How Childhood Trauma Shaped My Behaviour as a Sunday School Teacher at Fifteen: 15 February - 1 November 1981
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.
However, I am mortified to find hidden clues to my difficult 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.
For years, I suffered intrusive thoughts of a dunking underwater or being overcome. I never believed in these visions, for they made no sense. I now know they were flashbacks to the abuse 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 suffered trauma). 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.
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.
Butterfly Mural completed during my Sunday School teaching in 1981
I am also writing children's 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.
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.
19 April 1981, I feel unwell, can't sleep & forget things.
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.
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.”
Close up of my painting Butterfly Mural
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 and fly agaric.” I return to the parish hall later for farewell games with the kids.
Butterflies again.
The day previously (3 Aug 1981), I had gone on a day trip to Port Meriden.
Portmeirion 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 overcome 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 Portmeirion, hoping I wouldn’t see that balloon. I didn’t realize Rover’s method triggered reminders of being smothered in 1968.
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 Portmeirion 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 trauma. 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.
3 Aug 1981. I'm feeling unwell again & want to quit 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.”
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.
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.
Becoming a Sunday School Teacher at Fifteen
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.
On 1 Feb 1981, Mum arranges me to be a Sunday school teacher
On 1 Feb 1981, Mum arranges me to be a Sunday school teacher
The Persona I Adopted: 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 difficult 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 Echoes in My Sunday School Behaviour
After certain Sunday school lessons, I would seek out reminders of my toddlerhood. Since unearthing the truth about my 3-year old self, this behavior is startlingly obvious.
For years, I suffered intrusive thoughts of a dunking underwater or being overcome. I never believed in these visions, for they made no sense. I now know they were flashbacks to the abuse 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 suffered trauma). 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.
Trauma Sites of My Toddlerhood
For reasons not stated in this article, I know I suffered assault in Privvy Woods at the back of the church. I also believe assault occurred 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 sex abuse, the labial butterflies represent innocence lost 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.
Butterfly Mural completed during my Sunday School teaching in 1981
I am also writing children's 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.
Subconscious Re-enactment through Sunday School
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.
19 April 1981, I feel unwell, can't sleep & forget things.
Sunday School Themes Triggering Flashbacks
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.
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.”
Close up of my painting Butterfly Mural
Becoming Someone Else Through Sunday School
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.
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 and 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.
Portmeirion 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 overcome 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 Portmeirion, hoping I wouldn’t see that balloon. I didn’t realize Rover’s method triggered reminders of being smothered in 1968.
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 Portmeirion 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 trauma. 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.
3 Aug 1981. I'm feeling unwell again & want to quit Sunday school
Leaving Sunday School Through PTSD
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.”
What My Fifteen‑Year‑Old Self Was Trying to Tell Me
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.
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