NOTA is the National Organisation for the Treatment of Abuse. Whilst the newsletter itself is available to members of NOTA, here is my article on the power of lived experience in influencing change.
Continue reading “Stigma – The power of lived experience in influencing change”
This evening event will be a celebration of this important and profoundly powerful book.
Donation only but limited spaces so early booking is advised.
Join authors Sophie Olson and Patricia Walsh along with their publisher for a conversation about how the book came to be written, the harmful pathologising of child sexual abuse, the challenges of navigating support, and ultimately how Sophie and Patricia worked relationally, and courageously to approach the aftermaths of child sexual abuse.
The evening will include readings from the book, and an audience Q&A.
The Flying Child – A Cautionary Fairy Tale for Adults documents the therapeutic journey undertaken by Sophie and her therapist, Patricia. It includes all chapters of the fairy tale and the drawings Sophie created to help her make sense of her experiences and to reconnect with herself. It contains many between-session conversations, with important insights into how to work intuitively with trauma. Essential reading for those interested in understanding or working with survivors of child sexual abuse, for those who are survivors of sexual abuse, and all people in ‘The World’, The Flying Child: A Cautionary Fairy Tale for Adults is a must- have for your bookshelf.
We catch glimpses of the past when we least expect. They are captured by the way the light falls, how the air smells. We remember: how the birds continued to sing. How the sun kept shining. How life continued.
We catch glimpses in ourselves. In the mirror, in bodies that bear witness to the crimes committed against us. Same child, just older. Same souls, just wiser. There are war wounds that tell our story – if people look carefully enough, they’ll see it, but most don’t. It’s easier to look the other way.
Continue reading “Glimpses”
Last week I fell down the stairs. It was a bad fall – as I started my descent my arm went through a glass picture on the wall, shards of glass went flying and instinctively, to avoid putting my hands in the broken glass, I failed to break the fall and landed with full force on my back.
Continue reading “Inaccessible”
On 20 February 2024, SHaME is hosting its final in person event, a book launch and book signing with Sophie Olson (The Flying Child Project CIC) and ZunTold for their new book, The Flying Child: A Cautionary Fairy Tale for Adults.
Age Guidance: 18 yrs +FREE – but please register in advance
Book In-Person Tickets
20 February 2024
6.00-8:00PM GMT
Followed by a Reception and Book Signing
Venue Accessibility Information
*This event is taking place in person at Birkbeck, University of London.
*Please note: photography/filming strictly prohibited.
*This event will be audio recorded (speakers only) by SHaME.
Join authors Sophie Olson and Patricia Walsh and a panel of speakers, including poet, writer and activist Clare Shaw, GP Jonathon Tomlinson and SHaME’s Director, historian Ruth Beecher, for a conversation about how the book came to be written, the harmful silences around child sexual abuse, the challenges of navigating the medical sphere and support services, and ultimately how Sophie and Patricia worked relationally, and courageously to approach the aftermaths of child sexual abuse (CSA). CSA survivors have different needs and there are many different ways of meeting them. The panel will explore how we begin to do that in a way that doesn’t cause further harm, look at missed opportunities along the way, the role of stigma and shame, and the importance of ‘looking beyond the label’.
The evening will feature readings from the book, a panel discussion, and a brief audience Q&A.
This event will close with a drinks reception and book signing.
20 Feb 20246pm–9pm
Clore Lecture Theatre (B01)
Clore Management Centre,
27 Torrington Square, London
WC1E 7JL Map
The book documents the therapeutic journey undertaken by Sophie and her therapist, Patricia. It includes all chapters of the fairy tale and the drawings Sophie created to help her make sense of her experiences and to reconnect with herself. It contains many between-session conversations, with important insights into how to work intuitively with trauma. Essential reading for those interested in understanding or working with survivors of child sexual abuse, for those who are survivors of sexual abuse, and all people in ‘The World’, The Flying Child: A Cautionary Fairy Tale for Adults is a must- have for your bookshelf.
You can pre-order The Flying Child: A Cautionary Fairy Tale for Adults at Blackwells, Bookshop.org, Telegraph Books, and Waterstones.
SPEAKER BIOGRAPHIES:
Sophie Olson is a CSA survivor activist, writer, and founder of The Flying Child CIC – an organisation leading conversation about Child Sexual Abuse through survivor-led training, campaigning, and support. Their core aim is to normalise speaking about CSA in wider society and within the survivor community itself. Their training, The Flying Child Project began in education, and is recognised UK wide. They work across different sectors including social work, university settings, foster care, maternity, dentistry, and the NHS.
Sophie’s work seeks to challenge the societal culture of silence. She has a particular interest in the non-pathologisation of trauma. With first-hand experience in a system that was unable to support her with childhood trauma, her story was covered by Radio 4 in the Lights Out documentary “The Last Taboo”
She works with research projects including Dentistry, Mental Health, and Maternity, aiming to improve survivor access, and is co-developing The Skylark Project: a pathway of care in the NHS, specifically for survivors of sexual violence.
In 2022 she was shortlisted for the Criminal Justice Alliance Awards Saskia Jones Award for Victims Services.
She is a mother of four and in her spare time, writes poetry and appreciates her allotment.
Patricia Walsh is an experiential and intuitive counsellor and is a member of the National Counselling & Psychotherapy Society. She has over forty years’ experience of working in trauma. This has included women’s refuges, outreach work and a career as an Independent Domestic Violence Advisor. Her initial interest in healing took her into the careers of nursing and occupational therapy. Realising that the role of mind in recovery from disease was paramount she then went on to explore the world of psychology, hypnotherapy, and counselling. It was her close encounter with death in 2014 that inspired her to write her autobiography Cancer – A Magical Quest. During this time of immense personal growth, she experienced the transformative power of Qigong – an ancient Chinese form of movement, breathing techniques and meditation. Her training as a Reiki Practitioner had already introduced her to the importance of energy work in healing and in 2019 she graduated as a teacher from the London College of Elemental Chi Kung (Qigong). She continues to train in higher practices and teaches clients how to release trauma from the physical body and train the mind to become more resilient.
She currently works as a counsellor for a London rape crisis centre and runs regular self-help groups in Surrey. Using a programme she devised herself, entitled The Way of the Goddess, she invites female survivors of CSA, to challenge their earlier conditioned beliefs and bring about changes in their lives.
Clare Shaw has four poetry collections with Bloodaxe. Clare is also a mental health trainer and author, with a specific expertise in sexual abuse and self-injury. They believe in language as a media for activism and transformation: their poetry frequently addresses themes of trauma and survival, alongside wider issues of community and mutual support. As an Associate Fellow of the Royal Literary Fund, Clare is responsible for establishing writing projects across the UK. They are co-director of the Kendal Poetry Festival; and a regular tutor for the Poetry School, the Wordsworth Trust and the Arvon Foundation.
Jonathon Tomlinson has been a GP in East London for almost 20 years. His clinical practice is grounded in continuity of care and human relationships. His clinical interests are intractable problems like chronic pain. He is chair of trustees for the Centre for Health and The Public Interest and a Trustee for the Shoreditch Trust and a member of the London Aces Hub. His interest in trauma has developed at the same pace as his relationships with his patients. Over years he has learned from them how past and present experiences form constellations that can help to make meaning out of suffering. The associations between adversity, pain and disease are complex, asynchronous and buffered or fueled social circumstances. Working in an area of deprivation he sees how austerity illuminates and amplifies vulnerability.
He is a husband and a dad to boys and a cyclist who rides just a bit faster than his skills permit, so regularly experiences being an NHS patient.
Ruth Beecher in charge of the day-to-day running of SHaME. She is a historian and applied researcher. Her research interests include the history of British and American health and social care, with an emphasis on the history of children and families, the history of the professions and the history and politics of gender, sexuality and sexual violence. Her current project investigates the role of health professionals and feminist survivor activists in relation to early intervention in child sexual abuse in Britain, 1970-2000, using archival research and new oral histories. Prior to the project, she managed a range of family support services in London.
The Flying Child – A Cautionary Fairy Tale for Adults is now available for pre-order.
Thank you ZunTold for recognising Child Sexual Abuse (and its impact) is a subject that needs shouting about – and for believing in the book.
I particularly want to thank my publisher, Elaine Bousfield for her hard work and dedication in making this book come to fruition. As some survivors will know, publishing books about this subject is not straightforward, for many reasons. There have been moments where I’ve found the process overwhelming and difficult, and by proxy this will have been tricky for her too. I think we have both learnt a lot along the way, muddled through at times and I appreciate how patient she has been throughout. I have had more control over the outcome than I perhaps would have done elsewhere, and I’m grateful for that.
Elaine believes in me, in Pat, and is open minded in her understanding that when it comes to the support of CSA survivors, it’s not as simple as ‘one size fits all.’
For those who hold the authority to influence survivors’ lives – psychiatrists, psychologists, therapists, teachers, researchers, nurses, doctors, midwives – this book provides education about the harms of Child Sexual Abuse, the power of working relationally, and creative ways to challenge the silencing of abuse. Overall, this book is a call to action to transform our current systems and practices so that they support Child Sexual Abuse survivors to heal, rather than re-enforcing its harms.
Dr Síofra Peeren, Institute of Psychiatry, Psychology
and Neuroscience, King’s College London
ZunTold’s ethos is to harness the healing power of people’s stories and I believe there is much to be learned from the narration of personal experience. When we walk in another’s footsteps we can better understand the potential for causing further harm, the barriers that stand in the way of meaningful and sustained support, and the ways in which we can, as individuals, make a very real difference to the lives of those who have suffered in this particular way.
This book documents my journey and allows the reader to make the links between Child Sexual Abuse and how we might begin to survive it. It highlights what helped me to live a life beyond CSA – but it is just one story. Books like The Flying Child should be everywhere we turn. We cannot keep brushing the subject under the carpet. There are an estimated 11 million CSA survivors in the U.K. 11 million different stories of abuse and survival. Many different experiences of seeking support, of perhaps experiencing further harm – many different needs to be met (and many different ways of meeting them). My wish is for this book to stimulate much needed debate and conversation about how we begin to do that in a way that doesn’t cause harm. One of the first and most important things we can do, in this respect, is to engage with personal testimony.
It was the use of metaphor in the book that I feel will have the most profound impact on my practice – in our work with children, some as young as 3, the therapists try to find creative methods to give them a voice; a way to explore their muddles and worries. The concept of fairytale enables the child’s story to be told through characters that represent their subconscious thoughts and feelings and make sense of them at their own pace.
Thank you so much for removing the shroud that hides child sexual abuse, that prevents children and adults from engaging in the right support and the right time. I feel this book will enable healing for many.
Clare Sullivan, Barnardo’s Bridgeway Project
When I was 14, the abuse stopped. I broke contact with the abuser. I said no to him for the first time and saw a side to him I’d never seen before.
I witnessed apoplectic rage, vicious threats and I knew I would never feel safe.
I also knew I couldn’t ask for help because no one knew about the child sexual abuse, or the extent of the emotional abuse. How could I express my fear without breaking my silence? How could I break my silence when I felt so unsafe?
Continue reading “Life Lasting”
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.
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.
I’m currently spending every spare minute editing the final draft of my manuscript.
I never intended The Flying Child to become a book. I wrote the first chapter ‘The Kingdom of His’ late one night in a moment of determination, desperate to get the words that were so impossible to speak, out.
Continue reading “The Flying Child – Final Draft and Expectations”
Blog developed from previous Instagram posts about the impact of Child Sexual Abuse on pregnancy, birth and motherhood.
I read an article recently by Gretchen Schmelzer called The Courage of Parenting with a History of Trauma.
There was a part that really stood out to me:
“If you had been physically disabled by a past trauma and chose to run a marathon—people would call you brave. But we don’t do that with emotional wounds. They are invisible and the parents who rise to the occasion—and parent with love and purpose—who give what they never got—they are unsung heroes.”
This is so true. Navigating parenthood as a survivor of Child Sexual Abuse (CSA) can be an isolating experience and this starts at the very beginning. Nobody speaks about it. There is limited or no opportunity to bring conversations into antenatal appointments. There is no mention of trauma in parenting groups. We deal with the often highly triggering process of pregnancy and birth on our own, we might struggle with breastfeeding, to bond, or even have fears around gender – but we crack on because we have to.
The Last Taboo: Produced by Redzi Bernard and Phoebe McIndoe. A Falling Tree production for BBC Radio 4
Hurt People Hurt People goes round in our heads and we can’t risk our struggles being misunderstood as poor parenting. We want to be good parents. To break patterns, not be accused of causing further hurt. So we stay silent.
Here’s to all the CSA survivors doing their best to parent without the support they deserve. The ones doing their best to work it all out… to heal, to stop trauma passing to the next generation.
They are unsung heroes indeed.
Continue reading “Unsung Heroes”
Prompted by Twitter threads here and here.
Most people have little idea of what to say when someone discloses Child Sexual Abuse.
Some react brilliantly – a hug, a kind word or two (it’s rare). There is usually a shocked pause (forgivable – after all it is a shocking form of abuse). I sense the cogs turning as they search for something, anything to make this uncomfortable, unfathomable and perhaps unwelcome moment in time feel a bit better. For them.
Continue reading “CSA: When Words Fail…”
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)”
When you were seven, and the stranger wearing a grey suit and driving a red car said through the open window, if you get in I’ll take you to see some puppies, and you pedalled home into the arms of your abuser, it was Not-Love when he told you how proud he was and how clever you were, not to get in a car with a stranger.
Continue reading “Thoughts on Not-Love”
I was born in a beautiful little town in Belfast, Northern Ireland. The first nine years of my life were wonderful. However, in beginning in 1967, my childhood was abruptly changed forever.
Often, when I would go to play at my best friend’s house, his older brother would be home hiding in the shadows waiting for his opportunity to abuse me. I remember being there and hearing a door locking, knowing I was in trouble. I would get this sinking feeling in my gut, dreading what was in store for me. My friend would hold me down while his brother attacked me.
At the time, I did not know if my friend’s brother held power over him too, forcing him to cooperate, or whether my friend willingly participated. All I knew was that it was wrong, and it made me feel sick. Afterwards, I would run home to shower, desperate to wash off this filthy feeling of utter guilt and shame.
Continue reading “CHILDHOOD ABUSE – I SURVIVED, SO CAN YOU!”
The Flying Child ‘leads conversations about Child Sexual Abuse through survivor-led training, campaigning and support.’
The most effective way for us to lead conversation is through Twitter. There is good engagement, and because our work is quite varied, followers are from all walks of life. As well as the amazing survivors, there are people from different professions including teachers, social workers, medical practitioners, counsellors, priests, journalists, academics, police and creatives. At times we find it almost impossible to keep up with the conversations.
When posting on social media I used to fear I was speaking within my own echo chamber but things have changed and I don’t think I’m speaking to the converted anymore.
Yesterday I delivered my first workshop for A Disorder For Everyone AD4E. The workshop was aimed at those working in therapeutic and support settings and we explored how to best support CSA survivors without pathologising and retraumatising them.
I discussed how the ‘help’ I received in the mental health system was medicalised from the start. I was told the ‘issue’ was in my head, that I was ill and there was ‘a chemical imbalance’ in the brain. This scientific validity of psychiatric diagnosis is now widely disputed, but I had no ability to challenge it at that time. I knew deep down that abuse was the crux of the issue but thought it had caused my brain to ‘go wrong’. I trusted my consultant.
Continue reading “A Disorder For Everyone!”
One of the biggest issues we face as survivors is the public attitude towards the subject of CSA and, by consequence, ourselves. The negative responses we receive are extremely silencing but perhaps that is the point. There is great comfort to be found in denial of a crime that affects an estimated 11 million adult survivors in the U.K.
When I started on this activism journey, I shared the manuscript of my book (the fairy-tale part) with many people, and the responses from a few were so shocking and unexpected, such a punch to the stomach, that I nearly gave up.
Continue reading “Small Signs of Change”
This tweet followed an interaction that left me feeling a bit tired. Despite the extraordinary estimated statistics of adult survivors in the U.K., CSA survivors are an isolated community. It is hard to come together as a group because people don’t want us. I remember years ago, trying to find a free venue for a local charity peer support group, so it could keep going despite funding cuts. I knocked on many doors: Churches, cafes, pubs, community centres and the message was loud and clear.
Our insurance won’t cover you (a church that hosted various community groups)
The elders have said it’s inappropriate (we were a small group of women, drinking tea and chatting, in private).
We don’t think it’s a suitable group for our church (a huge red flag in my opinion)
Continue reading ““Too Heavy””
It’s the little things.
My child, older now, video calls.
Can we go to the garden centre together? I want to buy some plants; will you help me choose?
It’s the little things like:
The pointing out of names.
Geraniums, you’re also looking for Pelargoniums. They’re the same plant.
A little thing, but she didn’t know. I did so I passed it on.
Look for both names, I say.
I help her choose.
White? Or pink? Which one do you like best?
Will they last?
Yes, if you water them every now and then.
We observe the little things:
Like how to remove the old flowers to encourage new growth. Like the surprise of a small bud.
Like twenty percent off at the till, because it’s a bank holiday.
The little things are looking forward, together. Making plans. Little ones, like pointing out the burger van on our way to the car… shall we go next time?
It is the little things that are the most important.
Like walking by her side. Like holding her arm and remembering her first steps at thirteen months. She had blonde curls at the nape of her neck. A stork mark underneath that would flush an angry red when she cried. I wonder, is it still there?
So much time and so many little things have passed, and they went by very fast, when my attention was stolen. When my journey was frozen in time.
If i hadn’t found my way out, would she have gone alone to buy plants? Wondered about seasons and sunlight, annuals, and herbaceous borders? Who would she have made little plans with?
That thought of it makes me want to weep.
I focus on the little things that remind me I’m living: that make me feel alive.
It is the little things that are insignificant yet so momentous. I must hang on to each one. Write it. Document it. Remember it, to make up for the little things I lost when I was present and absent. A million miles away. When there was layer upon layer of thick glass between me and The World. When I was lost in the fog, when I loved her, I loved her so much, but I couldn’t find her, because I couldn’t find me.
Spaces for survivors of Child Sexual abuse (CSA) are few and far between. As a group we are hidden and can feel silenced. Even when people ‘know’, it can be hard to speak openly. We know the misconceptions people have, and the judgment that might be passed. We know exactly what speaking openly risks and what we might lose.
Thanks to The National Lottery Community Fund, our in-person, peer support group is now up and running. It is therapist and lived experience co-led, the aim being to create a sense of ‘us’ as opposed to the ‘them and us’ approach favoured by some but disliked by many. The encouragement is to share openly if you need to, leave armour and masks at the door, and to know that above all, you are welcome in the space. This applies to facilitators as well. If something feels relatable then why not say so? We can become so tied up in policy and protocol that we forget we are humans too. This can create a power imbalance within a group setting. It can also breed resentment. I used to ask, ‘but how do you understand? Have you experienced this yourself?’ and being frustrated by the cagey, neither yes nor no response.
CSA survivors who have experienced manipulation, betrayal or gaslighting to the extreme, deserve authenticity, connection, and sincerity, not rigidity and inflexibility.
As a group, CSA survivors are often placed in a peer support with others who have no experience of CSA. Whilst there might be similarities with those who have experienced sexual violence as an adult, there are also differences. I have benefitted from mixed groups – in many ways they were life changing for me and played a vital part role in my own journey, and I value beyond measure, the connections I made. However, at times I felt excluded from conversations because I was silenced by these differences. In my head they were significant, and I sat with a heavy feeling in my heart that others just wouldn’t – or couldn’t understand. So, I sometimes didn’t speak, even when I desperately wanted to. I longed to meet people ‘like me.’ I would have preferred a group of CSA survivors had there been a choice.
Spaces for survivors of CSA allow opportunity for us to meet and speak to others who can understand and relate in some way. Our stories may differ, but we will all face common challenges in a society that prefers to turn away from this form of abuse.
It is a privilege to meet such incredible and inspiring survivors at our different peer support groups, to hear their stories and to witness our isolated community coming together.
These 12 week in-person groups are not therapy groups. They are particularly suitable for those looking for survivor-led support but with the added reassurance of a highly experienced therapist and her well established (excellent!) self-development programme. The Surrey location is conveniently accessed on public transport with easy links to London.
Thrilled to see this announced in The Bookseller. Published by ZunTold– The Flying Child is part memoir and part documentation of the journey I took with Patricia Walsh – a therapist who helped me find a way to tell my story. It’s not that I hadn’t tried before, I had many ‘failed’ attempts at therapy, but Pat’s approach was not one I’d experienced.
With Child Sexual Abuse and mandatory reporting finally being recognised politically, it is important to make sure all are trained to recognise early signs of abuse and manage disclosure in the best way possible.
Mandatory reporting is one of the key recommendations for change made by the independent inquiry into child sexual abuse (IICSA). Would you know how to navigate that process in a way that doesn’t retraumatise the child?
Continue reading “The Flying Child Project”
Sometimes she called me Pobble With No Toes
from a poem
I think
by Edward Leah
it made me giggle and wiggle my toes
to check they were still there
sometimes he called me Poppet
with a wink and a crocodile smile
he kept his teeth hidden
hello Poppet
I shot up to the sky
my heart fell into my feet
Sophie Olson
Continue reading “No Toes and Crocodile Smiles”
This has been a week of travelling, networking, connection and collaboration. A week of laughter, empowerment, and overcoming.
It has been a week of public speaking, guest panels, consultancy and change-making. I have met up with old friends and made new ones, professionally, personally and both.
Continue reading “Revolution”
There were so many days like this. Too many days. It feels like a lifetime of surviving. Often I wonder why I did survive. Sometimes I feel so very old.
This poem reflects a point in my life where I had reached out for help more times than I can remember. I had tried to be stronger, happier – more resilient. I had tried to focus on, and be grateful for the good things – there were many good things – but I was drowning and help wasn’t forthcoming.
Continue reading “Surviving in Stormy Seas”
Today marks the last day of Sexual Abuse & Sexual Violence Awareness Week – the UK’s national week to raise awareness of sexual abuse and violence. At #TheFlyingChild we decided to engage by highlighting some important statistics, challenging stigma and sharing the work we’re doing with The Flying Child Project.
#ItsNotOk social media post
On Monday we shared the above image across our social media.
“Over 90% of sexually abused children were abused by someone they knew” (Radford, 2011)
On Tuesday we shared one of the statistics we use in our training.
A quote from The Flying Child Project training.
On Wednesday we shared this quote from The Flying Child Project. As we say to attendees, training is only a small part of tackling the epidemic of child sexual abuse. The biggest barrier we face to making meaningful change is society’s inability to speak about a taboo subject. One of the best things we can do as individuals is engage with the narrative. #ItsNotOk to turn away from the subject because what message does that send to children? What message does it send to perpetrators – that they can carry on whilst we look the other way? We can all play a part in tackling CSA. Yes – it’s uncomfortable to talk about but we must never prioritise our own comfort above the safety of children.
On Wednesday evening I spoke to SARSAS on a Twitter Space about my work as a Survivor Activist, my writing and The Flying Child Project. SARSAS also work with professionals and young people in schools and we came to the conclusion there is “a lot of work to do” (You can listen to the whole interview on the home page and on YouTube.)
Social media clip
ABC of CSA Exhibition by Viv Gordon Co
On Thursday, Anna and I travelled down to Exeter for the launch of the Viv Gordon Company ABC of CSA exhibition – ” a creative resource to support better conversations about child sexual abuse.”
We had the opportunity to view the wonderful artwork by Imogen Harvey-Lewis, catch up with friends and allies and listen to inspiring poetry read by fellow survivors of CSA.
On Friday we are worked with social workers at Together for Children Sunderland alongside the wonderful Sarah Pritchard from Barnardos Tees Valley Services. I always enjoy working with Sarah because she is what many would describe as a courageous practitioner – someone unafraid to open conversations, to say the words some might shy away from. Part of our training was to challenge the preconceived ideas people may hold about CSA. Due to a technical issue we were running late and it was encouraging to see how many choose to stay and listen to the end, and then ask us questions!
We finished the week by sharing our flyer for peer support in the local area. You can read more about the groups here.
The week ended on a bit of a high as I met with my publisher on Saturday. We have decided that #ItsNotOK24 will be the week we launch my book – The Flying Child. Keep an eye out for the formal announcement coming soon…
Stigma.
Shame.
Silence.
Three words that epitomise a problem survivor activists face as individuals trying to break down barriers, and make a positive change to the lives of both child victims and adult survivors of Child Sexual Abuse.
It’s easy for me to stand in front of strangers and say the relevant words, but when it’s to someone I know, it takes a different sort of strength. I know what it risks. I’m tired of the ignorant reactions and know the likelihood of receiving one is high.
Continue reading “Honest Conversations”
Thanks to an incredible three years of funding from The National Lottery Community Fund, The Flying Child is delighted to be launching our very first therapist-led peer support group for survivors of child sexual abuse (CSA) in March 2023. With an estimated 11 Million survivors (1 in 6) in the UK, we know there are many in need of support, and we are so proud to say that our first 12-week group, taking place at The Lighthouse in Woking, is nearly full.
There has been such a huge response so far and, when full, we will be opening a waiting list for a second group later in the year. So, if you are a survivor of CSA and you would value being part of a support group with a trauma-informed approach and co-facilitated by a lived experience support worker, please do register your interest by visiting the peer support page on our website, or emailing admin@theflyingchild.com and we will keep you updated on forthcoming group plans and dates.
In addition to the 12 week programme, we are also facilitating online and in-person creative groups for survivors, providing the unique opportunity to express trauma through art and writing, meet other survivors and build networks in a supportive space. We are now taking names for our next available creative groups including our nine-week, in-person art groups, set to run from February 2023 onwards, and our six-week virtual writing groups, which will be starting in January 2023. Our aim is to provide a supportive space for people who have experienced Child Sexual Abuse. When we have the opportunity to make connections within the survivor community we reduce feelings of isolation, recognise the value of our own voice and begin to accept that CSA is not our shame to carry.
If you are interested in taking part in any of our creative groups – please contact us at admin@theflyingchild.com or, for more information on The Flying Child please visit our website.
Some people with underlying trauma will be misdiagnosed. I believe it happened to me and I’ve seen it happen to others. I’ve also seen for myself the devastation of untreated mental illness, the way it impacts on family and the miracle that happens when that person emerges from the depths of despair to claim back the life they lost.
Continue reading “Battle of Beliefs”
2022 has been a fantastic year for The Flying Child. There are too many people to tag individually but thank you to everyone who has supported our work, worked with us, shared the blog, contributed to the blog, taken the time to comment or share, listened to us speak, attended our training, mentored, advised, donated – and to The National Lottery Community Fund for funding us for the next 3 yrs – wishing you all a happy and healthy 2023.
Sophie x
I watched a drama on TV and felt unwelcome body memories fire as an older man placed a necklace around the neck of a young girl. I remembered once hearing that it takes seven years for cells to replace themselves. That made me feel good. Is my body no longer tainted by your touch? If so why does my skin still crawl? Why do certain things make me shrink and curl up small inside my head? Why do I feel you still, if you’re no longer here? I want to shake you off, but the memory of you clings with grim determination.
Are we ever truly free?
Diary entry 2020
Continue reading “Don’t Touch”
Last week I was asked to be a guest speaker alongside Viv Gordon at the #CSAQT Twitter Space. It was a space beautifully held by Five (@sur5vors) and Lucy (@smile4wales), and despite my nerves, I really enjoyed it! (It also helped doing it with Viv as we have worked together quite a lot and I feel quite comfortable with her).
If you missed the Space or you’re interested in Survivor Activism, you can read some of my answers below – including my answers to questions we didn’t have time for. Thanks Five and Lucy for inviting me and for helping me overcome my fear of Twitter Spaces!
Continue reading “Survivor Activism: Q&A”
Nothing compares to the connection between survivors. How it feels to be together. The opportunity to just ‘be’.
No masking, no hesitating- no hiding.
Acceptance, understanding and recognition.
Continue reading “‘Just Be’”
A Surrey-based Community Interest Company, The Flying Child is celebrating today after being awarded three years of funding from The National Lottery Community Fund, to support survivors of child sexual abuse (CSA) in Surrey and to continue providing professional training through The Flying Child Project.
Founded in 2020, the survivor-led project has reached over 1000 professionals to date, across the U.K. in Education, Social Work, and healthcare settings, improving understanding of trauma resulting from CSA and the confidence of professionals in supporting both children and adults in a trauma informed way. In a recent participant survey, 100 percent of attendees said they felt better equipped to manage a disclosure of CSA, with all likely to recommend the training to a colleague.
“The training was fantastic. It openly addressed difficult conversations through real life experiences and first-hand conversations. It really highlighted the volume of CSA in the community, some not dealt with. We haven’t had training like it. I would recommend every [professional setting] to participate”.
Training participant (Primary School Teacher)
The new National Lottery funding will allow The Flying Child Project to continue their training, aiming to reach thousands more over the three-year period. It will also fund The Flying Child peer support and creative well-being groups for survivors of CSA in the local community.
The groups will consist of a 12-week therapist-led programme, co-facilitated by a lived experience support worker. In addition, creative groups for survivors will be offered, providing the opportunity to express trauma through art and writing, meet other survivors and build networks in a supportive space. Over the next three years The Flying Child aims to support 360 survivors of CSA – with initial groups starting in the new year.
Sophie Olson, founder and managing director of The Flying Child, said:
“Thanks to National Lottery players, this grant means we have a fantastic opportunity to improve outcomes for both child victims and adult survivors of CSA. As an organisation we normalise speaking about an ‘unspeakable’ subject and challenge the societal culture of silence. Lived experience in training helps to break down barriers and dispel myths that lead to victims of abuse being overlooked, and their normal reactions to trauma being misunderstood. The current statistics estimate there are 11 million adult survivors of CSA in the UK, equating to 1 in 6, yet are a large, hidden, and marginalised group, with services often not adequately trauma informed or accessible.
CSA is a devastating form of abuse with long-lasting consequences on mental and physical health, and wellbeing. Peer support groups play a vital role in the community. Because CSA is considered a taboo subject, stigma and shame silences the majority with many believing they are the only one. This is something we aim to change. This grant will make a big difference to people’s lives.”
The Flying Child encourages the local community to engage on Twitter and Instagram @flying_project, and to become survivor ‘allies’ – helping to challenge the silence surrounding CSA. Sophie Olson’s story can be heard on the BBC Radio 4 documentary The Last Taboo. For more information about the training or peer support groups, please visit www.theflyingchild.com.
During the pandemic, in 2020 alone, The National Lottery Community Fund distributed almost £1 billion to charities and community organisations across the UK.
To find out more visit www.TNLCommunityFund.org.uk
There are many misconceptions surrounding Child Sexual Abuse. This is in part due to the silence, but they are perpetuated because misconceptions are more palatable than the reality.
Continue reading “Misconceptions (part one)”
The Inquiry recommends that the UK government and Welsh Government introduce legislation which places certain individuals – ‘mandated reporters’ – under a statutory duty to report child sexual abuse
The Report of the Independent Inquiry Into Child Sexual Abuse – October 2022
Mandatory reporting is one of the recommendations of the IICSA report. It is hard to believe that this isn’t already the case but here we are – hopefully this law will be passed and professionals working with children will be legally required to pass on a disclosure from a child or a perpetrator. Sounds good… except children rarely disclose, and perpetrators seeking help aren’t likely to disclose either if it means they’re immediately arrested.
Continue reading “Mandatory Reporting: is it enough?”
It is a commonly expressed concern that survivors are too vulnerable to do this work and might be retraumatised in the process. I have never felt this, on the contrary I feel empowered when I speak and it is fulfilling to be left with the sense of having made a tangible difference to the way professionals might perceive, interact with and respond to child and adult survivors of child sexual abuse.
Continue reading “Lived Experience”
One year ago today The Last Taboo, a Falling Tree production documenting my experiences as a silent child sexual abuse survivor through the mental health system, was broadcast on BBC Radio 4. The documentary has been broadcast twice and the first time was late in the evening. As the day progressed I began to get cold feet. I remember thinking what on earth have I done? There were things my own family didn’t know about the abuse and I’d sent an email explaining this and suggesting that they didn’t listen to it live, late at night whilst on their own.
Continue reading “Storytelling”
This was one of two poems I performed at an event by Drop The Disorder: an evening of spoken word performances to challenge the culture of psychiatric diagnosis and the pathologising of emotional distress.
I wrote it recently, on a day where I felt overwhelmed and exhausted by the consequences of CSA. In the past, I would have equated this with poor mental health and considered making an appointment to see my psychiatrist. I don’t do this anymore because the psychiatric system was unable to support me with trauma. I never experienced relief with meds, there was never enough time, my trauma history was not acknowledged as the root cause and I didn’t receive the empathy or gentle care I needed to heal. On the contrary, treatment felt punitive and came with undertones of threat and a distinct loss of autonomy.
Continue reading “No Space”
Preventing Suicide in Adolescents was the theme for the conference delivered by HSSCP & South Tees Safeguarding Children Partnership. Professionals across various agencies working with children attended the event.
This week I delivered my second workshop as part of this event.
The title of my workshop was CSA, the consequences of trauma: a journey of missed opportunities. This was the first time I’ve used my own story as the sole case study and participants were asked to identify indicators I might have shown and where the missed opportunities occurred. There was a breakout activity for small group discussion on how to open conversations with child survivors.
Continue reading “A Journey of Missed Opportunities”When there is an increase in child suicide and professionals come together to try and work out why, and what can be done to prevent it, really the only people who can tell us why are the children but they can’t because they’re not here anymore. By rights I shouldn’t be here either.
The Flying Child Project
I consider myself a survivor of CSA and the psychiatric system, and was pleased to take part in an event by Drop The Disorder: an evening of spoken word performances to challenge the culture of psychiatric diagnosis and the pathologising of emotional distress.
One of the most significant moments of my journey was the time I reached out to a GP as I was leaving an appointment. She was kind, but as there was no screening for trauma, I was set on a path that delayed recovery for an entire decade. She didn’t intend to cause me further harm, she probably had little idea of what else to do with me. Trauma-informed pathways are long overdue and it is time for change. It is hard to have conversations like these without being accused of stigmatising mental illness but those who are harmed by the system must feel able to speak. When I do, I’m not denying the experiences of those who benefit from treatment, I’m validating my own experiences as someone who was failed by that system.
I regret hesitating at the door. This poem is called Door Handle Moment
Continue reading “Drop The Disorder Poetry Night”
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.
Over the last few weeks I have been using my own lived experience as a survivor activist, working with The University of Bristol, Bristol Dental School and activists Viv Gordon, Patricia Debney and Hazel Larkin to coproduce research ‘Improving Access to Oral Health Services for Adult Survivors of Child Sex Abuse.’ It has been a wonderful and empowering project to be part of, beautifully and safely held by all, and I’m excited by the change already on the horizon. Many survivors (including myself) find accessing dentistry almost impossible and I look forward to the day in which survivors’ needs are recognised. We can be perceived as ‘nervous’ patients but this is not the case. We are traumatised by our experiences of abuse and going to the dentist can be triggering and re-traumatising, leaving many of us avoidant. The fault does not lie with us for not being able to ‘overcome our fear’, it lies with a system that doesn’t (yet) understand and accommodate our needs. Many thanks to Brigstow Institute and Bristol and Weston Hospital Charity for funding such valuable and vital research, and to Viv for setting this ball in motion.
This is my response to one of the creative writing tasks from the workshops. We were asked what we thought ‘Dentists need to know.’
Continue reading “Dentists Need To Know”
There was a brown flower on the cups we drank our tea from.
I once filled the brown flower cup with water and around thirty soluble aspirins. I then used that vile mixture to wash down around twenty paracetamol tablets, I was 11 years old and I never, ever, told a soul… The hospital staff looked for reasons for my illness, from kidney stones (which I was ultimately plagued with) to appendicitis (had appendix out on another attempt, and never told a soul), but they could not find anything. Just that my liver wasn’t working and I was a very poorly girl. I was allowed home with no diagnosis.
Continue reading “Catching the Feather:”
Content: Child sexual abuse. Suicide.
This week I have been considering why it’s so hard for survivors to reach out even when our support network is strong. I feel that I’m an old hand at this and it should be easy to say when I’m triggered but it’s not. Some triggers grind me to a halt and I need to take a few days to reflect on what it was, process the memory and wait for the wave to pass.
Continue reading “On the Crest of a Wave”
One reason I love doing this work is the variety of people we come into contact with. Since piloting The Flying Child Project in September last year we have delivered training to approximately 400 people including teachers, school staff, admin staff, Masters students, practice educators, consultants, nurses, doctors, matrons and Psychology students. Today we presented to Social Work undergraduates.
The information we give to Social Work students is quite different to the information we deliver to medical staff or teachers simply because they could work in a multitude of different locations and situations, supporting a diverse range of individuals including those in prisons, schools, hospitals, care homes and family settings; they will work with the homeless, and with people struggling with mental health or addiction. As we know, many survivors of sexual violence may need support later in life. Some will end up in crisis and they risk their trauma responses being misunderstood, as ours were. We took the students on a journey and allowed them to step into our shoes as we shared our own experiences, including the impact of trauma on motherhood, postnatal depression, mental health, relationships and discussed intergenerational trauma. We had a lot to say, as did the survivors who had shared their experiences with us on social media.
With their permission, we were able to bring in many quotes from survivors of CSA- the aim being to reduce the chance of ‘othering’ the public speakers and of our stories evoking sympathy but being disregarded as unusual, or a one-off.
As well as encouraging the students to always consider trauma in the work they do, we helped them to understand why it’s not always easy for the survivor to speak out, and pointed out that people display signs of trauma in different ways. We said they mustn’t be afraid of asking the question, “what happened to you”, and discussed the power and importance of human connection and relationship.
There was an interesting question and answer session and we were able to touch upon social justice and the problems survivors face when reporting. Our focus was intrafamilial abuse, as research suggests that over 90 percent of sexually abused children are abused by someone they know (Radford 2011), but we included quotes from male and female survivors who were abused by non-family members.
My biggest wish is for people to leave our talks with an insight that they may not have had before, and for our stories and the survivor quotes to give them food for thought as they move forward and start their professional journey. Above all, I hope they feel inspired to do their bit to swim against the tide and break the culture of silence surrounding CSA.
Some pieces of writing have been sitting in draft form for a while. I am always unsure whether to post things this as they don’t paint an accurate picture of where I am currently in life. This poem was written nearly two years ago, at the very beginning of my activism journey. It was a time of intense self-reflection and processing of unexpected grief. Shame was still an unwelcome and persistent visitor as I starting to speak openly but I was receiving a few negative reactions. It felt like teetering on the edge of a cliff. I nearly gave up on my ideas and aspirations but I didn’t. I had a tremendous drive to move forward to the next stage in my life that I couldn’t ignore any longer. I was just on the cusp of ‘learning to fly’.
Continue reading “All The Lost Things”
The mindset we hold about the crimes committed against us is deep-seated and individually complex. Those who have suffered Child Sexual Abuse are referred to as ‘victims’ or survivors’. How we feel about any one of these terms is most likely governed by where we are on our healing journey.
Continue reading “Survivor or Victim?”
Content: CSA. References to suicide and self harm.
I danced in the morning when the world was begun,
And I danced in the moon and the stars and the sun,
At school, during the Spring term, I would stand in a sea of bottle green tunics and grey pullovers. With my red hymn book in hand I would sing with gusto, in time with the pounding keys of the out of tune piano. I sang with all my might:
I danced on a Friday when the sky turned black;
It’s hard to dance with the devil on your back
This week has been a busy one! On Tuesday The Flying Child Project presented to a secondary school. It was successful for a few reasons: Firstly, we learnt an important lesson as to where our own limitations lie. We know that running the same workshop four times in one day is too much. When you do this work, you share from your soul. It took its toll and, during an important debrief meeting on Thursday, we decided how we can better manage the structure in the future.
Continue reading “A Good Week!”
I recently watched an online discussion about ACE’s and outcomes for the individual. As a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, it made me feel a bit uncomfortable. Trauma; how we react to trauma, and the consequences of trauma will vary between individuals. We are all different, and labelling trauma survivors must be done responsibly and with caution. Most would agree that support for trauma survivors is lacking and inconsistent and must be more widespread, but care should be taken when striving for a trauma-aware society, not to inadvertently end up with a one-size fits all model of care.
Continue reading “ACE’s: Proceed With Caution”
Survivors are often told they’re resilient, or strong. I hate this. On the surface it seems an innocuous comment doesn’t it? Complimentary even. It’s not. It minimises our experiences and it silences us. It feels so disrespectful to the survivors I knew who died by suicide, and to the many others I know who struggle to put one foot in front of the other. Does this mean that they’re not strong or resilient enough? Of course not. There are many factors at play when it comes to ‘recovery.’ In my case, if it wasn’t for the peer support and therapy; the people who crossed my path at the right moment in time, I wouldn’t be here today. The lack of support for CSA survivors means it often boils down to luck.
Continue reading “What doesn’t kill you…”
Content: Child abuse. Child sexual abuse.
I look back now and I wonder – how? How was this not seen, this depth of sadness, by others in my family? Why could they not sense the burden I was carrying? It was so terribly heavy.
Continue reading “Hiding… in plain slight?”
By Sophie Olson
(CSA. Suicidal ideation)
Sounds.
As well as men breathing and people eating, the sound of cars on a road are another trigger.
As she was assaulted inside a car that was parked in a lay-by, she could hear the swoosh swoosh swoosh of the cars drive by and as she detached from self, the child pictured the drivers of the cars, in her head. They were of course, oblivious. If only they had slowed. If only the drivers had stopped for a rest and been curious enough to look inside the car. They didn’t and she remained out of sight and invisible, but she was there and she heard each and every one of them. That day, the sound of cars of cars passing burnt into her psyche and became a trigger. She was nine years old.
Continue reading “Sounds (Part Two)”
Sounds.
The bringer of joy and the bane of my life. I couldn’t live without music. I have extensive and eclectic playlists. I love the sounds of my children’s laughter, or the birdsong at dusk that floats through my attic window on a warm summer’s evening. I like the comforting drone of a distant lawn mower, or the fat crooning of the content pigeon, who rests in my cherry tree. Other than laughter, human noises such as the shout of man or the tap of shoe on the pavement make me deeply uneasy. The noise a human mouth makes when it chews, slurps, sips or swallows pains me. I can’t bear it. I simply cannot BEAR it. It’s an everyday painful occurrence as everyday someone eats in front of me. Not their fault of course as they need to eat, but it’s not mine either, so I’ve stopped apologising for my reaction.
Continue reading “Sounds (Part One)”
It has been such a joy to work with Viv Gordon and her team over the last 16 Days of Activism. Seeing The Flying Child mentioned in the final slide makes me feel a bit emotional and I’m not sure why – maybe it’s because it makes everything I’m doing feel a bit more real? I believe in what I do, and when Viv asked me to join the campaign and work alongside her, it made me realise that other people must really believe in what I do too.
I’ve learnt so much, have felt supported and valued, and have even broken more of my own silence by contributing a short film in which I talk about my own abuse. It was a piece I wrote a while ago and wasn’t sure how to share it, as the blog didn’t feel quite right somehow. Reading it aloud, whilst cutting out my doll felt exactly right. I will share it on the website at some point. I hesitate, because some people I know subscribe to the blog. I need to stop doing that (hesitating).
The last 16 days has made me re-evaluate a bit. I need to make more room for creativity within my own work. My original vision for the project was to present our lived experience to professionals in a very creative way. I contacted theatre companies, artists and dance schools but it’s unrealistic to expect people to work for nothing and I had no funding to pay them at that point.
Over the last few weeks, I have met some inspiringly creative survivors. There is a lot of talking and planning going on behind the scenes. I have SO many plans. We all have so many plans. As the flying lady says in the illustration kindly shared with us by @lucybeacham @apinchofsaltsophie (you can find them over on Instagram) – “we have so much work to do…” and it is EXCITING!!
A Sense of Solidarity was first published in Epione Training and Consultancy “See Me – Hear Me” blog.
I have always had a thing about groups. I don’t like them, I don’t trust them. I have been wary of groups, ever since the time an eight year old girl with stocky legs and suspicious eyes accused me of laying eggs during a playground game of 4040. This was the worst crime imaginable in Year Four in 1985. Hand on hip, she stood back to watch as thirty indignant little girls and boys formed a menacing circle and she stared unblinkingly at me as I stood in the middle wondering how the world had suddenly turned so dark. Thirty shrill voices began their chant:
Lay-ing EGGS!, lay-ing EGGS!
It was untrue and unjust but I did nothing; I didn’t defend myself, didn’t shout, didn’t cry or tell a teacher, I just braced myself and waited for it to end.
Continue reading “A Sense of Solidarity”
By Sophie Olson
I was the victim of a crime, an abhorrent act that was done to me, and to many others like me, yet when we speak about the acts of depravity that were inflicted on us, some people turn away from us.
Why?
Continue reading “Unspeakable Things”
Elizabeth Shane (CSA Survivor – Author of Silhouette of a Songbird)
Look up. Two simple words that have stayed and only now, gained the realisation why this has affected me so much. I spent nearly my whole life looking down. Looking down through shame, through fear, through self-loathing and feeling too vulnerable for people to look into my eyes and heart in case they see the darkness I felt. I carried so much baggage I think I could have filled Heathrow airport without a label and would still be the only luggage that never got lost! This is a snippet of my story – condensed version.
Continue reading “Look Up (Guest blog by Elizabeth Shane)”
This powerful quote is one of a few used by The Flying Child Project during our initial presentations. It was interesting to watch professionals during the project launch. I didn’t know what to expect and I was surprised when I first saw visible signs of connection. Faces softened. Arms uncrossed. Body language shifted from impenetrable professional to vulnerable human being.
At first, my co-speaker and I felt as if we were holding our breath, not because of nerves or because we felt re-traumatised by the process, but because we were both desperate for the audience to just get it. To understand exactly why we were there. Not as a curiosity, or freak show. Not to tell our sad and tragic stories. Far from it, we were there as survivors. Ones who’d made it through the trials and pitfalls of recovery. Ones who’d seen darkness but, through a combination of luck and specialist support, had managed to reach the light. Not only were we bringing our own experiences into the room, but we were standing in solidarity with a spirit army of other survivors from around the world. Other survivors had contributed and their voices, with their permission, were brought to the attention of staff who needed to hear them, via presentations, film and groupwork.
We were there as advocates for the children. The ones who can’t speak up for themselves. Children who, without specialist support are unlikely to speak out for many years.
“Not me and not my child.”
We would rather not think about child sexual abuse. We might accept that it happens, but we prefer to believe it doesn’t apply to us. It is more comfortable to believe that abuse of children happens elsewhere: to other people, not to people like us, or to people we know.
This is understandable. It’s challenging to engage with the horror of it. CSA is horrific. It’s unnatural. It threatens the safe world in which we want to live.
Not engaging with the topic compounds shame that the survivors already feel. How can we speak up when we sense, from childhood, society’s unwillingness to listen to stories like ours? When we speak, we’re shamed. Victim blaming is appalling but it happens all the time – to adult victims of sexual assault and to people who were abused as children.
There is a lot of work to be done. People don’t engage with this subject very well. Social media is a good indicator of this reluctance. On Facebook, when people post about the work of The Flying Child, it never gets much response. It’s not a radio silence, and there are a few great comments, but the large majority stay silent. A post about trees being cut down by the local council on the other hand, causes total uproar. Eloquent messages are fired by outraged individuals asking; what can we do about this? Who should we contact? Shame on the ones responsible! A post about an injured bird or hedgehog will evoke a similarly collective emotional response. Personally I agree that the trees should be saved, and that an injured bird is sad, and I think taking action on these matters is admirable and important but I care a lot more about the risk posed to children, in every community, by predators who will be only too aware of society’s preference to look the other way. The ones who will be noticing the lack of response, and not feeling any shame at all.
“Not me and not my child.”
The lack of response, messages, likes or emoji faces, in comparison, is a telling reflection of the negative responses survivors face day to day. Why the silence? Where is the indignation? The rage? The militant call to action? There will be many reasons I expect. Some people reading will be victims themselves but unwilling to engage because if they are silent about their experiences (which let’s face it, most are), then what can they possibly say? Others will be abusers. The majority will be ‘normal’, good people who prefer to believe not me and not my child and simply look the other way and patiently wait for the post to pass by before jumping on the next, more palatable bandwagon.
Prejudice is another reason for the silence. This is a phenomenon not specific to CSA. We see it in discussion about domestic violence and rape. Some would agree the narrative has changed slightly in regards to racism or misogyny, but only when it fits society’s expectations. Sarah Everard’s story has sparked an important national reaction – and conversation, but what about Nicole Smallman, Bibaa Henry and Blessing Olusegun? Why is society less outraged about their murders? What about Bernadette Walker? – murdered by the man she called ‘dad’ after years of sexual abuse. Are their deaths less worthy of debate, discussion and incensed fury because of the colour of their skin? Or the nature of the relationship between victim and predator?
This is not good enough. There can be a paradigm shift when we stop playing by the rules set by stigma and expectation. The statistics tell us that children continue to be sexually abused, many in their own homes, behind closed doors, in ‘normal’ families.
It strikes me that dissociation around child sex abuse is a wider collective experience too – as a culture we find it very difficult to engage with something so devastating and so threatening to the our understanding of the world as a kind and safe place .
Viv Gordon
Surely we have a collective responsibility to engage with this topic – for the sake of these children, and of the survivors too: doing their best to cope with the aftermath of trauma. Their coping mechanisms frequently misunderstood or judged by others – not because people are deliberately unkind (although sometimes they are)- but because they are simply uneducated about CSA and its ramifications- because nobody talks about it.
“Not me and not my child.”
By Sophie Olson
As a survivor who is currently ‘surviving’ pretty well at the moment, I take issue with the phrase ‘move on.’ You don’t have to move on from child sexual abuse until the time is right for you. You may never feel able to move on but that doesn’t mean you can’t heal or live a happy life.
When you hear someone telling you to move on, you need to bear in mind that what they might mean is ‘get over it so we don’t have to keep on listening to this.’
Continue reading ““It’s Time to Move On…””
By Simon Olson
Trigger Warning (child sexual abuse. Rape)
“You couldn’t have been raped… I would have seen signs of it”
Continue reading “Disbelief (guest blog)”
I am dead: Thou livest; …draw thy breath in pain, To tell my story Hamlet Act V scene ii
(Content: CSA, suicide).
She simply died, infected by the touch of him. It began, this slow death, with a hand upon hers, iron fingers curled around small bones that could snap like twigs in an instant. A wrist too small, always too small for this. She was born small, stayed small, perfectly small for this.
Today, I have no one else to disclose to. Finally at the age of 44, disclosure is complete.
Yesterday I disclosed the severity of the abuse to my own family of origin. I had hesitated because I thought it would protect them from hurt and horror and protect me from shame. I knew the documentary on Radio 4 would be listened to by my family and it felt like the right thing to do.
Trauma is misunderstood, misdiagnosed and often treated with unnecessary medication. Labels put people in a box. In my case, they left me in victim mode and unable to move on. I was told by a psychiatrist that I would be unable to live without medication and yet I have lived for years without. I choose to recognise my reactions to certain stimuli as normal trauma responses.
Continue reading “As Long as it Takes”
Listen to Sophie Olson’s story…
A Falling Tree Production: produced by Redzi Bernard and Phoebe Mcindoe.
This piece was homework, set by the very lovely Saša in the weekly writing group I attend. It’s one of my favourite times of the week. Saša (you can find her here, and over on instagram @sasawrites) and I have known each other for a few years and it’s a very safe place for me to speak. I can speak freely and be myself in ways I can’t in real life. She posed the question: “what is your armour made from?” and it made me reflect. Do I wear any armour? Yes I do, but it’s a different suit of armour to the one I wore during the years I stayed silent. It began to change, as I found a way to speak and tell my story…
Continue reading “What is your armour made of?”
Statistics that tell us the prevalence of CSA, are vague – depending on which researching body or charity you refer to. One says 1 in 4. Another leading charity says 1 in 5. I’ve also read 1 in 6, 1 in 8 and 1 in 20. Nobody knows. It is a hidden crime. The 2019 Crime Survey for England and Wales estimated that 7.5% of adults aged 18 to 74 years experienced sexual abuse before the age of 16 years (3.1 million people).
According to NAPAC: cases of child abuse remain hidden; around one in seven adults who called the National Association for People Abused in Childhood’s (NAPAC’s) helpline had not told anyone about their abuse before.
It is estimated that only one in eight victims of sexual abuse come to the attention of statutory authorities (Children’s Commissioner 2015).
Sometimes I study these statistics as I want something tangible to bring into my presentations, and I tie my brain up in knots. There is no single definitive answer it seems. Nobody knows the true extent of how many children are sexually abused.
A singer called Brenda Rattray contacted me this week, asking if I could share the release of her new song ‘Nobody Knows’.
She describes it as ‘a song for the voiceless.’ I think it will speak to many survivors: it is beautiful, raw and honest.
By Sophie Olson
This blog post stems from an email to lady who asked a question on a tweet. The tweet emphasised the need to ask a child again, if you think they may be being abused but they deny they are. She asked how these questions could have been worded to encourage disclosure. I sent her a couple of first-hand accounts from survivors of CSA along with my own. This is my (edited) reply.
Continue reading “Why a child (or adult) survivor might not disclose abuse (and how to word a question in a way that may promote disclosure)”
Trigger Warning: This post contains references to suicide that could be distressing.
For some, life reaches a point where it derails you completely. It is the moment where you feel that death is preferable. Some refer to this as ‘Rock Bottom’ and when I reached mine, it may not have felt like it at the time, but it was the day that I began again. I was 30, and as the first third of my life came to an end, so did the walls I’d built around myself. My persona, my mask, and my pretence began to rot and decay, along with my twenties and I was scared. I feared there was nothing underneath, that I’d just disintegrate and dissolve to nothing.
I didn’t.
Continue reading “New Shoots”
This month’s guest post is by Willow Thomas. It is a powerful analogy of ‘the life of many survivors of family abuse.’ Willow’s focus is on Australia, but as a survivor living in the U.K. it certainly resonates with me, and I’m pretty sure survivors around the world will relate too, regardless of their culture, upbringing or religion.
It is common for the survivor of child sexual abuse to struggle with their mental health. Many will find themselves in the psychiatric system. At first it can feel like a huge relief. We are told we feel the way we do because we suffer from X, Y and Z. We are told to take medication and we do, because it comes with the hope of recovery. For some, medication provides relief. They may take the prescribed dose for the recommended time and feel better, able to continue with their lives, untroubled by past trauma. But what do we do when we feel we’re not recovering from child sexual abuse? How do we cope with the bitter realisation that we feel exactly the same about what happened to us when we reach our forties, fifties and beyond? We begin to wonder; is true recovery even really possible? We hear a lot of talk about ‘recovery’ from trauma, but the truth is I didn’t believe recovery was possible – or maybe it was possible for others and there was something wrong with me. The years went by, along with the hope that anything would change for the better.
Continue reading “When the drugs don’t work… what then?”
“It’s easy to stand in the crowd but it takes courage to stand alone”
Mahatma Gandhi
Content: child sexual abuse. Sexual assault.
I’ll never forget the horror of being in danger, in public, and the sickening realisation that no one was noticing. I was too frightened at the age of fourteen to reach out to anyone at all. I felt an insane mix of terror and loneliness, on a bustling high street on a Saturday afternoon.
The worst thing about this terrible situation I found myself in, was that I felt it was my fault. I had instigated this meeting between me and the man who had sexually abused me throughout my childhood. I still feel the flush of shame when I think about that.
Continue reading “Alone in a crowd”
Processing trauma can feel like an ongoing battle; at times a bloody war. I’ve always known that I must process all of it. If I leave any stone unturned I will trip up and fall, most likely landing flat on my face, with a broken rib or two. It’s best to clear the ground now. To prevent the inevitable.
Trigger warning: The following post contains themes relating to CSA that some may find upsetting.
Continue reading “What Lies Beneath”
When I began specialist therapy I was unable to speak the words I desperately wanted and needed to, in order to recover. I had learnt how to be silent about the abuse; as a child, as a teenager and well into adulthood, only disclosing after attempting to take my own life at the age of thirty. I made a few attempts at trying to ‘get better’ but nothing seemed to work. Medications numbed me but did nothing to change the way I felt about the trauma. CBT missed the point entirely and psychotherapy was too cold and detached. EMDR, that provides relief for many, felt too intense, pushing me out of my comfort zone and triggering me to the point of being unsafe.
We are all different, and what works for one survivor may not help the next. In my case, I needed complete trust in the therapist. To take things at my own pace. I needed someone who wasn’t afraid to show empathy, or to hold my hand if that is what I required at the time. I needed someone intuitive to help me unlock the ‘Big Black Door’ in my mind, behind which I kept my trauma, to support me to find my voice and tell my story. I was fortunate to find the right person and, in time, recovery for me was to be found at the end of a pen. Only through writing was I able to finally tell my story. This month’s guest post is from the perspective of a person-centred therapist. She has worked for many years with survivors of sexual violence.
Round one.
Citalopram
Fluoxetine
Duloxetine
Carbamazepine
Amitriptyline
to start.
Continue reading “Habits”
My previous post what not to say to a survivor stemmed from a thread on Twitter that was liked and retweeted many times. Survivors identified with the responses from others after disclosing their own child sexual abuse. Some added more to the list. One person replied with ‘thank you for sharing. What would be helpful to say to a survivor?’ and I began to reflect on responses that had helped me.
Continue reading “… (Part Two) How TO respond to a survivor”
Disclosing non-recent child sexual abuse was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I will never forget it. It was in 2009 during my first inpatient stay in hospital where I’d found myself after a breakdown. My family had reacted with frustration and, at times, anger at this unfortunate turn of events; after all they hadn’t seen it coming. I had presented a version of myself to the world that wasn’t real – a competent mum of two. A wife. A functioning member of society. But it was all a facade. Totally fake. As it turned out, I had been the most excellent actor and master of disguise. No one had noticed how desperate I was on the inside – and why should they? That had been my intention, but I had spiralled deeper and deeper into the fire of addiction and ill health. I was dying. I had wanted to die. I had tried to die and found myself in a psychiatric hospital.
I was surprised by the frustration. I certainly hadn’t expected anger.
Continue reading “What NOT to say to a Survivor (part one)”
The shape of a jawline, the smell of cigarettes and whisky on someone’s breath. The click of a man’s shoes as he walks behind on the street. Being followed up a flight of stairs. A clearing of the throat. A wink. A song on the radio.
When abuse ends, we have to find a way to live with the triggers.
Trigger Warning: (child sexual abuse/trauma)
Continue reading “Body Memories”
“I feel like he took my soul” is a phrase that I’ve heard from more than one survivor. The first time I heard it, I wanted to cry with relief. That is exactly it, I thought. I was overwhelmed with relief that someone felt the same way as me. It made me feel less alone.
