My diaries are extraordinary because they were written
by someone who was unaware that her toddlerhood had been brutalized by an uncle
who lived in her childhood home throughout 1968. I was 3 at the time. In October 2016, a
month before my mother’s death, the message about my toddlerhood would finally get
through: via my novels. I would then see the clues to these horrors stamped
all over my artwork, my stories and my diaries.
This article is about my diaries.
 |
| My diaries |
My 1977 Diary
I kept a diary between 1977 and 1988. I
had my first diary for Christmas when I was 11. This first diary, which was a
Letts Schoolgirl’s Diary was small and therefore contributions were brief,
being a sentence or so. My first ever entry was on Dec
26 1976: “Went to church. Had a fight
with Nicholas (my brother). He had the blame. Played organ and games, Mastermind
and Top Form.”
On 9 January 1977, I made my first mention of
writing a story: Solomy’s Treasure. Throughout the late 70s, I would
write several kiddie mysteries which I read to my twin Eve and my youngest sister Mazie. I believed they were innocent tales of children uncovering secrets.
Only after I had awakened to my horrific past, would I see hidden messages
beneath each tale that give clues to my horrific toddlerhood.
This is what makes my diaries extraordinary. They
were penned by a child who was totally unaware that she had been raped,
brutalized and suffocated when she was 3.
My 1978 Diary
In 1978, I got a 5-year diary which again permitted
little room on each day to say much, so I got a second diary which offered a
little more room. I therefore kept 2 diaries in 1978. The pages describe my
first year at senior school. I am now 12. They do not describe the intrusive
thoughts I had suffered throughout my childhood, as I had explained them to a
vivid imagination. I did not realize I was also sleeping in the very same bed where
my uncle had raped me 10 years earlier.
My 1979 Diary
I continued to keep my 5-year diary, which was by
now getting tatty. It seemed I didn’t bother to get a second diary this time,
so contributions were brief, yet revealing. On 21 July 1979, I began a weather
log. I would keep bar readings, clouds and precipitation. On 21 July 1979 I
wrote: “Very dull at first then started
to clear to a sunny morning at 10.10am but clouded again to a dull afternoon
though dry. Brightened and cleared by evening.” I would continue to keep fastidious
weather records for several years from my mini weather station.
Pretty routine some might say, however, my obsession
with the weather (particularly hurricanes and tornadoes) would be due to the
horrors of my toddlerhood.
My 1980 Diary
From the 20th July 1980 onwards, my
diary-keeping would become very detailed. I would record
the weather, what I wore, what I ate, my moods and much more. My first
contribution would be:
“Sunday 20 July 1980: “I wore brown cords and a
black short-sleeved woolly top. Weetabix for breakfast, pizza, new potatoes and
peas for dinner. Blackberry and apple pie with cream for pud. I had cheese and tomato
sandwiches for tea.”
And for the day’s events, I would write: “I got up
late this morning and washed hair first thing then we sat in the veranda (a
lean-to Dad built) and listened to Nicholas's cassettes then I went upstairs
while Mazie was out at a party to record all of Nicholas's songs that I liked. I
had recorded a total of 27 songs. My periods were finishing.”
I would continue to keep fastidious records in this
way throughout 1980 and until 20 July 1988.
My 1981 Diary
Mum noticed I was keeping a large diary, so in
Christmas 1980 she got me a Dataday Appointment Diary which was A5 with a page dedicated
for each day. My diary-writing continued to be very detailed. I continued to
write what I wore, what I ate, the weather, my moods and the events of the day.
I had left school in July 1981 and I would begin Art College in September.
My 1982 Diary
For Christmas, Mum got me an even bigger diary for 1982, A4 in size, which was a pain, as it was too big for what I wanted. However, I managed to fill each page. Here, I kept records of the music charts, what I took on holidays and much more. Every day was very detailed and bizarrely would prove revealing about my vile toddlerhood. This is partly due to my artwork I had completed for my Art Diploma.
My 1983 Diary
I must have told Mum that the A4-sized 1982 diary
was too big, as I had reverted back to the more practical A5 size.
However, I added 3 notebooks: a chart book (for music charts), a weather book
(readings from my weather station) and a mood book (detailing my moods, periods
and health etc.)
In Sept 1983, I would move away from home to begin
my degree in Fine Art in City University. My artwork would become a big part of my
life and as a result I would suffer distressing intrusive thoughts due to the
messages trickling through my art work about my horrific toddlerhood. That
spring, I had begun to draw a man’s face in the margins of notebooks not knowing
who he was. I mistook him for a childhood familiar or a fictional character
that I would later write about in a novel which I called The Lessons. I had explained my depression to
homesickness.
My 1984 Diary
I am no longer keeping weather records or of what I
ate and wore, but simply about my thoughts and events. I am no longer a church-going
schoolgirl but an angry and horribly troubled teen who doesn’t understand
herself. My handwriting had become scruffy with swear words and suicidal
thoughts. A burning fantasy world had been haunting me for months. I would keep
these thoughts to myself through shame.
My 1985 Diary
I now have an A5 sized Letts diary which describes
my descent into full-blown depression. I bleach my hair, smoke and have bouts
of social drinking. I almost quit university but the head of art department
talked me into staying. I had almost thrown my life away to become a dropout living
at home where I had been raped.
I keep to a routine of going to university and
painting every day in a bid to survive. How could I have believed that I was
simply homesick? In April 23 1985, I would make the momentous decision to write a
novel about the man I kept drawing. This novel would describe the
burning fantasy world that continued to haunt me. No one but my identical twin
Eve knew about it.
My 1986 Diary
I stick to my Fine Art Degree course but my
handwriting is as scruffy as ever and suicidal thoughts are crowding in. I can’t
wait to leave University, blaming my depression on homesickness. However,
moving back home would prove to be the worst year of my life since my
toddlerhood. My siblings by now have left home and I would sleep alone a
bedroom where I had been brutalized and raped by my uncle. A part of me knew
the truth, but my conscious awareness was completely oblivious.
My 1987 Diary
This is worst year of my diary-writing period. I’m
unemployed and living back home. My older siblings and my twin have left home
and I am now sleeping alone in a room where horrors have occurred to my
toddlerhood. I’m feverishly writing my novel, The Lessons describing my secret fantasy
world and the man I keep drawing. I’m keeping my project secret through shame. The cottage is shabby and there are
constant rows between my parents and younger sister, Mazie. I move into a grotty
bedsit in desperation. I then hook up with an old flame from art college and
get married in the October.
My 1988 Diary
My final diary starts to die its final breath on 5
July 1988, I believed due to a bad row between my twin Eve and myself during a
wedding reception. My final entry occurs on the 20 July 1988. I am living in a
flat with my husband and I am still writing my secret novel. I visit the
cottage of my childhood and feel crippling grief not understanding why. I
continue to suffer intrusive thoughts that are wrongly explained and I would
continue to fail to see the truth about my toddlerhood for 28 years. 21 October 2016 was the day I
would finally see the truth.
This summarizes my diaries. However, they would
reveal much more than this post shows.
