Mirfield…..it was the place I lost me, the person I was, the person I would have become. By Boy X
I must admit I haven’t given much thought to the Comboni missionaries failure to acknowledge what happened in Mirfield. I suppose I have been totally absorbed with my own attempts to come to terms with what happened, trying to find a place in my mind where I can find some way of moving forward. I think I have done that to some extent.
I suppose I’ve been caught up with the over-riding need that I know can never be satisfied. But knowing that, won’t make the need disappear. That need being a sincere apology from my abuser. It’s said that the eyes are the mirror of the soul. I’ve dreamed about it, seeing in my dreams the sincerity in his eyes just as clearly as I saw that look of desire in his eyes when he first put his hands on me. A look I saw in the eyes of many others after leaving Mirfield. I recognised it straight away.
But those eyes are now dead, so I wonder where that leaves me. At the moment, it leaves me where I have always been, Mirfield. I have been able after a lot of thinking and prompting to offset, to some extent, the bad things, by remembering that there were some good things too in Mirfield. I especially remember now those feelings that were special. They had nothing to do with people, not Fr. Pinkman nor Ceresoli not even my friends. Those feeling were about why I was there in Mirfield. I knew why I was there. Those feelings were only short lived but it does bring some solace remembering them. It’s good to remember that I was once in a place in my life that was so different to what the rest of my life became. Of course, it then just becomes a confusion of thoughts. If things had been different I may have ended up having a very comfortable life on the other side of the fence. Maybe a life that would have been too comfortable to give up. Maybe I would have become one of those who are willing to turn their backs on the abused, One of those who give refuge to evil. What an awful place that would have been to end up in.
I suppose finding some release from the things that destroyed my life might only be temporary, I don’t know. The bad things are eternal but maybe in a strange way, looking to Mirfield to gain some release may be fitting. It was the place I lost me, the person I was, the person I would have become. That’s all I will say about that.
When it comes to the question of the Comboni missionaries failure to acknowledge what happened at Mirfield, the answers come easier. Their failures make them apologists for child abuse. Their inaction makes them complicit in what took place and that inaction is ensuring that the horrors of the past will continue and that there will always be a refuge for the perpetrators of evil. There will always be a ‘safe house’ for them.
I feel quite helpless in a way. But I suppose that is only to be expected seeing as. like I said at the beginning, I haven’t given the whole thing much thought. Maybe it’s time for me think outside myself. I’ll see where it takes me. Maybe the Comboni missionaries can apologise to me vicariously on Fr. Pinkman behalf but maybe they have enough on their plates with their own evil deeds never mind anyone else’s. But of course it’s all part of the same thing. I know I could do a lot more myself if only I could overcome the hurdle of the need to still remain anonymous. I suppose the shame and guilt still has it’s grip on me. No amount of rational thought seems to diminish that.