Thursday 5 January 2017


I just want to run into the street and shake my fist at the sky, I want to go totally 'Fawlty Dad' and thrash the ground with the branch of a tree.


Because Trauma wins.

It stains everything it touches and seeps out of the shadows of children's lives and with insidious determination casts shadows over mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters and anyone close enough to touch. It feels personal but it's indiscriminate, it chokes love and care, crushes hope and joy. It blinds, deceives, draws you in and asks you to dance to it's tune, it camouflages itself and deflects the blame onto everyone close.

Four weeks ago the historic trauma rose up and cut through us all like a scythe.

Our family, friends, colleagues, faith and professionals caught us. They held us when we couldn't stand, they gave us the worlds to say when we didn't know what to say, friends and acquaintances stepped in and stepped up. I've never felt so cared for in my life. So, thank you for your kind words and wise words shoulders to cry on and ears to listen. There are too many to thank but thank you anyway.

Trauma has not won this battle.

Trauma remains a feature of our home but because of  those who closed around us we are still here, so thank you.

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