Basta - Enough - Touchpaper 1

In Rome on holiday with my little sons in 2007, the hawkers were insistent to the point of harassment. My sons were 8 and 3 years old and I was a highly protective mother, for reasons that may become clear below.

The hawkers had small toys for sale and we bought a few but we could not buy them all. Zooming in on my boys at every landmark from the Trevi Fountain to the Pantheon, they would toss the toys into my sons’ hands or drop them into their laps. I understood the hawkers were low income earners trying to make a living but it became infuriating.

Through observing another mother I learned the word “Basta — enough!” I tried it and it worked. The hawker left us alone for a bit. So, I taught this to my little ones and explained that we were not going to buy any more toys and that these men in Rome were being “very naughty” by throwing toys to them and trying to make them take stuff rather than letting them choose their own. I taught the boys to cross their arms if a toy was tossed towards them, let it fall to the ground and say firmly and loudly “Basta.” It was a good lesson in being assertive. And it worked.

I wish someone had taught me to say “Basta” when I was very small.

When I was 29 and pregnant with my first son, I first disclosed to anyone — to my then husband, that I had been sexually abused over a six-month period when I was 6 and 7 years old.

I have teetered between being compelled and repelled most of my life since then, by the idea of sharing my story of the abuse with anyone else, and certainly not wanted to share in public. I am determined not to be defined by it. I wanted to do something with my life; to be known for something good … something reasonably measurable or respectable I suppose.

Not wanting this six-month period to be my story; to diminish me, to be an excuse as to why I never did anything particularly good or big. I refused to wear it like a visible scar. But those repeated assaults that happened to me more than 40 years ago do have a significant impact. As much as I wrestle with it, subdue its power, ignore it, do yoga, be a good friend, work hard, work less hard, be a good mother, be a good wife, the experience still scarred me and the scar will always be there. I graduated from 2 years of specifically focused psychological counselling about it when I was 32 years old. For a while I was sure I had reintegrated it, that shame filled other part of me. I have stood tall, I have fought, I have forgiven, I have loved, I have learned to trust, I have healed. I was so determined to heal and be normal.

Though I do stand tall, and I am much healed, I am certain it has changed who I was meant to be. Jean Hagen Wenger (Netflix series The Keepers) sums up my certainty best when she says “I have lived a smaller life”. That feisty four, five and six year old I was; that little stubborn Aquarius, the “black-eyed Susan” (my mum’s epithet) who would not be subdued, died in my seventh year and was replaced by a girl who escaped into her own mind, who zoned out when stressed, who knew too well how to severely compartmentalise her thoughts, and never learned how to properly be assertive…more about the mechanics of that later.

Suffice to say as a young adult I swung like a pendulum from sycophantic behaviour much of the time, to the occasional volcanic outburst, with teachers, adults, bosses. Being a sycophant gives your tormentors the impression you’re going to remain a compliant willing target of their contempt forever. You can imagine how shocked people were then, when the sycophant suddenly morphed into a cursing raging hate filled monster. The sycophant is me. The monster is me. When provoked my jaded, no holds barred, seedy mouthy alter ego erupted, a rage filled volcano, vitriolic lava spewing over my opponent.

I still have those feelings. There’s an insistent voice inside of me that when faced with conflict, or feeling controlled by others, or triggered by very bad memories of the abuse, wants to light the blue touchpaper on the job, friendship or relationship and burn the whole fucking thing to ash.

I have done that on occasion: ignited the volcano that erupts, killing the connection stone dead. When it happens I feel safer for a good while, and sometimes smug — “I showed THEM”. Usually because while the eruption is an overblown response there is usually a genuine transgression.

But in the end, I always feel regret. And of course, such an explosive response from me does not really achieve anything. It does nothing to engender respect from my peers or my elders, my friends, family or those in authority. And it hurts others. Not my abuser. Others in his place. All because, for a moment, for me, they wore his face.

For a long while I avoided any and all conflict. I sought out jobs that were well below my capability, so that they would be easy. I smoothed everything out in my personal life. I decorated my house so it was perfect — because then just maybe I could make myself whole, and myself perfect. I tried to paper over the cracks with the best paper money could buy. It does not work.

Slowly, through several iterations and gentle reworkings of me, over the last seventeen years since I first disclosed the abuse to a cognitive psychologist, I learned to set boundaries more calmly bit by bit. I think I only perfected it three years ago in my professional life when I took on two pairs of people who had treated me particularly poorly at work. On that occasion, for the first time, though I was angry, I negotiated. I explained my red line and how I had reached it and I refused to go further and I calmly insisted on better treatment. I had learned how to say “Basta”.

These days I feel I am finally an adult and ready to build a truly adult life. But is it too late, or at least, much later than it should be? I am 50 years old today. Like many people with varied life experiences I’m still “working on it.” Could I have been so much more confident and more together had I not had the brain fog, the PTSD and dissociative thoughts, the sycophant/volcano dichotomy that have plagued me and hampered my progress throughout my life? I know I am affected. Could the damage have been lessened by much earlier intervention and help?

I know at times I trust much less than my peers. I know how to look at it now, that feeling, feel it, but then I ask myself is it worth lighting the touchpaper. The answer is always no. Since then, to an extent I have prospered somewhat, nonetheless the abuse has definitely held me back because of the impact it has had on my entire sense of self.

I have always functioned as a home owner and worker, but now finally have learned to value myself enough to have a long-term goal. So, since 2018, I am studying for a Bachelor’s degree. I am monitoring myself, to make sure this is what I want, not an attempt to make whole, make perfect. And I think it really is what I want, and so far, it is going well.

Now back to Rome. I am not there, but the focus of the world has been there, and for the last fortnight. Rome for the Vatican’s Papal conference on child sex abuse and Melbourne Australia for the conviction of Australia’s highest ranked Cardinal, George Pell, for child sexual assault.

I live in Australia. I watch the news and read the paper. When I saw the Pope had convened a conference to determine a way to change the sickening child abuse culture within the powerful of the catholic church I was heartened. When I read that the commitments given by the Papal conference were weak I was saddened and frustrated. When I read the account of the choirboy, George Pell’s surviving victim, I was sickened. When I read that several prominent Australians had written George Pell character references post-conviction, including the statement from our ex-Prime Minister below I was horrified. As ABC TV Insiders’ Barrie Cassidy said of John Howard: “What would it take, then, to alter his opinion?”

Excerpt from ex PM John Howard’s post-conviction character reference:

“I am aware he has been convicted of those charges; that an appeal against the conviction has been lodged and that he maintains his innocence in respect of these charges. None of these matters alter my opinion of the Cardinal.”

I understand enough about the law to appreciate that there is a plea in mitigation process. The convicted has a right to this, but surely these prominent people must consider the impact of their words on the victim and the chill effect on other victims.

Then a few TV commentators here in Australia, journalists and MPs, and some in the Catholic hierarchy expressed their disbelief at Pell’s culpability. They started referencing the upcoming appeal with Mona Lisa smiles. They regaled us with contemplative stories of the first time they met George Pell. Like many other adult survivors of child sexual assault, I was shaking with disbelief and fury. Can you imagine substituting any other convicted criminal’s name with some of the statements in mitigation and defence:

“I first met Gerard Baden Clay on a sunny say in Brookfield. He was an impressive figure.” Can you even imagine?

Ironically, Francis Sullivan, the former leader of the Catholic Church’s response to the child sex abuse royal commission, echoed my thoughts:

Francis Sullivan: “For too long in the Catholic church people who were abused weren’t believed. They were actively silenced.

“The weight and might of the church either negotiated them away, disregarded them, told them to go home and left them to a life of peril, a life of misery.

“So, as far as I’m concerned, everyone should just shut up.”

Basta! Enough! There is no place for trivial speculation by politicians, shock jocks and vacuous TV hosts. There is no humanising this convicted perpetrator, no matter how good a friend he has been to you. There is no place for dehumanising him either. He is a human. A criminal person who used an inappropriately bestowed extreme level of personal power over children to sexually abuse them. Some humans do that to small humans. It needs to be stopped and it is not limited to institutions. It’s bad in any scenario — whether facilitated by poorly-run secretive institutions, or within “nice families”.

The impact of child sexual assault is devastating and casts a long shadow over the victims’ lives, much as the victims may try to leave it behind. Even if the victim grows up and leads a high functioning existence, our lives have been made smaller by having been sexually assaulted as children, changing forever our concepts of trust and sexuality, and by the secrets we kept about it for 25 years (me), 30 years, 40 years (others), never (others).

The people that have brought child sexual assault into public focus are heroes. Former Australian PM Julia Gillard should stand tall among them for convening the Royal Commission here in Australia. Commentators who ask questions of victims and experts and do research instead of speculating, who give a voice to child sexual assault victims are heroes as well. They shine in sharp contrast to the commentators we have heard braying and stirring in the media this week. The speculative commentators need to shut up and listen. Ask the adults who have lived through the abuse about its effects. Ask them what techniques they suggest to stamp it out or greatly reduce the incidence. Ask them what successes they have had on the road to recovery. I can only assume that there is an overriding “ick factor” fear in the media over this. Stories of abuse rarely feature victims. Instead they are heavily curated and told by well groomed commentators. 4 Corners Guilty program was a pleasing exception this week.

To the media: Get the real stories out there. Not all of us are going to be overly emotional, and if we are, so what? As Dr Jennifer Wilson said on Twitter this week:

“There’s a perception of how victims should be, all victims, not only csa survivors. This includes a belief that good people with platforms should speak for us & about us, to save us further anguish & protect us from the public gaze.”

Source — Twitter 5th March 2019 That Dr Sheep Person (@noplaceforsheep)

My final question for today is: those men in power in the enclave within Rome, will anyone in diplomatic circles and international government ever have the courage to finally say “Basta” to them?