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"I can state without any doubt, that the fond memories that I held on to for fort"
A review of Midfield Young Peoples Centre by Wil Shellito - Sunday 30th of March 2008
They say, 'What's learned in childhood remains with us forever.' And I can vouch for that. I was three months old when I entered Midfield House, Lasswade. It was 1947, and I was the only brown-skinned boy there. I was treated well and had a happy existence – plenty of trees to climb, fields to roam, summer holidays to Gullane, invites to the homes of school pals, etc. As far as I knew I was an orphan. That was until the day seven years later when the authorities allowed my biological parents to reclaim me. Unfortunately for me, a ‘home circumstance report’ hadn’t been performed and I was allowed to enter a dysfunctional parental environment where physical, emotional and sexual abuse was the order of the day. You name it, and I had it done to me.
Like most victims of victims of childhood abuse, I carried the blame for what occurred – after all, parents are always right! Aren’t they? Suffice to say, I grew up with a distorted view of myself – worthless and self-loathing, etc. I trusted no one - not even myself. Over the years the impact of my abuse began to take its toll on me, and relationships and I ended up in prison, an alcoholic, and in the gutter.
One day after seeking refuge at an AA meeting, I was pulled up with a jolt when a man began talking about the sexual abuse he’d experienced as a child, and how it had driven him to drink. I was aghast. I’d come from a ‘warrior culture’ where real men drank hard, and fought for their place in the queue. Men, I thought, were supposed to be strong and capable, and not apparently weak like this wimp sharing the secrets of his life.
However, I wasn’t to know that from hearing the unspeakable being spoken that night, a seed of hope had been sown within me that would give me the strength to explore the circumstances of my abuse, and reshape my life.
Okay, I can hear you saying, what Midfield House Children’s Home has got to do with it all. Well, while on the road to recovery there were many times when I needed something to hold on to; I’d already lost faith in God, and needed something to reassure me that the sun would shine again. And it was to those fond memories that I always returned; to those happier years of my life when I was treated with such respect at Midfield House, Lasswade.
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