| As I said. I know it is rough out there. I have been there and have stared to get quite used to it. I only went there on a visit to do some research, when I was a very young child. I found it so fascinatingly dishonest and that I stayed for a bit and found myself being dragged along with the tide of distress. I met some really weird people who wanted some really weird things - but they were mostly polite and kind. It was fascinating to watch ordinary people go by, apparently oblivious of the murky happenings before their eyes, behind the door, just out of hearings reach, or just barely within it, enough to have doubts and get strange looks. I met kids in the kids homes, at these times and they told me of their distressing stories. Not only of event at home, but how they were removed from home, without adequate explanation and since they were removed and placed in 'safety'!. I remember wondering, as I watched people pass me and my mother, if these people were beating up and putting down their kids. It was impossible to tell. Even my dad was everyone's friend and a great sort. He was good at what he did, knew lots of people, some quite famous and he was popular with everyone, as his friends kept telling me. I knew, from my researches at this time, that most parents smacked their kids. You saw this in the shops, or the park, when the kid is acting up. It was a very 'polite arrangement, usually with a backward nod of the head, a huffing sound and a smile in the direction of other parents. You also saw more aggressive beatings by parents, in the homes of the kids you visited. You heard about the 'strapping', 'canings' and use of 'the slipper' of the 'big' school. It all sounded quite civilised and controlled, almost polite and agreed too. My beating weren't. Neither were my Mother's. My Dad was great with kids, and even with me mostly. I loved him, felt sorry for him and tried to help him understand what he was doing. I do have some good memories of him and feel affection even now. But there was this lonely black hole when the love went away. You even missed the beatings in a way. My slightly younger brother was so fond of him and trusted him so much, that he was buggered by my Dad and went onto drugs and slowly went Mad. He was eventually diagnosed as having Schizophrenia, was institutionalised and had a relationship with a nurse on his ward. When the relationship ended, it sent him mad again. This happened twice. Trust after trust broken and knowledgeable as I was I knew I could do nothing for him but watch, listen and record. I had such a close, almost telepathic relationship with him. I was stunned. There was so much distress and suffering by all my brothers and sisters that I stayed in contact till my Dad finally left them alone and eventually died. My mother was eventually a shell of the woman I knew as a child. I felt defeated and helpless. I had bathed her wounds and dried her tears in my hair, at the age of 5, 6 & 7. By 6 years of age I had stood up to my dad when he was drunk and was beating her in front of me. Bashing her of the chair, over the table, onto the floor and kicking her. I was knocked, literally flying across the room and landed bloodied and bruised. When i went to get help from the neighbours. I was hit again. One big, uncontrolled thump. I stayed down this time and just watches as he took it out on my Mother for asking me to help. I now knew what produced the sounds and cries as my younger brothers and sisters listened, with me, in the dark at the top of the stairs on the night my dad di come home. Every bit as awful as we could ever have imagine, And we still didn't want to loose our Dad. She was covered in blood. Clothes torn. The names he called her. I should not understand the meaning of such names at that age I did, I rally did! The humiliation she must have felt as her dignity was shattered, her confidence smashed and her beauty crushed by fists and kicks. I remember a few days, weeks or months later fining her sobbing. Dad was working away, as was often the case, and By the time I was 17, I felt I had no energy left to help her, to counsel her and help bring up the 10 other children any longer. I withdrew and helped with the three youngest. Just a determination that I will stop this happening. I failed till now. Now I am ready. As kids, the people we feared most, though, were the people who came to 'help'. Each time they were lovely, understanding and sympathetic. They still separated us kids from each other and from our mum. In our 'best interests', as they say. Give me a beating any day please, rather than that. So, we kept quiet and watched and felt our individually designed, personal abuses, for a bit longer. Maybe I am a bit of a masochist. I do find myself in these situations a lot in my life. The trouble is with me is that I just don't know when to shut up. If abused I speak my mind and get accused of shouting and being angry, when they don't at first listen. I suppose that I am not frightened about them any more and learned to joke with the abusers to keep them from being too spiteful. Some of them became good friends, in a funny sort of way. There wasn't much choice mind. If you took your punishment for standing up for yourself and accepted you were an idiot for doing so, they left you alone in the main. If you persisted with the clever bastards, they usually found some way to turn your stand against you. You are often n your own. That is even true up to the current day. These experiences are 'normal' to me, as I know they have become 'normal' to many of you. I have finished my research now though and can choose my friends a little better in the main. It is strange, though, how having extensive knowledge and experience in these things can leave you so powerless to help yourself, or get recognition as an 'expert'. It is difficult to write about these experiences and help others with theirs, if you have some selfish git interfering and telling that you are doing it all wrong and that no one will believe you, because you are an idiot, are kidding yourself and pathetic. But then again, it is also additional experiences to record and and another area to put 'warning signs' around, to try and ensure the others avoid falling into that particular swamp. Even more fascinating was how people in 'nursing uniforms' and Nun's 'get ups', could be the sweetest people on the one hand, or the most horrible, grotesque and punitive sadists on the other. There seemed to be little in between, except for the occasional passer bye, who would say; "What a sweet, clever little boy, don't you just love him?" The sadist always seemed to be the ones in charge of everything. The sweet things had as bad a deal as us kids. I did my first stint of 'operational research', in the family home, at the age of 6 years. I didn't know that it was 'operational research at the time, of course, but thought it seemed like a good excuse to justify getting the 'special attention' that I was getting. I know that I had experiences before that time, some of them quite nice, that I remember, some quite funny, some fun. But I have to admit that, although some of these were also distressing, I can not really say that I was 'qualified, at the time, to call this 'operational research', I hadn't had the training before 6 years of age. With 'operational research' you have to be careful. You start to get used to it. You have to. It takes ages to get someone to take your problem seriously, unless you threaten to do something drastic and criminal. But that gets the wrong kind of attention. To survive abuse of any kind, you have to let go a bit. It is very stressful as well as distressing. It can actually 'kill' you in the end. You have to chill out and get it all down, or out in some way. It pays to joke along with the abuser and make them 'feel good', they then tend to be less spiteful.  This page is in the stage of preparation.
There are some links on the right that may be helpful: | NOTE:This Document is still at some stage of development. You are invited to respond and comment on its content and its logic. If you return to the document at a future date, you will be able to see its continued development, hopefully reflecting your own and others commentary. I thank you, in advance, for any contribution that you make. Please also feel free to visit and contribute, in any valid way, to these and other social issues, through our Forums. There is also a Chat Room and protected Chat Space for more serious group discussions and individual counselling. Please feel free o use this space for your legitimate activities. Copyright: Although you will see very few reference to other formal writings in this document, I acknowledge general recognition to the discussions and debates that I have had with students, practitioners and clients over the years. Most of the ideas and theory has evolved through this rather pragmatic process (operational research), rather than any formal reading. If any content of this document describes concepts, theory, or ideas that have been established else where, (prior to my writing, either here or else where - in part or in full), I acknowledge their entitlement to claim them as their intellectual property for financial purposes, if they can evidence this. I also reserve the right to retain them as my intellectual property, with due recognition to those who have made direct contributions, including other writers, should I identify such a past influences. Other than this, I invite you to share and copy any content, to the benefit of intellectual debate and the benefit of individuals and groups, without restriction, other than it be used for constructive purpose, in the wider context of my writing. Should you wish to use any material presented here 'as is', I ask that you then make reference to myself and the web site. The 'Reading Date' would be a useful 'publishing date' for the Current Edition. 1980 is the core publishing date for most of the basic ideas and theory (unless stated otherwise). This 'Reading Date' may be an important part of this 'reference', as the document (by its 'internet fluid' nature) will be constantly changing and this may affect meaning and interpretation, for those following up on such a reference at a later date. Thank you for your cooperation. TRC. eMail: terry.couchman@visitweb.org |
