Latest news with #childhoodtrauma
Daily Mail
4 days ago
- Health
- Daily Mail
BEL MOONEY: Can I help my toxic mother be a nicer person?
By Published: | Updated: Dear Bel, I was brought up in a volatile household, scared of my mother. Sorry we are not currently accepting comments on this article.
SBS Australia
27-05-2025
- Health
- SBS Australia
Abducted at 5, Rose was presumed missing. 14 years later, she walked into Centrelink
Rose (not her real name) vanished in 1993 when she was five. Her disappearance spurred a federal police search that never managed to find her. Source: SBS / Caroline Huang This article contains references to child abuse. One winter's day in 1993, Rose (not her real name) recalls her mother throwing a few belongings in a bag, carrying her down the stairs and racing to the Nissan Bluebird parked outside their house. "She's got this resolve and this look in her eyes. I'm in the front seat unbuckled, she's just shoved me in the car," Rose told The Feed. "We are driving out of our street — and we can see him coming in the opposite direction." Rose remembers her father, red-faced and angry, driving a different vehicle. She alleges he swerved in front of their car, trying to block them from leaving, narrowly avoiding a collision. "I thought I was going to have a heart attack. My heart was bumping in my mouth, and I was just absolutely petrified," Rose said. "My mum's just going through red lights and he's following us. And then, finally, we lost him." That's how Rose was abducted by her mother at five years old. They sold the Bluebird, had one last goodbye call with Rose's grandmother, and assumed new identities. For the next 14 years, Rose would spend a very unusual childhood living as a missing person. It still haunts her to this day. "I didn't know what was true and what was false, and I spent more time with her, and I had to live in her reality to survive," she said. "It was a lot of isolation, a lot of coercion, manipulation — very cult-like." Parental abduction — also known as parental child abduction — is when one parent takes or keeps a child without the other parent's consent. Family lawyer Gabriella Pomare from The Norton Law Group in Sydney said she's seeing more and more parental abduction cases, including parents taking children interstate or even overseas. "This is a significant issue, particularly when parents are in breach of court orders and where a parent is seeking to disrupt a child's relationship with their other parent by removing them," Pomare said. "I just finished a trial last week in a matter where this occurred and the children were returned to Australia." Rose's parents had split up before the abduction, with her mother becoming her primary carer. But Rose said her mother always resented her father being given visitation rights by the Family Court, and painted him as an incompetent parent. "My mum said that when they were living together, he was a real deadbeat dad, a hoarder, and couldn't hold down a job, and so she was really struggling as a new mother," Rose said. Rose's mother maintained she left the relationship after allegedly finding child pornography material hidden in his office. Rose suspects this was a lie, but she can neither confirm nor deny it. Not satisfied with the amount of time he spent with Rose, her father would secretly visit her at school. Rose believes her mother started hatching a plan to go missing after finding out. "My mum was like, 'I'm going to go to jail for this, but I've got to save you … he's a bad person'." After the pair disappeared, newspaper reports from the time said federal police issued a warrant for her mother's arrest and Rose's return. Despite an extensive investigation, the police never found them. Rose's father made efforts to find her over the years, making several appeals in the media. Pomare said: "Where a child is abducted interstate, the [Family] Court is able to make recovery orders for the return of the child, often with the assistance of the AFP (Australian Federal Police)." If taken overseas, the child can be returned via the Hague Convention, an international agreement that protects children from abduction. Although parental abduction is a crime, it can be justified in some situations. "A parent may have a legitimate defence if they abduct the child to protect them from immediate harm, such as domestic violence," Pomare said. "Acting in self-defence or to protect the child's safety can also be considered a valid defence." Growing up as a missing person, Rose remembers living in share houses strictly paid for in cash, and a drawer at home filled with wigs and disguises. "We were pretty skint and also had no Medicare card, no access to healthcare, no access to bank accounts," she said. Her mother had a fake driver's licence and birth certificates made. Rose was only allowed to play in the park at night to avoid being seen. Rose said she lived in constant terror of being caught by the police. "The police are going to come and they're going to throw me in a children's home. And my mum told me a lot about how bad children's homes were and how bad the women's prison would be for her." Rose changed schools at least once a year, and due to the constant moving, found it impossible to make friends. Occasionally, they would pack up their car and start a new life in a different state. Growing up as a missing person, Rose remembers living in share houses strictly paid for in cash, and a drawer at home filled with wigs and disguises. Her world shrank to one person: her mother. "I was deeply attached to my mother, but also terrified of her," Rose said. "The way my mum reacted, if I ever questioned anything or was in any way insubordinate or didn't buy into her reality, the consequences were so dire that it was life-threatening. "She would scream and shout and berate and go off the handle and be in a frenzied mania of anger, and it would be relentless hours and hours and hours of it … there was no one else for me to turn to." Rose said her mother was not physically abusive, but would punish her by pretending Rose didn't exist for days on end. At other times, she would act erratically. "The lady who wouldn't give her a refund at the dress shop, she rotten-egged her house and collected my poo to throw at her house," Rose said. "She decided that one of the kids at my school, she just really, really hated him. She got me up in the middle of the night and was like, 'We are going to go and f- - - [his] house up'. "We drove up there and she put prawn heads in the letterbox … and we drew pentacles [a five-pointed star often associated with witchcraft] on the bitumen outside of his house." Looking back, Rose said it was clear her mother desperately needed mental health support. The lady who wouldn't give her a refund at the dress shop, she rotten-egged her house and collected my poo to throw at her house. Rose "Her depression was really intense and very lonely for me, because I knew she needed help and I couldn't reach out to anyone," she said. "I was very afraid of misspeaking at school and getting caught in our big lie and outing her." It's hard to track the number of parental abductions that happen in Australia — but they make up a tiny proportion of people who go missing. The AFP says a missing person is defined as anyone who is reported missing to police, whose whereabouts are unknown, and there are genuine fears for their safety or concerns for their welfare. Sarah Wayland, a professor of social work and missing persons researcher at CQUniversity, said parental abductions are sometimes viewed differently to other missing persons cases. "A lot of people say, 'Well, at least they're with one of the parents, and they're probably fine'," she said. "It can be almost like a double type of loss … because their child is missing to them, but the rest of the community says, 'Well, it's not that bad a loss'." "In the early 2000s … there were 15,000 reports made each year in Australia … so it's a pretty significant increase," Wayland said. While there's no solid data on why there are more missing persons cases, Wayland said it intersects with trends around mental health, family dysfunction, cost of living and homelessness. "I think the distress factor probably plays into the increase of numbers of people going missing," she said. "In the last five years we've lived through COVID, significant climate change, there's a lot of political instability around the world. I think that people are struggling, and I think sometimes that going missing is the only solution for some people to disconnect from life for a while." Two-thirds of people who go missing are under 18, as they try to assert their independence. Wayland said other groups at risk include young adults who are experiencing significant mental health crises, as well as people living with Alzheimer's disease or dementia who wander off. It's rare for someone to go missing forever — over 99 per cent of people who go missing are located, per the AFP. If someone is missing for more than three months, they're classified as a long-term missing person — currently, there are more than 2,500 in Australia. Wayland said it's rarer still for someone for be found alive and well after going missing long-term — they're usually either found deceased, or their family never finds out what happened to them. "That person being located and then having to re-enter life … we actually don't really know enough about those circumstances, about how to support the person," Wayland said. "How do you connect the dots with the parts of life that you might've missed out on, and what it might be like to come back again?" Shortly after becoming an adult, Rose walked into a Centrelink office and told staff she was a missing person — to much less fanfare than she'd been expecting. "I was like, 'Yeah, I'm a missing person, and I've been missing for 14 years, and I really need help'," she said. "Just like Centrelink, they never break their blank expression there, they didn't give a damn. I really thought after all of this ordeal, the saga, that it would've been a much bigger deal." Despite her mother's fears, it was frustrations like not being able to get into a club or go to the doctor that undid Rose's resolve to live as a missing person for life. "I just couldn't keep being a missing person. I really, really tried, and I just couldn't. I dreamed of having the opportunity to go overseas or drive a car or just have a bank account," she said. "I was celebrating for days for having a bank account … I just really was revelling and belonging in society again, it meant so much to me." It took years for Rose to rebuild her identity. She's now 37, and expects the psychological impact of her childhood will affect her for years to come. "There is a real sense of having missed out on growing up like everyone else my age … I … grew up in this cult-like isolated environment," she said. "I missed out on having friends from childhood, and I missed out on growing up in a family, and I missed out on having a place that is where I'm from." Rose's relationship with her mother became strained after she stopped being missing. The two had on-and-off contact, until her mother died a few years ago. After all those years of absence, Rose eventually got hold of her father's phone number and called him — "He basically fell off his chair, of course!" "I went to his house and he showed me this huge bookshelf, and it was just crammed with photo albums … they were all pictures of me … up to four, I think he documented every laugh, smile, every bath, every experience," she said. "He never gave up, he never stopped looking and he never had any other children. And it was his great grief of his life that he didn't get to know or raise his daughter." Rose and her father kept in touch for six months, but don't have a relationship today. "It was difficult after all that time being indoctrinated to hate him and to believe that he was a really bad person, I just couldn't switch that off," she said. "I think it's just too painful to think about. It's too emotionally sensitive, and I know it's not fair for him, but I am not in a place where I could deal with that." Wayland said it can be difficult for families to make up for all that lost time. "It's not just about reconnecting with the relationship, but the person who's older, what they've been through, all of the milestones that you might've missed, if there's been births or deaths or marriages in the family," she said. For those who never see their missing loved ones again, it can be difficult to move on from the grief. "It's an unresolved loss where there was no goodbye … it almost acts as an open wound for a long period of time," Wayland said. Rose doesn't want you to think this is a story about mothers being the "bad guy". "My mum was mentally ill and really needed support." Readers seeking support can ring Lifeline crisis support on 13 11 14 or text 0477 13 11 14, Suicide Call Back Service on 1300 659 467 and Kids Helpline on 1800 55 1800 (for young people aged 5 to 25). More information is available at and Anyone seeking information or support relating to sexual abuse can contact Bravehearts on 1800 272 831 or Blue Knot on 1300 657 380. More information about missing persons is available on the National Missing Persons Coordination Centre website: Watch now
New York Times
26-05-2025
- Sport
- New York Times
Newcastle's Callum Wilson says he experienced ‘suicidal moments' during difficult childhood
Warning: This article contains references to suicide that some readers may find distressing Newcastle United's Callum Wilson says he experienced 'suicidal moments' during a difficult childhood. The 33-year-old said in an interview that he spent time in foster care, was moved from school to school while senior figures in his life dealt with alcoholism. Speaking on The High Performance Podcast, Wilson said: 'It wasn't (a happy childhood), but I think it's what made me who I am today. I'm one of six, (to a) single mum, and I've had a different dad to all my siblings as well. I look back now and think, 'That is something I never want my child to experience, really.' Advertisement 'There were things like foster care, safe houses, receiving food from food banks and the local church, lots of different scenarios happened (such as) domestic violence at home. That's my journey. I used to cry myself to sleep at night. I got to about 12 or 13, and there were suicidal moments. 'Ultimately, when I say I cried myself to sleep, I was praying to God, saying, 'take me out of this environment, I want to become a footballer'. 'Life was a struggle. It was my mum on her own, all my siblings in the house, and we had a three-bedroom council house. Food was sparing to come by. At Christmas, they'd come round with hampers, and so I felt I was the dad of them, and also the man of the house. That alongside a bit of turmoil — my mum was going through a difficult time, bless her — no fault of her own, and I think that was the circumstances really.' Wilson came through Coventry City's academy and made 55 appearances for their first team before joining Bournemouth in 2014. He established himself as a goalscorer across several divisions in English football. He has 132 goals in 353 games across his career, 88 of those coming in the Premier League, and has also scored twice in nine games for England. Wilson missed much of the 2024-25 season with injuries and was restricted to just three starts in all competitions, making a further 19 substitute appearances. 'I think what I've realised is that when football is going great, when life is going great, you can block it out,' the striker said. 'But over the past 18 months, I've had setback after setback and things just got on top of me. 'It was too much to suppress, and it all rose to a head, and I was like: I need to go and seek therapy now, I'm at a point where I'm starting to go back down the wrong path. Little things are creeping in like gambling and I didn't want to become that person. I needed professional help and I think it took a bit of bravery, to be honest, to realise that as strong as I feel my mind is at times, you can also speak.' Advertisement The Athletic reported earlier on Monday that Newcastle have decided against taking up the option to extend Wilson's contract and have entered negotiations about a new deal that is slightly more incentive-based. If you would like to talk to someone having read this article, please try Samaritans in the UK or US. You can call 116 123 for free from any phone
Yahoo
19-05-2025
- General
- Yahoo
13 Signs Your Parents Never Really Understood You—And Still Don't
It's one thing to clash with your parents every now and then—that's part of being human. But it's another thing entirely to grow up feeling like they never truly saw you, and maybe still don't. Some families just weren't built around emotional awareness, and if you grew up in a house where being sensitive or different was treated like a problem to fix, you know how quietly painful that can be. Maybe your parents still talk to you like a version of yourself that never really existed, clinging to old labels and outdated stories because it's easier than confronting who you've become. These aren't just quirky dynamics or occasional misunderstandings—they're deep emotional fractures that often start in childhood and echo well into adulthood. If you find yourself constantly second-guessing your feelings, doubting your memories, or trying to explain your inner world to people who raised you, this one's for you. Maybe you had big feelings, asked uncomfortable questions, or simply refused to go along with the program. Instead of being met with curiosity or compassion, you were labeled as the 'difficult' one—the kid who made things harder. That label may have stuck not because it was true, but because it helped your parents avoid doing deeper emotional work. If they're still referring to you that way in adulthood, it's a sign they haven't updated their view of who you are. They're clinging to a simplified narrative that protects their own sense of control or righteousness. But you were never 'difficult'—you were just expressive in a family that didn't know what to do with expression. When you try to talk about your childhood, they respond with things like, 'That's not how it happened,' or 'You're being dramatic.' These aren't just throwaway comments—they're attempts to rewrite your emotional reality. It's a subtle form of gaslighting that can leave you feeling destabilized and unseen according to Verywell Mind. Dismissing your memories is a way of dodging accountability. It suggests that your emotional truth is negotiable, even when you're calmly trying to be heard. That's not emotional maturity—it's self-protection disguised as parenting. Your parents love to brag about your degree, your job title, or your accomplishments—but when it comes to your identity, values, or emotional depth, they go silent. This kind of selective support feels like a conditional contract: be impressive, but not too different. Shine, but don't stray too far from the script. If they only acknowledge the parts of you that reflect well on them, they're not seeing you—they're projecting a version they can control. You shouldn't have to shrink, shape-shift, or overperform just to receive love. True understanding means embracing the whole person, not just the palatable facade. You're an adult now, but somehow your life is still open to their constant critique—your haircut, your relationship, your parenting choices, even your dinner order. Their unsolicited advice comes cloaked in concern but often feels like judgment which is a sign you have toxic parents according to Healthline. It's not really about helping; it's about reshaping you into someone they can understand or approve of. If their input leaves you feeling smaller instead of supported, it's not guidance—it's an attempt to correct what never needed fixing. They may be responding to an outdated version of you they never let go of. Growth means change, but some parents stay stuck in the idea of who they thought you'd be. Emotionally aware parents understand that adult children need space, privacy, and autonomy. But if your parents still treat you like an extension of themselves—calling without regard for your schedule, making inappropriate comments, or ignoring your boundaries altogether—that's a red flag. It suggests they've never really adjusted to the reality that you're your own person now. Respecting boundaries isn't just about manners—it's about emotional recognition. If they truly saw and valued your needs, they wouldn't keep crossing lines that make you uncomfortable. Constant boundary-pushing says more about their emotional immaturity than your limits. If you were the 'sensitive one' and your sibling was the 'easy one,' that dynamic probably wasn't random. When parents don't understand a child, they often gravitate toward the one who mirrors them more closely. It creates a hierarchy of emotional comfort instead of emotional attunement according to Psychology Today. That favoritism doesn't always fade with time—it often evolves into more subtle, but still painful, forms in adulthood. Whether it's unequal attention, biased storytelling, or selective loyalty, the message is clear: some parts of you were always harder for them to love. That hurts, but it also explains why you've always felt like the outsider in your own family. You've done the hard work—therapy, reflection, boundaries—but your parents still talk to you like you're 17. They reference old habits you've outgrown or ignore the progress you've made entirely. It's like they've frozen you in time, refusing to see the adult you've become. This isn't just frustrating—it's a form of emotional invisibility. Recognition is a form of love, and when they won't acknowledge your evolution, it can feel like you're still waiting for permission to exist. You shouldn't have to prove your transformation just to be treated with respect. Bring up how something made you feel, and suddenly the room gets cold. They change the subject, shut down, or get defensive—anything but engage. As outlined in this article on Psych Central, emotional avoidance might be generational, but that doesn't make it any less damaging. When someone consistently avoids your inner world, they're not making space for the relationship to deepen. Vulnerability is a two-way street, and without it, understanding can't thrive. If they can't handle your truth, they never really knew how to hold it in the first place. Maybe they pictured a version of you that followed a predictable path—married young, stayed close to home, pursued a 'safe' career. But what happens when your life doesn't match that script? Instead of curiosity or celebration, you get confusion or quiet judgment. Their disappointment isn't really about you—it's about the loss of a fantasy they never updated. When parents can't let go of the version they imagined, they miss the beauty of who you actually are. Loving someone means letting them write their own story, not just live inside yours. You try to open up about what hurt, and they respond with, 'It wasn't that bad,' or 'You're being too sensitive.' These phrases might seem small, but they're emotionally corrosive. They teach you that your pain isn't worth taking seriously. Minimization isn't care—it's a coping mechanism for people who don't know how to handle vulnerability. When someone really understands you, they validate your hurt even when it makes them uncomfortable. Shrinking your experience isn't love—it's avoidance in disguise. They say things like, 'I know you better than anyone,' but somehow always get your needs, values, or choices completely wrong. It feels less like love and more like control wrapped in familiarity. When someone insists they 'know' you but never hear you, it's not connection—it's erasure. Being known isn't about reciting your childhood favorites—it's about meeting you where you are now. If you're constantly having to correct or explain yourself, that's not mutual understanding. It's a one-sided narrative with no room for your voice. You try to express a boundary or talk about something that hurt you, and suddenly they're the ones with wounded feelings. The focus shifts away from your experience and onto their discomfort. It's like telling your truth is treated as a personal attack. That kind of defensiveness shuts down real conversation. It makes honesty feel risky and discourages emotional intimacy. If understanding you feels like a threat, they were never trying to understand you in the first place. You show up to family events and find yourself code-switching, performing, or staying quiet to keep the peace. The person you've become doesn't quite fit in the emotional ecosystem they built. And even surrounded by people who technically 'know' you, you feel utterly unseen. When you're truly understood, there's a sense of ease—you don't have to translate yourself. If being around your parents still feels like walking on eggshells, it's a sign the emotional connection was never fully built. Sometimes the real distance isn't physical—it's emotional.
Daily Mail
11-05-2025
- Daily Mail
EXCLUSIVE I begged my bosses not to let the trans nurse who invaded our changing room take part in my intimate operation. They refused - as they didn't want to hurt HIS feelings
Karen Danson's father started to sexually abuse her when she was six. It could have been yesterday, so vivid are the memories. 'The first time, I was dragged downstairs at 1am,' says Karen, 45. He would watch porn and make me sit on his lap, but on this night, he pushed me to the floor, pulled off my nightie and made me rotate, saying he wanted to have a good look at me. 'I wanted to be a ballet dancer back then and I closed my eyes and imagined myself dancing. He didn't like that. He punched me and spat at me. I picked up my nightie and ran back to bed, and cried myself to sleep. After that it happened a minimum of three times a week for six years.' It is impossible to convey the horror of that abuse in a family newspaper, but Karen's account is detailed and devastating and led her to 'not want to be alive'. She is waiving her legal right to anonymity here to tell her story, 'because I have finally found my voice'. She recalls one attack, when she was about ten. Her father had climbed into the top bunk with her. She thinks she had passed out because of the 'pressure of his hand, which was over my face'. Another time, around two years later, she specifies that it was in the bottom bunk. 'I remember shouting 'Daddy, don't do this. This is what Mummy is for'.' Mostly, she remembers the look on her father's face both before and during the attacks, notably 'his smirk, because he enjoyed it'. Also, his sense of entitlement about entering her bedroom, and her body. 'My dad would come in and say 'are you not getting ready for bed yet?'. Even after the worst of it ended when I was about 12, after I'd kicked him hard between the legs, I'd still have to Jimmy-rig the bathroom door shut because he'd always be trying to come in when I was in here.' She stayed silent about the abuse all through her childhood, and beyond, because children do that, even when they are no longer children. 'I was ashamed. It was my dirty little secret.' Until recently, very few people knew apart from her husband and the trained counsellors who had taught the adult Karen trauma management techniques, 'to cope with the nightmares and the panic attacks'. Her children – now in their 20s – didn't have any inkling. Nor did her work colleagues at Darlington Memorial Hospital, where she has worked as a nurse for six years. Until one day, almost two years ago, when something happened in the changing room at the end of a busy shift, something that opened a Pandora's box – not just for Karen but for every NHS employee in the country, for every public body, and certainly for the Health Secretary Wes Streeting, who last October sat opposite Karen, much as I am doing today, and listened to her story. 'I didn't go into the detail I have today, but he knew I'd been abused as a child. He listened and I trusted him. But how much can you trust any politician?' she says. 'Since this is still going on.' You will have heard of the Darlington Nurses, the eight nurses who are taking legal action against their employers, County Durham and Darlington NHS Foundation Trust, because they claim they were forced to share a changing room with a male nurse who identifies as a woman, despite still outwardly presenting as a man. Twenty-six women in total signed a letter of complaint – and in return were told by their own HR department that they were transphobic and in need of 're-education'. Their union also abandoned them, openly calling them bigoted. Their case, a pivotal one in the toxic gender war, is still proceeding to tribunal, even though the Supreme Court has since clarified that, by law, a trans woman is a biological male – and does not have the right to access a women's changing room. The Darlington nurses who have been publicly identified so far have always said that they took the unprecedented legal action partly on behalf of more vulnerable colleagues who didn't feel they could speak out – including one victim of childhood abuse who had felt intimidated and terrified by the behaviour of the trans nurse, Rose Henderson, in that changing room. Karen was that terrified colleague. This is her first interview. It was her distress that set the ball rolling in this extraordinary debacle. She broke down sobbing to colleagues after being repeatedly asked by Rose (who was 'wearing boxer shorts with holes in them, which meant I could see his male anatomy') why she wasn't getting changed. They were alone in that changing room, and she – a sex abuse survivor; the sort of woman single-sex spaces were enshrined in law to protect – was paralysed by fear. There is absolutely no suggestion that Rose – who has a female partner, with whom he was trying to start a family – intended to cause her physical harm on that day, in 2023, but she insists Rose's (half-dressed) presence, and behaviour, felt menacing. She calls Rose 'he' through this interview, stressing that 'everything about Rose is male, apart from the name'. 'I know that if it had happened to another woman, she might not have reacted in the way I did, but I couldn't help my reaction. At first, when I saw Rose in there, in these boxers with holes that you could see through, I thought I was in the wrong changing room or mistaken. I was concentrating on getting something out of my locker when I heard this male voice behind me saying, 'Are you not getting changed yet?'. 'I looked over my shoulder and he was looking over his, just staring. I felt uncomfortable. I could feel the hair standing up on my arm. I just kept looking for my lip cream or whatever, but all I could think was 'there is a man in the changing room'. 'We were in a locked room – there's a PIN entry – and sort of around a corner, so no one else was near. He asked again. I was thinking, 'Why does he want to know if I'm getting changed? Does he want to provoke a reaction? Watch me get changed?'. 'Inside I was thinking, 'I am not getting changed in front of you, no', but I couldn't say anything. Then he gave this smirk, this expression, which was the same one my dad had when he was doing the abuse. He could see I was uncomfortable, and he didn't seem to care.' She claims that Rose's question about whether she was going to get changed was repeated three times. There is a sense of incredulity at her own reaction, now, in the cold light of day. This is a very strong and sensible woman, trained to be assertive when required, yet she went to pieces. 'Honestly, I panicked. I couldn't breathe. I thought I was going to pass out, that my legs were going to give way and I'd fall to the floor. 'I just wanted to cry but I couldn't cry. I felt silly. I didn't feel like an adult, a nurse who had spent all day looking after patients. I felt like a six-year-old girl again. That's how he made me feel. I was so vulnerable. I was scared. I wanted to walk away, but I couldn't. 'I tried to use this grounding technique I'd learned [to stop panic attacks], where you focus on specific sights, sounds and smells to bring you back from the darkness – but this was the present day and I didn't want to be here.' She told no one that day but at home her husband could tell she was upset. 'When I did tell him, he said I needed to say something at work but I thought I could brush it off. I didn't want to be thought of as bigoted.' She couldn't brush it off. The nightmares started. 'For 30 years, I'd had the same nightmare. Even if I was scared about something else completely, like a film, my father would be in the nightmare. But now Rose was in my nightmare. Sometimes it was Rose's body and my dad's face.' None of this was Rose's fault, of course, but the sleepless nights and panic attacks – and pounding heart when she went into the changing room – were affecting Karen's work. She confided in a colleague – her 'wellbeing' representative – at work. From there, she had a conversation with Beth Hutchison, who would emerge as the nurses' leader. Beth had heard from other nurses that they had been concerned about Rose's presence and behaviour. Another nurse believed Rose had been staring at their breasts. 'When Beth saw how upset I was about even the thought of going in the changing room, she said, 'No, this isn't right'.' Beth had a word with her superior, but when word of the nurses quiet concerns reached the HR department, they were, they claim, smacked down. The women were told it was Rose's right to be in that changing room, and they could change elsewhere ('they basically gave us a glorified cupboard,' says Karen) if it was a problem. 'Being told we needed to be 're-educated' was devastating,' says Karen. 'To make it worse they suggested that Rose should be the one re-educating us. Rose would be happy to do it, they said.' The women – all mothers, all furious – effectively declared war on their own bosses, engaging support from the legal charity Christian Concern. Some of them spoke out in the Press, but not Karen, not then. 'My children didn't know anything about the abuse. I hid behind the anonymity. Those girls had my back, and I will never be able to thank them enough.' Why go public now? 'They've made me realise I am strong enough to do it,' she says. As it stands, the tribunal is still due to be held in October – unless there is some settlement. Karen isn't holding her breath that a change in the Trust policy will be forthcoming. 'We don't know how far they will dig in, but the policy change is what we want. Also a public apology. And, yes, some compensation for what we have been through. To have had to fight for this is wrong.' The tribunal will examine the Trust's responsibilities as an employer, but there is another almost unbelievable twist to this story, which suggests the Trust also has questions to answer about its duty to Karen as a patient. She tells me that last summer, after legal papers had been served and after The Mail on Sunday had broken the story of the Darlington nurses, Karen needed an urgent hysterectomy, after years of problems with endometriosis. It was to be carried out at the Darlington Memorial – where everyone involved worked – but just a few weeks before the procedure she discovered, to her horror, that Rose was scheduled to be on duty in the operating theatre on that day, and would be part of the surgical team. 'It was a gynaecological procedure, and his role would have been down at that end, passing the consultant the tools,' she says, incredulous. She immediately pointed out the obvious (as she thought) issue here. 'I told them that because there was a legal dispute under way, involving Rose, it was a conflict of interest, and entirely inappropriate that he should be involved in my surgery, especially intimate surgery like that. 'Separately, there was the issue of my childhood abuse. I made it clear that I wanted as few men in that room as possible. I was told, 'Well, Rose is a woman so Rose has a right to be there'. 'The theatre manager also said, 'How would Rose feel if she was asked not to come to theatre?'.' Karen was dumbstruck. 'I said, 'Frankly, and sorry to be blunt, but I don't care how Rose feels'. It made no sense. Shifts are changed all the time. They didn't even have to tell Rose a reason, if they were worried about that.' Karen escalated her complaint, putting her concerns in writing. 'And I got an email back saying that they could not accommodate my request [for Rose to be replaced]. They said they would cancel the operation, and I could go elsewhere. I couldn't believe it. I needed that operation, and I'd been with my consultant for years. After everything, I felt I was being punished. I said, 'I am asking this as a patient', but they didn't care.' It was only when Karen got lawyers involved that the Trust backed down, and when the operation did go ahead, Rose was not in the room. 'But the very fact it went as far as it did shows how this gender ideology they have been clinging to trumps everything – even patient care.' Her fury, and sense of being 'utterly abandoned' is palpable. 'There's a thing we have in nursing called the 6Cs – values you live by. They are care, compassion, competence, courage, communication and commitment. The Trust have shown none. They haven't cared about my dignity, my privacy, my rights.' She gets tearful as she remembers how she told her children – her daughter is 22, her son 20 – that she was even involved in the Darlington Nurses' fight. They had watched news reports, aware their mother worked there, but knew no more. 'And then I told them, 'You know there is one nurse who suffered childhood abuse? Well, that was me'.' Her daughter was upset, 'and asked me why I hadn't told her about the abuse earlier'. Her son wasn't quite sure what to say. 'He said, 'Oh'. You could hear the emotion in his voice. Then he said, 'Mum... are you OK?'. That is not a question her employers have ever asked, she claims. 'They've known, from the off, that one of the nurses had been abused. They've never said, 'Who is it? Does she want to speak to us? Does she need help?'.' Last October, the Health Secretary did sit down with the nurses – Karen included – and she came out of that meeting with hope. 'He did listen, and he told me that he wasn't going to sit in front of me and tell me I needed to broaden my views, and we left that meeting feeling positive because he promised to do something. Then he said he was waiting for the Supreme Court ruling. Well, he's had that now, and he needs to act. It's his job to fix the NHS – well, come and fix it for the women. A hospital policy can be changed in a day. The law is with us; it's the hospital policy that is not.' What would you say to Wes Streeting now? 'I'd say, in the nicest possible way, 'Do your job'.' Last night, the Health Secretary told the MoS: 'I am determined to ensure the rights, voices and spaces of women who use the NHS – for work or as patients – are protected. I expect NHS trusts to uphold the law and follow the clarity that the Supreme Court ruling provides.' Yet it seems County Durham and Darlington NHS Foundation Trust is still pondering a way forward. 'The Trust acknowledges the recent Supreme Court judgment,' a spokesman said, 'and is taking time to carefully understand and consider its implications. At present, individual changing facilities are available and we continue to review what provision is possible within the constraints of our hospital estate.' The Trust added: 'We want all our colleagues and patients to feel safe, respected and supported at work and in our care, [so] we are very sorry when this is not the experience. We are committed to providing a safe, compassionate environment for all patients and staff.' Those words will ring hollow to Karen. A few weeks ago – almost two years since this whole shambolic mess kicked off – she got a colourful tattoo on her arm, 'representing my way out of the darkness back into the light'. Karen cannot say she is comfortable being in the spotlight now, but she is clear it is 'necessary, to show other women that they can speak out, when they have done nothing wrong'. Her father, she tells me, was never held to account for the abuse he inflicted on her. In 2002, he took his own life. Nothing to do with any guilt about what he had done to her. 'He was found with a 15-year-old girl. He knew the police were going to put him on the sex offenders register. He phoned a family member and said, 'I've done something bad. There is no coming back from it.' 'He left his belongings on the top of a cliff and he jumped. A dog walker found him the next day. I felt terrible for that woman.'
