Survivors helping others to cope

Cornwall Standard Freeholder

23 August 2008

Posted By TREVOR PRITCHARD

It was in 2001 that "Cynthia" decided it was time to lock herself in the basement of her home.

For the next three years, Cynthia - who was sexually abused as a child - lived downstairs while her husband and son lived upstairs, shut off from the outside world.

Today, the 55-year-old Cornwall woman (Cynthia is not her real name) hasn't just conquered her agoraphobia. She's one of 10 "mentors" trained since September 2007 by The Gatehouse, a Toronto-based child abuse support agency, to help other abuse victims escape their self-imposed exile.

"It's like, I've been there. I was a shut-in," says Cynthia. " And I don't think anybody should be a shut-in."

While physical isolation is one of the most "extreme" responses to being sexually abused, far more common is the feeling of being isolated emotionally, says Angela Gallant, The Gatehouse's program manager.

"We know that one of the primary scars of childhood abuse is isolation. The whole discussion of sexual abuse, in and of itself, isn't mainstream," says Gallant. "We don't talk about healthy sexuality -let alone sexual abuse -out loud."

The mentorship initiative is one of a number of programs funded by Phase 2 of the Cornwall Public Inquiry, which has a mandate to promote reconciliation and healing in the city and surrounding area.

In addition to the 10 current mentors, five more -all men -will be trained this fall.

Abuse victims will often ask to be paired with either a man or a woman, says Gallant, and right now only one man has gone through the necessary training.

Gallant hopes that once the inquiry wraps up, the mentorship program will become "Cornwall-made and Cornwall owned," with mentors training others to do their jobs.

"I have the absolute honour of watching people's lives transformed right in front of their eyes," she says. "It's like a light being turned on."

Cynthia was introduced to her "mentee," a Cornwall man, late last year.

At first, they would spend a few hours a week together, going to Tim Hortons for coffee, chatting about hockey.

Over time, she says, he began to feel comfortable enough to talk about his abuse.

"It's horrific, some of the stuff he's been through," says Cynthia. "He's telling me stuff he hasn't told his psychiatrist yet. Because he knows I've been there."