Navigating Childhood Trust and Trauma: A Reflection
Written on
Chapter 1: Childhood Safety and Confusion
Reflecting on my early years, I find myself questioning why I was so easily trusting and accepting of various situations. Growing up in the Eighties, we were inundated with safety talks, warnings against getting into cars with strangers—even if they promised a trip to see cute puppies. We were told not to play near train tracks and to be extra cautious while crossing the street. The messages were ever-present, yet when lost or scared, the advice was to seek out a responsible adult. Always be polite. Always be a good girl.
In hindsight, these mixed signals are striking.
I recall a trip to Spain when I was just five, accompanied by my aunt instead of my father, who was busy with work. The hotel offered a 'babysitting' service, where staff from the children's club would check in on the kids every few hours. It’s hard to imagine such a thing today—leaving the hotel room door unlocked while the kids sleep inside? Unthinkable!
One night, I woke up in our shared hotel room. It was late, but not the middle of the night. I glanced at the cot where my sister was sleeping, searched for my mom, and when I didn’t find her, I stepped out onto the balcony. I could hear the sounds of laughter and music from the bar below, but my mother was nowhere to be seen. Fear washed over me; I felt utterly alone.
As my baby sister began to stir, I felt helpless. I waited on the balcony until she settled down again. Noticing the door was ajar, I cautiously opened it and stepped into the hotel corridor, confused. Dressed in a pink nightie my grandmother had sewn for me, I stood barefoot, vulnerable in the dimly lit hallway.
After a few moments, a man and a boy approached the lift. The older man asked where my mother was. I cried and told him I didn’t know, and he suggested we go down to the bar together. I felt a brief sense of relief—an adult was here to help.
But as we entered the lift, everything changed. The man asked if I was wearing underwear. Confused and slightly guilty, I laughed along with him. It was then that h