The Emotional Pain of Childhood Betrayal... (Part 1)

(NB: I have not used real names in this post; I felt it was not necessary, as long as the narrative remained clear and accurate.)

Experiences Mould our Lives

Betrayal, especially childhood betrayal is a terrible thing… The level of trust, respect and expectation that we as humans are able to place on those around us is extremely important. This applies in to particular people we look up to, or individuals in authority, and can effect every aspect of our lives and personalities.

The loss of this trust badly affects our sense of self-worth, our confidence, our self-image, and our ability to cope with life. This in turn can later affect our ability to trust, and can lead to a whole host of related emotional and psychological issues.

By nature as children we are very trusting of the adults and carers around us, it’s part of childhood. We give and expect to receive unconditional love from all those we know and meet, and those who look after us. When it isn’t forthcoming, the effects can be terrible.

So for a young person whose personality is still developing, deeply traumatic experiences can have devastating and lifelong effects; and sometimes the trauma caused can stay with the individual for years.

Early Experiences

My sister and I were no different, and though our lives hadn’t always been completely smooth for all manner of reasons, our Mother had always tried her very best to be there for us…

However, as a baby, I had developed a brain tumour, and required hospitalisation, and specialist treatment. During this time, our Mother had remained there with me. My sister, however, who is just a just a few years older than I am, was sadly not allowed to stay. It was during this traumatic period that our Mother had to leave her at our paternal Grandmother’s.

While our Grandmother was always very loving and attentive to her grandchildren, she was elderly and quite frail, so lived with her two older daughters, our two older aunts, Auntie Della and Auntie Pippa; both of whom were very overworked, rather bad tempered and irritable.

Thus they were not always very patient with small children. Tragically, as a result, my sister suffered quite bad neglect, and for all intents and purposes, abuse… I will tell that story in another post.

This is the story of the repercussions of traumatic events that took place in my sister’s life following our Mother’s death, events that happened in the first few years after we lost her, and events that we could never have anticipated.

I have summarised the story greatly, as these happenings took place over several years.

Trying Hard to do the Right Thing

Some years later, when I had fully recovered from my illness, and we were all together again as a family, life seemed to become quite perfect for a while. Our parents were both devoted, and this period in our childhood while we were still in ‘single figures’, was blissful. However, not that we knew about it then, but our Mother was dying – she had developed cancer. Our perfect life was to end six short years later.

She fought the cancer very hard, and underwent every possible treatment available, no matter how ghastly or painful it was, in order to try and be live as long as she possibly could, so she could be there for us. But despite all her efforts, and that of her doctors, she lost her battle against it… After she died, we all fell apart.

Our Dad couldn’t cope with two young girls on his own, and we couldn’t really cope without a Mother. So, my sister and I went to live with family, far away from our blissful home, far away from our Dad and all that had represented love and security for us…

Devastating Events

My sister left first, and I followed some time after… This time though she went to stay with our youngest aunt, our Dad’s youngest sister, Auntie Millie. The house had two separate wings, the main one was where Auntie Millie and our Uncle and their two younger sons lived. While the other, at the rear, was now occupied by our Grandmother, along with our other two older aunts, Auntie Della and Auntie Pippa.

Our youngest aunt, Auntie Millie had always been our favourite, she was adored by our Dad, being his baby sister, and she and our Mum had been very good friends.

Auntie Millie had also taken care of my sister when she was a baby. Our Mother had became terrible ill shortly after my sister was born, and was unable to care properly for her. So Auntie Millie had looked after her, even nursing her alongside our youngest cousin, who is just a few months older than my sister! Thus my sister was very close to her.

But it was a very difficult time for Auntie Millie. Serious family health problems, dire problems concerning the family business, along with a host of other responsibilities she had on her shoulders at the time, were all taking their toll on her. As a result, circumstances were far from ideal, and she was too worried, preoccupied and distracted to be fully attentive to everything going on in the house…

A Horrific Event Happens

Teenage can be a difficult time for a lot of youngsters, but what my sister was going to go through was more than difficult. Up to this point, despite everything that had happened to her, she had remained a happy, high spirited kid. She was barely in her teens, but she was headstrong, with a mind of her own; but she was also very innocent and desperately naïve.

It was not long after she had arrived at Auntie Millie’s, late one night, that she suffered a very serious and violent sexual assault at the hands of a young man whom she had known all her life. He was a relative, a friend, a childhood playmate of my sister’s, who was visiting Auntie Millie’s place at the time.

This young man had seemed perfectly normal on the surface, but had sadly developed serious mental health issues. He’d been put on a medical trail involving dangerous medication for a genetic condition he was suffering from, that in some individuals, occasionally resulted in uncontrollable episodes of irrational and psychotic behaviour…

This young man was just such an individual. Tragically, neither Aunty Millie, nor my sister had been aware of this at the time…

The assault happened in the middle of the night. Terrified and shocked my sister ran out of the house to our Grandmother’s side. She thumped at the door and cried for help, but no one answered – everyone was fast asleep. She was shaken to the core, bruised, stunned, and trembling with fear.

A Terrible Chapter Begins

The experience was horrific, and soul shattering, enough to rock the very foundations of anyone’s being. Even at the hands of a stranger, such an experience would be devastating – let alone someone she trusted and loved.

She ran over to another relative of ours, Auntie Adelle, who worked as a live-in domestic help at Auntie Millie’s place and stayed in an outhouse with a cement floor, and no heating; it was as yet unfinished, but she lived there anyway. It was situated within the grounds of Auntie Millie’s house. It was just a large room with an un-plastered, bare brick, rubble strewn ensuite with no hot water connection.

The outhouse had been commissioned by our Grandmother for such a time when our Mother might come and stay, but the money had run out, and our Mother had died, so it was just left in this half-complete state.

The roof was made of asbestos, fitted with rivets and each one leaked profusely whenever it rained. It was baking hot in there during the summer, and freezing cold in the winter… This was where I too would later stay, with my sister until my late teenage years. Thus started an episode in our lives that would take its toll on both of us, for years and years to come.

Whom Can You Tell?

The following morning, my sister was still shaken by what had happened to her, not to mention terribly disillusioned. Despite that however, apprehensively, she plucked up her courage and went to one of Auntie Millie’s sons, he was like a big brother to us, and told him what had happened during the night.

Sadly, for whatever reason – disbelief, immaturity, cowardice, confusion – he didn’t give her very good advice… “Don’t tell anyone!” He stammered. “It’ll create too much trouble for everyone, and maybe no one will believe you anyway.” So, confused as she was, my sister kept it all to herself… She didn’t tell anyone – not Auntie Millie, not our Dad – not even me!

Disillusionment and Self-Destructiveness

My elder sister and I had always been extremely close. We had in turn both promised our Mother on her death-bed to look after each other and stand by each other – no matter what. When I did eventually learn of what had happened to her – it horrified me, and angered me beyond words.

My sister had always looked out for me, she’d always been there to protect me and help me. To think that yet again, she’d had had to endure such terrible fear and pain all alone, and that I hadn’t been there even to give her some comfort, made me feel stunned and angry.

During the last conversation that I’d had with our Mother, just a few days before she died, she had told me that while my sister was strong and outgoing, she was also very immature, emotional and over-reactive. She said I was the sensible one, that I would have to make sure she didn’t do anything that would harm her. She gad made us both promise individually, in confidence, to stand by each other, and never to abandon each other…

But once again during trauma and abuse, my sister had been all alone. Such an event as a violent assault on a young mind can have a deeply damaging psychological impact… My sister became recalcitrant, belligerent and suspicious of all our relatives – including Auntie Millie, whom she had always thought of as a second Mother, but now whom she blamed for what had happened to her…

She became rebellious beyond reason, she started smoking, and going behind Auntie Millie’s back, just creating trouble needlessly – even on occasions, stealing from her. I could only stand by and try and talk sense into her. Sometimes she listened, and sometimes she did not.

Hoping for the Best

As the years went by, she became more and more difficult to get through to. She stopped trusting anyone within the family – even our Dad. She questioned everyone’s motives, reading all manner of bad intentions into everyone’s actions and words. From being a cheerful, bubbly, easy-going young girl, she became angry, and paranoid.

The worst of it all was she became self-destructive. Thankfully however, throughout all this terrible time, the close bond between us had remained strong. But, she didn’t tell me everything… I despaired, and so often it seemed there was little that I could do to help my sister. She believed everyone in the family was ‘out to get her’ – including our Dad. She was convinced that he and Auntie Millie were plotting to get her sent to a mental facility.

Nevertheless, at least I was there for in person, and often enough, I was able to talk her out of doing particularly unethical and / or harmful things… She still trusted me thankfully! The promise she had made to our Mother, along with her loyalty to me made her feel she had to protect me from all that she feared… But, in her disillusionment, my sister considered the very people who were there to protect us, our Dad and Auntie Millie as the enemies. Moreover, she had become very vengeful, enough in fact, to put herself in harm’s way – just to spite Auntie Millie.

I had to keep trying my best to prevent her from potentially dangerous, self-harming things, and try and stop her from getting mixed up with the wrong kind of people, and causing herself harm. I kept our Mother’s words in mind and did whatever I could to keep my sister from destroying herself – despite of herself…

(Continued in Part 2…)