‘It’s probably easier to stay in the anger than to be vulnerable’

Chrissie Foster, 67, fought the Catholic Church with her late husband Anthony for two decades after two of their three daughters were raped by their priest. Their youngest, Aimee, 38, escaped the abuse but not the fallout.

Chrissie: “Sometimes it feels like too much, but I force myself to hope because there’s always love and someone to look after, like Katie, Aimee and the grandchildren.”Credit: Paul Jeffers

Chrissie: I was dealing with three girls under four after Aimee was born – and postnatal depression. It probably did affect our bonding as emotionally I wasn’t there for about nine months. But Aimee was a joyous child; she always wrote me love notes and gave me hugs.

The disintegration of her sisters’ lives was devastating: Emma became a drug addict at 14 and Katie was hit by a car [at 15, causing her to need full-time care from then on]. Every day for a year, Aimee caught the train after school to visit Katie in hospital. I probably didn’t [talk enough about emotions with the girls] because I wasn’t brought up that way; no one gave us an instruction book.

Aimee was unhappy because Emma got away with too much – but it was either put up with what we wouldn’t normally, or lose Emma. Aimee ran away when she was about 15. She was just sick of it all, I think. But after a day or two, I guessed where she was.

We’ve been through so much, and I admire Aimee for getting over all these issues. Some people might drink or take up some bad habit to escape, but she didn’t. She’s found her centre in spirituality. I had that with religion and I’ve wiped it. I was 40 when I said my first swear word, when all this abuse came up. Now my favourite word is “f---“. It feels good to say it.

The change in me was instant [in March 1996, when Emma’s abuse was discovered]. Emma was suicidal and I went from that trauma to taking up arms against the men who’d done this. These arseholes pretend they represent God and they’re raping kids with impunity. [The Church] just moved paedophile priests on to another place where they re-offended; they did that with our guy for 50 years. In [my latest book] Still Standing, I document the irrefutable truth of what they are. It has been cathartic.

“I was 40 when I said my first swear word, when all this abuse came up. Now my favourite word is ‘f---’. It feels good to say it.”

Chrissie Foster

In 2017, I was at Aimee’s house; Anthony had gone to Bunnings. Aimee rang him, he didn’t answer. Then she rang again and an ambulance officer answered. That’s how we found out [he’d collapsed from a heart attack and hit his head]. Aimee helped no end, visiting Anthony with me when he was on life support, being there when we viewed his body, arranging his funeral. We lived through it together.

Sometimes it feels like too much, but I force myself to hope because there’s always love and someone to look after, like Katie, Aimee and the grandchildren. You can’t be devoured by disaster. What’s happened to Aimee’s sisters is heartbreaking, but we have fun together. I’m lucky to have two grandchildren and they’re such a joy: a step into the future. I’ve lost so much but Aimee’s a shining light in my life.

Aimee: Mum is stoic – and fierce. I look at what we’ve been through, and she’s never crashed into a depression. That blows my mind. I guess she’s had her focus of fighting the Catholic Church, but because there’s not the big lows, there’s also not the big highs. I know she cares about her grandkids and enjoys seeing them, but it’s in small pieces, never overnight. [This emotional distance] is her personality; she was like that with us, too. And she doesn’t cry; it’s probably easier to stay in the anger and fight than to be vulnerable and feel what’s really there.

Mum turned against the church and God when she found out what happened to my sisters. She started finding like-minded people, other victims. They’d come over and be angry. I remember hearing my mum swear for the first time; I thought, “That’s not my mum.” The fight took her away from me when it was already a hard time, and the resentment has stayed with me. I’d try to express my frustration, but Dad would shut me down. I felt very alone. Mum and I didn’t really have any meaningful chats until I was in my 20s. We had some family therapy sessions when I was 10, but no one spoke.

“She doesn’t cry; it’s probably easier to stay in the anger and fight than to be vulnerable and feel what’s really there.”

Aimee Foster

Emma was 14 and had been acting out before we found out about the abuse. She had anorexia and started self-harming and overdosing. I was so upset because I really loved my big sister; she became someone else entirely and it was a big loss. I was 10 and I’d see Emma with her wrists slit. Once I came home and the ambos were trying to save her from a heroin overdose at 16. I think Mum was numb from it all.

An hour or so after Emma came to, we went back to a wedding at our neighbours’ place and I felt angry that we were acting as if nothing had happened. Emma descended further and further [and died of suicide in 2008, age 26; Aimee was 22].

Katie had her accident in 1999, when I was 14. She came home after a year in hospital and we had carers in our house all day. Mum and Dad always did the overnight shift and it was like having a newborn again. But I never saw Mum crying or frustrated. She wasn’t loving and soft, but she wasn’t intolerant or asking herself, “How on earth am I going to do this?” She just kept going.

Writing books gives Mum a purpose and releases some of the anger. But I haven’t really read them. Over the last six years, I’ve become quite spiritual. I’ve learnt that I was living in the past, and now I’ve got the ability to dig deeper and tap into my resilience. Mum was a full-blown Catholic, having priests around for dinner, and now she doesn’t believe in God, whereas I do. She hasn’t tried to change my mind or put me down for it. I admire that non-judgment and support.

I call her all the time and we chat, chat, chat away; there’s a comfort there. I share more with her than with anybody else. Mum loves champagne, and we’re going to France in July on a champagne tour. I love making her cack herself. She just loses the plot; she goes silent with a big, wide mouth, nostrils flaring. That’s my expertise with her – making her laugh.

Lifeline on 13 11 14.

Support is available from the National Sexual Assault, Domestic Family Violence Counselling Service at 1800RESPECT (1800 737 732).

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