On Being a Survivor

Almost two weeks ago I read "Jimmy Savile is Dead" to an audience of 500 people. The last two weeks have been tough and I really need to share my thoughts.

Being a survivor of child abuse
Means the childhood I never really had is never really over
Every happy memory has a sad one attached to it
I close my eyes I see things that stopped a long time ago
But in my head have never really stopped
Smells trigger me, the smell of cut grass in the sunshine leads to lawnmowers and two-stroke fuel, and those greasy smelly hands of him.
Lavender in my garden reminds me of nana, my safe place, my safe person, but she has gone.
Freshly baked bread, the farmhouse kitchen where I felt safe, but always had to leave, to go back home.

I keep busy, but I can't focus
I feel angry but I am impotent.
I cry, but it doesn't help, as no one truly understands
I want to talk to other people who can relate
But their own pain and suffering makes my own worse and the whole thing even more unbearable.
I try and hide from the news but it is everywhere.
I try and take comfort in my own son and absorb myself in him, but the fear of this happening to him just won't leave me.
His age haunts me, the age where I lost my childhood. 
There is no comfort in anything, everything makes me sad, or angry or frightened.
I still have so much fear.
Yet everyone uses words like strong and brave, and I feel anything but.
The person close to me cannot bear to be with me, there is talk of separation, of having time out.
There is so much to bear
And my shoulders aren't as broad as they appear to be.

 And I just really want this to be over now.