The Process Of Healing

IN BRUTAL LEGACY (JACANA), WELL-KNOWN TV AND RADIO PERSONALITY TRACY GOING, 50, WRITES ABOUT SURVIVING A VIOLENT AND ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP, THE LENGTHY – AND PUBLIC – TRIAL SHE ENDURED, AND HER ROAD TO RECOVERY. THE FOLLOWING IS AN EXTRACT FROM HER MEMOIR

“Mommy, I drew you a picture,” he yells.

And in that moment, as his words soar across the schoolyard, suddenly nothing else matters. Seeing his grey socks around his ankles and his black shoes chafing at the ground as he rushes towards me are enough to hold back the past. As he picks up speed I watch his shirt escaping the confines of too-long shorts flapping around knobbly knees. I wanted to shout, “Jelly Tots.” Those are his words always: “Mommy, I love you lots and lots like Jelly Tots.”

As I stand excitedly behind the high wire fence waiting for him to break through the open gate, it is as though my heart is a melted, glistening mass of bright gelatine. It is squidgy and hot and sticky. His smile is big and broad and toothless, his two front teeth newly missing. His eyes are crinkled closed and disappear into a face, scrunched and smiling, beneath a head of light, blond hair bleached even whiter in theshining, midday sun.

It is beautiful to see my child lost in such glee, such happiness.

He seems to have settled into Grade 1 nicely and appears to be coping well with the fact that his father is now living overseas – although he still has those inevitable moments when he is withdrawn and quiet and prefers to be alone, or otherwise insists on having me close by and within his sight. But, as the child psychologist assures me, it is acceptable behaviour given the trauma he’s had to endure.

For now, as I watch him through the diamond shapes of the fence, he is a blithe six-year-old accelerating towards his mother after an exhausting morning at big school. His small, pudgy hand is clasping a huge sheet of paper. It is almost as big as him and is billowing and crackling like a large, white sail as he approaches me.

“Look, Mom, it’s you!” he calls, pleased. “Oh, that’s wonderful,” I squeal.