My Lost Toddlerhood

For most of my life, I believed my childhood had been simple: a small cottage, my siblings, my parents, and the occasional visit from Nan. But the truth was far darker. A single moment would shatter everything I believed in and reveal a memory my mind had buried for almost fifty years. The following describes the moment my world collapsed as the truth about my toddlerhood emerges, reshaping my identity and understanding my past. The Moment My World Fell Apart But I hadn't had a cosseted childhood at all. In fact, the opposite. I suffered intrusive thoughts and a secret fantasy world fuelled by a childhood familiar which I called Aidan. I explained my odd experiences to growing up in a chaotic household with a mentally ill father and depressive mother. Cramped living conditions and poverty created further challenges. I am ok with this and have come to terms with it. The Memory That Returned After 50 Years However, a series of events would reveal that my lifelong passion for novel...

This excerpt shows how a fictional scene in one of my novels, mirrors a real event my brain had hidden from me. This reflective memoir of uncovering long‑buried childhood trauma, illustrates the moment the horrific memory surfaced. Understanding Dissociation Through Fiction I am now at my final novel, Nadia . I pause on spotting a broken bottle in a key scene. I continue gleaning, expecting to find further clues to the day my twin Eve had cut her face. Instead I find a character I had based upon my uncle. He is a narcissistic doctor that runs a care-home where Nancy, the main character used to work. This excerpt shows how my fictional scene mirrors the real event my mind had hidden from me. In the key scene, the creepy doctor's voice enters Nancy's head as she tries to save the life of a choking occupant of the limo by puncturing a hole in his windpipe. The Moment the Memory Broke Through I wonder why I had put Uncle Dan there. He wasn’t present when Eve's accident occurre...

A sudden emotional trigger in adulthood has unlocked long‑buried memories and accelerates my journey toward realisation. I am about to learn the horrible truth about my life. I have been gleaning my novels looking for clues about the day my twin had cut her face at the age of 4. I had dashed out of the cottage on seeing blood. It would appear that my novels are expressing traumas that I have stored in my subconscious. I discover recurrent elements within scenes: broken glass, disfigured faces, characters dashing to a hideout and terrible guilt. I am astounded at what I have found within my novels. A New Ugly Picture During the reading of my final novel, Nadia , I discover the inclusion of a character I had based on Uncle Dan. I wonder why I had put him there. He wasn't present during Eve's accident and he rarely visited the cottage. I assumed he had nothing to do with me, as I was only 3 when he stayed. And yet I seemed to know enough to use him in my novel.   The following...

A haunting childhood memory has exposed dissociation in my toddlerhood, fear and the impact of trauma. An early memory is about to open out to me and my life would suddenly make sense. Reading My Novels as Evidence I have been scouring my psychological thrillers for clues about the day my twin had cut her face. It appeared the trauma stored in my subconscious at the age of 4 had seeped into key scenes of my stories. I am horrified and fascinated at what has happened to me. I am no longer reading my novels as fiction, but as documents that hold clues to an early childhood trauma. Diary entry showing my obsessive novel writing. I never got the see my parents that day, for writing a scene. The image shows my diary entry of 27 September 1987. My novel writing has become obsessive. I had written: " Spent all day doing nothing but typing pages, re-typing and typing again. There were 12 I had to copy, not counting the mistakes I had to correct and even to write. I had to lie to Mark ...

A near‑death experience in toddlerhood has left deep emotional and psychological scars. Only decades later would I piece the clues of my fractured life. Until then, I have yet to uncover something truly terrible about my past. The Return to the Cottage At the age of 4, my twin and I squabbled over orange juice and I threw a glass bottle at her. On seeing blood coating the lower part of her face, I had dashed out of the back door in terror. Some hours later, I would return to find her unconscious on Mum’s lap, her face linen-white and a black scar tracking her hairline. The Comatose State The resultant concoction of emotions had overwhelmed me. My shame for starters was horrendous. But I had also seen a man’s face rise in my chest. The image was as clear as a photograph and I was later to learn that I had experienced a somatic memory. This means a body part has release the memory rather than the brain alone. My somatic memory of a man's face in my chest Seeing my Comatose Self W...

I am about to solve the mystery of the missing four hours. A childhood sensation called a somatic memory would reveal psychological fragmentation and the imprint of early trauma. The Mystery of the Missing Hours After talking to my identical twin about her terrible accident that occurred when we were 4, I discovered things about that day that didn’t fit. I had thrown a glass bottle at Eve after a squabble. On seeing blood on her face, I had dashed out of the cottage to hide somewhere in the garden. For decades I had believed I had wandered in a daze for 10 minutes or so before returning via the back door. However, I have since realized that the light had radically changed between my dash out of the cottage and my return. Not only that, but Eve had already been stitched up and was laying on Mum’s lap. I had not encountered a family member the entire time Eve was in hospital. So where had I gone? Finding Answers to my Toddlerhood I naturally ask Mum about that day but she is by now te...

A disturbing gap in childhood memory would become a key turning point in uncovering the truth about my toddlerhood. One evening in 1996, my twin and I discuss the day she had cut her face with the glass bottle at the age of 4. I had been suffering a run of intrusive thoughts and was seeing a counsellor at the time. In an attempt to get to the root of these disturbing episodes, I had been going through my diaries. Revisiting the Accident We both clarify what had happened that day: we had a disagreement over orange juice and I had thrown a glass bottle at her. I dash out of the cottage in terror after seeing her bloodied face. Eve was then rushed to hospital. No one was present when the accident occurred. My route out of the back door after Eve's accident in 1969 Twenty Years Later — Something Doesn’t Fit As decades have since passed and Eve has had corrective surgery in 1981, the day was forgotten and Eve holds no resentment towards me. I am grateful to her, not only for puttin...

I am about to find out the truth about my life. A childhood accident involving my identical twin would form the portal to a horrific memory. It would point me to an emotional fractures and and a deeper, unspoken trauma. The Memory That Rose From the Sea I am sitting on the quayside badly shaken after believing I had lost my children to to sea. This would trigger an old, equally-traumatic memory of when I had been 4. My twin had injured herself after a squabble and I had darted through the back door on seeing blood on her face. Eve’s accident is nothing new, for it was an old story that my family seldom talks of now. What shocked me was how the mind can play tricks, hiding the trauma sensation and the horrific detail. The Patterns in My Novels Worse still, I noticed patterns within my novels that I had feverishly been writing for decades. I never noticed them before: broken glass, blood, disfigured faces and characters running north to a hideout. They were everywhere. Climactic sce...

This article describes how years of compulsive writing would one day show me the trauma I carry. My fiction thrillers conversely carry fact. I am about to find out I have been living a lie. The Aftermath of Colwyn Bay I truly believed Colwyn Bay had almost claimed my children after they had drifted out to sea in floats. Once I had led them back to the beach, a mysterious depression had descended upon me. The creepy feeling of an earlier ‘me’ running within my body as I darted into the sea kept lingering. The Thunderstorm Within Throughout my life I have suffered intrusive thoughts and a dirty-blame feeling which I explained to a troubled childhood of warring parents and Dad’s mental illness. Countless creative pursuits and projects formed a diversion including painting, and particularly novel writing. A secret fantasy world had been a consistent force throughout my life and it felt like an alternative reality. For decades, a childhood familiar whom I called Aidan haunted my imagini...

A look at the beliefs that shaped my identity before discovering the truth about my childhood and the memories buried beneath it. The following tells the story of how I recalled the abuse. It begins here, with 'Part 1'. The Identity I Built Over a Lifetime I grew up in a troubled and chaotic household with a mentally ill parent, five siblings and little money coming in. I suffered intrusive thoughts and a terrible guilt sensation which I explained to witnessing Dad’s psychotic episodes and believing I took after him. I filled my days with creative pursuits, as testified by my diaries: writing children's mysteries, oil painting, toy-making, a weather project and more. I reasoned I was running away from being me. I always wanted to be someone else because I feared I would end up mentally ill and a negative role model. Children's stories I wrote at the age of 11 to 14 I reasoned my troubled thoughts were typical of the human race. People have quirks, obsessions, secret ...

If you’re new to my writing, this page is the best place to begin. My work explores how I uncovered the truth about my toddlerhood at the age of 51, and how diaries, artwork, memories, and family history slowly revealed what had been hidden for decades. This prologue introduces the beliefs I held about myself before everything changed. From here, you can follow the 10‑part series that tells the story in order, or explore the wider themes of my memoir through the links at the bottom of this page. When the Truth Leaked Out This article looks at the beliefs that shaped my identity before I discovered the dark truth about my childhood. Not until 25 October 2016 at the age of 51, would the lie I've lived, vanish into a mirage. I am about to uncover something truly horrific about my toddlerhood. The circumstances that led to this discovery are somewhat complex but incredible. All of it is true. This condensed version is told in 10 parts following this prologue. However, the full story c...