Silenced and unable to write since my last post on May 16, 2016, eight months have been taken from me, while I existed in limbo as a result of the verbal abuse I experienced from my boss in October 2015.
During that time I vowed to use this medium to name and shame my boss and my employer for the treatment I received, however, that may have to wait.
Yesterday I found myself one street away from where I believed the refuge I escaped to in many years ago was located. Always seeking to confirm any memory of my life I wondered if I could find it and how I would feel if I did.
Yes, there it was. The same brick wall, the same gate. The house looked different, but this was a sunny day, not the dusky evening I wrote of, standing distressed and exhausted outside that gate.
As I stood peering through the opening; wondering, thinking, trying to remember, a nun approached me asking if she could help. I responded, ‘No, I am just remembering’. She enquired if I had been there before. I replied, ‘Yes, probably about 1995 (1993 according to my book) and it was a women’s refuge, to which she answered, ‘It still is’.
My eyes searched for evidence of the balcony where I believed I had sat sobbing for hours. She confirmed it was there and asked if I wanted to go in. I did and I didn’t.
I revealed I had written a book which included my recollections of being there. She gently questioned how my life was now, what was I doing? I explained my work experience stating I now hoped to fight for sexual abuse victims to be included in the Discrimination Act.
Expressing my appreciation for what they do and for their care over 20 years ago, I offered her a signed copy of my book. She hugged me stating that, ‘God had a plan for me’.
If that is true I wish he would hurry up and tell me what that is as time is running out!