Police praise it, survivors love it, volunteers flock to it – but the Gatehouse is struggling to stay alive.

"By April 1 we have to make a decision about whether we will be forced to shut down, " says executive director Janet Handy. The Gatehouse is a Toronto support centre that provides a safe and comfortable setting for criminal investigations of child abuse. and offers care and understanding for children who have experienced abuse.

Karen Dobbie was among the people at a rally in support of the facility at Humber College's Lakeshore campus last Wednesday. A volunteer Gatehouse mentor, she described the transformative role the facility plays in the lives of children who've been abused, and adult survivors in desperate need of connection.

"There are huge health implications in all this," she said.

Dobbie, who works at RBC Dominion Securities, also leads a women's support group at the Gatehouse. "In adult survivors, I see the child who didn't have the safety and respect and nurturing that everyone deserves," she said.

With dozens of programs, the Gatehouse gives children this essential support. Its door is open 24/7 to the police and children's aid societies, which use its facilities and Investigation Support Program without charge. The program helps these professionals carry out child abuse investigations, taping victims' statements in a child-friendly room.

Last year, counsellor Sabrina Ramlackan worked with 164 children and 200 parents involved in abuse investigations. She provides counselling and referrals to family members as well as 100 adult survivors, annually. The Gatehouse receives an average of 22 new calls each month from adults wanting to deal with childhood abuse.

Typically, adults enrol in a 15-week group program. There are two groups for men, one for women, running concurrently with no more than 10 people per group. Participants can also choose to be matched with a mentor for a year.

Angela Gallant, the volunteer co-ordinator, trained 30 volunteers (in 10-week sessions) to become mentors last year; a third went on to further education to take on the role of facilitator for support groups. Over the Gatehouse's nine-year history, 300 volunteers have become mentors.

For the group sessions Gallant developed a curriculum that aims to help survivors regain a sense of personal control.

"When you're abused, you lose all control, and you develop coping mechanisms that you might not understand," she says. "We help people uncover their own history of resilience."

In addition to its 24-hour accessibility, the Gatehouse is open weekdays during regular business hours; group meetings are held on Wednesday nights and training sessions take place Thursday nights and/or on weekends.

All this happens on a budget of $450,000, which covers taxes, utilities, office supplies and salaries for five people, assisted by more than 120 active volunteers, with the demand for programs exploding.

So what's the problem?

"The only ongoing source of funds is $20,000 a year from the City of Toronto, and we have to apply every year for that," says Handy, the executive director.

"We have received generous financial support on a one-time basis from corporations, individuals, banks, small businesses and project-specific government agencies, but ... it's really hard when you're a grassroots organization."

Despite continuing fundraising activities, including an annual dinner, Handy is facing the very real prospect that the Gatehouse's purple front door will close for good.

"We're building a healthy emotional community here," she says. "This is a place that means so much to so many people ... It will be such a loss."

The Gatehouse is no stranger to hard times.

In 1997, the long-abandoned, century-old gatehouse on the grounds of the old Lakeshore Psychiatric Hospital was rescued by Art Lockhart and his inspiring vision. Lockhart, the co-ordinator of Humber's Centre for Justice Studies, was sexually abused as a child and never forgot the sense of disconnection and anger that gripped him for years.

With the help of hundreds of volunteers and corporations, the building was completely renovated and carefully restored. The Gatehouse opened in June 1998, its staircase lined with teddy bears, and cookies baking in the kitchen.

The first year, 53 child abuse investigations took place there, with police experts concealed behind glass to tape children's statements. The number of cases hit a high of 280 four years ago, while last year, there were 134 investigations.

If children are sent to the hospital or report the abuse at school, they usually don't come to the Gatehouse. But "the quality of the interview the police get from the child is much higher here," Handy says, because of the warmth of the surroundings and the support the child receives.

"It's hard enough to tell the story," she adds. "It's important to reduce re-traumatization."

Joe, who is in his 40s (and asked that his last name not be used), attended last year's fundraising dinner and immediately decided to become a mentor. He had been abused as a child and, as a teenager, attempted suicide. When his marriage broke up in 2001, "everything came crashing down. It was a blessing in disguise," he says

Joe received therapy through the York Region Abuse Program, but couldn't find a way "to give back," he says, until he found the Gatehouse and took mentor training.

"I used to hate myself. I couldn't stand to look at myself in the mirror. Now, I want to help others, I want them to know there is a light at the end of the tunnel.

"I'm no longer ashamed."