You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys at midday. No harm will befall you, for God will command his angels concerning you, to guard you in all your ways. (Psalm 91:5,10,11).

I was only four years old when my innocence was incredibly torn from me. That was just the start of many years of sexual abuse, although a sister of mine remembers me being abused even earlier whilst I was still in my cot.

As I explained in my “RAPED!!!” article, I could not understand how my father could conduct himself in two extremely different ways. On one hand he was a wonderful vicar, a warm, outgoing, intelligent person with great communication skills. At the same time, though, I experienced him as a rough, cruel and fierce man. He inflicted me with intense physical and emotional pain. Only other survivors could probably understand.

There were many consequences of this outrage upon my developing personhood, and many scars have affected my entire adult life. Possibly the worst to bear, however, has been the mental consequence. (A huge proportion of mentally ill people have suffered horrendous childhood experiences for one reason or another). My limited understanding could not possibly marry the two totally different realities of my father into one whole:-

A).I had a Daddy who loved me and continually treated me with kindness and compassion. He would take me down to the local garage and watch the mechanic service our car. He drove me to the beach where we would have lunch. He drove me to the railway station to catch my train on early mornings.

B).The Daddy I hated, absolutely terrified me. He plagued my life. I could not sleep in case he crept into my bedroom in the night. I could not take a shower in case he appeared in the bathroom. I could not relax anywhere in the house for fear he would suddenly grasp me from behind and touch me in places which hurt or made me churn in the pit of my stomach.

Without any conscious decision, my mind designated him into two separate identities. I loved my kind Daddy very dearly, the one I desperately wanted and needed. I consciously admitted to him in my mind. He became my ‘real’ Daddy.

I hated my cruel, harsh, fierce Daddy with enormous intensity. I could not consciously admit that I had a father like that, so I designated to him the role of a ‘monster’. Eventually I believed that this person WAS a monster!

I WAS EXTRAORDINARILY CONFUSED!!!

When I entered secondary school I became terrified that any person, no matter how kind they appeared, might suddenly turn into a monster. At school we were taught to be very careful in case any one may attack us.

Don’t talk to strangers!

Never walk down narrow alleyways!

Look for other ladies and sit near them on the train!

I was sure NO PLACE WAS A SAFE PLACE! No one could be trusted. Any person could change at any time! Anyone and everyone could become a monster at any given time!

At sixteen I began to hallucinate. I believed I could SEE monsters lurching towards me down the street, daggers in their hands. A man sitting opposite me on the tram would suddenly ‘turn’ into a monster!. My school teacher would at unpredictable times become a ferocious creature bearing down on me………So..our kindly family doctor prescribed an anti-psychotic drug.

I COULD NOT SLEEP. I would lie anxiously in bed, holding the covers right up under my chin, too scared to relax my grip for a moment in case the monster came to hurt me in any way. When I looked around the bedroom, strange creatures, always HUGE, and usually carrying a sharp implement and ready to pierce me would appear. Upon exhaustion, sleep would eventually creep over me, only to reveal horrific NIGHTMARES of monsters of all colors and shapes, ugly and ready to kill me. I would jolt awake again, but then there were more monsters surrounding my bed to bring more pain and anguish…So..sleeping tablets were prescribed, yet nothing helped.

I became as a frightened rabbit. I would SHAKE continually, and was often dropping things. I found a writing pen difficult to control and a simple task like applying lipstick was extremely difficult for me…So… I was put on a tablet to relieve this.

Then I believed I could HEAR footsteps outside my room at night, or wake terrified to the sound of heavy breathing, or hear mocking laughter. At eighteen I had a nervous collapse…So… I was sent to a psychiatric hospital for treatment.

NO-ONE could understand why a positive, happy child could all at once develop such strange symptoms and become a nervous wreck as a teenager FOR NO REASON!!! I had parents who loved me dearly (the Daddy who was kind WAS a lovely person), I was a good student, I had a special boyfriend, and on the OUTSIDE my life seemed extremely comfortable.

Knowing the facts, do you think it was so strange? So ODD? So out of character? It was really a very natural development from an incredibly damaged child. This little girl had been sworn to secrecy and told continually that Jesus loved children who were quiet, kind and always very GOOD. So I became that …… on the OUTSIDE.

On the INSIDE my mind had to manage the conflict, and it did so in the best way it knew to SURVIVE. In fact, I would not have been able to live a normal life and attend school unless God had organized my mind to process this abuse in some manageable way. God protected me in an amazing way even back then, as a child. God somehow helped my little mind to divide my father into two – the caring Daddy and the cruel Monster. Yet MY mind remained intact. If I had reacted as many, many children do, I may have ‘split’ up MYSELF in order to cope. That would have led me to becoming a sufferer of true schizophrenia.

Episodes of mental illness became an inevitable part of my life. It has been a very difficult, painful, distressing experience for me, and lasted intermittently over many, many years. My husband and my children have suffered incredibly too. Most people in our community do not understand, nor want to understand, mental illness.

Thankfully I am now very well. I rarely shake. I hear no voices. See no imaginary monsters. Sleeping is still difficult, and nightmares sometimes still attack my mind. I was able to recover, however, and am now taking only very mild medication. I need to live a calm and quiet life, and avoid unnecessary stress. I no longer work. God has been extremely good to me, and I truly believe angels have protected me.

God has always been completely aware of my deepest fears, anguish and grief, sense of isolation and humiliation, despair and defeat, resentment and anger. I know God is fully aware of all the reasons and remembers every detail of every day of my life just as my mind does. God has preserved my mind in a truly incredible manner. I thank God for the health that has been restored to me. It has not been easy, and has taken many long years. Doctors have helped enormously, and my ever-understanding family. I am indeed blessed. God truly has ‘guarded all my ways’.

PRAYER: Dear Father God, you have seen the pain, anguish, tears and heartache I have had to endure. You know all the reasons and you have strengthened me and kept me safe, even when I had given up all hope of ever becoming well. Your unfailing love conquers all…..even mental illness. I stand in awe of you, mighty God. Amen.

TODAY: Re-evaluate your attitude towards sufferers of mental illness. They are innocent survivors in what, for them, is a cruel, lonely and frightening world. No-one chooses to become mentally ill. Jesus showed great compassion to them. Society, sadly, has not. Many will never recover. Plan to visit a Psychiatric Hospital soon. Take some flowers, recent magazines, sweets, or home baked cooking. These can be placed in the community lounge where every patient can enjoy the little effort you have made. You would be amazed at the joy this will bring to desperately isolated, marginalized and often rejected sick people. Singling out one patient can be threatening, so attempt to bring joy to the entire ward.

If you do not live near such a facility, send similar items through the post.

Julie-Anne Wingate. Copyright 2002. All Rights Reserved.