'I thought my cheeky, smiley daughter was happy. Then I found a text on her phone.'

The author of this story is known to Mamamia but has chosen to remain anonymous for privacy reasons.

Content warning: This story includes descriptions of child sexual abuse and suicidal thoughts that may be distressing to some readers. 

I feel so anxious and on edge. I always do when the media is covering sexual abuse reports and trials. It is so triggering but I can’t block it out, as it has already stirred the trauma I am holding within but trying desperately to compartmentalise so I can live. I know I won’t be alone with so many sexual abuse survivors taken back to unbearable pain they are trying to avoid. But I am not the victim, I am her mother. The mother of a young child who has been sexually abused. I feel silenced out of necessity for the privacy of my child, to protect her. I am traumatised by what she has already endured and the havoc it continues to possess on her life and the repercussions for our whole family. I am sharing a small part of our story that illustrates how we have been traumatised and broken beyond reasonable doubt.

This week has taken be back to the time “before”. Our life is now split into the happy time “before” and the sickening time “after.” I’m revisiting her disclosure of sexual abuse that had occurred a couple of years earlier. Most child sex abuse victims taken on average 23 years to make a disclosure, she was unusual in that she was still a child, barely a teenager. I had recently found a text message to a friend, on her phone, detailing an abuse and saying that she didn’t know how to tell me. I knew from reading up on this and asking a professional that children don’t lie about sexual abuse. In fact, the statics show that less than 4 per cent of false allegations and those are usually within a family. My husband and I approach her with sensitivity and no leading questions.

Watch: Survivors of child sexual abuse share why they chose not to speak up about their abuse. Story continues after video.

She is in front of me. I am watching my child, my baby with the huge smile and cheeky personality, completely crumble physically and mentally into a shell of her former self. Curled into a bawl, covering her eyes, willing us to not see her, willing herself away from her pain. She’s physically in front of me but mentally she is somewhere else. She is back there, back to where she doesn’t want to be, the evil acts that have consumed her, changed her, permanently altered her life forever. 

I am physically present but I also feel that I can’t possibly be here, in my safe and beautiful family home living through this and stepping into a new alternate evil world. My husband is there too, but I can’t look at him as I can only see excruciating pain all over his face, confirming what I am seeing is real. We are not trained for this situation. I am not trained; I don’t know how to proceed, what to do, what to ask and so I push and prompt for answers, who? Tell us who? I push too hard for her fragile mind to cope, it shatters and she starts screaming, whaling primitively and desperately, “Stop, Stop, Stop, Stop.” But she’s not talking to me, she’s back there, trying to fight. I feel my heart break and all the pure oxygen in the room disappear, to be replaced with an evil blanket so thick I am finding it difficult to breathe. I can physically feel and visibly see the evil now in her body. My stomach is clenched, I feel like I am about to be physically sick. How did we get here? How did we not protect her? I know if a jury and judge witnessed this there would be no doubt that this child was indeed sexually abused.

I try to support her but she doesn’t want to be touched; she doesn’t want to be connected with this world that has lost her trust. I am her mother and there is nothing I can do to help her; she doesn’t want help. She doesn’t want to live. I speak to a professional again and we both agree it is clear that the disclosure process is breaking her. There is only one question I can ask her and then I must leave it for her to tell us in her own time, unless the answer is Yes. So I prompt again, “Does the person still have access to you? Yes.” 

Her safety is still at risk, our other children’s safety is at risk. For the next few days we are barely capable of living and but somehow each morning I wake up alive and eventually, over a torturous week, we find the answer to who? We feel stupid, it all adds up, how did we miss this gut feeling about this person? He was not really a part of our life but because of circumstances had opportunistic contact, I won’t say any more on that expect we fell into the statistic of 90 per cent of children knowing their abuser.

I start contacting the support agencies, naively thinking it would wrap our family up in compassion and desperately needed practical help. Only to realise that the whole system is dangerously understaffed, underqualified and frustratingly siloed. I had already had some communication with the CASA (Child and Adult Sexual Assault) crisis unit. Initially, I was asked if my child had been abused in the last 24 hours as they were priority cases they couldn’t keep up with. As the answer was “No”, I was told there would be a three plus month waiting list before I could get support. What? I couldn’t see her, myself or our family unit surviving that long. We were in a full-blown crisis, no-one was coping and no one had any idea of what to do next. Post full disclosure I phoned back hysterical and was given some support and the promise of a caseworker. Intentions and support were there but after several months and the COVID overlay of no face-to-face sessions it was evident that the team was not set up to handle the extremity of our case and our family.

The CASA unit made contact with the police SOCIT unit (Sexual Offences and Child-abuse Investigation Team) and we go through the formalities of reporting this heinous crime. In our first meeting, with our beautifully innocent child present, the police were supportive but very clear that the chances of any charges being laid, let alone a conviction are rare. In fact, only about one third of child sexual abuse incidents are identified, and even fewer are reported and an alarming three per cent ever convicted. So professionals tell us we must believe and protect the children that disclose to us but there will be effectively zero ramifications for the perpetrators as we need to prove beyond reasonable doubt. 

I am not sure what went through her mind after it had taken so much mental strength for her to come forward and share this secret but she decided she did want to make a statement. She provided some details in that initial session we had not heard. She was so brave; we were sickened, and it took all my strength not to burst out crying and raging right there in front of her. Her strength, gave me strength. Eventually she provided a formal VARE interview (video recording of the child answering questions asked by a trained police) as well as a formal statement from myself and my husband. The police told us she did an amazing job and that the case was strong and the whole unit completely believed her. Incidents and time frames could be collaborated, we felt relief that this man would be brought to justice against all odds. But days, weeks, months pass before next steps to arrest and interview, then further months before they inform us they need to re-interview and start from the beginning to be sure and tick off all the boxes. She can’t. She can’t do it again. She won’t do it again. She knows. She knows the system is broken, that it is stacked against her and that it is unlikely that anything will happen. The case goes on hold and the whole family is reeling from the injustice of it all. She completely and mentally breaks down, she is hospitalised. Meanwhile, he continues to live his life as normal with no consequences and ample opportunities to be around children. Our life is far from normal, it is shattered and it is broken. We are all broken.

I will never fully comprehend the trauma that my daughter has been through. She is still not doing well mentally and refuses to engage in counselling or therapy which is common with teenagers in her situation. Understandably she just wants to move on and forget it all but unfortunately her body won’t let her forget which I am learning more about by reading The Body Keeps Score by Bessel van der Kolk. He explains how the mind, brain and body transforms with trauma. Given she won’t engage with professionals, my husband and I have to work through them to help her but also spend a lot of time educating ourselves. She has been diagnosed with complex PTSD, anxiety and depression. She has attempted suicide several times (I do not have the energy to write about those experiences and the re-traumatisation of our public Emergency Departments and Mental Health system), self-harms, has very little social life and barely attends school. However, if and when she makes it out into the real world she puts on a mask, to the extent that observers would be completely oblivious to her internal suffering. There is very little of the girl I raised left, she is broken.   

Listen to Help! I Have a Teenager where Ginni and Jo give some advice on how to help your anxious child. Story continues below.

I see little hope in the future as my daughter continues to struggle mentally for what she has and continues, in her mind and body, to endure. I have witnessed so much pain in her that sometimes I just can’t breathe. Her siblings have also been traumatised through the process. Her brother now has panic attacks to the point where he throws up. I have had panic attacks, suicidal thoughts and intentions. What keeps me going? Guilt. I know that what I am going through is nothing compared to what she has endured and that I can’t leave her, or the rest of my family, traumatised by my actions. I have to put all my energy into her healing process and try to keep some hope that she will improve. It’s not easy and I falter daily. I follow a trauma specialist on twitter, Dr. Glenn Patrick Doyle, who has amazing insights, he also keeps me going. I have an incredibly strong support network of friends but our trauma at times can be too much for them, despite all the love they provide me. 

Whilst I focus on my family and our healing, I am acutely aware of many others in our exact position. If nothing changes more will follow and I have no doubt our perpetrator will be abusing again. I feel sick for that child, their family. I cannot help them. As a society, we need help to break this cycle and hold perpetrators to account. Metal Health, police services, the law, judge training in trauma etc all need complete reform because right now they are currently broken, and as a result our children are suffering. As individuals we need to have personal accountability for any behaviours or red flags and act on them, confront and report them because our children simply can’t. We should never doubt children, even if we don’t want to believe it and it makes us uncomfortable. That is not just, reasonable but humane.

If this brings up any issues for you, contact Bravehearts, an organisation dedicated to the prevention and treatment of child sexual abuse, on 1800 272 831.

If you think you may be experiencing depression or another mental health problem, please contact your general practitioner. If you're based in Australia, 24-hour support is available through Lifeline on 13 11 14 or beyondblue on 1300 22 4636.

Feature Image: Getty.