Category: Introduction

Spirals and Quiet

Why is it so hard to stop? To slow down, to make our hands idle, turn away from the computer and the lists of many things to do and say?

How hard it is to sit. Still for a moment or two. To stop responding to the pull of our phone, listen to nothing at all, except the bird in the tree who’s been singing all day, unheard by ears and minds as overworked and overwhelmed as ours.

How hard to close our eyes and clear our heads of cluttered thoughts. To be at peace with empty and become an enemy of loud. To seek quiet. To accept it and invite it in for a while.

How to meet our own needs whilst setting aside the needs and wants of others? How to remain present. Settled. Not distracted by forwards, sideways or back. To switch off guilt. To wait with patience. To delay, procrastinate, rest, restore, learn to say no (and mean it)

and… breathe.

I have been drawing these spirals since childhood. I spiralled my way through my last few difficult years at school, I spiralled through therapy sessions, and if you see me looking down in Zoom meetings I will be writing notes but there will be a spiral or two going on as well. They help me to gather my thoughts. To slow my mind. To stay present.

I’m inspired by someone I met recently, who showed me her clever, intricate and rather special drawings that took care, mindfulness and time. Because of her drawings I am encouraged to make time for myself and my own. I have been working more hours a day than I should, for nearly three years and my body and mind is telling me it is time to slow down, to step off, to grind to a halt…with nothing more than a book or two, a pad of paper and a pen.

So that is what I’ll do. I am off to the sea.

Join Our Writing Group!

We are pleased to announce there are a few spaces left in our online writing group!

If you are an adult survivor of Child Sexual Abuse (CSA) and would like to join, please send an email to groups@theflyingchild.com (places will be given on a first come, first served basis).

(If you have attended in the past you are more than welcome to come along again)

The groups are funded by The National Lottery Community Fund, and are FREE to join. Here is some feedback from previous participants.

Fall Forward (my journey in a nutshell)

By Sophie Olson

This is me; this is my story. But of course, it’s not just mine. This story has happened to and continues to happen to many people. The details may differ but the impact is devastating.

At best, we might experience feelings of shame, confusion or lack of self-worth. At worst, we might feel our lives are blighted by unbearable emotional distress or physical illness. A lack of support for Child Sexual Abuse survivors might lead some to develop coping mechanisms such as the ones described in this blog.

If you relate to anything here, I hope you are reassured to know that you’re certainly not alone. Navigating your way through life as a CSA survivor can feel overwhelming. At times, it might feel insurmountable, but it’s not. There is always hope. There is always a way through.

Continue reading “Fall Forward (my journey in a nutshell)”

The Flying Child Project

One Year On…

One year ago today I took a deep breath and presented The Flying Child Project to approximately 100 teaching and support staff in a local school. It was the result of two years of planning, the idea sparked by a conversation with a headteacher, and whilst I was convinced there was a need for lived experience in educational settings, I had no idea of how it would be received. I have previously blogged about the bad reactions I’ve experienced personally since speaking out about CSA, and because of personal connections to the school I knew I would recognise some faces in the room and feared the worst. I added these words at the end:

For those of you who know me, I hope you will be able to look me in the eye when we cross paths because I am the same person I was before you knew my story. If you can’t, I recognise that the shame lies at the feet of the man who abused me, not at mine.

As it turned out, I didn’t need to worry. The feedback was positive and constructive and September 1st 2021 was to be the start of a pretty remarkable year.

We have reached around 1000 professionals since the pilot and have worked with social workers, students and NHS staff as well as continuing to work in schools. We have affiliated with AC education, and are taking bookings for 2023.

This year my work as a survivor activist, has also gone from strength to strength and I have loved every moment of it.

I can’t go back to yesterday. I was a different person then.

Lewis Caroll Alice in Wonderland

At this time in my life I feel this quote is particularly poignant. For many years I was unable to see life beyond my own pain. I stumbled through, often from one crisis to another, not coping, or coping in the only way I knew how to, by pushing away the pain. Shutting it down. Overdoses, self harming, chaotic and self-destructive ‘living’ of a life I didn’t want. I didn’t think I would survive to see my children reach adulthood and I am grateful to be here today and to witness my first child moving into her first flat and my second preparing for university. So many survivors of CSA have shortened lives, as the result of poor physical, mental and spiritual health, or addiction. The project is dedicated to a survivor who once crossed my path, who was unable to continue. Trauma is a cruel thief. It takes everything. Our childhood, our innocence, our trust. It steals hope, joy and the lives we feel we might have had. Trauma is insidious. It infects those closest to us, the ones we love the most and it begins to rob them as well.

This has been the year of tipping the balance. Of fighting back. With hindsight, I am the same person I was before you heard my story wasn’t strictly true. There is no going back to ‘yesterday’ because I am different as a direct result of speaking out about CSA. I am a different woman entirely, one who is learning to listen to instincts, believe in her own abilities and accept her own limitations. I am a different mother, a more regulated and present one, doing my best to break the intergenerational cycle of trauma.

Life still challenges me at times but these challenges are hills or mountains to climb, not hopeless, unfathomless voids in which to drown.

I’ve appreciated slowing down over the last six weeks but we start again tomorrow, working in a small infant school in the morning and on to a larger school in the afternoon. I look forward to seeing what the next twelve months bring, and to more ‘tomorrows’.

Why didn’t you say anything before?

Why didn’t you say anything before? Were the words said when I disclosed. I didn’t know how to respond to that. The things I wanted to say spun inside my head and stuck in my throat but I couldn’t say them. I swallowed my words and looked at the floor instead.

Why didn’t you…?… you could have… you should have…

The events of that disclosure day unfolded violently, like a bomb exploding and glass embedding itself in our hearts. It was one of the hardest and worst things I’ve ever had to do. I tried to say why I hadn’t, I really did but I was mute with shame, regret and fear.

My fault was how I interpreted these responses. It’s my fault.

I was probably in shock too. Disclosure might be shocking for the recipient but it’s far worse for the one saying the terrible words we hoped we might never have to actually say – no more hoping that someone would just notice, ‘get it’ instead. It felt like peeling the skin from my bones, exposing the essence of me to the world. It hurt. I wanted to run away and hide. I wished I’d never said anything at all.

It was impossible to explain why I hadn’t because where would I begin? How could I describe my inability to retrieve the correct words and to speak them aloud? I didn’t say much after I disclosed. I couldn’t answer their questions and some of them made me feel so unsafe I wanted to die. I stayed silent and scrutinised their faces and body language. I was looking for any nuance of behaviour for a sign they didn’t believe me.

I waited to be cast out of the family and shunned for saying these terrible words.

Why didn’t you say anything before?

Now I have my words and if I could go back in time and do it all over again I would say,

I did.

I had been non-verbally disclosing since childhood but nobody was listening. They didn’t understand what I was trying to say.

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