Archive for the ‘Non Fiction’ Category

I was told that I was a special winter baby,but also that it was a long strained birth that my mother endured. My mother told me that she was in labour for around nine hours, before I even started to show signs of coming into this world. I was a late birth, as i was supposed to have arrived on 27th December 1977, but did not surface until Tuesday January 3rd 1978.

It was a cold day on that day, when i popped my head into the world; with the nurses telling my mother that i had a good set of lungs on me, with the amount of screaming that i had been doing. Mother also told me, that as soon as i was born i was placed in her arms; in which my mother could not believe she had given birth to such a big baby. I weighed around ten pounds, and mother was told by the nurses that i was a very healthy strong child; even though I was the biggest baby born at that hospital in a few years.

We lived in a four bedroom Victorian house, which was in a quiet street in Haggerton, London. My father was born in Ramsgate, where my mother was East London born and bred; as she was born in Stepney. The first few years of my life, my mother told me that I was a very good child; as I rarely got on mother’s nerves so I was told, as father often winked at me when mother told me this story. It was only when I started to walk, did mother have to have eyes in the back of her head when I was on the move. Apparently, I was forever going into the cupboards, and made a disarray of things by throwing everything onto the floor, making quite a mess for mother. Every year we had a holiday in Ramsgate, where we visited my father’s parents. My mother’s mother dies when she was twenty years old, and her father remarried and then moved the Essex with his new wife. Her older brother Stephen, had since married a Spanish lady, and then he moved to one of the Spanish islands with her. She still has contact with him, but we never got to see him as much; which was just like her father, even though he was only in Essex and could have easily visited. My uncle Stephen never attended his dad’s wedding, as he was so set against the marriage, which mother explained that it was because he was such a mother’s boy. My father’s parents, looked upon my mother as their own child; always being there for her when she needed help and support, as my dad was their only child. There was nothing that my grandparents would not do for my mother; and you could see just how much she too loved them back. Growing up, mother never really spoke about her mother, but she always had a picture of her on top of the China cabinet; where every birthday and Christmas she would place a rose next to her picture. I did not remember those early holiday years in Ramsgate that clearly, but I do remember when I was about four year’s of age sitting on the beach with my bucket and spade; as my father and mother helped me to build sandcastles. We would go to Ramsgate at the same time every year for two weeks, which was in the industrial holidays of July and August. We would also go down on the odd weekend or so, when my parents managed to get the same days off together.

Father started his working career as a bank clerk, in one of the leading banks in Ramsgate; finally getting a managerial role in one of the company’s banks in London’s East End, where it was there that he met my mother. My mother worked for a busy ladies wear factory, in the financial department; and often would go to the bank to pay in money from her company. It was there not long after mother being seen to regularly depositing money, that my father swept her off her feet, and a few years after they were married I came along; little miss Amanda Daniels. I was told that my father was a very old fashioned man, and he courted mother for about a year before he asked her to marry him. Mother told me that every week without fail, he would bring her a bouquet of flowers; which were her favourite chrysanthemums, as well as sometimes bringing her a box of luxury chocolates. Mother also told me, that at first she thought that my father was not interested in her, as it took him so long to get his act together. It took him just over six months before he even kissed her, and she was beginning to give up on him; as she so longed for that first kiss. Mind you, i knew she was only joking, as i knew my parents were just as much in love now; as they were all those years ago, as every time we are out, they still hold hands, as father looks on like a proud peacock. I just loved those first few years going to my grandparents, and spending time on the beach with them. As well as sitting in the garden playing with my dolls, as I watched grandpa totter around in the garden; where he would stop and pull faces at me which always made me laugh.

I had started mother’s and toddler’s in the September of my fourth year, ready to get prepared for infant and junior school. I loved being in school, as I got to see a lot more children with whom I could play with, without going around to their homes to play; as I used to play with the girl next door called Vicky, who was not always a nice a nice girl.     My mother would not let me go round her house as often as i would have liked too, because one day my mother saw her pulling the wings off butterflies, and pulling the legs off spiders which mother thought was cruel. I did not mind too much however, because I did have friends at school; and I was quiet content playing in the garden with my dolls.


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This is a true story, for this is my story.


But why write this story now you ask, after all these years have passed?

My answer is quiet simple.

I no longer choose to live in the shadows of my abusive past anymore; I no longer want to feel dirty or rejected, guilty or to be ridiculed by society.

I would like all those people, who like me have suffered such an ordeal; to know that they were never alone in their pain.

For each person who has experienced some form of abuse inflicted upon them, there has to be a healing process.

Some people may say they never need this, as they can easily forget and hide it away.

But I say to them.

In time the memories of our past prevail, and the hurt begins to surface.

For those of us, who cannot hide, and who find it hard to forget.

 Then this can take much longer.

Oh sure I have sat there and cried, and often said ‘Why me, what have I done to deserve this?’

But there were never any reasonable answer, to take away my hurt and pain.

Only now do I know that I was a victim, a victim of circumstance. I was in the right place, at the wrong time, with someone whom I trusted.

He was family, and he was an adult. I put my trust in him, and as a child; could see no wrong in what he was doing.

So little has really changed since my childhood, children are still preyed upon by adults; as well as other children. The law and society I feel, still let our children down.

I can never restore the bad parts of my childhood, but I can certainly go ahead with my life; to the best of my ability without further abuse. I have learnt to cope with my past within reason, and as I accept what has happened; I know will never happen again to me.

I can no longer live on negative thoughts, or on unanswerable questions. I have the key to my own survival. My past can no longer destroy me.

The key to healing lies within each and every one of us, with our fears, our pain, and our memories.

I have gathered all of mine together, and looked them in the eye. I have taken control of them and my past.

Hopefully anyone who reads my story will come to an understanding of who I am; and know that if they have suffered like me, then their story will not be so unlike my own. I feel you too can find your own key, and please know that you are not alone.

I am not ashamed of my childhood.


Now my healing begins.

My story I hope, will bring all of your pain together, in a place where you can associate with what I have wrote. Where you will find, that this is where you will begin your healing process.

The first part of your healing is to confront your pain. To love and believe in yourself with the knowledge, you were not to blame.

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