Bent But Not Broken (13 page)

'Exactly! But I bet that after a few classes the ideas that seemed so strange at the start of Chemistry had become easy to understand,' I said.

'Yeah! That's exactly how it went! I just thought I was getting smarter,' she exclaimed.

'You were, Abigail. Your wonderful brain had sorted the new information, stored it, and allowed you to build on your new knowledge,' I explained.

'So it's a bit like exploring in the bush!' she said excitedly. 'You start with a path that you know, and go where you don't. The next time you're out exploring you know more of the path, and can go further again!' she said with a smile.

'Beautiful!' I responded. 'Your brain will create new paths for you to explore,' I said.

'So how does talking and listening do this?' she asked.

'Did your girlfriends talk to you about their problems?' I asked.

'Of course. They told me lots of stuff,' she replied.

'And when they talked things over with you, did you help them?

'Well, duh! That's what friends do!' she said emphatically.

'How did you help them?'

'Sometimes by listening. Sometimes by giving advice,' she replied.

'Did you get the feeling that at times they just needed to talk? To hear their thoughts out loud?' I asked.

She reflected on this for a few moments. Then she said, 'Yeah, I guess so.'

'You were doing cognitive behaviour therapy without even know it,' I said with a smile. 'By listening and interacting with them, you were helping them think about their problems a little bit differently,' I explained.

'So now I'm a shrink!' Abigail laughed.

'Pretty much,' I laughed with her.

This session was fascinating. Abigail was genuinely interested in the mechanics of cognitive behaviour therapy. She clearly understood the concepts, and I was pleased when she drew the analogy to exploring new paths in the bush. This showed that she translated the ideas I put to her into her own, familiar context. It is a good starting point for Monday's session.

Dr. Harry Nightingale

 

 

 

Dear Crystal,

Suzy and I stayed close to Beth this weekend. She had another family visit, and came back pretty upset. She wasn't hysterical. It was more like a deep sadness had swallowed her whole. She didn't want to talk about the suicide, so we played board games and chatted. You know, keeping it light. We didn't ask her "Are you okay?" because it was bloody obvious she wasn't. Sometimes it would be her turn to play a card, but it was like she'd forgotten what to do. It felt like she'd drifted off somewhere else. After a while we gave up, and got a jigsaw out. But the same thing happened with that. She had a far-away stare. She didn't have any emotion on her face. It was like looking at a life-size doll. She was there, and not there, at the same time. We didn't know what to do. Then Suzy hit on the idea of reading out loud to her. I had a copy of
Revolting Rhymes
, which still in one of my all-time favourites. Suzy read the stories so well! She put on funny voices, and yelled the giant's lines in
Jack and the Beanstalk
. We were all laughing, especially Jenny. I don't think she'd ever been read to before. She was really enjoying it! Beth didn't actually laugh, but I did see her smile. I think she realised what we were trying to do, and appreciated it.

All this has got me thinking, Crystal. Doctor Harry said that listening to our friends is a really important. I'd never told anybody about George. How could I? I was so ashamed. And I was frightened. What if I told them, and they didn't believe me? It was like carrying a huge rock around all the time. I am glad that Mum told you. I am sorry, Crystal. I was just too much of a coward to tell you to your face. I hope you can forgive me for not trusting you with my secret.

I want to tell you some stuff that even Mum doesn't know. I didn't think that anyone could help me. I felt completely alone. So I made some new friends. All boys. Well, I say friends. Shagging partners, really. I became a complete slut. I had sex with any boy who asked. They didn't even have to ask nicely. I did it with whoever was around. I wasn't thinking straight. I figured if I did it with enough boys, I wouldn't care about George. It didn't work. I didn't feel any better. So if you hear kids at school saying I'm a slut, let it go. I was.

Doctor Harry is doing his best to make me think that I am a worthwhile person. But I've spent so many years thinking I'm a piece of filth, it's hard to change an idea when it's been in your head for so long.

There's something else I want to tell you. I stole lots of money from George. Usually I took twenties and fifties. He was so rich, I figured he wouldn't miss it. I used the money to buy grog and dope. I got shitfaced as often as I could. I'd buy stuff at lunchtime, and with my new "friends" would party all afternoon at one of their places. I am not proud about this. Again, I figured if I could do enough of this, what I did with George wouldn't matter.

The last time I stole from him, George caught me. He was watching the TV and you were out with Mum. I crept into their room. I knew he left his wallet on his bedside table. I didn't hear him come up the stairs. He caught me red-handed! I was terrified. I didn't know what he would do. He smiled! Can you believe that? I was so scared I had turned to stone. I couldn't move. I watched him calmly walk across the room with this horrible grin on his face. What happened next I would give anything to forget. He slapped the side of my head so hard I saw stars and my ears were ringing. Then he pushed me down onto the bed. You can guess the rest.

Thinking about it all in here, I realise I was hoping that if I put enough on top of the George thing it wouldn't matter to me anymore. A bit like putting on lots of extra layers of clothes, I guess. But nothing worked. So I started cutting. Not where you or Mum would see. Only where George would see, if you get what I am trying to say. That didn't work either. He just slapped me and got on with it.

I am sorry to be telling you this stuff, Crystal. It's all shit that I would rather you never had to know. And I am being a coward, telling you like this. I can't bear the thought of watching you while I tell you what happened. But I will get out of here eventually. I know, 'cos there's no-one old on the ward. Maybe they've got another place for mad older girls? Just kidding! I will get out of here. When I come home, I don't want any more secrets between us. Doctor Harry says some secrets are toxic. My secret has poisoned my life. I want it gone.

If you want to tell Mum what I have told you, that's okay. I don't want you to have to carry this around with you, the way I had to for so long.

Love,

Abigail

CASE FILE #2794 ABIGAIL LEE MANUS D.O.B. 02/04/1998

ENTRY 39: 2/06/2014

Abigail opened our session with, 'I've been thinking about what you said about counselling.'

'What have you been thinking?' I asked.

'It's funny that when you talk something over with a friend, something important, it seems easier to understand,' she said.

'And sometimes your friend just needs to hear their thoughts out loud to get them into some sort of order,' I added. 'Listening is an empowering gift, Abigail.'

'What I have been thinking about is that while I have listened to my friends, I have never shared my secret,' she said in a small voice.

'Have you never told anybody?' I asked.

'Hell no! They'd think I'm a slut!' came her angry reply. 'They wouldn't let me near them if they knew what I did!'

'You have guarded your secret so well and for so long, Abigail,' I responded. 'That must have been so very hard.'

'I suppose. But it's not like I had a choice!' she said angrily.

'I am going to tell you something that might shock you, Abigail. Do you want to hear it?' I asked.

She stared at me. I could see that she was wondering what on earth I could say that would shock her. She is convinced that what she has experienced is an aberration – that she is in her own personal hell where no-one can reach her.

'You might have heard about the cases of institutionalised abuse that was making the news so regularly before you came here,' I said.

'Yeah, I did,' she replied. 'Pretty fucked up stuff, I reckon,' she expanded.

'I agree,' I answered. 'It was the ultimate betrayal of trust,' I said. 'What is starting to emerge is that three quarters of girls and one third of boys in care were sexually abused,' I told her.

'Wow! That really is sick!' she exclaimed.

'Yes, it is. What I find amazing is that these people, who were just little children, have finally found the courage to speak out about what happened to them,' I added.

'Do you think it would be easier for them, now that they are adults?' she asked.

'I don't know, Abigail. I can only imagine what it would be like carrying their secrets throughout their lives,' I said.

'Like me?' she replied in her small voice.

'Yes, like you,' I answered simply.

'Did they think they were the only ones?' she asked.

'No. In most cases they knew it was happening to other children too.'

'So why didn't they speak out before now?' she asked.

'Can you guess?' I asked.

She stared at me. I could see confusion and pain in her face. 'Why are you telling me this?' she whispered. 'It's got nothing to do with me!'

'These people kept their secret locked inside them, Abigail. In many cases it poisoned their lives,' I said quietly.

Again I could see her thinking this through.

'So what you are really saying is that if I don't deal with what happened to me now, it will stay with me for my whole life?' she asked in a scared voice.

'No, that's not what I am saying, Abigail. What has happened to you will stay with you your whole life. But if we can change how you think about it now, it will not be the definition of you throughout your adult life,' I expanded.

'I don't understand what you are saying,' she said.

'We cannot change what has happened to you, Abigail. But we can change how you think and feel about it,' I explained.

'Don't think so!' came her angry reply.

'The first thing you have to understand is that what happened to you, sadly, is not unique. The best estimates put sexual abuse of girls within the family setting at three quarters.'

'Three quarters? Three quarters of what?' she asked.

'That on average, across the population of girls in Australia aged eight to eighteen, three quarters have experienced some form of sexual abuse in the family environment,' I explained.

She sat back in her chair with a shocked look on her face.

'For real?'

'While it cannot be proved, yes. This is the current thinking.'

I could see that Abigail was struggling with this new knowledge. So I tried to put it into a context for her. 'How many students are in your school?' I asked.

'About two thousand,' she said.

'Are there more boys than girls – or is the student population about half and half?' I asked.

'I dunno. About half, I suppose,' she replied.

'If we go with these figures, Abigail, that means there's about a thousand girls in your school. Okay?'

'I suppose.'

'Based on current thinking, then, over seven hundred girls will be sexually abused within their families before they complete their secondary education,' I explained.

This really did make her sit back in her chair. Her face showed uncertainty and disbelief.

'That can't be right!' she exclaimed. 'I'd know!'

'How would you know, Abigail? Would they tell you?' I asked.

Again there was the thoughtful pause. This was redefining her world of pain. It was a giving her experiences a sense of scale that was clearly very difficult to accept.

'So are you saying that what happened to me is normal?' she finally asked.

'Absolutely not!' I emphatically replied. 'Your experience is terrible. It has done you great harm. But I wanted you to know that keeping your secret forever locked inside you will continue to damage you.'

'Like those people who went to court and told their stories?' she asked.

'You have the chance, here, with me, to come to see that what happened to you was not your fault,' I reiterated. 'You can heal, Abigail. There will always be a scar. But you don't have to feel that it was your fault for the rest of your life.'

'Oh, but it was,' she said in a small voice.

It was my turn to sit back in my chair. I hope I hid my confusion. How can Abigail be so convinced that she is responsible for the sexual abuse she suffered? What have I missed?

Dr. Harry Nightingale

 

 

 

Dear Crystal,

We got a new girl in the ward today. Her name is Rachel and she is barking mad. A complete lunatic! Even by the standards in here, she's off the chart!

We knew something was up because Kayla got moved in with Beth, who had been sharing with Tamara. Mad Rachel got put in room 101. Just as well, because I don't think any of us would want to share a room with her.

When she arrived we all tried to make her feel welcome. You know, just talk to her and ask her to join in with what we were doing. She stared at us like we were mass murderers or something. Who can tell what's going on inside someone else's head? Especially card-carrying nutters like us!

It was before lunch that we got our first taste of Mad Rachel. We all have our usual spots around the table. I guess it's a security thing. We were gathering around the table when she threw an absolute fit at Jenny. Now, that's so not okay. Jenny is just a kid. She was about to sit down in her spot when Mad Rachel screamed 'Get out! That's where I am going to sit!'

Jenny froze. She didn't say or do anything. One of the nurses came out of their office – alerted by the shouting, I suppose. An orderly had arrived with the food trolley. Mad Rachel charged towards him and upended the whole lot! All the food and plates and everything crashed to the floor. We all watched, totally stunned. The next thing we knew Mad Rachel got the needle and was escorted to her room.

It was then that we saw Jenny. She had curled up in a corner, hugging her doll and crying. She was saying, 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,' over and over. We gathered around her and broke the no-contact rule. Suzy and I helped her up, and guided her to her seat at the table. But she kept crying. I think she was in shock. I guess we all were shocked. Nothing like this has ever happened before.

In group this afternoon we let Doctor Harry have it big time.

'What are you thinking letting a mad girl like that in the ward?' Beth demanded angrily.

Doctor Harry stayed calm, and looked around the circle. Even I could see that we all felt the same way, so he must have too. Finally he said, 'I can understand that you are all upset.'

Upset? Upset! Terrified of this lunatic would be closer to the mark! Always slow to express my opinion I responded with, 'Mad Rachel is dangerous! She shouldn't be here!' I said emphatically.

'I am not sure that labelling someone as "mad" is very useful Abigail,' he said quietly.

'How about bonkers? Insane? Lunatic? Crazy?' I shouted. 'Like any of them better?' I shouted. 'Because she's all of these!' I yelled. I didn't care. She had no right to attack Jenny like that. Mad Rachel was like a grenade with the pin out. Anything could set her off!

He did his usual work around the circle thing. No-one was going to help him out on this one. The silence lengthened. It was so quiet, I could hear people breathing.

Finally he said, 'You all know that I cannot discuss a patient with you. But I have an idea that might give you some insight.'

We didn't know where he was going with this. And then he did actually go! He left the room – which is weird because he'd never done that before. We all looked at each other, asking with our eyes if anyone had any clue what was going on. We didn't know what to do, so we just sat and waited.

When he came back he had a cardboard tube. Not a toilet roll tube. A long one, like from gladwrap. Then he did the round-the-circle thing again with his eyes. So stale!

'Have you heard about schizophrenia?' he asked us all.

'That's when someone thinks they're lots of different people at once, isn't it?' Suzy asked.

'That's dissociative identity disorder,' he replied. 'It's very rare,' he added.

'But lots of movies have it!' I said. 'They kill people and don't even remember doing it!' I shouted. I did not like where this was going. Not one bit.

As usual, when someone is shouting, Doctor Harry spoke very quietly. I think it's another one of his control tricks.

'Hollywood has a lot to answer for, Abigail,' he laughed. Another shrink ploy, but it didn't work. We were all too wound up.

'So do you want to know what schizophrenia really is, or do you just want to yell?' he asked calmly.

Sometimes I think I hate him. He's always so bloody reasonable! Where's the fun in that?

'Okay, I will stop yelling if you will get to the point,' I said sarcastically.

'Fair enough. The term "schizophrenia" actually means split mind,' he said.

Like that meant anything to us! All we knew for sure was that we had a genuinely crazy girl in the ward, and we were not happy! But as usual, Suzy ran point for us.

'What does that mean?' she asked with genuine interest. 'They see stuff that isn't there, don't they?'

'Yes, some people who suffer from schizophrenia have visual hallucinations,' he answered. 'Some have auditory hallucinations. That's when they think they have voices talking in their heads,' he explained.

Like I said, seriously insane shit. I wasn't feeling sorry for Mad Rachel. I was scared of her. What if she thinks we're aliens that she has to kill? What if the voices tell her to do it? I was really scared. She could snap and do anything!

'Schizophrenia has probably got the worst press of all mental illnesses,' he said. 'I know lots of movies where the main character is supposed to be suffering from schizophrenia, and I bet you do too.'

There was a general shuffling around in chairs. A sure sign that he was on the money.

'And I bet all these movies that you know show the person doing terrible things,' he added. More shuffling around. Of course we'd seen these movies. They always had lots blood and guts. That's what made them so good!

'Well, that's just Hollywood nonsense!' he said emphatically. 'Most people who suffer from schizophrenia don't hurt anybody. They are more of a threat to themselves than others,' he stated.

I didn't believe him. I figured he was trying to calm us down. It wasn't working. Not with me, anyway. Again Suzy took the bait.

'What do you mean by that?' she asked.

'It is a terrible truth that a lot of people who suffer from schizophrenia kill themselves,' he answered. He did seem sad when he said this. I started to wonder if he'd had a patient who'd done it.

'Why?' Suzy asked. We were all content to let her make the running with this one. Jenny looked like she was going to crack at any moment. I felt sorry for her.

'The symptoms of schizophrenia can be controlled by medication,' Doctor Harry said. 'But it can be a difficult process to get the medication exactly right for each person. Sometimes it takes years.'

Again I sensed sadness when he said this. He looked down at his hands, and then drew a breath. He
was
talking about someone he knew!

'An added complication is that most of these medications have side effects. These can be quite difficult to live with,' he said.

'Like what?' Suzy asked. Nothing subtle with her! When she wants to know something, she flat-out asks. She's braver than me.

'You all know that a person's brain runs by electricity,' he explained. 'Unfortunately the medications that are strong enough to control the hallucinations have the effect of slowing everything down. So the person can't think, speak or even feel how they would normally.'

'So they feel like they're zombies?' Suzy asked.

'Not a term we use, but yes, that is what has been reported.'

Now I was starting to feel a bit sad too. I remember getting the needle. I think Beth was remembering all the needles she got too. It went quiet again. Then Doctor Harry seemed to give himself a shake, like a dog after a bath.

'How about we do a role play?' he asked in an optimistic voice. There was a general letting go of breath. I think we all wanted to lighten the fuck up.

'This will give you an idea of what auditory hallucinations are like. But you don't have to do it if you don't want to,' he added.

That was pretty stupid, I thought. How would we know if we wanted to do it until he explained it? But of course, he was ahead of me.

'The role play needs three people, all sitting close together,' he explained. 'Two of you will be face-to-face, and the third will be beside one of you. Any volunteers?' he asked.