Christian O’Reilly describes his powerful new drama, Ferocity, as the play he ‘needed to write’. Based on his own childhood experience of being sexually abused by a trusted older relative, its recent production has given him the freedom to finally share his story. He talks to JUDY MURPHY.

For many years Christian O’Reilly kept secret the sexual abuse he had suffered as a young boy at the hands of a trusted older relative.

He had compartmentalised it and could cope. But it had left its mark, including a torment that lasted well into adulthood.

“I had a fear that because it was done to me, I would do it too,” says the playwright and screenwriter, who is talking about his ordeal publicly for the first time, in the hope that sharing his story will help others.

“This low-lying fear” at the back of Christian’s mind affected his ability to form long-term romantic relationships.

“It wasn’t the fear of the relationship, but a fear of being a father some day,” he says.

He began counselling at the age of 28 for issues relating to his father, who had been absent for most of Christian’s childhood and, eventually, after much therapy and support, Christian realised his fears were baseless.

“I knew who I was and I knew I would never abuse a child.”

But it was a long journey, and it was only when he went for counselling here in Galway in 2006, having met and married his Dublin-born wife, Ailbhe, that Christian finally knew he could never do to another child what had been done to him.

Christian had lived in London until he was eight, when his father abandoned the family. His mother moved back to her homeplace in Listowel, County Kerry, with Christian, his older sister and younger brother. She needed family support so it made sense, but Christian, who’d harboured dreams of becoming a professional footballer, was unimpressed.

“I hated leaving London and I knew Listowel wouldn’t cut it,” he says wryly of fulfilling those dreams. On top of that, he was expected to learn Irish.

Christian rebelled in the only way he could.

“My resistance was not to study at school and my mother was flailing around trying to help,” he says.

The solution was to send the eight-year-old to his granduncle, Gerald, for help with homework, including Irish and maths. Through no fault of those who loved him and wanted to help him, the result was that the child was sexually abused for several years.

“I’d go there after school. The key would be in the door and I’d go up the steps and in. He played piano and if he was playing Chopsticks, I knew never to interrupt him,” says Christian, painting a picture of their routine.

“We did the homework at a table with a dark green table cloth. I would sit on the left and he was on the right.”

There was always hot chocolate with toast and homemade jam.

Unlike the well-documented abuse by clergy in schools, this was a domestic setting with a trusted relative. That’s what made it so complicated for Christian whose father, “a narcissist”, was absent.

“He was a really positive force in some ways,” says Christian of his granduncle. “My Irish did improve and my maths improved.”

They picked blackberries and made jam, while there was also an orchard where Christian picked apples. And the older man taught the child valuable life lessons, such as the best way to fall to minimise injury.

The abuse seemed to be part of it all.

“It felt like part of an overall package that was largely positive,” says Christian. He can’t remember when it began but it went on for years: “When I was between eight and 11 maybe, but I’m not sure.”

As an adult, Christian realised that recalling childhood events stirred up bad memories, so he didn’t.

Pictured: Christian O’Reilly whose work has been produced in Ireland and internationally, explored a deeply personal, painful subject in his latest play. PHOTO: JOE O’SHAUGHNESSY.