I figured it was time to lay my final ghost to rest, for my sake, and for the sake of my children. In the summer following the trial, I headed off for a three-week retreat to Thamkrabok Monastery Drug Treatment and Rehabilitation Centre in Thailand where I hoped to reconnect with the little girl inside me that I had lost contact with all those years ago.
I stepped off the plane in Bangkok, surprised that the 16-hour journey hadn’t been as hard as I thought. Then again when you’re pumped up on Valium and sleeping pills, everything seems okay.
The wonderful heat hit me as I stepped out of the airport, and I realised that I was in a different world. Thamkrabok Monastery sent someone to collect me, and after a two-hour drive, I arrived at 11p.m. in the centre of Thailand and into the unknown.
Two monks and a Thai female ‘patient’ who had a little English greeted me. They explained in broken English that check-in was not until 10a.m. the next morning, so they would do a temporary check-in; this meant basically all my belongings and clothes were taken from me.
I was body searched by the female patient, who was obviously trusted by the monks. I handed over the rest of my sleeping tablets, Xanax, antidepressants, morphine—every bit of medicine I had on me. I watched where the little monk put them into the desk drawer. A cotton pyjama-like outfit was given to me and I was allowed my flip-flops and that was it. I had nothing else, not even my toothbrush. The girl brought me to the dormitory for the girls; there was just one other girl there at the time, and she was also Thai. I was handed a blanket and shown where the toilet facilities were. I think I went into shock at this stage. I expected that everything would be basic, but it’s a different story when you’re reading about it at home, with the nice fuzzy feeling that Xanax gives you. Facing the stark reality was much more difficult. It was a cross between I’m a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here and Big Brother, the rough and tumble of the jungle with the security of being away from the outside world and its influences. I still had my tablets in my system and I was grateful for them at that moment, even though I knew that was the end of them once they wore off.
*
Ding a ling a ling. I woke up fast, it was like the old-fashioned burglar alarms at home: loud and intrusive. Guided by the Thai girl I got up and was handed a sweeping brush. Jesus, it was 4.30a.m. It was still dark, but I was here for a reason and that was to overcome my addiction.
I put my trust in their system, and I swept the meeting room, and the girl’s dorm. Here is where I met some fellow inmates/patients. There were about 60 Thai boys, and 20 Westerners or farangs as we were called.
I felt lucky that I was there with a decent bunch of lads, who could all speak English. The Westerners had come from all around the world—Russia, Sweden, England, Germany, Australia, America, France and even Ireland. They made me feel so welcome and were very supportive. Even though I was the only girl in the group, they treated me fantastically well.
As I chatted to the other addicts, I realised that this was the first day in years that I hadn’t taken a tablet the moment I awoke. That realisation didn’t make me feel nervous. On the contrary, I felt good that I was taking control of the last part of my life that had been out of control for so long.
*
We had a timetable we had to stick to, which was kept by that flipping bell. Our day started at 4.30a.m., and went on until 9.30p.m., at which point I was locked into my room (although I had access to a secure courtyard should I need the outside air). It involved a lot of meditation, and drinking of herbal teas. One Irish lad told me there was also a time for vomiting, but I thought he was pulling my leg. Unfortunately, I was to discover the truth sooner than I liked.
By the time ten o’clock came around on the first morning, I felt as if I had been up for an entire day. It was finally time to check in and get all my stuff back, or so I thought.
I was brought to the office, where I had a chat with Phra Hans, one of the monks, who said a lot of things that made sense to me. According to him, the physical detox is only 5% of the Thamkrabok treatment. You must do the remaining 95% of the work in your mind and through your action. He also explained about the sacred vow that I was expected to take.
It’s called Sajja, ‘the vow’. Sajja is first and foremost a commitment to a (new) life of Truth and Honesty. I was making a commitment to whichever God I chose to love and myself, never to take drugs again. He said that Sajja was a sacred act that, if I believed in it, would connect me to my willpower and with something ‘beyond’. Something that is far more powerful than the fight against the drugs, and it would be there for me in any moment I really wanted it strongly enough and when I was ready for it.
I took everything that he said on board, and said that I would be happy to take the vow.
Phra Hans said to me, ‘Drugs are not your problem Audrey, drugs are merely the voice telling you that you have a problem.’
That struck a chord. I knew he was right and I knew I was getting rid of all my problems so I was getting rid of my addictions too. No point in clearing out your head and life if you’re left with stupid dependencies that still control you.
They searched my case and didn’t even give me a pack of cards, as that was gambling in their eyes. What am I going to gamble with? I wondered. I was given my toiletries after everything was opened, smelt and tasted. I was not allowed to have my camera, but I was delighted they let me have my pens and jotters as I kept a diary every day. I was allowed to take my books too.
I was then taken to a small temple with another lad to do our Sajja. I had no idea what I was doing, but I tried hard to focus on my desire to be free of drugs. I had to light three incense sticks and put them into a bowl, while repeating the Thai words the monk uttered as we knelt on the floor.
In the middle of this sacred ceremony, I couldn’t believe it when I heard a mobile phone ringing. I was even more surprised when one of the monks answered the call. I tried not to giggle but I couldn’t help it. This place was so peaceful, yet mobiles had managed to intrude in it. After that we were taken in front of Buddha and had to repeat more Thai and light more incense. That was it. I had promised never to take drugs again.
*
To my astonishment vomiting time did take place at 4.30p.m. as predicted. The men put on sarongs, and about 15 of us knelt in front of a gully, where we were expected to vomit. The medicine man came and gave us a shot glass of the most disgusting medicine, which had over 100 different herbs. He said the ingredients were a secret. This sacred medicine was to take all the toxins out of us and free us physically of the harm we had done to ourselves.
I did not even know if I believed this stuff worked. Here I was with guys who were coming off coke, methadone, heroin, tranquillisers and alcohol. I felt as if I had signed up to la-la land. I was about to puke my ring up while a bunch of inmates who had already completed the detox sang a song to us and played instruments. The song was about how we had shamed our families and were basically shitheads for ruining our lives and other people’s lives with drugs. But now we had agreed to be good and stop.
I drank the disgusting mixture and then, as instructed, had to drink a bucket full of yellow-coloured warm water. I couldn’t drink all the water but I drank enough to make me join the others as they vomited into the gully. I had to keep drinking the yellow water, and keep getting sick till it ran clear. What had I let myself in for?
The following day had the same routine except now I knew how horrible the puking ritual was going to be. So the whole day I could not eat, I was so nervous.
This time after vomiting I was immediately flung into withdrawals. This was the idea, apparently; it brings on your withdrawal really fast and gets it all out of your system.
I can tell you it really works. The medicine detoxes your system allowing your body to get rid of any chemicals, which means you recover quicker. Traumatic as it was, it was the best investment I ever made for myself.
At the time, though, I didn’t feel close to recovery. My head was exploding, ever
y bone in my body was sore and muscles were aching. That night I tried to get out of my room but, forgetting there was a courtyard out the back, thought I was entirely locked in. I started to freak out and banged on the door.
‘Just get me to the office so I can get my morphine for the pain.’
I didn’t care what they would do to me, Sajja or no Sajja, I wanted drugs to stop the agony.
The amazing thing was that people came to help. I thought I would be abandoned to work through it on my own, but an English nun got the medicine man to see me.
They spoke together quietly, and then for the first time ever, a girl was allowed sleep in the room attached to the guys’ dorm. I was watched by the English nun, who in turn was watched by a monk who then was watched by another monk. To finish this chain, he was supervised by a patient. It was all very above board.
It would have been funny except for the fact I was in such pain. I hadn’t been on heroin or methadone so I couldn’t understand why I was in so much pain. But it was explained to me that tranquillisers were one of the hardest drugs to detox from, and had the same chemical withdrawals as heroin and methadone. I only took drugs to feel normal—not to get high—this was not fair. The pain went on for hours and I vomited into the night.
Normally monks are not allowed touch women, they cannot even hold their hands, but the medicine man can make exceptions. He spent hours massaging my head and neck while I was screaming for my morphine. He kept giving me disgusting herbal drinks, while his assistant did reflexology on my feet.
After a final bout of vomiting, I turned to thank him. The kindness, time, effort and energy he put into me was completely unselfish and it was something he did not have to do. I will never forget his words to me.
‘Audrey, you are a very good person, that is why I am helping you through your pain. If I did not feel good energy from you, I would not help you.’
I believed him. He was so respected and I felt great he thought so highly of me. These people lived on a higher spiritual level than anyone I knew, and I figured he was getting good vibes from me. I was really flattered.
The next day it was the medicine man who gave the hour of vomiting. I learnt he had been a major drug lord, who had been a big drug dealer in his day, over 20 years ago. But he changed and studied herbs instead and turned his life around. He still had all the tribal gang tattoos, as well as the coolest strut you ever saw in a monk. I will never forget him. He taught me how to deal with my migraines and made me feel like a good human being.
During the next seven days I cried and truly hated the place, but I knew it was doing me good. After the seventh day I was allowed to make a phone call to my children. This was so emotional for me as I missed them desperately. I was doing this detox as much for them as I was for me, though, and I knew it was important for us all for me to be free of all drugs—prescribed and unprescribed.
I made many friends and stuck the routine for another week, but this time I was doing the singing and dancing and watching and helping others go through detox. I had not had a cigarette since I got on the plane in Dublin. Although you were allowed smoke in the compound, I chose to use this opportunity to give up for my children.
I checked out of Thamkrabok Monastery on my own after two weeks, having completed the detox. I spent a few days in a hotel four kilometres away from the monastery. It felt brilliant to have a soft bed, decent food and freedom.
Then I joined my new friends from the compound and we all spent a lovely few days in Bangkok. We were all clean and supporting each other. I knew though that I was going to be successful because I had already done a lot of work on myself before I came off drugs. I was also determined to continue counselling with the Rian group for another two years at least.
It was great to experience Thailand. I loved the tuk tuk taxis and the shopping; the cost of everything was so cheap. It is definitely a country of smiles and love. I want to go back with my children some day.
I arrived home tired—and I have to admit—scared. I was three weeks off drugs and had to face the world at home through different eyes. I did not leave the house for a few days. When I encountered my first bit of hassle since coming home, I said how can I deal with this without my tablets?
*
But I did. Yes, I am feeling pain stronger than I did when I was taking tablets, but I am learning to live in the present, as I was taught in the monastery.
Feel the pain, accept it and let it go. I am doing that. I am also feeling joy, though; much stronger than I ever felt. Love is more whole and I feel I am worth even more than I did after the court case. I always loved my children, now I am really enjoying them.
I know that life will continue to throw problems at me, but I’ve been dealing with my day to day problems without giving in to medication.
I feel complete and whole and I am even feeling the beginning of love; a wholesome type of love. I finally feel that I can love myself; that I am someone worth loving. I continue to meditate and my migraines are controllable and much less often.
I have much to thank the monks in Thamkrabok for. I need to thank them for their understanding, care and for showing me how to live again. I know the hard work starts at home and the rest is up to me. But I have learned and gained a lot from being there, even though it was hard.
The one, most wonderful thing that I got from Thamkrabok was the ability to fall asleep naturally. After seven days of doing everything they told me, with my arms numb and pumping, finally the physical pain stopped.
It was a magical feeling being able to fall asleep on my own. It was not that I just slept once; I slept every night and have slept ever since. Not only did I sleep but I woke up at proper times without feeling groggy. Having suffered years of tormented insomnia, this is unbelievable.
I had brought my daughter’s pillow from home, so I would feel close to the children, and I lay on the hard mattress and fell asleep. Night after night I slept for the first time in my life without any tossing and turning.
I had no head wrecking thoughts and no stiff tense muscles. On nights where I lay down and didn’t feel like sleeping because I was missing my children, I meditated. My body relaxed and I slept. I think it was the one gift no one has ever been able to give me. Before this, tablets were the only thing that ever worked and they left me feeling drowsy the next day.
In the evenings, I now have a natural and wonderful sleepy exhaustion. I have never ever had this and I treasure it.
*
In the past months since the court case I have become a more secure and confident person. It is not for everyone to go public in cases of abuse, but I felt that I could handle it and that the pros would outweigh the cons. I have finally let go and I no longer bear any grudges or ill feelings.
I always said that if I could save just one child or help one hurt adult then the court case would have been worth it. I now have records of countless people who have benefited from my going public.
It is so important to report a crime against children if you know of one. It has a knock-on effect, and often gives others the courage to do the same. By hiding the crime you are covering up for the paedophile. One paedophile can abuse hundreds of children in his lifetime, so by putting one away we are saving hundreds of children.
If everyone took the same attitude, we could save thousands of children. I want a child to have the confidence to walk into their home and report abuse the same way as they would if their computer game or mobile phone was stolen. Ask yourself which crime is worse, yet which is reported more often? A phone can be replaced.
In the weeks and months since the case, I have received letters from different people: from both close and distant friends wishing to express their admiration, and from victims I have never met, thanking me for making them feel like they are actually worth something after all. So many wonderful people, from all different age groups, thanking me for giving them hope.
This has reinforced the notion that I was right to confront my deepest fears, and
I was right to confront my Da. I can rest easy at night knowing that he is no longer a danger to any child, and people will no longer leave him in a position of trust.
As I pen the last few lines of my story, I am feeling positive and living in the present. These days, the present is a nice place to be.
I chose to write this book to give confidence to others, to educate, and to fill a gap of understanding. To thank the gardaí, especially Peter Cooney, and to give back to the Rian group for what they have done for me.
Children are beautiful and innocent. We need to stand up for them and take responsibility for them. We set the standards for them, so we should aim high.
I think all schools should have a counsellor to deal with children’s problems, no matter how small they appear to the adult. They are the only ones who can tell us what is going on in their lives.
The more we can talk about things openly, the more they will have the trust in us to confide. We laugh about toilet habits in our house. It’s a great way of allowing kids to talk freely about their private parts. I trust my children are educated enough to tell me anything. I also feel confident that they know what behaviour is acceptable and what is not. But I know they are still only children and can be overpowered.
I have grown and become a more secure and independent person. I hold no grudges or ill feelings; I have at last let go. I still deal with the phobias and that will take a bit of time, but we all have burdens. I have total faith in Life to guide me in everything I do.
Epilogue
I am nearly three years down the road now and I have discovered that alcohol is also a drug, just a legal one. I did not take a Sajja against alcohol, but common sense told me addiction is addiction and any mind-altering substances do the same amount of harm. Thankfully I have never taken a drug since the monastery. I do, however, admit to smoking for two weeks during a stressful situation but I immediately got my head around it and gave them up again.
All My Fault: The True Story of a Sadistic Father and a Little Girl Left Destroyed Page 15