The child aged beyond years.... A memoir


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1. The child with a mind beyond her years....A True To Life Story

The child with a mind beyond her years....A True To Life Story...

I awake with the feeling that I have been a small child again, I know in my dream this has occurred because on waking the not so familiar sensation of being lifted upon a doctors hip & carried somewhere safe has reminded me of the real event which happened some 30 odd years ago now.

I've remembered the soft banana coloured walls of the Redcliffe Hospital, rails a brighter dusk of pink, the furnishings that reminded me of the colours of a rainbow but softer pinks, greens, Blues & whites.

How on each day the other children that had family coming to visit & the ease of the children to allow their parents to hug them reminding me I had a strangled love for my own mummy & daddy.

My outfit one of my mothers favourites a paisley patterned jumpsuit with rabbits & flowers on, they were orange & coffee brown. A colour my mother loved because it matched my hair.

She is a very young girl on the outside but with a mind yearning for growing up she finds it easy trusting the doctor before her parents.

A disconnection to their love more real than I remembered it then either because to do so hurt too much or I couldn't remember, maybe it was both. The feeling of being cared for strange & underserved but soothing. I feel my mind drift but am aware that I am confused, how have I become so light, so small, when I felt so big.

Dissociatively I am connected to the outside world.... But my dreams are nightmares....

Apparently I was too big for my daddy to lift me anymore, the last time he did he grimaced in pain & exclaimed his back hurt. I had told him I didn't want him to lift me anymore, even though it wasn't him lifting me that was what I didn't like, it was the crack of his back, the reddening of his face reminding me of when he was angry that frightened me so much after that because I'de seen him grimace in too much pain, him getting angry & raging around me because of the pain that he suffered frequently seeing him like a tornado that I couldn't trust.

It was a hot day in the family car again, I'de sat there outside Windsor place, my Nan's house whether I didn't want to go in or whether I wasn't allowed I can't remember but I felt safest on my own, not needing to speak or be heard. Speaking required me to be brave & I wasn't brave, I was stricken, thwarted by the conflicting feelings of self revulsion & revulsion of my parents for making me at all.

The light was changing it was beginning to get dark & was teatime, even though I never felt like eating anymore, my father came out to me with one of Tom's blankets a red, blue, green wool picnic blanket in a Scottish gingham, our family crest from Ireland.

I never trusted his arms, it was more that I never trusted him to not let go of me if I let him lift me up, what were the chances he would again let me fall once I trusted him. He never let me fall when I walked on his back for him to push his vertebrae back into place, the sickening feeling beneath my heels as I walked up & down along his spine.

He held my hand behind his shoulder, but that was the last time we were "mates" or "all good" as he would say, before Grandpop & before the red sporty car that took me away from school, the "stranger" who I begged & pleaded to take me back by promising to let them take me again in the future if they returned me. The horrid things they made me do to their weird adult body, the grossness... The foul things they did to me, but I feared for my life so let them. The food I was forced to eat afterwards, the smell on my now revolted skin, the memory of wanting to run but knowing that I had to be smart & careful to get away alive.

The drive back to Deception Bay, getting him to let me off at a fake address around the corner from my beloved Nan's so he didn't know where I lived, going in the yard of the house & crouching behind the bush to make him think I lived there, then when he was gone running to my Nanna's house, wetting myself in complete fear on the way & not being able to stop running for fear he was somehow going to reappear at any moment & grab me for my lie of where I lived.

Finally getting to just outside my Nanna's gate, having her not recognise my face with my hair out & dirt all over me, my uniform spoiled & soaked in my own bodily fluids, I can nolonger remember what exactly the dirt was from.

The fear of seeing the car waiting for me again one day, the fear of the car reminds me now of being afraid of going out anywhere alone, I didn't fear the man he was too repulsive to fear, repulsion made me feel anger, though maybe I only feel revulsion now I am away from him & am still stuck there with him in my overwrought mind. I try to soften my thoughts of terror with hateful & nasty idea's. If he were a bug I'de squish him.

This feeling is all too familiar to me, this need to run to someone else, who seemed to want me or that showed the slightest kindness to the child I once was. The child that no one understood, because had to hide so much of herself to hide the filth that had now ruined her, lies apon lies to hide the disgust making those who knew her hate her, for what the man had done.

I'm in the hospital a children's ward, I've been wounded by my father & they are saying all things inclining my daddy did what he did on purpose. All I can remember is he was very very mad. So mad that he had almost killed me, almost but for the sake of the nurses & medical staff who gave me needles & kept me in bed.

Fighting takes every day, a moment is lost, a moment ongoing is forever taken away....

My younger self.... Faking a smile as was my only way to hide ..... Posing for the camera became a skill...

This is my true story, or in part some of the younger years of it...

Sarah-Marie McFarlane (aka) Kym-Marie Murgatroyd....

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