My mother’s husband was the perpetrator. But when I told her she was not able to support me or help me on my healing journey. So it was all swept under a pretty thick carpet.

Now she’s dead I’ll never hear these words:

I’m sorry:



PS on a lighter note the picture is of my dog Tikka in Wales at a place called Beddgelert.

Perhaps I’m drawn to the tale of love and remorse that is associated with this village:

“In the 13th century Llewelyn, prince of North Wales, had a palace at Beddgelert. One day he went hunting without Gelert, ‘The Faithful Hound’, who was unaccountably absent.

On Llewelyn’s return the truant, stained and smeared with blood, joyfully sprang to meet his master. The prince alarmed hastened to find his son, and saw the infant’s cot empty, the bedclothes and floor covered with blood.

The frantic father plunged his sword into the hound’s side, thinking it had killed his heir. The dog’s dying yell was answered by a child’s cry.

Llewelyn searched and discovered his boy unharmed, but nearby lay the body of a mighty wolf which Gelert had slain. The prince filled with remorse is said never to have smiled again. He buried Gelert here”.


8 Comments Add yours

  1. Sophie Smith says:

    I was an abuse victim myself as a child, I wasn’t believed either. My mum wouldn’t, couldn’t believe my handsome blond haired, blue eyed brother was capable of doing something like that – it was easier for her to be happy thinking I was a liar – many years later he went on to abuse his own daughter (she didn’t believe that either).

    When my daughter disclosed to me, when she was 15, I instantly believed her. On that very evening I made my husband of 18 years – her dad, leave. I told her how sorry I was that he was able to get that abuse past me. I am not a gullible woman but he was a master manipulator, an upright respectable man, he had fooled everyone. I still felt a terrible shame though, I was supposed to be her protector. it was heartbreaking for me that my own experience hadn’t made me savvy enough to see through him and that he had been able to hurt our daughter anyway. I was fierce in my defense of her through all the family fallout, many who were saying she was lying – including the brother who had abused me and, of course my mum. Abuse is still rife for both boys and girls, I exposed some of it but I was called names and ostracised, children were forced to retract. I have no contact with any of them now.

    My daughter didn’t want to prosecute him even though I did, I supported her with that as well. Eventually, the stress told and I did have a breakdown. She has said my reaction was worse than the abuse itself and she wished she had never told me. She had thought by telling me, he would just stop and our lives could go on as normal.

    Her life is going really well, she has children and a lovely home, she thinks people over react about the effects of child abuse. She has renewed contact with the family but she has never forgiven me for the way I handled it. Bear in mind that I was the first mother to actually believe and do something about what was happening, I didn’t have a role model, everything was a first (I certainly didn’t realise the need to look after my financial, emotional or mental wellbeing). That family still doesn’t have a role model, I’ve been dismissed as obsessive about cse and that there is something ‘wrong’ with me.

    Sometimes sorry just doesn’t cut it. Would it have been better all round if I hadn’t taken it seriously? I I don’t know, I lost everything, including my daughter – but sometimes – I do wish she hadn’t told me either.

    PS. My mum lived happily within the bosom of her family until she died last year aged 84. I live alone with my cat….


    1. Sophie thank you for sharing that. It reeks of sadness and I’m so sorry for what you went through. It makes me sit up and realise what we are capable of projecting onto our mothers.


      1. Sophie Smith says:

        It’s good that we can talk so openly about it now. I think I’ll be trying to sort out the tangles for a long time, it’s always good to share with someone equally engrossed 🙂 The sadness has weighed me down, I’m trying to let it go but it’s like it’s really, strongly attached! I get a bit fed up with it sometimes but it seems my passion to be back in a position to protect children is just as equally attached. I really should take up knitting or something 🙂


        1. All things in moderation Sophie…easier said than done!


  2. sasperella says:

    Snap No one has apologised to me either. Just something else we are going to have to deal with I suppose.
    I love your dog Serena he is gorgeous


  3. Interesting. Lately I’ve been pondering exactly this. No one, one person said, “I’m sorry.” No one mentioned my sufferings, not once, not at all. Only a sister-in-law who moved here from California five years ago. She asked me, “Has anyone ever said they were sorry about what happened?”
    I looked at her quizzically and realized, No.

    Cute photo by the way, extraordinary really…!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Serena Bradshaw says:

      Thank you Patricia. I like to think that the photo represents a wonderful way of just “shaking the tears from my body”

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Yes, I so like, love that, “shaking the tears from my body.” Like shaking the snow off ones branches if one were a pine tree…and not be burdened.
        Pets seem to live in the moment naturally and are good role models..: )
        It is such a great shot! Great photographer!


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