Katriona O'Sullivan, the Woman Who Escaped Drugs and Sexual Violence

At just five years old, Katriona O'Sullivan saw her father lying on the bed, jeans half-down, a bruise on his leg, and a syringe still stuck in his thigh. That lifeless body was a victim of a heroin overdose, an addiction shared by her mother. The girl who saw her father on the brink of death, tangled in urine-stained sheets, grew up in poverty, suffered sexual abuse, and gave birth to a child at just fifteen.

As a young girl, she was involved in fights and thefts, all driven by drugs. Thanks to teachers who cared and an effective social services network, Katriona O'Sullivan overcame these adversities and became a professor at Maynooth, Ireland's oldest university, after a tumultuous adolescence. She has just published 'Poor' (Planeta), a book in which she recounts how she escaped a life of violence, chaos, and squalor.

In her book, part memoir and part essay, she launches a tirade against meritocracy, a false dogma that fuels prejudice. O'Sullivan was unaware of her abilities until it was too late. Before that, she was knocked down by addictions and a rape. "I didn't know my worth because I failed at school. I firmly believe talent is everywhere, but opportunities are not," says the author, who grew up in a grim home where visitors sprawled on the floor waiting for the heroin to burn through their veins. Her father, Tony, ended up in prison for drug trafficking, while Katriona and her siblings were tricked into smuggling drugs into jail.

O'Sullivan, a woman who managed to rebuild her life and have three children, carried the burden of parents marked by a lethal mix of various addictions. "Heroin is immediate; its effect is different. My mother, for example, calmed down with heroin. With alcohol, however, she became violent and screamed. Alcohol is legal, but that doesn't make it any less destructive."

As a child, she knew the scornful looks of adults who despised her for being poor. O'Sullivan often wet the bed and went to school reeking of urine. There was no soap, towel, or toothbrush at home. A teacher, Mrs. Arkinson, took pity on her and taught her to wash every morning in the school bathrooms, while providing her with a stack of clean trousers. In her case, the welfare state worked. "If my story were to repeat today, would it have the same ending? Probably not, because that social safety net no longer exists."

Her parents died young, just over 50, victims of a long criminal record, alcoholism, and heroin dependency. O'Sullivan's siblings followed the family path, although the eldest has managed to recover. For the psychologist, the key to detoxification, at least as she experienced it, lies in having good mental health. Once achieved, everything else is easier. "The first and most important thing was therapy and support to enjoy emotional balance. Before rejoining the education system, I needed help to heal all that trauma and escape that big black cloud. Although I had opportunities, I always failed due to a lack of mental health because of my childhood," the writer asserts.

She believed her fate was sealed, that her life would be confined to cleaning toilets and surviving on charity and sporadic aid. Until one day she met an acquaintance—also a single mother raised in poverty—who was studying law at Trinity College Dublin. O'Sullivan headed to the university and inquired about applying. After passing the access course, she graduated in Psychology with high marks and pursued a doctorate in addictions. "The sad thing is that what I've achieved is something rare."