meeting up at the disco. Our families gave us an ultimatum, and we chose each other. Ahh, young love conquers all! We went and rented a bedsit and that’s where we started. We made an awful lot of mistakes but the one mistake I didn’t make was falling in love with Lawrie. It was the best thing I ever did.

I had pretty much stopped doing drugs when I met Lawrie. He helped me through a lot of issues and showed me other ways to deal with my pain. Over the years he has been both my hero and my saviour. He broke down all the barriers and taught me it was okay to cry. I was about 25 years old before I learned how normal people cry, and when I did, I didn’t think I would ever stop. It was like Niagara falls. I cried when I was happy and cried when I was sad, just like other people do. Yup, I’m a prize winning crier now.

It seems like Lawrie has spent most of his life trying to make me happy. At times I know I’m still difficult, always burdened with my past. But then all the things that happened to me are what make me ME. Today I live on a farm with my own horses. I don’t need to steal other peoples anymore to have a ride.

My step mother? Well, I have nothing to do with her and never want to, but I did tell her how I felt in person. I thought it would make me feel better when I told her how much she hurt me, but her denial of some things and how it would affect someone mentally just made me feel even more worthless. I was hoping for some closure and got nothing but pain. When she started to train to become a social worker, I panicked and wrote to the Social Services telling them truth. All of us kids did. How could she advise other families? She stopped training. I don’t know if it was her decision or not, but it was for the best.

No, I didn’t go to the police, engage the legal system, or try and press charges against Uncle Joe or mum. I couldn’t even describe to you what he looked like some 30 odd years later or tell you his last name or the others. My mind has blocked most all of that out. I do remember the faces of the other kids though. I absolutely will never forget their screams of pain. I just hope they survived.

Abuse of children by adults still goes on everyday around the world. It creates shame, fear and confusion in a child and these emotions, in turn, produce silence. Silence is well known to be one of the pernicious fruits of abuse. It means that allegations most often surface many years after the abuse has ceased. Then it is too late for criminal proceedings to be successful. But--and there is a but--the victim needs to know that telling the secrets--sorry Molly--is the best therapy. The pain will never completely go away, but some of the hurt will fade leaving room for true happiness.

When I was writing this story, I hoped I might remember more, because there is a lot I can’t fully recall, just snippets of horror. Much of it is all locked away in my safe place, thankfully.

My step sister, Molly, died when she was 33. She had become a serious self harmer. She attempted suicide so many times but always survived. She jumped off a bridge onto a dual carriageway and lived. She jumped off a hospital roof and had a lot of broken bones but lived. She even cut her wrists and her own throat and survived. Finally, she was sectioned and put into secure care where she hung herself whilst on ten minute suicide watch! She died leaving a son who will never know his father, because he was another guy that mum had set up. I don’t think Molly ever knew what true love felt like, poor girl.

Looking back, I’m sorry I couldn’t have been there for her. She couldn’t walk away from her mum; all her life she kept going back for more. It sounds strange but I think she was addicted to the punishment. It was the only kind of love she knew. Molly was the kindest person you would ever want to meet. She would do anything for anyone but couldn’t live with her own demons. She didn’t deserve what she got, none of us did! I’m so thankful my dad took me away from that house of horrors.

Every single one of us is scarred. Debbie has had drink issues and suffers with nerves and depression. Daniel has been in and out of prison for drugs and violent offences. Alex too has serious problems with alcohol. He still has problems dealing with emotions and relationships. When the going gets tough, he walks away. Kassie never did experience any real abuse from mum although she did meet Uncle Joe. I don’t know how far that went, because we don’t talk about it. She was too young to remember the rest of us getting abused.

Kassie is the only one who still speaks to mum and none of the other kids speak to Kassie much. We were all jealous of her and how special she was treated. She still defends mum even though she knows better.

I speak to Kassie on the computer occasionally as she looks after Molly’s son. She tries to understand but it is hard for her. She has food issues and is morbidly obese.

Molly--rest in peace Molly--one day your son will know how much you loved him and learn the truth that you couldn’t live with your demons.

Then finally me, Abbie. I am the lucky one. I came out swinging, fought battle after battle and managed by some miracle to survive. I found true love and a man who helped me deal with my demons. He helped me learn to love and to trust. It took a lot of years and I do still struggle at times. But at least I have a loving family, a support system to help me forget my nightmares and hold my head up high having some pride in my victory.

Since Lilly was born, our families came to understood that Lawrie and I were an item in for the long haul. Maggie and I became the best of friends. She is my mum and is always there for me when I need her. I’m so sorry I put her through all the hell I did, it wasn’t personal. Maggie’s boys never forgave her for leaving them with their dad. They never understood she did it out of love and haven’t really spoken to her since.

I don’t work anymore--What am I saying?--but Lawrie and I foster children in care. There are still so many children with stories like mine, and they are just as angry as I was. But everyone needs someone to love and we try to do our part.

I have been living with Lawrie for 26 years and married for 22. No it hasn’t all been plain sailing, no relationship is, but we are still together and that’s more than a lot of “normal” people can say. Without a strong will to survive and the love of Lawrie and our girls, I probably wouldn’t be here to write this story. In the end I just want to tell you one thing: It’s okay to cry. Never ever give up hope! One day someone WILL see your invisible tears.