Nothing More - The Alternate Routes
The lost girl is someone I know well. She used to be me. She still is.
It is both a blessing and a curse that I have written diaries during some of the most critical times of my life. Re-reading them now in my advanced years, allows me to relive the joy and lost memories of my family which is the blessing. The curse is feeling very sorry for that girl I once was.
I am understanding that our memory and brain functions are amazing in their ability to block painful and sad memories that no longer serve useful purposes in remembering. I have often been told that I have a remarkable memory for small details of events that occurred in the past. For me memories are often triggered and stored with musical accompaniment. To be fair I have the added benefit of my written words to jog said memory as well. I don't remember names and dates, they are written down :)
But I would have to clarify that astounding ability for recollection. Traumatic events I remember with such vividness it sometimes seems like it just happened. My brothers passing and the accident that annihilated the majority of my family are two examples of that 20/20 vision that persists throughout the passing of time. Ask me how old I am, and I will give you a rough idea at best. I could do the math but don't really care. I was married, I can't tell you the month or even year it happened. A civil ceremony with no pomp and circumstance.
Anger, desperation, loneliness and frustration are all found in varying circumstances in my books of thoughts. I didn't know how starved for love and acceptance I was - how used and emotionally abused by people that I thought cared. And I never spoke up and defended myself, ever! I wrote it, forget it and forgave. That mentality and ability that served me well as a child and young adult would nearly destroy me as a career woman.
Jump forward to the beginning of the new century and I saw a woman who became a mother and loved herself and her children and fought off all demons that tried to bring her down. Until she could fight no more. Still starved for love and acceptance as a woman and human being, I was used and emotionally abused by people I thought cared as they hid under the cloak of Catholicity. Hypocrites! I wrote it, forgot it and let it go. No forgiveness is in the horizon at this point. Ten years of journals are safe in my care and still too painful to read and remember the trauma endured.
This is the lost girl. She wants and needs that love and acceptance so desperately that it takes all her strength to like herself when at the same time she feels that she isn't good enough for anyone. So, when confronted with new people (who could be potential threats) a wall goes up to protect the fragile girl and a "strong" persona comes out and deflects attention away. Creating a coat of armour through which no one can penetrate. People see her as brusque and teeming with confidence. When nothing could be further from the truth. Those who take the time to know, will find a shy, insecure, frightened girl. She wants you to be a part of her world for she has an unending compassion for people in the human race but she is so afraid of getting hurt that she may not let you in. But she doesn't want to be alone any more.
In reading these diaries, I learn that I feel more compassion and empathy for that lost girl then I have ever had for anyone else in my life. Like Baby Jessica stuck in the well, but nobody ever tried to rescue her, because they didn't know she was there. But, I like her! And more importantly today - after walking away from the source of my most trying and difficult trauma (the staff and administration of the Dufferin-Peel Catholic District School Board) - I respect her. She may be vulnerable but she is valuable!
She is not strong, she is resilient and stubborn. I am in a place now where I feel safe once again. I am in a place of peace. I am in a place where acceptance isn't just a catch phrase but a way of life. And I am healing...again.
I went on a visit back to visit my children and those I love and something remarkable happened to raise my self-awareness. During the day, most people still had jobs to attend to so I took the time to explore the city of Toronto like I never could before. And while mostly positive experiences came from it, I did notice something disturbing. There was an underlying tension that invaded my soul for when I boarded the train and began putting the city behind me, I felt a release. A weight was being lifted off my shoulders. I was going home. I was going to be safe again. For it seems that as long as I am in the GTA (greater Toronto area) there is a chance that I will come upon one of my tormentors or worse bystanders (who saw the injustice and turned away). I knew that this was precisely the reason I refuse to go back to the community I lived even though I own property there. It's a painful reminder of the events that nearly killed me. As long as I am there I am not safe. It is my war zone. Landmines are everywhere.
So what now? I am aware of what is happening and what is causing my anxiety but what now? A former therapist insisted that I should become that fake persona that is outwardly strong and learn to defend myself. Do away with the lost girl. But that is not what is in my heart. I am a non-confrontational, non-combative person and I like that. I don't want to be someone because there are people who want to hurt me. I don't want to live in fear of the monsters. I want the monsters to leave me alone. I want to live in peace and love.
I have found that acceptance here and for now there is no one who can rain on my parade. I won't allow it. I am afraid that if I am hurt again I won't be able to heal. There is only so much bouncing back a person can do. I feel I have reached my limit.
The other day the news coverage was all about the crazy lady who is now engaged to murderer and rapist Paul Bernardo. The very name makes me cringe as I remember well the search for Leslie Mahaffy when she disappeared in Burlington, Ontario. Kristin French was found close to the remains of Mahaffy in the spring of 1992. The ensuing trial and fiasco that surrounded Bernardo and his wife Karla Homolka infuriated most of the the country. And still does. The media is trying to help us understand the madness in this woman's actions.
Segue to the marriage I glossed over so briefly and that almost no one knows about. Not a shining moment in my history but I understand myself and my actions a little more because of this news story. This mystery woman in love with the notorious killer is me on a grander scale. She began a relationship with Bernardo at a time of personal vulnerability and during a transitional phase of her life. Typically with low self-esteem and a desire for unconditional love, these lost souls are drawn to the only people they feel with take the time for them - the ones that many in society have discarded. They feel discarded themselves and in their hopefulness think that they can find the good beneath the bad. For deep down they think they have some good beneath the bad everyone is highlighting about them also. Forgive and you shall be forgiven and redeemed also.
And this was precisely me. I ran from the maltreatment of my grandmother who was supposed to love me unconditionally to the arms of a man who used me and was never able to give me the love I needed so desperately. While I was in his fold, I continued to search for that love outside of his perimeter. But I couldn't let him go even though in some ways I knew he wasn't my forever. I couldn't see the negatives for what they were in my life, despite I was aware of them and even wrote about them, still I married him. It was the best I thought I could do. And he was far from a Bernardo.
And when this revelation all came together like a perfectly created puzzle, I realized that in an almost identical set of circumstances I married again. This time I was lost and lonely looking for love after the loss of my brother. The last person from who I had unconditional love. And I was blinded by the alpha male that promised me the world and ended up taking more than he gave. Except in the end I won, for I got what he never could get. Love from two of the most special human being in the world. My children. They are a part of him and I will forever be grateful for that, but he wasn't man enough for me or for them in the end.
credit where credit is due:
- References to news stories including Baby Jessica, Kristin French, Lesley Mahaffy, Paul Bernardo and Karla Homolka are recollections of my memory but can be googled for more information
- Paul Bernardo engagement
http://www.citynews.ca/It is both a blessing and a curse that I have written diaries during some of the most critical times of my life. Re-reading them now in my advanced years, allows me to relive the joy and lost memories of my family which is the blessing. The curse is feeling very sorry for that girl I once was.
I am understanding that our memory and brain functions are amazing in their ability to block painful and sad memories that no longer serve useful purposes in remembering. I have often been told that I have a remarkable memory for small details of events that occurred in the past. For me memories are often triggered and stored with musical accompaniment. To be fair I have the added benefit of my written words to jog said memory as well. I don't remember names and dates, they are written down :)
But I would have to clarify that astounding ability for recollection. Traumatic events I remember with such vividness it sometimes seems like it just happened. My brothers passing and the accident that annihilated the majority of my family are two examples of that 20/20 vision that persists throughout the passing of time. Ask me how old I am, and I will give you a rough idea at best. I could do the math but don't really care. I was married, I can't tell you the month or even year it happened. A civil ceremony with no pomp and circumstance.
Jump forward to the beginning of the new century and I saw a woman who became a mother and loved herself and her children and fought off all demons that tried to bring her down. Until she could fight no more. Still starved for love and acceptance as a woman and human being, I was used and emotionally abused by people I thought cared as they hid under the cloak of Catholicity. Hypocrites! I wrote it, forgot it and let it go. No forgiveness is in the horizon at this point. Ten years of journals are safe in my care and still too painful to read and remember the trauma endured.
This is the lost girl. She wants and needs that love and acceptance so desperately that it takes all her strength to like herself when at the same time she feels that she isn't good enough for anyone. So, when confronted with new people (who could be potential threats) a wall goes up to protect the fragile girl and a "strong" persona comes out and deflects attention away. Creating a coat of armour through which no one can penetrate. People see her as brusque and teeming with confidence. When nothing could be further from the truth. Those who take the time to know, will find a shy, insecure, frightened girl. She wants you to be a part of her world for she has an unending compassion for people in the human race but she is so afraid of getting hurt that she may not let you in. But she doesn't want to be alone any more.
In reading these diaries, I learn that I feel more compassion and empathy for that lost girl then I have ever had for anyone else in my life. Like Baby Jessica stuck in the well, but nobody ever tried to rescue her, because they didn't know she was there. But, I like her! And more importantly today - after walking away from the source of my most trying and difficult trauma (the staff and administration of the Dufferin-Peel Catholic District School Board) - I respect her. She may be vulnerable but she is valuable!She is not strong, she is resilient and stubborn. I am in a place now where I feel safe once again. I am in a place of peace. I am in a place where acceptance isn't just a catch phrase but a way of life. And I am healing...again.
I went on a visit back to visit my children and those I love and something remarkable happened to raise my self-awareness. During the day, most people still had jobs to attend to so I took the time to explore the city of Toronto like I never could before. And while mostly positive experiences came from it, I did notice something disturbing. There was an underlying tension that invaded my soul for when I boarded the train and began putting the city behind me, I felt a release. A weight was being lifted off my shoulders. I was going home. I was going to be safe again. For it seems that as long as I am in the GTA (greater Toronto area) there is a chance that I will come upon one of my tormentors or worse bystanders (who saw the injustice and turned away). I knew that this was precisely the reason I refuse to go back to the community I lived even though I own property there. It's a painful reminder of the events that nearly killed me. As long as I am there I am not safe. It is my war zone. Landmines are everywhere.
I have found that acceptance here and for now there is no one who can rain on my parade. I won't allow it. I am afraid that if I am hurt again I won't be able to heal. There is only so much bouncing back a person can do. I feel I have reached my limit.
*********************************************************
The other day the news coverage was all about the crazy lady who is now engaged to murderer and rapist Paul Bernardo. The very name makes me cringe as I remember well the search for Leslie Mahaffy when she disappeared in Burlington, Ontario. Kristin French was found close to the remains of Mahaffy in the spring of 1992. The ensuing trial and fiasco that surrounded Bernardo and his wife Karla Homolka infuriated most of the the country. And still does. The media is trying to help us understand the madness in this woman's actions.
Segue to the marriage I glossed over so briefly and that almost no one knows about. Not a shining moment in my history but I understand myself and my actions a little more because of this news story. This mystery woman in love with the notorious killer is me on a grander scale. She began a relationship with Bernardo at a time of personal vulnerability and during a transitional phase of her life. Typically with low self-esteem and a desire for unconditional love, these lost souls are drawn to the only people they feel with take the time for them - the ones that many in society have discarded. They feel discarded themselves and in their hopefulness think that they can find the good beneath the bad. For deep down they think they have some good beneath the bad everyone is highlighting about them also. Forgive and you shall be forgiven and redeemed also.
And this was precisely me. I ran from the maltreatment of my grandmother who was supposed to love me unconditionally to the arms of a man who used me and was never able to give me the love I needed so desperately. While I was in his fold, I continued to search for that love outside of his perimeter. But I couldn't let him go even though in some ways I knew he wasn't my forever. I couldn't see the negatives for what they were in my life, despite I was aware of them and even wrote about them, still I married him. It was the best I thought I could do. And he was far from a Bernardo.
*********************************************************
credit where credit is due:
- References to news stories including Baby Jessica, Kristin French, Lesley Mahaffy, Paul Bernardo and Karla Homolka are recollections of my memory but can be googled for more information
- Paul Bernardo engagement
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