MY WELL ROUNDED
EDUCATION
Reader Discretion Advised:
This blog contains explicit and personal descriptions of my experiences with sexual abuse. The details shared are intended to provide insight and support to others who may have faced similar challenges. However, they may be distressing or triggering for some readers.
A Personal Blog
I didn’t set out to write publicly about abuse, institutions, or the Anglican Church.
Like most people who survive these systems, my first instinct was silence. Silence feels safer.
Silence keeps the machinery humming without drawing its attention back to you.
But silence also turns out to be very useful to institutions.
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I am writing publicly because what happened to me did not occur in isolation, and it did not occur accidentally.
It happened within a well resourced, highly structured, values based institution that knew how to manage reputation, risk and liability far better than it knew how to protect children.
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For years, my experience existed only in private rooms. Therapy rooms. Legal offices. Email threads marked “without prejudice”.
Carefully worded statements that were acknowledged, filed and quietly absorbed into a system designed to endure. Progress was promised. Lessons were said to be learned. And yet, the patterns remained stubbornly familiar.
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I am writing publicly because the gap between what institutions say and what they do is rarely visible unless someone stands in it and refuses to move.
This is not about vengeance, and it is not about spectacle. It is about accountability. It is about tracing how abuse is enabled not just by individuals, but by governance structures, legal strategies, financial arrangements and cultures of silence that prioritise institutional preservation over human harm.
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I am also writing publicly because survivors are routinely asked to carry the emotional, psychological and reputational cost of speaking, while institutions continue to enjoy anonymity, buffers and balance sheets.
That imbalance deserves scrutiny.
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If transparency is a virtue, it should not require survivors to shout to be heard.
What follows is not a theological argument, nor a legal submission, nor a plea for sympathy.
It is an examination. Of processes. Of decisions. Of contradictions.
Of what happens when faith language collides with corporate behaviour, and glossy brochures quietly diverge from lived reality.
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I am writing this publicly because private suffering has already done enough work.
This writing reflects my personal experience, observations and analysis, drawn from my own life, publicly available records and documented processes.
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It is not intended as legal advice, medical advice, nor as a definitive account of every perspective involved. It is one account. Mine. Informed, considered and grounded in lived experience.
Where institutions, organisations or professional roles are referenced, they are discussed in the context of systems, governance structures, documented practices and publicly accessible information. Critique is directed at institutional behaviour and process, not at survivors of abuse or those harmed by these systems.
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This work does not seek to sensationalise harm, litigate in public, or invite speculation. It exists to examine how abuse is enabled, managed and often quietly absorbed by institutions that publicly profess care, morality and accountability.
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Any resemblance between institutional statements of values and genuine accountability is examined, not assumed.
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If reading this material causes discomfort, that discomfort may be worth sitting with. Silence has historically been far more comfortable for institutions than for those harmed within them.
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Readers are encouraged to engage thoughtfully, critically and humanely. Survivors owe no one politeness, gratitude or restraint in the telling of their own story.
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