Back Cover Synopsis
“Carrie Bailee fled Canada and came to Australia when she was twenty… Carrie stood before the Refugee Review Tribunal and revealed the dark underbelly of child sexual abuse and organized crime rings in our privileged, first-world neighborhoods. This is the story of one young woman’s heroic journey to survive, escape and soar above her shocking childhood experiences, and her powerful struggle for freedom and a beautiful life in Australia.”
My birth mother sat in the waiting room of the abortion clinic. She was seventeen years old. Looking around the room, she no doubt connected with many of the young women who had come in for similar reasons. The only support she had from my birth father was the money to pay for the termination. Her parents were ashamed and feared for her future.
The nurse called her name, but she didn’t hear. They called her a second time. She heard but didn’t respond. When they called her name a third and final time, she rose from her seat and ran out the door.
For this, I am grateful. Months later I was given up for adoption.
When I trace back in time and track my life up until this point, the ‘coincidental’ moments I’ve experienced and the number of times the universe has divinely intervened, guiding me toward an experience or a certain person who could help me along my journey, I am quite certain some may find it hard to believe. But then again, you would probably find my lowest points, when I had no one there to step into the darkness and offer a hand to lift me out, hard to believe as well.
It has been said that tragedy befalls us all at some point. We each face trauma and loss of some kind at least once in our lifetime. What I have come to know is that during our darkest hours, our deepest insights can be gained. And from our most desperate moments emerge the lessons of hope and resilience. No matter the trauma, the ability to overcome and rise to the greatest of heights is a possibility. In all honesty, I can’t say for certain why I am not crazy or dead. Why others in situations similar to mine failed in pursuit of their dreams, never having found a way to get beyond merely surviving because what they carried grew too heavy to bear.
Every single one of us is a little broken in some way. Perhaps I can be a reminder for everyone: no matter how damaged we may be, it is possible to rise above our past and make that flight on broken wings.
I never knew what happened to me had a name
And I never knew existing words I could utter to describe to another soul what had been done to mine
I never dreamed that the insanity of humanity based on my reality as a child could also be the reality for millions of others right now
I also never dreamed I would one day take something so dark
Use it to ignite a spark
And shed light on a fight nobody wishes to know about
But we all know that evil thrives in darkness
Placing a line in the sand, taking your hand in my hand, I’m asking you to journey with me
I can drop one sentence with ten words
But will never adequately capture the horror of my childhood
I was nine years old when I was first sold
I can paint you a picture with a broken brush that bleeds misery
And yet place it on canvas and each stroke shines eternal and inspires hope
Speaking to the possibility of achieving that Happily Ever After despite any beginning
Through the depths of despair would you follow me there?
If I showed you my scars could you still see the stars
In my eyes beyond the tears that I cry sometimes?
Cos there are days when it just hurts to be me
And people aren’t so good with pain. Cos people aren’t so good with helpless
You recognise this early in life and master the masking of your own private hell
Protecting people from the depths of your pain so that they can stay comfortably shallow
While you continue to drown in your imperfections and never tell
I remember as a child wondering what it felt like to be alive
If the burden weighing me down and making me believe I was worthless had a name …
I’m guessing it’s SHAME
It is the paralysing equaliser placing predator and prey in the same common experience
With the same feelings of helplessness and fear
It is the untold lie creating predestined tears
Blazing trails into the flesh of your cheeks like acid
But no matter the pain, conditioned to remain placid
Placing restrictions on dreams as it welcomes defeat
The world passing you by while you stare at your feet
And ponder the monetary value of a child’s soul
SOLD. I was nine years old …
About The Author
Carrie Bailee was born in Canada and now lives in Melbourne with her two daughters. She is a spoken-word performer, poet, blogger, advocate and speaker. For more information, go to her website: www.flyingonbrokenwings.com.