Dear 1983

I recently looked through some school photos on Facebook. There is nothing terribly interesting in this other than its clear that over the course of 3 sets of class pictures one particular child appears to disappear into himself and become even less confident, less happy and indeed less childlike. The face in these pictures is mine and it has taken me well over 30 years to have the courage to look into this mirror; to try to remember those events. In fact bizarre as it may seem even having met them recently I still need to concentrate to remember memory the names of the class around me

I saw Spotlight recently but it didn't bring back memories of my abuse or even anger, it was more a profound sadness. Sadness that I could relate so directly with each of the unspoken characters and their lives who were only ever referred to as events or victims. Sadness that events in Boston were replicated in diocese around the world. Sadness that like so many other victims the deferential silence of the "Village" allowed so many of us to spend time in church in fear or in nights alone with nothing but confusion, tears and guilt.

The last time I wrote to you was August; I hoped that when I was found someone would also find my note, that you would see it and feel horrendously guilty for what you had done to me as a child, a confused adult and indirectly to almost everyone I have had any sort of relationship with since.

The paradox of the situation is that having been to the edge of the precipice I know the agonies and emptiness you faced in April as you looked for a way out of your past. I feel genuinely sorry for you and I wish that you hadn't taken your life. (I wonder if you can imagine how easy it is for me to write this sentence and how difficult it is to say out loud)

Over the last year I have faced the Hell of the last 30. More importantly I dragged others down there with me, a little girl who thought she had been abandoned and a loving partner facing the indignity of having the house searched by the Police presumably looking for my body.

I don't want to be even slightly self righteous, we are both guilty; we have both damaged innocence. I have never believed that the Church was involved in a conspiracy to sacrifice young children to priests; but the fact remains that pedophiles have worn clerical collars and other uniforms to fulfill their fantasies and in doing so have ruined lives.

You were a paedophile, I was a child. You had the opportunity to control your actions and decisions; I didn't. Yet you violated both of us and caused both of us to live a lie. I can't and won't blame you for decisions I have made but at least now I realize that I made them out of a desperate attempt to protect my 13 year old self.

Both Judas and Peter betrayed Jesus, one asked to be forgiven, one couldn't and hanged himself. I've been so fortunate to have had people support me over the last 12 months and be with me as I attempted to ask for forgiveness and to forgive myself.
I'm sorry you didn't have the strength to do the same.

We have both been cowards, but I am now stronger than you ever were. I am now loved by someone who genuinely knows me, what's more I love myself and I acknowledge my weakness. I feel able to love her back and I feel that I am in love.

I can look at those pictures now and all I see is a younger version of me with all my faults, flaws and talents. I'm sorry you died but I am overjoyed that I am alive for the first time as an adult and look forward to an extraordinary new life.

I once wanted to be able to call myself a survivor; I'm neither that or a victim. After all this time I think I've now earned the right just to be the best version of me that I can be.

In a few weeks I'm going to plant all of these letters as compost under a small tree in our garden. Pause, take a deep breath and forget you and concentrate on the real people I can now really love.