I am of Asian origin, born in Malaya during the civil uprising, and was either found or taken to Red Cross. (Was never able to find out even by going through the proper channels). In care the first nine months or so.

Adopted by an English army couple, who had two boys of their own. She always wanted a daughter. For the first four years, she physically and mentally abused me. I can't remember most. There are a couple of incidents I can remember. I have a badly scolded hand as a permenant reminder. Can't remember the boys or them at all. Guess I blocked out everything. Was put into military hospital for my well being once or twice. MOD, social workers, everyone was involved (according to dossier I received many years ago) According to the dossier, she had psycholigical problems before they adopted me. Was fostered out when aged five

I was very reserved, quiet, never looked for attention, I guess for fear of what would happen next. Never showed emotion or feelings to anyone. Apparentely did all the usual stuff a distrub child does, like bed wetting, stealing food and drink, bit my nails right down, rocked myself to sleep for comfort, only it always used to make me feel sick and did it right up until I got married and never did it again.

Was re - adopted when aged eight to another English couple who were childless and stationed abroad, when they came back to England to live permanetely. While proceeding with the second adoption I was sent to a boarding school in England, stayed with relatives of foster parents, even parents of social worker who lived near the boarding school during either the start of or at the end of the holidays if they hadn't co insided with foster parents holidays. There was alot of toing and froing those few years, yet according to files I coped very well with all the changes.

From eight till eleven life with new family appeared fairly normal, dispite me being Asian, living with an English couple in small village in the sixties, where I got alot of racial abuse, and verbal flax coz of being taught by him in the school he was in. Got used to the insults and comments from an early age. Never retaliated back, argued or rebelled. Although hurt, ignored and carried on with life best I could.

Within the first year they adopted a baby boy. Must have settled in and seemed contented. Was on boarder line with eleven plus and was sent to a convent. Before the age of seven couldn't read and write every well. Was still fairly reserved and quiet.

As parents they weren't demonstrative. My adoptive brother nor I never used to receive any hugs or cuddles, when we were growing up. I never felt close to them, couldn't talk to them. There was no bonding.

While in my first year of secondary school aged eleven, my second adoptive father sexually abused me numerous times. Again I carried on as though nothing was wrong, dispite what he did when my mother was out in the evenings during the day would be badgering me with my homework to the point I wasn't learning and dreaded bringing it home. I couldn't do anything until my homework was done.
He would be shouting at me to get it done, and I would go blank, switch off, not be there. would be expressionless, wouldn't say anything, which would infuriate him.

How long it went on for can't remember (some months I do know), but thinking back in a childs way I guess I tried to tell someone, only it got brushed under the carpet and the incident was never mentioned again.

Four things happened then: He stopped abusing me. Never bothered with my homework. Because my schooling was deteriorating they moved me to another school. Years later I found out that at the time he became ill, putting it down to stress and strain of teaching. When I heard that my gut feeling, instinct told me he became ill because of what might have happened had I succeeded in bringing everything out in the open. At the time it stopped him sexually abusing me but then there was the emotional abuse to contend with till I got married at eighteen.

I carried that secret for the next thirty six years apart from telling my husband when we had been married fifteen years. (we have now been married thirty years) Was never close to school friends, friends since being married, work colleages over the years enough to open up. I've always been good at putting on a face, pretending everything is ok. Can cope in every day stuff, but when it starts to affect my personal feelings I clam up, retreat into myself, much preferring my own company. Never discussed my childhood or my parents much to anyone.

Because of the kind of people they are: arrogant, over bearing, self opinionated, self centred, I guess over the years I grew used to their nature and being married at eighteen, only saw them a few time a year and put up with everything because of who they were to me in all intent and purposes "my parents". Plus as I think back, sub-conciously still wanted contact for the sake of our son when he was little and growing up. He is twenty six and now has a family of his own. He didn't know until a couple of days before facing parents.

Last summer I snapped and I faced them both with a confrontation. Again because of the kind of people they are the only way I could do this was to write down what I had got to say and handed them both the same pieces of paper. Otherwise I wouldn't have got past the first sentence. I would have been railroaded/side tracked etc. I knew his initial response would be denial but because he then admitted when only being backed into a corner by my husband and both their attitudes and nature of which I am not prepared to endure any longer I now disown both of them.

What hurt most over the months was although my mother believed me, it has been her lack of empathy,no support, absolutely nothing from her. She was only thinking of herself (both acting normally, as though nothing is wrong) When I sent a damning letter at Xmas telling her I was disgusted and ashamed of her treatment towards me and saying I was disowning her, her immediate responsive reply was full of self pity, blaming other people for her own mistakes and was expecting me to forgive her dispite not having been in touch for nearly five months. She even rebuffed grandson and great grandchildren throughout the months, which hurt.

The last seven, eight months have been the most truamatic for me. Because not only have I finally come to terms with the confrontation, but didn't realise until opening up that there were two separate issues in all of this. And it is all this that has bought all the emotions and feelings about them that I had had hidden all these years and have finally come out of me, breaking down to friends and colleagues unexpectantly, whereas before I was very much in control of my own feelings and emotions.

As the months have gone on, I feel really strong in my self as each day passes now.
My conscience is clear. Do not regret informing immediate members of the family what happened all those years ago.

I have learnt too that I am only responsible for my own actions not other peoples and have not been at fault for the way people treat you. You either put up with it or do something about it, of which I did. with no remorse of the outcome.

Although each case is different and each and everyone of us copes with it differently, but by telling you how it was for me and how I am coping now, hope it helps you.

Sorry for going on but has helped me write all this down. We are are suvivors in our own right. We can and will all be strong
M1

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