The Early Years
It was after supper the kitchen fire was lighting, the warm air was suddenly interrupted. Oblivious to me what was about to happen would begin years of abuse. The pain was intense my head jerked suddenly then I heard a voice saying write with your right hand The pain in my head was my Father hitting me on my head and fingers with the wooden spoon he was on a mission, it was not acceptable for a child to be seen writing with his left hand in those days. My Aunty was down for the weekend with her family. What was usually happy times playing with my cousins would change, my Father asked my Aunt’s advise saying look at him writing with the left hand to which my Aunty replied Oh Tim you have to get him out of that. so started years of beatings in the head, to start with. My Father frustrated at my appearing unwilling to change would enter the kitchen quietly and seeing me writing with the left hand would beat me in the head my head would jerk forward. I would not hear him coming, I was 4 year old
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My Mother was ill with Reumathoid Arthritis and found it difficult to do the simplest of tasks. My Mother would never let you see her complain she would always hide it as best she could I remember seeing her holding her right arm the her left for support while on her knees trying to clean the floor. My Sister 4 years older was almost like a second Mother. She knew me and was on the receiving end of abuse also. No matter how hard anyone tried t help me it was all too late my life was out of control and I felt there was nothhng I could do tried to comfort me as best she could, knowing if she was caught would be in trouble.. The years that followed was an escalation in the abuse. . From the age of 5 I remember while sitting in the kitchen with my Mother, Father and Sister, my father would come in from the shed with a large bag. He would tell me to step in to the bag, not knowing what I did I would ask him why, He would shout at me saying get in the bag crying standing in the sack my Father would slowly bring the sack up to my knees and say, say you are sorry, my reply was for what Daddy? Then the bag was brought up to my shoulders my Father would say again Say you are sorry Then finally he would bring it up over my head and close it in the bag terrified I was crying, suddenly I heard a voice say ok I am sorry, you see my father by putting me in the sack closed over me he was in his way controlling my Sister.
In those days you were out all day to come in for lunch was an inconvenience and interrupted the games you were playing, My time outside playing was a release. I never told any of my friends what was going on behind closed doors. My best friend he was the best friend a guy could have he was everything you could possibly need in a best friend, he had his issues at home and did not mention it and never broke the code of silence we had apparently taken at birth unknowingly The code of silence was military style, everything was great on the outside terrifying on the inner. I now believe we were out playing because we did not want to be at home where if you did something wrong (in our parents eyes) you were punished.
Through the abuse my Mother kept very quiet, seemingly unmoved by the left hand beatings, the sack to mention but a few. I would wonder why would a Mother entrusted with the task of protecting her children would sit there feet away from me and say and do absolutely nothing my cries from the sack screaming as I fought to get my breadth amidst the darkness of the sack, the terrifying thought that my Dad would not let me out and if I would die in there. I was between 5 and 7 years old This went on for years. the not knowing what I had done wrong. the terrifying hold my Father wielded over the family. He demanded unconditional respect, however all we wanted as his children was his unconditional love something unfortunately he could not do
I am amazed and at the same time troubled how the mind can at one moment be terrified and the next wanting his love and approval My Father was an Accountant in the Law he would cost court cases and have them ratified. by a Judge. He was a perfectionist, played Golf and was very good, again his strive for perfection clouded his vision of what was actually reasonable my.father played the role of provider to the T. To the outside world he was a gentleman on the inner a tyrant one who played on the emotions and insecurities of others. My Mother surprised me one time when my Dad went out to the shed and got the sack again when he came in to the kitchen he placed It on the floor and made a lunge for me, with hatred in his eyes tried to grab me saying you re out of here I am putting you in a home. All of a sudden my Mother grabbed me around waist my Sister jumped in front of me and my Sister repeatedly took the hits as he tried to pull her away to get to me as my mother with her artritis held on to me as tight as she could , knowing she would not be able to keep hold on me much longer. I can still see the hatred in his eyes. I will forever be so grateful to my Sister she took hits from Dad and would not let him near me. I will go to my grave forever respecting her and full of love and gratitude. .
My Father was against my friendship with Derek and tried his best to break up our friendship even to the point of keeping me in. .
The abuse would continue for years to come. Always fear, hearing the car drive up and wishing he was dead. When I was thirteen years old Mother died, what a bomb shell my mother was dead. She was tough, determined, a sense of humor, loving when she could. From then on my life took a downward spiral.
I was at home one summer I was 17 years old I saw that there was too little to do. So I got a Popular DJ and held a dance every S (Melbalight Disco)y I packed the place with 100 there t least. Weekl True to my life A gang came in and beat and kicked the hell out of me. They tried to break my spine. I was unconscious in the corner they had circled were coming in for the kill literaly a friend jumped in produced a medal and the gang ran away from then on I know he was part of a paramilitary group. he saved my life He never admitted it but his girlfriend was also a good friend of mine.
At 21 years old and after qualifing for Hotel Management I headed for France, my father refused to pay my fair as promised, he said I would have to use my inheritance from my Grandmother. I spent a year in France. I worked in the vine yard and a the restaurants on the main highway connecting Lyon.
I returned to Ireland and worked in Hotels as Assistant Manager. Moved to Dublin and what continued was more hardship and tradgety. I was kidnapped by a gang and almost raped I told them I would not perfom oral sex that I would rather die and one of the gang said have it your way broke a bottle and lunged at me going for my throat as two others pulled my hair and jerked my head back. Te gang leader stopped it I stood there as they debated where to throw y dead body
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