My Lost Toddlerhood

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...

If you’re new to my writing, this page is the best place to begin. I am an author, artist, diarist, archivist and researcher. I was born in 1965 and live in the UK. This blog is about how a disturbed and stolen childhood distorts the adult self. I wrote diaries, stories, poems and projects, all holding clues to my dark beginnings. The reader will find my artwork, diary excerpts and my research. Ultimately, I wish to share what I have learned. My work spans how I uncovered the truth about my toddlerhood at the age of 51. Yes, my toddlerhood. Read how my diaries, artwork, and family history slowly revealed a terrible truth, hidden for decades. This prologue tells the story from the beginning. From here, you can follow the 10‑part series that leads to the moment I learned the truth. When the Truth Leaked Out This article looks at the beliefs that shaped my identity before I discovered the dark truth about my toddlerhood. Not until 21 October 2016 at the age of 51, would the lie I've l...