£5.00
123 in stock
By Dr Rosaleen O’Brien
ISBN: 978-1-84747-691-3
Published: 2008
Pages: 50
Key Themes: poetry and prose, abusive marriage, female experience, childhood abuse, strength, resilience
Description
Coming Soon
About the Author
I have been in receipt of trauma counselling since 1999 on a daily basis,at times speaking till the early hours of the morning.Support from my trauma Counsellor helps me to come to terms with accepting that what has happened to me cannot now be changed. I cannot ever forgive those who had a vicarious liability to look after me and failed. As a result of being locked away for some years all because we were poor has brought certain limitations to my day to day life. Writing is a form of therapy and allows me to be free to be the person that I want to be, and should have been my birthright. Through writing I can reach out to others who may have had such an unfortunate experience as myself . Daily flashbacks can be upsetting and I fill my life with things to do so as to block them out. Day to day life can be exhausting and coping mechanisms that I learnt in order to survive have not helped me in the outside world. God help all fellow survivors and perhaps one day Ireland will accept the terrible price we paid. Shame on all you right thinking residents in Ireland to allow the government and Catholic Church to ignore harm done to me and many others who are either dead or too ill to tell their story. Thanks to Chipmunkapublishing I have been able to confront my demons and a Big Thank you to Reatha my trauma counsellor without her I would not be here today writing about my stolen life.
Book Extract
Some may ask why I have written this book, and there should be an answer, but can I look to you, the reader, to help me out here? Did I write my story because I was a victim as a child? I saw that even the rats got fed better than me. Perhaps it made me accept dangerous situations when others might have walked away. Or did I not see the danger because my self-esteem was so low? Maybe I believed that I deserved to die in a horrific way as a punishment. Did I stay in a potentially dangerous marriage because I was so alone, lacking in confidence and finding it hard to form friendships? My childhood has been stolen through abandonment, drug trials and all kinds of abuse imaginable. Because I am a caring kind of person, I made the mistake of seeing others in the same light, which was a fatal mistake. This book is a reminder to all who read it never to take their life for granted. More than anything, one must never stop being in charge of one’s destiny.
Those, such as my late husband, who have killing on their minds, can have complicated personalities: one minute buying you the best, and the next minute wanting to see you die. Considering that I had done so much for him, I was confused when his family continued to treat me with contempt. My late husband had received correspondence from titled folk, and with his background in property and finance, it was difficult to accuse him of attempted murder or any other serious charge. Once I did approach a solicitor seeking legal advice, but I was told that, as no physical injuries were sustained, forming the basis of a criminal investigation would be difficult.
It was only many years later, after he died, that I read his last will. He incorporated his insurance policy and referred to it as an inheritance, but his fatal accident policy was the only insurance policy he had, and I immediately knew that it was unlawful to leave an inheritance in a fatal accident policy.
This book will let me share the unimaginable happenings with others, and, who knows? − it might just save a life. I have lived in the shadow of death all the years of my marriage and writing has been therapy, but, more than anything, I just wish that it never happened. Today’s world is a world that does not always question where wealth comes from. Sometimes, just having it is all that counts.
Now, having had the good luck of being published by Chipmunkapublishing, I have developed a new confidence to step forward, and never again shall I settle for less than I know I deserve. I owe this not only to myself, but also to all victims who, like me, have found that their stolen childhood can no longer stay with them as the graveyard of their dreams. I’ve tried to write with clarity and fairness; you, the reader, will see me, time and time again, reaching for that little bit of stardust to hold in my hand while I say: “Thank God I am alive”.
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