Mourning losses- Mandy’s experience of child criminal exploitation

When my son was in the midst of exploitation, entrenched in it, I felt as if I knew what I had to do and who I was. I was a woman who faced down dangerous men on my doorstep. I was a woman who kept moving, no matter the things thrown at us.

I was a mother who realised that the only thing I could offer my son was my unrelenting and consistent love.

I told him I believed in him, that I didn’t agree with what he was involved in, but that I loved him and would always have his back. I was so focused on getting him away from the offenders that I never thought about what would happen next.

What happened next was that my son thought he was going to prison. He started going to the gym because he was so tiny and terrified and wanted to look strong.

He didn’t go to jail. He found his way out. What happened next was that he lay in bed for 6 months, didn’t wash, became depressed, smoked weed and trashed his room when all of the anger and frustration just spilled out. He had knock after knock, set back after set back. I didn’t know who I was or what I had to do now that he was ‘free.’ It didn’t feel like freedom, it felt like my son was going to drown and I was paddling beside him, trying to keep his face out of the water. It was terrifying and exhausting. It’s absolutely heart-breaking.

With every knock back I was terrified that he’d go back, because for a long time it felt as if there was no new life for him. I’d watch his friends from before moving on with their lives- going to college, getting girlfriends, learning to drive and my son was just stuck. I felt such loss, a deep mourning for him and for me. I’d become estranged from friends and family members through my experience because they were judgemental rather than supportive and I’d so desperately needed support.

I’d been scared the whole time. When you’re in the midst of it, you don’t focus on the fear or the losses- the loss of the life you’d hoped your child and you would have. I try and stay positive and I’ve been involved in providing support to others going through this. I’ve tried to stay active and yet there’s a need to mourn, but I don’t want to get lost in it.

The friends I have now, are other parents who share my experiences of child exploitation. We laugh about the darkest of things. If anyone overheard us, I’m sure they’d lock us away. This is how I’ve changed- I laugh when I can in order to survive.

My son is doing better. He’s gone out there in the world, tried to make a life for himself, he’s had to face people and the community who know about his involvement in exploitation, but don’t necessarily understand it. He carries the effects with him. He can’t stand disrespect or injustice and gets easily triggered. He’s been so strong, but he’s fragile and I’m always worried that he will break.

It’s an adjustment to trust again. Trusting in life is something you take for granted until it’s broken. I mourn the woman I was before my child was targeted and I’m trying to find a way to trust again, to let go of this constant hum of anxiety, my spider sense that is always in the background waiting. I’m wondering when the day will come that I can breathe out and feel every part of my body relax.