Between 15 February and 1 November 1981, Mum
arranged me to be a Sunday school teacher.
She probably did so because I didn’t socialize much. I now know I was
different because my toddlerhood had been brutalized by an uncle who lived with
us for over a year in 1968.
I was 3 and my adult self was completely oblivious to this fact until I was 51.
During my Sunday School teaching, I had no conscious
awareness of my vile toddlerhood but I kept a diary of a life that did not seem
extraordinary on face value.
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| On 1 Feb 1981, Mum arranges me to be a Sunday school teacher |
My
Sunday School Teaching and A Separate Identity
So I begin Sunday school teaching when I am 15 in
1981. I never enjoy it, but I am successful (the church warden, Mrs. Lackie
said she couldn’t do without me).
However, I am mortified
to find hidden clues to my horrific toddlerhood in how I behaved whilst I was Sunday
school teaching.
Firstly, I am by nature a tomboy, wearing jeans and
T-shirts, but when I go to Sunday school, I adopt a separate persona, wearing
tights, skirts and assuming a teachery role that was not really me. This was because my
subconscious was running away from something vile about my past. I
was trying to be someone else.
Trauma Sites of My Toddlerhood
After certain Sunday school lessons, I would seek
out reminders of my horrific toddlerhood. Since unearthing the truth about my 3-year old self,
this behavior is startlingly obvious.
For years, I suffered intrusive thoughts of a child being dunked underwater or suffocated. I
never believed in these visions, for they made no sense. I now know they were flashbacks to the sadistic abuse my uncle
had unleashed upon me when I was 3. With this knowledge, I could piece together
where the abuse took place.
After certain Sunday school lessons, I would have long
baths (where the dunking took place), exhibiting a conflicting feelings about water. (On 15 Feb, I was desperate to go swimming after Sunday school to the point of almost crying if I couldn't go). I went in Dad’s room (where I was
raped). I would go for long bike rides or walks with my sisters to the East of
the village where my uncle took me and Eve in our pushchair.
For reasons not stated in this article, I know my
uncle assaulted me in Privvy Woods at the back of the church. I also believe he
assaulted me in a site just outside the village. My bike rides and walks passed
the sites of where the assaults took place. Often, I would suffer disturbed nights after a long bike ride or walk to these locations.
So often after Sunday school teaching, I would seek
out reminders of my horrific toddlerhood, visiting the sites of the trauma.
I find this strange.
But there is more.
Art
Work with Symbols
After Sunday school, I would often do something
creative that informs upon my toddlerhood. During my spell teaching, I am doing
a series of paintings including luscious greenery, wild animals, butterflies and
toadstools. Nature Scenery with Plants
(completed 14 – 21 April 1981, sadly missing) features toadstools, butterflies and trees. For
someone who suffered horrific sex abuse, the labial butterflies represent rape
and the toadstools are phallic. The trees inform upon the site of the
brutality. The wild animals represent ferocity. I was unaware of this,
believing my paintings were simply pretty pictures.
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| Butterfly Mural completed during my Sunday School teaching |
I am also writing kiddie stories, poems and prayers. After Sunday school of 17 May 1981, I write a poem called the Railway Station. Railway tunnels recur in my artwork and novels. In stories and artwork, I am often placing a plank of wood or a bloodied rag in a tunnel. The meaning of these objects is now obvious.
Sunday
School Sabotage
Things would go ‘wrong’ with my Sunday school
teaching. I would forget things, feel ill, sometimes missing breakfast or
feeling ‘off’. I also find revising difficult. Sabotage is a recurrent theme in my diaries where it appears a
subconscious part of me is trying to prevent my conscious self from discovering
the horrors of my toddlerhood.
On 5 April 1981, I forget my bag, so I left after Communion,
missing the last hymn. What was I teaching the kids that day? The Story of
Creation including Adam and Eve. This
bible story is ultimately about procreation.
“The kids draw pictures,” I had written in my diary.
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| 19 April 1981, I feel unwell, can't sleep & forget things. |
On 19 April 1981, I couldn’t sleep and get up early. It is Easter Sunday and I am troubled. Today I would forget the stickers for Children’s Service. We are learning about the Crucifixion. Not good for a PTSD sufferer. After Sunday school, I lay upstairs feeling ill.
On 24 June 1981 (a Wednesday), I went to church that
morning with Mum but forgot to attend a meeting regarding a lesson on Noah and the Ark. Not a good story for
one who has been dunked underwater.
Frequently, I can't concentrate, can't eat and feel unwell. If I happen to be menstruating on the day I’m teaching, I would suffer crippling period pain soon afterwards.
Frequently, I can't concentrate, can't eat and feel unwell. If I happen to be menstruating on the day I’m teaching, I would suffer crippling period pain soon afterwards.
It seems the themes of Sunday school were triggering reminders about my horrific toddlerhood.
On 5 April 1981 I make my first mention in my diary
of “dreading Sunday school.”
Fear
of Fear and the Butterfly
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| Close up of Butterfly Mural |
Rows with Mum about me quitting Sunday school become frequent. Mum was an avid Christian and wanted her daughter to stick it out. Looking back, it seemed bizarre that I suffered such terrible dread of…well, Sunday school. Few things could be more innocuous. I was just teaching a few little kids after all.
7 June 1981 is Pentecost, and guess what? We’re
doing Adam and Eve again. I report in
my diary that I go on a long bike ride afterwards and I feel troubled. We continue
Adam and Eve on 14 June. I report of
feeling ‘flustered’ afterwards.
5 July (Sermon Sunday) is my final Sunday school session
before the summer holidays. On this final lesson, the kids sing The Butterfly
Song at the front of church. Oddly, I’m doing a Butterfly Mural at home. I “Put my butterfly painting in the corner of
the room. Painted a red butterfly & fly agaric.” I return to the parish hall later for farewell games with the
kids.
Butterflies again.
The
Summer Holidays and The Prisoner
It is now the summer holidays and I have a break
from Sunday school for a few months. Little is mentioned of Sunday school until
4 Aug 1981.
The day previously (3 Aug 1981), I had gone on a day trip to Port Meriden.
Port Meriden was the location of the filming of a TV
series called The Prisoner starring
Patrick McGoohan. It was a big cult hit, but when the series was aired in the
early 70s, it used to terrify me.
When captives of this ‘sinister’ village try to make
an escape, a nasty balloon-thing called Rover would take pursuit. Like an
airborne mutant jellyfish, it would catch up with the victim and suffocate
them. I felt sick at the sight of the yawning victim’s face pressed against the
rubber. I didn’t understand the source of my appalling panic.
I had visited Port Meriden, hoping I wouldn’t see
that balloon. I didn’t realize Rover’s method triggered reminders of being
suffocated by my uncle when I was 3.
The following day, I report of a “slight discomfort of stomach at morning”.
My mood darkened in the afternoon and I end up arguing with Mum about Sunday School
again.
On 5 August, my stomach ache has worsened and so
does my mood.“Had an awful stomach ache
like something leaning in it all day," I had written. “Felt ill, down & fed
up.”
It appears Port Meriden had triggered the old dread.
My subconscious couldn’t face more reminders of toddlerhood brought on by
Sunday School.
As for my stomach ache, reminders of my toddlerhood brought
on physical reminders of being raped. The result? A nasty stomach ache. I
wasn’t even on a period.
On 27 Aug 1981, I feel “ugly with droopy face and moody”. I got worked up and cried about
Sunday School again. It was a lovely day. My youngest sister and her
friends are splashing in the pool. I sunbathe, yet I felt bad.
On 29 Aug 1981 I tell my older sister, Sophie how I
feel about Sunday school. On 3 September, I’m up early and get worked up again.
I want to quit but bottled out of telling Mrs. Lackie.
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| 3 Aug 1981. I'm feeling unwell again & want to quit Sunday school |
Leaving
Sunday School
On 6 Sept 1981, I’m back to Sunday school teaching
after getting het up about it over the summer. On the first day, Mrs.
Lackie announces I’m leaving on the 1 November. It seemed not even Mum’s stern
Christian approach could deter me from quitting Sunday School.
My following Sunday school session is 13 September
1981. I report of “dreading Sunday school”
yet again in my diary. There is a historical exhibition at the parish hall and
I showed the kids around the church. The back of the churchyard is a stone’s
throw away from Privvy Woods where I was assaulted 13 years earlier. No doubt
the old photos of the village triggered reminders of my toddlerhood for how the
village used to look.
After Sunday school I dose myself up with Phensic
against a horrific period pain. I then have the “hottest bath.”
I have a few Sundays left before I leave and I can’t
wait. However, the symptoms continue. After one particular Sunday school, I’m
painting a ‘forest scene’ in my bedroom in black ink. I resurrect an untitled
story I haven’t touched for weeks. I am also feeling ill and sabotage recurs.
My final class is 1 November 1981. My “stomach feels sensitive” and I dose
myself up again. I take over 2 classes with 8 kids. “We did about Remembrance Sunday. Wrote notes etc. then they sat round
piano and sang.” This final lesson is unceremonious.
I never look back to my time as a Sunday school
teacher.
Until now.
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