Mum, the bogeyman comes into our room in the dark. He scares me!
I seem to have been writing intimate reflections in my blog these past few weeks! This week, I share one of the pivotal moments from my memoir, Resolve, where the echoes of a childhood plea linger, unheard and unheeded.
To write Resolve, I walked back through time, into the shadows of my childhood, where secrets whispered and innocence waned under the weight of unspeakable truths. For those of us touched by the darkness of sibling sexual abuse, silence becomes our constant companion, veiling our pain and stifling our cries for help.
Trigger Warning: This article contains discussions of sibling sexual abuse. Reader discretion is advised. If you are a survivor of sibling sexual abuse or sensitive to these topics, please proceed with caution or consider seeking support from a trusted individual or professional.
Enter the Bogeyman
In the quiet of the morning, before the sun had risen to banish the night’s terrors, I summoned the courage to share my deepest dark fear with my mother. The words tumbled from my lips, laden with the weight of truth too heavy to bear alone:
‘Mum, I had a nightmare’
to which she looked up at me. So I risked continuing:
“The bogeyman comes into our room in the dark. He scares me”
I said, seeking solace in the warmth of her maternal presence or to catch her attention enough to stay with me a moment longer, to ask me for more, to look me in the eyes and really see me.
The bogeyman was a scary fictional character parents threatened kids with when they wanted good behaviour. They’d warn: ‘Watch out! The bogeyman will get you.’ ‘That bogeyman does awful things to naughty children.’ ‘The bogeyman is coming!’
Yet, instead of comfort, my words were met with laughter and dismissal. Mum turned her attention back to the toast that she was buttering and said:
‘Oh Alice, don’t be silly. The bogeyman isn’t real. Are you ready for school yet?’
I didn’t say another word. I went to school that morning, and every other morning, like usual, like any ordinary, happy little girl from a regular happy family.
Insights from Stuart Allardyce, Director of Stop It Now UK
Stuart asked me if I was okay with him reading extracts from Resolve to an audience of social workers he was presenting to in Liverpool in late 2023. I often wondered what extracts he’d chosen to read, so I reached out to ask him this week.
He shared four sections with me and reminded me of this section in Resolve.
The section when you try to reach out to your mother and say the bogeyman was in your room last night. I used this to illustrate that disclosure is not an event but a process, and children often unconsciously test us out first to see whether it will be safe and okay to share something before a disclosure becomes possible. Tiny relational things we do can open or close conversations with children.
After my attempted disclosure, I felt reaffirmed that I was alone. There was no one who would help me or hear me, let alone see me.
The bogeyman was busy!
That bogeyman kept visiting at night.
The bedroom I shared with my older sister had our white Queen Ann beds. Mine was situated along the wall under the front window. Right beside my bed was my bedside table. My sister’s bed touched up closely to that bedside table from the other side. It was a very small bedroom. Her bedside table just fit between her bed and the cream-coloured built-in wardrobe. The wardrobe ran the length of our beds, stopping at the open bedroom door that led out to the hallway.
We shared that bedroom until I was 20 and left home to be married. We made modifications to the layout and furnishings as we grew up, but in those earlier years, at the foot of our beds, we had a shared old-fashioned dressing table. With its large round mirror, it seemed so posh and beautiful. Our school cases, our dolls, their cots, and strollers were tidily tucked away beneath that table.
My sleep was often disturbed, whether by my brother visiting me or by a sound in the dark. I’d startle awake to that sound in the dark. My eyes tried to adjust, and I would see the dark silhouette, hunched shoulders, head bent down low, running along the backdrop of the built-in wardrobe on the other side of my sister’s bed, out the bedroom door.
I’d sit up, and my sister would soothe me with:
‘It’s OK, it’s just the bogeyman, go back to sleep.’
I didn’t piece together then that it wasn’t just me, the bogeyman was visiting at night. That came many years later when my older sister and I disclosed that we’d both been abused by him, and that is one part of the story I didn’t write into Resolve.
I wondered at what Mum might have done
In writing Resolve, I wondered whether my early morning statement to Mum stuck with her. My mind whirred with questions:
Did she wonder about her young daughter’s words? That she was having nightmares. That the bogeyman to her was real and scared her at night because he came into her bedroom. Did Mum tell my dad when he called on the phone during the day? Did she think to mention it when they sat together after we all went to bed at night?
Either way, nothing changed.
It’s the tiny relational things we do that can open or close conversations with children.
Stuart shared.
I often envision chalked cross marks along the road I travelled.
I see the moments where I’d reached out, or there was an obvious marker, that an observant adult could have picked up on. There were small to big opportunities missed where the abuse could have been stopped. My unsuccessful disclosure to the priest at ten was one, and this was another in the months before I turned eleven. My resolve was strong, but it wasn’t breaking through the deafness or blindness of the adults in my life.
The abuse continued for another year beyond that morning’s talk with Mum.
Stuart’s review of ‘Resolve’
Stuart’s words underscore the urgent need for greater awareness and understanding:
Subject which needs wider public attention. Sibling sexual abuse is the most common form of intra-familial child sexual abuse, at least 3x more common than parent/child incest. Yet it’s rarely talked about in society or reported by the media. Charting the author’s experience of sibling sexual abuse over many years, her disclosure in adulthood and her journey towards healing and recovery, this powerfully written book should be essential reading for all social workers, counsellors and mental health specialists as well as anyone personally affected by this issue. Gritty, truthful and ultimately uplifting and redemptive – an outstanding work that deserves a wide audience.
Stuart Allardyce, Director at Stop It Now! UK, Chair of The National Organisation for the Treatment of Abuse (NOTA), co-author of ‘Abuse at the Heart of the Family: The Challenges and Complexities of Sibling Sexual Abuse’ and ‘Sibling Sexual Abuse: A Knowledge and Practice Overview’ for the Centre of Expertise on Child Sexual Abuse, Edinburgh.
Empowering the Journey
As survivors, we carry the weight of our trauma like a burden too heavy to bear. Yet, in the depths of despair lies a flicker of hope – the promise of healing, redemption, and renewal. Through the pages of Resolve, I offer a glimpse into my journey from darkness to light, from silence to strength, inviting you to walk beside me as we navigate the tangled web of trauma and triumph.
Conclusion
Our stories intertwine in the tapestry of trauma, weaving a narrative of resilience, courage, and hope. Together, we can break the silence, amplify our voices, and reclaim our power, one story at a time. In the darkness of our past lies the promise of a brighter tomorrow. That is where healing reigns supreme, and survivors emerge victorious, bathed in the light of our own resilience.
Shared with love,
Alice Perle
Resolve is a memoir, storytelling, educational resource, and guide for all readers now and for generations to come.
Experts in the field have told me that Resolve is ground-breaking. It is the first memoir written and released by an Australian survivor specifically focused on sibling sexual abuse. I’m happy to believe that and say thank you.
A powerful story of courage and hope
I am a psychologist who works with survivors of childhood sexual abuse and I am also a survivor. In my work I have had clients who have experienced sibling sexual abuse and who continue to feel shame, guilt, and self-blame because of the taboo attached to this type of abuse. I found Alice’s book to be a very authentic, open, painstakingly honest account of the trauma that she endured as a young girl/woman. Alice was courageous to put her experience into words and her motivation to write this book was to help others speak up and start their own healing journey. Ultimately, Resolve is a message of hope. It is a message to those who have borne the burden of abuse alone, that it is okay to talk about these experiences, so that they can feel validated and seen. I highly recommend this book to therapists and to the brave women who have suffered in silence. Resolve can benefit family members and give them some insight into your wife/partner/mother/sister/daughter/friend’s world.
Dr Rosie Shiels, Psychologist, Sunshine Coast, Queensland, Australia
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