From
this, I could work out roughly when I had started my first ever period, which
would have been around 2 April 1977, as I recall it was a week before Easter. I lost a little blood but don’t recall much pain. I told Mum about
it, worried there was something wrong with me. Mum got cagey, unsure of how
to explain the birds and the bees. I would later learn everything I needed from biology lessons and library
books.
My
second ever period was a rude awakening! What a whopper of a pain! I remember
thinking, ‘Will I have to put up with
this every month until I’m about 50?’ I thought it was ‘normal.’ I would
suffer agonizing cramps for years to come. And yet certain
periods were mysteriously trouble-free. Little did I realize that I had been
raped at 3 by an uncle who lived with us throughout 1968.
My
diary entries in 1977 were concise compared to how they would become. This is
what I reported on my first ever painful period in my diary.
My
Diary Entries 2 May – 9 May 1977
2
May: Horrid. Hated it as usual. Had a bad pain (period).
3
May: Horrid. Bad pain again.
4
May: Horrid. Mr. Ashby (my teacher) took me home because of bad pain.
5
May: Great. No school but pain. Horrid.
6
May: Rotten school. Pain. Started story called Mystery at Hornfield.
7
May: Had pain again. Wished it would stop. Hated it. Did story again.
8
May: Not much pain as I used to. But still rotten. Finished story.
9
May: Pain gone. Great but the rotten school. Night time had a wash. Read story
to Eve (my twin).
 |
| 2-9 May: a 6-day period pain & I'm writing Mystery at Hornfield |
As
can be seen from the images, I used the term ‘smelly’ or 'rotten' to describe something I
didn’t like, most often school. I was bullied.
Intrusive
Thoughts
The
lead-up to this troublesome period is interesting. On 19 April 1977, Mum took
me to the village doctor because of a bout of intrusive thoughts I'd been suffering. I refused to
sleep in my bed and I kept getting Mum to strip the sheets to check for
something horrible in there. Mum had obviously had enough.
I
spoke to the doctor as Mum sat in the corner hardly saying a word. This was
unlike her, but I didn’t think anything of it at the time. I was unable to
describe what was actually tormenting me but I was pleased at the doctor’s assurance
that my overactive imagination was the cause and that I would grow out of it.
I
didn’t.
I
reasoned later that Mum’s silence was due to her fear that I would mention
Dad’s mental illness. His moods had been volatile lately and Mum thought we
would be taken into care. Now, I am unsure of why she was silent. She has now
passed away and I will never know.
 |
| 19 April: I see the doctor for depression & have a few days off school |
The image shows my diary entry of 19 April 1977. It reads: "Bored. The same. Went to doctor's. Had depression." I then have some days off with "swollen glands." This is disturbing as I know I had become ill after an incident in our family pool (explained in a separate article).
In the meantime, my diary reports of doing up our playhouse, drawing pictures, doing a nature project and going on a bike ride. Things seemed ‘normal.’ However, I was forever diverting myself in order to escape something without a name.
In the meantime, my diary reports of doing up our playhouse, drawing pictures, doing a nature project and going on a bike ride. Things seemed ‘normal.’ However, I was forever diverting myself in order to escape something without a name.
On
29 April, a boy whose garden backs onto ours, flashed at us from his bedroom window.
I had believed this had been my first ever sighting of a penis. Mum told us to stay
indoors until he was done. I learned later that the boy’s dad had recently died. This might
explain his behavior.
I
believe the boy’s flashing triggered me into writing a children’s story entitled
Mystery at Hornfield on 6 May. Similar
triggering behavior is evident throughout my diaries. This worryingly-titled
story is sadly missing. But I am horrified and confused after what I have uncovered
about my toddlerhood. I had no idea that ‘horn’ was a term used in the 70s.
Mystery
at Hornfield
Throughout
my early teens, I wrote dozens of kiddie mysteries and read them to my twin Eve
and my youngest sister Mazie. I have since discovered disturbing undercurrents
to these 'innocent' children’s mysteries. The other titles too are
troubling within the context of my discovery. My first diary-mention of a story
had been called Solomy’s Treasure.
Later ones bore the titles, Hollow Hill
and Windswept High. All have shown to
hold clues to my rapist and the horrors of my toddlerhood.
My
children’s stories are explored in greater depth in separate articles.
Crippling Grief without a Cause
Troublingly,
I am still writing Mystery at Hornfield
whilst I was menstruating. I am suffering crippling period pains, writing a
story bearing hidden themes on loss of innocence and a crushing grief leaves a big
hole in my heart. These terrible grief episodes, like the intrusive thoughts have
afflicted me since my deepest childhood and I didn’t understand where they came
from.
On the third day of my period, my teacher had to drive me home because I had become so ill. I gazed at the fireplace in the living room and I could have cried a reservoir.
My mother has now passed,
but the grief I felt for her does not match the intensity I had felt on that day.
I now know it was due to my brutalized toddlerhood. Only, I didn’t know it at the
time.
Sadly, I wouldn’t
learn the truth about my 3-year old self until I had turned 51.
The
articles beneath explain how I first learned the truth about my toddlerhood and other key information.
