Lorri's Story

I was so glad to be a part of this book and have the chance to send out the message, you can heal anything and everything. Healing and being whole comes naturally to all of us.


Just the way he was walking i could tell if it was the monster or my Daddy
Lorri's Story - Its about the whole of society

It’s about the whole of society

Illustrations by: Polina Outkina

I remember lying in bed when I was quite little and hearing my father’s footsteps coming down the passageway, and just the way he was walking I could tell if it was the monster or my Daddy. I knew the difference between the sickness and my father and between the behaviour and human being. You just knew which of those personalities were there and whether he intended to do you any harm from the way he was walking.

I lost that understanding as I got older but I got it back through counselling as I put myself back together again. In the middle I hated my father and I also hated my mother because I felt she sacrificed us children to her own fear.

But I hated society most. I hated all the neighbours and the teachers who did nothing. I used to fantasize about having a machine gun and mowing people down. When that started happening in America, my colleagues in the field of family violence would say “how can somebody do that?” And I’d say “how could you not understand it?”

I had an aunt who was only two years older than me. When we were adults I told her how much I hated the world because nobody had helped, and she said that at least twice people had contacted the child welfare. It felt so good to know that people had done something. But when my brother ran away at 13 and went to the police station, he begged them not to take him home. They were so concerned that they took him to a doctor, but they did bring him home. They told my parents not to hit him, but of course they did – and of course the police knew they would.

My grandmother, my mother’s mother, was my lifeline. She got me out of the house as often as she could, and I’d go for holidays with her and my aunt, who was just slightly older than me. My grandmother said it broke her heart to see me running round trying to do everything I could to help my mother with the children. I was the eldest and there were two more children before I was three. I wanted to help my mother because I thought that she could get us out of there.

My mother had married an alcoholic and a gambler, a man who was already lost and terrified and therefore violent. (I believe that what people think of as anger is fear. When people take on the role of abuser, they are already lost in the injustice of the life they have led. And of course they are drawn to other people like that. So he and my mother, whose father was also an alcoholic, were drawn to each other.)

My father had had a horrific childhood. His mother was an alcoholic and was married a number of times and had other lovers. My father was brought up between these different men and orphanages and his grandmother. He was a lost, angry young man, and then he lied about his age and went to World War II. He was a genius with figures but because he was a gambler he wasted all his money. My mother used to walk for miles and clean other people’s houses and take in ironing.