About me

My name is Maddie. I am an identical twin and I live in the UK. In 2016 I discovered I had been brutalized when I was 3 by an uncle who lived with us throughout 1968. For 50 years, I lived in oblivion. I wish to share with you what my life has been like and how I unearthed the truth about my toddlerhood.

Monday 28 May 2018

The First Aid Dummy in the Village Carnival on 8 July 1978

One cloudy day, I went to the village carnival with two school friends and I encountered my suffocated three-year-old self in the form of a first aid dummy in a tent.

Of course, I didn’t realise this at the time. It was just a dummy lying on a table. A cheerful paramedic presided, urging us to have a go and learn how to perform the ‘kiss of life.’

All I can say is that the sight of that ashen, bald thing lying there ruined my day. Strong feelings of sex, possession and death swept over me but such words were not at my disposal at the time. The sight of that doll simply unnerved me.

How to Perform the Kiss of Life

Dummies would spur intrusive thoughts (Necessary Evil Wiki Commons)

My two friends simply had a laugh as they had a go. I watched, squirming inside as one of them pressed her lips against that lifeless thing and the doll’s chest lurched upwards and make that spooky hush sound as the air escaped ‘it’.

Her saliva dribbled over the doll’s chops and I had to look away. The sight not only depressed me, but left me horribly disturbed. Once my second friend had a go and the paramedic praised their good efforts, they urged me to step forwards. Dismay overwhelmed me at the idea of even touching that doll. The paramedic, in a friendly manner assured me it was ok and that I was learning an important skill. But I just couldn’t go near it.

I felt embarrassed as confusion crossed their faces. I was confused at myself. Little did I twig that I had a doll at home, Sue, of my odd doll pantos that played a part similar to that first aid dummy.

Looking back, my intense aversion must have seemed odd. It was just a first aid dummy after all and my friends were having a laugh. What I didn’t know was that I had been suffocated and raped by a half-uncle when I was three. My disturbed feelings were due to 'seeing myself' lying there. How I came to know this is covered in a separate article.

My diary entries of 8 and 9 July 1978

My Diaries

In 1978, I had 2 diaries: a tatty 5-year diary and an overflow diary. Sometimes, I would repeat myself in both diaries, as can be seen in the images above.

The round-up of my diary entries of 8 July 1978 had been, “Went to the recreation grounds with Jill and Karen. Eve (my twin) didn’t come. Had 2 goes on moon walk. Had sweets and drinks. I was sad though. Came home and it drizzled for the rest of the afternoon.”

There is no mention of that first aid dummy but of my sadness. A subconscious part of me had experienced grief at encountering my used, unconscious toddler self and how her innocence had been ripped to shreds.

The Dead Twin

The next day, 9 July 1978, I visited Granddad’s and we went to his sister’s, my great Aunt Vi and her husband, Uncle Harry. I wrote in my diary, “Went to Uncle Harry’s and Aunt Violet. (Her twin died, Auntie Lily). A sunny day.” Aunt Vi and Lily were non-identical twin sisters, whereas Eve and I are identical.

So, I had written the words, “twin died” a day after seeing my almost-dead self in that tent. This coincidence is awful and must have contributed to my ongoing depression.

My twin and I came away with a coleus plant each which we kept on our bedroom window sill. Dad would then plant them into bigger pots on 16 August 1978, the same day as I would play one of my odd doll pantos featuring a suffocated doll, Sue.

At the time, I had endless story-lines in my head. One of them years later had been a woman giving a choking man the kiss of life. I would eventually include this scene within a novel which I called Nadia. It was the reading of Nadia that ultimately brought my horrific toddler memories to the surface when I was 51.

Waxworks Triggering Intrusive Thoughts

Until then, unexplained intrusive thoughts would plague me after I visited waxworks museums or torture chambers like Madame Tussauds, Blackpool and Great Yarmouth. I didn’t recognize the triggers.

The first such trigger that I had recorded in my diary was that of the first aid dummy in the tent of the village carnival on 8 July 1978.

My odd doll pantos

Overview
About my diaries     

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