When my husband was 11 years old, a Catholic priest revered by his parents singled him out to go for a drive to the beach.

His family was not financially well off, his home life was devout, strict and unhappy. Rarely were there family outings.

He jumped at the chance to fossick along the shoreline.

But when he got to the beach, he was sexually assaulted.

The priest told him it was "God's will". He'd always been told that priests were "close to God". He could not comprehend what had just happened to him.

This Irish priest was jovial, likeable, the life of the party. Articulate, witty and involved in local groups in this small, far north Queensland community.

He groomed parents and adults before moving onto their children.

The beach was just the first of twelve sexual assaults between 1977-1980, the depravity increasing with every attack.

My husband was a very bright student with dreams of becoming a dentist. When the abuse started, he quickly fell to the bottom of the class.

In the 40 years since, he's lived with the terror of those assaults every day, questioning his self-worth, feeling he is simply used by everybody. Could you live like that?

The impact on our lives and our marriage has been enormous. Though he died in 1990, the priest lives in our home to this day, casting his evil shadow over every part of our lives.

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I would marry him again

In the past 24 months, my husband has had a psychological breakdown, but he is finally getting appropriate care and slowly revealing details of his past. He gave evidence in a private session at the royal commission, but he is very psychologically fragile.

This wasn't his first breakdown. In 1980, my husband's mother announced that their "dear friend" the priest, aged 59, was moving into an aged care facility a couple of blocks away and would be coming around for some meals. Aged 15, my husband threatened to kill himself at school and was admitted to a psychiatric facility.

All these years later, he has no skin on his hands, forearms and upper legs because he has picked it off. He is constantly shaking, grinding his teeth, breathing fast and loudly, rubbing his feet together, unable to mix socially, unable to work.

I too am a victim of that priest. Every day I walk a tightrope balancing empathy for my husband with anger for the circumstances of our lives — lives of lost opportunity, happiness and love.

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I love my husband with all my heart. He has a sense of humour that will have you doubled up with laughter. He is extremely intelligent, supportive, caring and compassionate. I can't imagine life without him. And if I had my chance again, knowing what I now know, I would marry him again — in a heartbeat.

But I'm angry for what I have lost. My husband is frequently unable to provide companionship or conversation, he struggles with intimacy.

We don't mix socially, or travel. I feel lonely most of the time. I am an outsider in my husband's world as he is trapped in his anguished thoughts. All I can do is sit on the sidelines and watch the suffering.

I feel angry that I've got no understanding people to talk to. I'm furious that despite all the time I've spent in waiting rooms, not one doctor, psychologist or psychiatrist has come out and asked how I'm going. Nobody has said, "Do you need any help?" "Does your son need any help?"

While my husband understands the sacrifices I've made, I don't feel he understands emotionally, because he is consumed with his own anguish. That makes me angry, but he can't help it — none of it is his fault.

Winnie describes Alex as "the bright spark" in her husband's life. ( Supplied )

Our son keeps us going

The brightest spark in both of our lives, is our son. As difficult as it is, my husband attends every performance, every event and wouldn't dream of missing any of them.

At school functions, we keep our distance from other parents as my husband is constantly anxious and shakes uncontrollably. Our son is concerned that people will think his Dad is an ice addict because of all the sores and scratch marks on his arms. He has told me he wishes Dad played games with him and that he had a relationship with his father like other boys have.

Our son has witnessed extreme emotions in his home; coupled with being an only child, he has maturity beyond his years. That has made him selective in his choice of friends. Teachers have criticised him for lacking social skills, but I fear they have little understanding of secondary trauma.

Winnie's son ties a ribbon onto a cathedral in tribute to his father's experience. ( Supplied )

Counselling can bankrupt survivors

Every spare cent we have goes towards my husband's psychologist appointments. He receives 10 Medicare-rebated sessions with a psychologist per year. After that, we must fully fund his fortnightly visits at $260.

One of the most concerning elements of the redress scheme is the capping of psychological counselling at $5,000: that's not going to provide lifelong access to counselling as the royal commission recommended. In many instances, survivors don't even get their choice of counsellor.

Sexual assault support services: 1800 RESPECT: 1800 737 732

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Lifeline: Beyond Blue: 1300 224 636

Like most survivors, my husband has significant trust issues resulting from PTSD. He saw three local counsellors before finding one he felt he could work with. Even then it took several months before he was comfortable enough to get anything meaningful out of the sessions.

He should not be forced to attend counselling with somebody else who he may not feel comfortable with, who he must establish trust with from scratch, to access counselling funding through the redress scheme.

Counselling for trauma survivors can't be a "one size fits all" scheme. Not all counsellors are adequately trained in trauma counselling and referring survivors to "Victims Services" may not be right for every survivor.

Survivors need some autonomy in their lives and that starts with the right to choose their own counsellor.

The redress scheme needs to be redesigned around the five trauma-informed principles of safety, trustworthiness, choice, collaboration and empowerment.

No peace for survivors

My husband's perpetrator is buried with full priestly honours, his headstone marked "rest in peace". But there is no peace for my family.

While sexual abuse robs children of their innocence, it also traps them in innocence. In some ways, my husband is emotionally trapped at 11.

Every night when we turn out the lights, he asks me if I love him with the tone of a little boy asking his mum. I say yes, of course I do, I love you to the moon and back.

Winnie Mulherin is now advocating for other survivors of clerical abuse and their families.

If this article has raised any issues for you, please phone Lifeline on 131 114 or the sexual assault support line 1800 RESPECT on 1800 737 732.

We are helping people share their personal stories on a range of issues affecting Australians. Get in touch through features@abc.net.au