Why Shelley, and fellow survivors of childhood trauma are the missing voice in children’s services; and why it is crucial that we put them centre stage

I first met Shelley when she was on stage in Toronto performing her one woman show “Hold Mommy’s Cigarette”. That is significant because you don’t often meet someone when they are on stage – quite the opposite – you meet a persona.

With Shelley it was the real deal. The raw, unfiltered version of herself as she tells the story of her traumatic childhood filled with abuse and loss; and her subsequent suicide attempt and re-traumatising experiences in the ‘care’ of mental health services.

It’s a familiar tale and yet I have never seen anything quite like it. It left me shaking and unable to speak. I laughed and cried in equal measures; and I felt as though I had been run over by a truck by the end. It taught me more about how it felt to be a child in that environment than years of training and clinical experience as a psychologist in children’s services. It made me feel sick with anxiety and overwhelmed with hope. I knew in that moment that she could change how we think about mental health; and she could change how we think about childhood all at the same time.

I reached out to Shelley immediately – thanking her for telling her story and providing me with the tiniest insight into her life. It had felt such a privilege. She generously reached out to me in return. Of course, as I got to know her better I learnt what I already knew. It was a sanitised version made just a bit more palatable for an audience who mainly want to be entertained. It was eloquent and filled with humour; alongside the occasional punch in the stomach.

Shelley had spared us the minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day, week by week, month by month, year by year detail. We knew that her father had died by suicide; that she lived in fear of her step father’s abuse; and that her mother struggled with her own trauma, dying of cancer as a young woman. She didn’t quite say that by the age of 7 she had already been hospitalized 5 times for abuse, malnutrition, stomach pumping from ingesting poison, a broken nose and…..the list goes on.

What Shelley did manage with extraordinary skill was to get people’s attention. Many hundreds have seen her play and I have only heard overwhelmingly positive comments about how incredible the experience is. I have seen it four times now – it would have been more had I not moved back to the UK. It puts people in touch with their own experiences of childhood; and helps them to open up about it and make sense of their own stories. It has, quite literally, saved lives.

Additionally though, it gives children a voice. It hits people between the eyes with why we have to tackle inter-generational trauma if we are to come anywhere close to making a difference to the mental health of future generations.

However, it also highlights just how complex this endeavour is. As a 7-year-old on stage Shelley knows something is not right but she does not know what. As a teenager on stage Shelley is terrorised one moment, and singing into her hairbrush the next. She adores the mother who lets her down the most; and craves attention from the grandmother who sees her as another mouth to feed.

Shelley captures this complexity with extraordinary sophistication. Of course she does. She lived through it. She, quite literally, survived it. She told me she wrote the play in just a couple of hours. She effectively vomited it out.

It is this complexity that has to be brought to the foreground in children’s services if we are to develop truly child centred approaches. Children’s rights, child centred practice, young people’s advocacy and parliaments that give children a voice go a long way, but they will only go so far. Especially for the most traumatised children in our society. How can a child advocate on their own behalf when their biggest priority is getting a smile out of their father; or at least not risking getting a slap from him?

Shelley, and other survivors of trauma, are best placed to help us work out what would have helped most, and what we should be doing more of now. In her play she talks about a teacher’s kind words and a doctor who spotted something unique in her ability to make observations. “Have you ever thought of performing?” was a question that led to a small ad in the newspaper for an improvisation class, that led to – well so much. But most of all these small acts of kindness, and acts of noticing, led to hope for a different life.

These connections were ‘accidental’ rather than designed into the system that is there to help, and happened in spite of rather than because of the ‘care’ she received. I am sure that Shelley could suggest so much more of what we could do better. But, and this is the important but, don’t expect her to turn up to a meeting on a certain day at an allotted hour some time in the future. Don’t expect her to feel at ease in a hospital setting or social care office that that might set her back months. Instead, ask her when and how she wants to share her ideas; and then ask her again when even that proves too much.

Shelley has been invited many times to perform her play – from school mental health campaigns to professional organisations. Often she can, and she pulls it off to standing ovations night after night. Often she can’t, and cancels last minute, ‘letting down’ audiences and theatres and sponsors – and anyone else who doesn’t understand trauma and how it grips hold of you when you least want it to.

This is one reason why the trauma voice is lost in the neat world of service delivery. And this is precisely why we need to try harder to create services that really understand that this is the reality of living with trauma. It is not neat, it cannot be packaged into a care bundle, it does not respond to appointment diaries. It can lay dormant for months and even years, and then take a stranglehold when you least expect it too. No wonder traditional service delivery models find it easier to label it as ‘failure to engage’.

Shelley. This is for you to read on your darkest days. When you believe you are worthless and have contributed nothing. When you are convinced that you have failed and have let everyone down. You may just have unlocked the key to why services need to completely rethink how they ‘deliver’ care. And you may just have helped that teacher or doctor or social worker realise why just one word from them can transform someone’s life. You have certainly helped this psychologist.

11 thoughts on “Why Shelley, and fellow survivors of childhood trauma are the missing voice in children’s services; and why it is crucial that we put them centre stage

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  1. Thank you for writing and sharing your thoughts and experiences on children and families mental health. I have worked as a humanistic counsellor in this field for 20 years and finally have a headteacher who sees the benefit of me working with the parents rather than only offering individual therapy to children in schools.
    DDP training has helped my confidence to advocate for this way of supporting childrens’ needs- and parents too. When we take the time to really see and listen to what is happening- it’s not rocket science but budget holders and politicians (and many parents) don’t like the uncomfortable truth, despite the evidence from such great studies like ACE. (Ps I love Brofenbrenner’s work. Thanks for the reminder!). Keep writing and advocating- you do it well. 😊

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you! That is so good to know and interesting that have had to struggle to advocate this within schools. Such a culture shift is required and therapists need to speak out – although not everyone sees it this way. I see ACEs as the platform – although there are huge risks of generalisation there too.


  2. The abuser steals the bodies voice. My own 50 year journey of being voiceless can relate to Shelly not being able at times keep appointments etc.

    The childhood experience of trauma can trigger from a smell, an image, a voice tone, time of day. In fact living for a survivor is 24/7 trigger managment.

    Its so important the voice of children is central. It represents for me the antidote to an epidemic of generational abuse.

    “If the still small voice of conscience falls silent in the public square, we become a culture without a compass”
    Is my favourite saying.

    Shelly for me is a leader guiding us home by observing her internal true north.


  3. I have seen Shelley’s show five times and every time it was amazing. I consider her to be a friend and speak with her frequently. I am furious at the life she was forced to endure and at the ‘care’ she has barely received. Your article sums it perfectly and I thank you from the bottom.of my heart for sharing Shelley’s voice!!

    EVERY care provider in mental health should see her play! Every teaching hospital and education institution should see it and it should be made part of the curriculum! We can always remain hopeful!


  4. I continue to share my story and as I read your words; I’m weepy in a wonderful way. Someone saw ME! heard ME! and that ME feels alive in this very moment


  5. Thank you for sharing Shelley’s message. I’m in Nova Scotia too and am always interested in connecting with fellow ACEs survivors here. We are an army. We just don’t know it yet. That’s what my work is about. Gathering us all together so we can consolidate our power to facilitate real change.
    1st voice matters. Yes, we need the officially trained perspectives – psychology, social work, psychiatry, medicine, law, education – but survivor perspectives definitely need to be equally included, listened to and centred, not just assumed or tokenized. And survivors need to be paid for their contributions.
    Good for you Shelley for expressing your pain creatively. You are most certainly not alone.
    Not in Nova Scotia, not within humanity. We are actually the majority. Kudos to you for facing the truth and working to make it meaningful. You are no doubt making a difference. Thank you both for sharing.


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