Tortured Genius and the Final Conclusion

Be Yourself - Audioslave
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WC5FdFlUcl0

To Thine Own Self Be True. It's not an easy mantra to live by but I tried. We are all influenced by various factors in our lives. Traumatic events, abuse, self-doubt and with the constant bombardment of "Hollywood Perfection" we struggle to cope with self-love. Not easy to accept and be yourself. I think I was mostly successful.

By the time I had my children, I liked myself pretty well. Yeah, maybe lose that excess baby weight but, as a person, I could look in the mirror or in the eyes of my children and know I was okay! Although I was at times terrified knowing that I could not call my mom for her sage wisdom and advise, I was in fact ready for motherhood and knew I could rock that role! Go ME!

That was the kind of self-confidence I was dealing with at that time of my life.

Ten years later, I had made the decision to part ways with my then husband. I told the kids we would be moving wherever I got a job. I ended up with a job in the Toronto area and so we packed up our lives and moved. Life was good and after settling down I had a quick change of employeers to the Dufferin-Peel Catholic District School Board. I had a split school situation that year and to find my place in the organization, I chose to find a location the following year where I could be full time in one setting.

That year I met the first two of three Terri's that would come to mean a whole lot to me, they were classroom teachers. The student I worked with was amazing, the staff at the school was great. It was a wonderful time. Financially I had to take a second job teaching piano to make ends meet as support from the ex was not forthcoming.

It was the third year with the board that things changed. The school, staff and student were all the same but the classroom teacher was different. She believed my role to be "slave" for my CP student rather than assistant. She said I was working myself out of a job. She insisted on everything being done for him before he even decided himself that he wanted help. She made my role in her classroom very uncomfortable but I sucked it up. I didn't realize that there was a profound change in my demeanour until the custodian commented that I never smile anymore. On my breaks, I would write profusely about what was going on and she took great offence to that thinking I was writing untruths about her. My daily planner never left my side and I pleaded with the powers that be to cut me some slack.

The family of my student moved the following year so a transfer of location was in the cards for me too. As an aside, the parents of the student were aware that I was being handcuffed from doing my job as they saw a regression in the ability of their son. He was refusing to do anything independently whether it was put his coat on or propel his own wheelchair, even practicing with the walker had taken a dramatic slide. Years later I met them in a store and they reminded me how valuable I had been for their son compared to the other support he has had. It made me feel grateful that I had been able to tough it out for his sake and the validation of a job well done didn't hurt either.

It is difficult for me every September on that first day meeting all the new students and with increasing frequency for me, new staff as well. But as many difficulties we face in life we "suck it up". And so I did. It was really no different every evening that I walked into the piano student not knowing if I had a new student or a make-up lesson for another teachers student. Exposing myself to the the unknown was a part of my life whether I was comfortable with it or not. I doubt many people even recognized my inner turmoil.

Year 4 was a professional success and I met some amazing people that are still a part of my life. But as that year ended, declining populations dictated that I once again be moved. I could have used my growing seniority to insist on remaining but I took the moral high road and sucked it up. In hindsight...well, hindsight is always 20/20.

Year 5 was the year from hell. By the end of the first week, I was begging and pleading to be moved to a different location. On the first day, I walked into the school to introduce myself and the principal barked at me and I immediately cowered. And unfortunately time would prove that that in fact was the most civil she ever spoke to me. Not that I gave her a lot of opportunity, I did my job and avoided her like the plague. In the mornings, I would arrive and sit in my car until my yard duty started and then to avoid being stared at by her, I would hide behind trees. She would later claim that I was late every day because she never saw me in the staff room or in the yard. I won't get into all the details of her levels of madness, partly because it is still too distressing and partly because I have blocked many of the memories out and only know what I do because I have copious amounts of daily notations. The student I worked with bore the brunt of the abuse on my behalf. An autistic child with whom I had an excellent relationship with, and his mother and the classroom teacher too.

There was no denying what was going on but it was a school community that lived in fear of the principal. I was her current target. If I had the day off, when I returned I would be chastised for some behaviour that allegedly occurred by my student in my absence. I sucked up this degradation to my character and professionalism until March Break. I had been crying everyday on my way to and home from work for months. I saw my doctor during the break and he knew immediately that things were not okay, he approved an extended leave from work. The board said that I was angry. While I think I had every right to be, I was more frustrated and demoralized than anything else.

I eventually made it back to work at the beginning of June, but not before assurances dictated by my physician that it would not be to that place of torture. I could never be made to return. I would not even go back to collect my personal belongings. According to the teacher who did it for me, guess who hovered like a hawk to see what I had? Was she looking for journals or personal writings?

The rest of my career was spent in a single setting. A setting where my strengths as an Educational Assistant were really able to shine, a high school. Two good years were followed by a change in department head whose greeting to me in September was "I never liked you from the moment I first met you". Well hello boss! Yikes! I had two more long term leaves of absence under her rule and it became my last school placement.

In a brief nutshell. it was December 2010 and I was transferred to a school where the worst of the abuse started for me with the board. I was to start after Christmas break. I never went back again. I could not go back to the place of so much trauma. I had a profound understanding of PTSD and the fear of going back to the pain. That placement letter was the bomb that exploded in my head.

Knowing I was good at my job but they didn't like me I tried to change myself. That's when the distorted eating and extreme self-loathing came into play and remains a struggle. My doctor was supportive of my mental struggles and I started seeing someone professionally in late February 2011.

When the first round of papers came up after my sick days were done in March and I had squeezed all I could out of EI, I called upon our former union rep to help me fill out the multitude of overwhelming legal papers. She was awesome and I was soon (less than 1 year later) approved for both CPP-D and mortgage insurance coverage. For the record I don't understand how anyone of sound-mind could navigate all those forms let alone someone who is struggling either physically or mentally!

The board insurance company stood firm on their denial of benefits. They claimed that any trauma/breakdown I was suffering was due to a car accident I had been involved in 40 years previously. And while that accident was horrific, the two simply weren't related beyond affecting how I viewed the world and leaving me vulnerable to the maltreatment of others.

Anyways, denial upon denial and we kept going up the ladder of corporate fish at the Insurance Company. All this time, the former union rep was supporting me. But mentally I was getting worse. Lawyers wouldn't touch it because I had a union and they should be fighting for me. Our union with the new president was shit, a board patsy! So, my union friend became my legal representative and with that designation and some lawyer-ish documents I was finally approved for short-term LTD. Meaning that they decided that I could not work at my previous job. But I received that designation in May 2013, covering me for the previous 2 years that expired April 2013!

And so mentally and physically unable to fight anymore and on the verge of losing my house (mortgage insurance only covered 2 years), I decided to leave. But before I did I hired a lawyer that specialized in disability cases. Upon reviewing all the paper etc he decided to take on the case. Yes, he cost money but I had long passed the point where I was capable of opening any mail that came to the house. Bills terrified me because I knew I couldn't pay them. Seeing the Board letterhead on an envelope caused me extreme anxiety and the demeaning and belittling tone they took on the phone had me screening every call that came in. If I was going to leave my residence, I would have to leave forwarding information. We decided that the lawyer would handle all communication with the Board and Insurance company from here on in. He took care of all the paperwork and BS from my tormentors and gave me peace of mind.

Faith of the Heart - Rod Stewart

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t1sYjDc8i4I

Earlier this year, I was sent to see a psychiatrist appointed by the Insurance Company. I felt confident that he would indeed remain unbiased and not blame my Mother for what happened with the Board. My faith was misplaced. He took my words and the words of my professionals and twisted them, for they all knew me well enough to know that I am of at least average intelligence. His determination could have concluded the case, but he decided that with my ability to write my blogs and volunteer that I was smart enough to be retrained.

Logistically I was over the half-century mark in years on earth and by the time re-training was complete, I wonder how many employers would jump at hiring someone closer to Alzheimer's age rather than a 20 something ready to conquer the world. Did this re-training come with assurance that I would be employed and not lose my benefits on top of everything else? You have to look at the whole picture...not just the spot in the middle that is in focus. I had a career that I lost...not a job at MacDonalds that could be replaced by going to Wendy's!

Now, if you had asked me, I could have told you I'm smart. I was smart when I was 12 after my Mom and sisters passed away. I was still smart after my brother passed away when I was 22. And for the next 30 some years my intelligence level, if anything increased as opposed to going in the opposite direction. My intelligence saved me because I used it to keep myself going - I wrote about it all. All my life I've been writing. But even perfect diamond can crack with the right blow.

According to Psychology Today there is relationship between high intelligence/creativity and mental illness, although it is not a mutual exclusive relationship. You can have one without the other, but I bring up the concept as it relates to me. I think that it unreasonable for that psychiatrist that I saw to assume that a change of career will somehow cure my depression and anxiety.

Kurt Cobain was a tortured musical soul who took his own life, should we have taken the guitar from his hands and given him an accountants ledger instead? Would training Robin Williams to be a bus driver have saved his life? Could training me as an x-ray technician have made what happened at the Board go away? Or would it make it okay for them to hurt me? In many instances talent and demons seem to go hand in hand, in my case the demons where living and breathing members of the School Board. I couldn't make them go away.

October 2015, nearing 5 years off work and a decision was finally made. A settlement was reached. I paid a high price for the suffering that was doled out to me. If the same people had come to my home and robbed me of my personal belongings there would be some form of justice, they would be held accountable in some way. But my perpetrators/demons robbed me of my livelihood and career, the life I had worked so hard for. My house, my dreams, my life. I have to start over.

But at least I can start over. Not everyone has the stubbornness to want to prove them wrong. To prove that I am okay. That you didn't beat me, you broke me. There is a difference!

It wasn't easy and I don't wish these types of struggles on anyone. I wish I believed in karma so I could wait for the day when justice will be meted out, but instead they will become non-people to me. I write them off and give them no more space in my mind.

*If you or someone you know is struggling with abuse at the hands of their employer please support them anyway you can and understand that mental illness just means that we are given more than we can handle. We each have a cup that can "runneth over" and each one is of a different size.
Many of my supervisors were bullies who sensed the weaker in the herd to prey upon, no different than the schoolyard bully that we warn our children about. When the term schoolyard bully is uttered, everyone in that yard should be suspect - including teachers and principals. Sometimes they are also psychopaths.
FYI: I don't have a hate on for teachers. My mother and the most influential people in my life were teachers.

*If you know someone who is fighting for Long-Term Disability, know you don't have to fight alone. There is help out there. Don't be afraid to ask for it. You're worth it. Please, do not try to scam the system because it makes life so much harder for those of us who need the support for real.

*****NO!! I DO NOT CONSIDER MYSELF A TORTURED GENIUS!

Credit where credit is due:
Psychology Today
https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/ending-addiction-good/201503/is-there-link-between-intelligence-and-mental-illness
Huffington Post
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/09/02/creativity-mental-illness-health_n_5695887.html

On the Choppy Seas

Unwell - Matchbox 20

(love his t-shirt)

On this voyage of self-discovery, I am learning things about me that I am not entirely sure I even want to know. It takes my belief system puts it in a jar and shakes it up. I don't know which way is up and I'm not convinced that I even like the new structure.

from the internet

I understand the basis of my failed relationships of the past and why I made some of the choices that I did. But it means that relationships I have today are built of false pretenses and are doomed to fail. That hurts a lot to know that. I hold some of them very dear and they mean a lot to me. So on this beautiful summer day I am mourning yet another loss...because I feel so damned alone. I don't understand what is wrong with me. 

And I am so afraid to meet anyone new because failure means more loss and I really don't know how much more I can take. I don't have the fight or the strength! But this isn't about one person - it never really is - unless that one person is me. But that is one of those things you learn about yourself that is very hard to come to terms with. Maybe it is me? Maybe I am flawed in too many ways to fit anywhere?

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The above paragraphs were written sometime ago but I think they still have relevance today. And so I include them here

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It starts all rather gradually and then hits me in the face like a ton of bricks one at a time. I can't dodge them all and I'm tired of trying. I didn't even realize I was on the slide until I fell at the bottom. There are signs, the bricks I dodge are signs. But in my attempts to avoid confrontation I am vulnerable to attack. I don't know how to deal with it and I fall before I know I am slipping beneath the waves of despair. 

Hindsight is 20/20 they say. Today I can look back on the past few weeks and see the exact point the decline started. I thought that the acknowledgement of that event and how it made me feel was enough to keep me strong. But like the nearly 10 year struggle with being bullied by the Dufferin-Peel Catholic District School Board, I just pushed the incident into the recesses of my mind where I thought it couldn't hurt. 

from the Bully Project

It started as a friendly conversation but something was said in a manner that can only be described as demeaning. I thought I brushed it off. It wasn't until much later in the day when I realized that from the moment of that comment I never looked at her again. I still spoke but although we conversed, I looked down at the table when I spoke. I couldn't tell you her name or her hair colour. That realization reminded me of being a weak peon at the hands of my superiors in the School Board. Being spoken to like I didn't have a single thought to call my own. Many meetings in that board room, and the only thing I remember is the surface of the table. And one who chastised me in front of a group of 8-10 by saying "Look at me when I talk to you!" I felt like a 4 year old - although I never spoke to anyone (not even a child) like that myself. 

I really believed that by making that connection to the past trauma I had let the recent events go. Apparently not. Band-aids once again graced my fingers like so many rings. Nights became dreamless with constant periods of wakefullness. Turmoil was the prevailing sentiment based on the condition of the bed coverings. Motivation went out the window and unless there was a specific appointment to dress for and attend, I only saw the sunshine from the security of my balcony. My mind was becoming shrouded in a blanket of persistent fog. I had to read a passage several times to have it register or give up. Days became like the nights, dreamless with occasional periods of wakefullness. 

Now I see what was happening. Then I didn't. It hit me when someone casual said "How was your week?", and I couldn't remember having done anything of significance. Alone, the tears began to flow. I couldn't breath. By the morning the events of the past few weeks became clear as another journey downwards. The tears, the elephant parked on my chest and the fog enveloping my mind, I didn't know where to turn. 

from the internet

Like an angel sent from the heavens someone called...just because. Not the first time that she has called at exactly the time I needed it although she is many miles away - she senses? I hung up with her and dialed for professional help. I can't do this alone anymore. The demons are too strong for me to fight alone. 

One thing I have realized is that when I reach out there are some who are willing to be there. They don't have to do anything, the knowledge and feeling that I am not alone is enough. Messages of concern prevailed and although I questioned reaching out so publicly - I am grateful that I did. 

I am beginning to recognize these tell-tale sign of the choppy seas on the horizon and I hope that I can come to a point where I can reverse the negative tide. Time will tell I suppose. But lack of self-care is leading to some unmistakable bouts of serious dehydration. Awareness is a key to help. 

I can't make any promises about tomorrow but today, I'll be okay. Last night I dreamed again. For when my mind is at peace I can enjoy the love and compassion in my subconscious. 

The Lost Girl

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.

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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.

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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/

The Mirror Reflects the Soul and Heart

That I Would Be Good by Alanis Morissette

You can't teach an old dog new tricks. 

A leopard can't change his spots. 

Past performance is usually a pretty good indicator of future behaviour.

Have you ever stewed over something you wish you had said or done? It has been said that hindsight has 20/20 vision, you can't see the forest for the trees and sometime the sunshine is hidden by the clouds. All sorts of proverbial catch phrases to illustrate the position that I am in right now and what I find most interesting is the realization that this is a pattern in my character. Consider the fact that if I had the kahunas (balls) to stand up to the person at work who didn't like my voice, I might have put them in their place. I should have stood up to the supervisor who, before we began our working relationship when she got promoted that she "never liked me from the first time she met me." How much would things have been different if I had stood up for myself. The bullies would have moved on to find someone weaker. But no, I wouldn't wish that abuse on anyone. I survived, but just barely. Someone less stubborn may not have.

The point of this story, is that someone has recently re-entered my life and although it was brief, I realize that my relationship with him is toxic. He is a dominant who makes me feel insignificant. He is the Dufferin-Peel Catholic District School Board in sheeps clothing. Nothing I did was right, none of my ideas or opinions had any merit and every decision I made today and in the past was the wrong one. He is not my lover or even my boyfriend but was annoyed when I didn't want him to touch me in what I felt was an intimate way. Maybe for someone else it wouldn't be deemed intimate, but it is the way I felt - dammit! Even now thinking about it I get tears in my eyes. Not because it happened but because I let him belittle me and suggest that I don't know what it feels like to have a man love me and touch me. A man who claims to respect a woman does not go around calling them nasty names. And a man who wants to touch me respects me first. 


We've all been hurt by the opposite sex, by family members - but at some point we need to let it go. I won't forget the past because I would prefer not to repeat it, but a lifetime of anger over something that occurred in the past and out of your control cannot be healthy. You can release the anger to the wind and still not forgive or forget. You don't ever have to see that person again if you don't want to but please...let the anger go. It is eating you up and clouding your view on society and the people left in your life. 

We all make mistakes, but we are not necessarily evil. My ex was no good for me (and he was a despicable father to my children) but he may be perfectly matched for someone else - and they can keep him lol! Point is, just because someone did wrong by you in your eyes, maybe it wasn't an intentional slight. And what if it really was intentional behaviour meant to hurt you. Do you really think that they give a shit that you are stewing about it decades later? They probably don't even know how much anger you hold toward them. Ask yourself if their life is impacted by your venomous words - when they are not in the vicinity to hear them. This is another character trait I see in myself, that opened the door for the abusers at DPCDSB to continually berate me. The belief that there is good in everyone and there is not always evil intent. Except I let the anger go. I will never forgive, or forget but I will also not give them the power to control my life anymore. I write people off who I deem not worthy to be a part of my life. They become nothing.






My daughter may get annoyed at me for sharing this, but truth is that most girls go through phases like the one I am going to share. I did it myself! In a nutshell for whatever the reason, we seem to go through a phase where we chose the absolutely wrong person to have a relationship with. Spreading our wings, a little rebellion, the reason doesn't matter. From the perspective of a parent, I think that you have to express your displeasure and then let the child go forth and learn for themselves. And be there to pick them up and comfort them if they are hurt (and no I am not talking about a physically or other type of abusive relationship - for there is no question that immediate intervention is required in those circumstances). But you have to understand why you believe that the relationship is wrong for your child in order to have a valid opinion. Just because you don't think that they are good enough for your baby is not valid. My grandmother thought that way about my father and she didn't know any thing about him but his line of work. She felt my mother should marry a doctor - but that's another story! With my daughter, the boy made some mistakes that although they didn't thrill me I could accept that mistakes happen. What I didn't like was his disrespect for the mother of his girlfriend. As a potential "in-law" you don't have to like me but you do have to respect me. I said my peace and then trusting that I raised her right, I let her go to make her own decisions. It wasn't easy and it was a tough time for our relationship but it worked out in the end. A relationship built on love, trust and mutual respect will weather all storms. Some parents need to recognize that they may be alienating their child and forcing them to be deceitful in there personal relationships because the criticism about their partner is not something they want to hear. As a parent, you could be missing the best years of your childs' life. I hope that you have time to open your eyes and your heart before it is too late. 

Just because I can now, with the advantage of wisdom and hindsight, see the personality traits that allowed the DPCDSB and others take advantage of me does not mean that I have any intention of changing myself to become cynical or wary of people. For if in order to survive in this world I have to change who I am, I don't want to be here anymore. So take a shot on that target you see on my back because you will not leave scars of shame on me and with time the wounds will heal. But not one day will pass when I will be ashamed of my behaviour. The mirror will always be a friend that I can look at with pride. Can you? For in the end I know that it's not me that isn't good enough...it is you that isn't good enough for me. I just have to work on remembering that!

Buddha Got it Wrong After All

Can't Help Wondering Why - Blue Rodeo

Do these guys know me or what? Never in my life have I had music speak to me like the words and music of Blue Rodeo. It's like they crawled into my head and pulled out my deepest thoughts and set them to music. 

Sometimes you wake up screaming

All my life I must be dreaming

I’ve been wrong

And I’m not strong

But I’ll be the one that keeps rolling on

I was embroiled in thoughts and events of the last few days when I came across a post by a friend on facebook that hit me like a slap across the face. And then suddenly I just couldn't help but wondering why...

...why I find myself in the midst of downsizing my life because I may be forced out of the home that I had expected to be my next to final resting place?
...why I went from a productive and contributing member of society to a near burden on the social assistance system that I had previously avoided like the plague?
...why the life I had planned out for myself and worked tirelessly to ensure the success of has suddenly crumbled at my feet?

Regardless, back to this posting...it said "No matter how hard the past, you can always begin again" the quote was attributed to Buddha. Buddha is known as the one who uncovered many truths about the causes of human suffering and determined that the causes are essentially our own fault and therefore we can do something about the unsatisfactory nature of our own lives. I whole-heartedly and completely disagree. Is the young adult who is abused as a child and lives with the mental, emotional and physical scars of his parents love his own fault? Is the teenager at fault for a crippling work place accident because they felt intimidated to do a job they were not properly trained for? Is the middle-aged mom at fault because she contracted Multiple Sclerosis and now finds herself wheel-chair bound? Can the amputee forget the past when they face that prosthetic limb each morning? Can the person suffering from Schizophrenia have a chance at the normal life of their past again without the voices telling them different? 

Is it my fault that I suffered multiple traumas during the first two decades of my life? Did I cause it to happen? Is it my fault that I was not able to prevent it? Is it my fault that I was not provided with adequate counselling at the time to deal with the trauma? I never thought it was, and I didn't waste a lot of time harbouring hatred or resentment for those that many have been responsible in some part for the events that led to the trauma. I guess I instinctively adopted the teachings of Buddha (even though at that young an age I had no knowledge of him). I knew I couldn't change what happened so I had two choices laid before me. I could either learn to live with my new reality or I could not live. It was this pre-teen wisdom that I imparted to other patients in the hospital at the request of the ward nurses. It seems they were pretty impressed with the healthy attitude I had adopted at the age of 12. That optimistic disposition served me well for most of the rest of my life. With brutal honesty I admit that I went through a really harsh "angry at the world" period during my teens and early 20's. But I grew up and over that. I can only vouch for the character that I see in the mirror but I think the well-adjustedness of my children should speak volumes to the person I became for there is a lot to be said about the effects of both nature and nurture when it comes to the rearing of children. When a child goes bad, the world is quick to blame the mother. On the other side of the coin, I will take all the credit for the children who rock this world with their awesomeness! Not perfect but kids most people would be proud to call them their own. I accept the compliments with humility. 

So why did this quote by Buddha bother me so? Well, I had trauma in my past and I thought I could begin again. I thought I had! But it seems that according to certain businesses and people my past is the cause of my current trauma. Those businesses have really no business in my past and had I known it would be used against me, I would never have shared. The businesses I am talking about are WSIB (Worker's Safety Insurance Board) and the Dufferin-Peel Catholic District School Board. According to them, the bullying and trauma I suffered at the hands of my employer (the school board) was not due to any action by other staff members but rather because of childhood trauma. So you really can't begin again if 30+ years after the fact the past is brought up to be used against you. My past made me who I am. Just like your past made you who you are. My past made me vulnerable and weak and above all made me a target. Bullies bully the weak.  

It is easy to steal money from the blind beggar on the street knowing that he can't see you. 

It is easy to call the deaf child rude names knowing that he can't hear you. 

It is easy to lie about the weak knowing they won't stand up for themselves. 

You can't begin again when your past is thrown back in your face like it's your fault and you deserved it. You can't begin again if every step you take forward, there is someone in front of you pushing you back. You can't begin again if people won't give you credit for the accomplishments you have made and use your coping strategies as weapons against you. 

By admitting that the events that occurred during my employment with the Dufferin-Peel Catholic District School Board was entirely and completely the fault of the various staff and board members, the Board would be admitting to a serious violation of Bill 168 which is designed to protect workers from workplace violence and harassment. It is better in their viewpoint to lie in the face of God and under the cover of Catholicity and blame my childhood trauma. But understand that I was never harassed because I was not performing my job satisfactorily - no I was belittled and chastised because I was afraid to look people in the eye when all I wanted to do was curl up in a ball to hide myself and cry. I was reprimanded for not saying Good Morning in the hall to someone who was deemed my superior. My character was assassinated not my work performance. When I tried to stand up for myself I was told I had anger issues and was sent to counselling. The counselors invariably concurred in the belief that I was not an angry person but instead very well adjusted and far from the misfit the Board portrayed me as despite the trauma. 

Were it not for the physical scars that I must carry with me, no one would know that I experienced any trauma at all. The scarring was not my choice or my fault. If you want to lay blame for that one...let's look at my now deceased brother who took too long to pull me from the car and save my life. Or maybe we can lay the blame on the doctors and hospital staff who performed surgery and other procedures to save my life? 

I can look in the mirror each and every day and know that I am okay and not at fault. My past is what it is. I never used it to my benefit to get anything. Not a government handout or a job or as a crutch or for sympathy. No one ever had a fund-raiser for me and I never asked for anyone's pity or sorrow. I never used it and I certainly never gave anyone else permission to use it against me. 

Shame on you for doing it anyway! 

OH DEAR INDEED!

Bruised Not Broken

Not Broken - Goo Goo Dolls

I am deeply touched by the number of people who have reached out to try and take my hand and guide me from the dark abyss that I have stumbled into. I heard your phone messages and they left a lump in my throat listening to the concern in your voices. I read your messages with glassy eyes clouded with tears. My mind still feels as though I am surrounded by a think fog. 


I don't know how to reach out to someone in a time of need. There have been times that I tried and was soundly rejected or abused for my weakness. It is different when those that you reach out to are the family who bore you and love you unconditionally. Or even those partners who have come into your life to stick by you through thick and thin. Like it or not, my reality is that for the past nearly 40 years I have fended for myself and had no one to rely on but myself for emotional and financial support. Save for those brief personal relationships that left me wondering why? So, in times of darkness and despair I turn inward. I shut out anyone trying to get in and put myself in my own place of safety. There is only one person that I can count on to help me and that is me. My safety is behind my wall that I built to shield myself from pain. The people who were sent to ensure my personal safety didn't understand that being with other people doesn't instill a sense of security for me but a feeling of supreme loneliness. I am not so stupid as to assume that I am the only person who has ever experienced loss of family but the difference I see is the absence of support afterwards. Hindsight truly does have 20/20 vision. But I can't go back in time and change who I have become and how I cope with my reality. 

Looking back, it is funny how quickly I can let go of my need for solitude as soon as I feel like I am accepted. Perhaps the need is so great that I open myself up too quickly and leave myself vulnerable but that is one for the psychiatrists couch. Hell, who am I kidding - I already know that I do that, the psychiatrist would only help in changing the behaviour not identifying it. Due to the loss of family at such a young age, there are under-lying attachment issues. I am afraid I will be left alone. I am worried that I won't be liked. Social phobia would be the proper text book title. Although paradoxically with just the inkling of acceptance and I run blindly in. Sometimes I trip, sometimes I am tripped. Perhaps I am a sucker for punishment or simply that eager to share my life with someone but I never quit playing that game. It's a challenge and one that I welcome.


I possess an unabashedly optimistic view on the goodness of people. I have a faith born of the teachings of the Catholic Church and the morality instilled upon me as a child and the adult belief in Karma. Put it all together and I steadfastly believe that what goes around comes around and that I don't need to seek revenge to avenge my character. The Golden Rule states: "Do unto others as you would have done unto you". That is wonderful in theory except, I followed the rule and came across a whole lot of people who under the shroud of Catholicity did the opposite. I couldn't treat a sewer rat the way that I was treated.


There are a lot of problems with this mindset. First and foremost, with respect to Karma. What the hell did my family do to deserve the sadness and tragedy endured? While pedophiles are free to live amongst us with the protection of anonymity and financial freedom provided by the government. Secondly, what did I do to deserve the treatment I received at the hands of my employer the Dufferin-Peel Catholic District School Board to be specific. People abusing their positions as educators are left in classrooms to warp the minds of the children they are entrusted to care for. Teachers who couldn't spell ABC are evaluating your children and then going on to tell them that the Great Wall of China was torn down. "Heels" was likely in an early morning drunken stupor when she confused the Berlin Wall with the Great Wall - my god, I am still making excuses for her ineptness. But the lowly employee had to sit there and listen to the poison filling the impressionable minds and say nothing. For she was the stupid one - she is I. But for everything they said, they could never fault my work ethic. I was threatened with bodily harm by students - nothing was done. I brought the abuse of drugs and alcohol within the school walls to the attention of the principal - nothing was done. My utmost concern was for the education and well-being of the students - I complied with everything that was requested of me. They couldn't attack me professionally, so they attacked my character. They are the Dufferin-Peel Catholic District School Board and they are bullies who don't know the first thing about practicing what they preach. 



The real kick in the pants is that while I once sat in the drivers seat of the bus running down the road of my life, now I sit in the back...in the shitter! It stinks! We all want some control over our lives and I have none. It was recently said to me that living with this uncertainty of the past 1 1/2 years would have the best of us experiencing anxiety. Some days it is just to much and I fall under the weight of it all. 


My spirit may have been broken and my dreams ripped out from under me, but my soul remains. With time I will rise again - like the Phoenix. Just one question - Is the Phoenix like a cat with a specified number of lives? I may be running short...

Paradise Forever...Lost!

Paradise - Coldplay

"When she was a little girl, she expected the world but it flew away from her reach" 

This song doesn't have a lot of lyrics but the ones that are there touch my soul to the very core. This is a tough subject for me. I have always said that I have talked about it so much that I fear I have begun to sound callous and unfeeling about it. Like Sgt. Joe Friday from the old cop show Dragnet was whispering into my subconscious "The facts. Just the facts, ma'am." But, the truth is that in my solitude and private moments it is still painful and emotional 38 years later. While the rest of the world heralds the first day of spring as the reawakening of the world after a cold winters sleep, I recall the day that my world died. I was living in a paradise and in the blink of an eye it was ripped away and I was standing alone on an island. Forever different and forever changed. 

38 years to heal and get over it. Life goes on, and there are times of normalcy and moving on, there are times when you can honestly say that you have learned to live with it. Times when the tears flow less frequently and you remember some of the happier times. But those times that are hard for you - average girl and average boy - those are the times when you turn to your mother or father, brother or sister for support and comfort. Those are the same times that you might find me leaning against a wall holding myself. Ah yes, the wall rears it's ugly head again. The wall, that I hid behind. The wall, that protects me. The wall, that many are afraid to scramble over. The wall, that gets higher as the pain intensifies. But stop for a moment and consider that my wall has taken the place of the people in my life that were supposed to be there to protect me but left. Left me alone and vulnerable. 

Sometimes when children have bad things happen to them, they repress the memories and live as though the trauma was just a dream. But I couldn't do that. Every time I looked in the mirror, I was reminded that I was different than you. It was no longer the carefree, happy girl I saw, it was a monster who was frightened and who frightened others that was looking back at me. I was in my mothers' house, with my mothers' decor and it was my mothers' presence that I felt. But it was an old lady who didn't like me very much that had taken her place. And when I retreated to the sanctity of my bedroom, my sisters empty bed was still there and she would never come back again to lay on it in the darkness of the night as we whispered our dreams to each other. My confidants and best friends were gone. I retreated further into myself where I felt safe and where the memories were happy. The house, to the ones looking in, looked the same but everything had changed. It wasn't a happy place filled with love. The love died and it would be years before I would see a glimmer of love from that house again. 

38 years isn't enough time to get over that depth of trauma. It was life-changing and just by continuing to live doesn't mean it can ever be forgotten nor should it be really. In times of uncertainty, joy, fear, elation, trepidation, melancholy, dread, excitement - my mother and sisters would never again be there for me to turn to. All I saw was my wall. I covered that wall with graffiti that were the thoughts and words of my life that I wished I could have shared. Why would I want to take it down? Who knows, maybe there were angels sitting on top of that wall watching over me? I love that visual that comes to my mind with that thought! Like it or not that wall is my reality until someone is strong enough to stand beside me and help me see the other side - real love! 

Livia, Linda and Sandra Sdraulig

Even if you have suffered loss, you will never comprehend my sense of loss. Circumstances are different and cannot be changed. The loss of my father at the age of two was not as devastating for me simply because there was still the support of family to rely on. It was hard to miss someone I didn't know. But go back to my wall and look at the make up of it. Upon the foundation of the death of my father there is one row of bricks for the loss of my mother, another row of bricks for my older sister, another row for the loss of my younger sister, another row for the loss of my innocence, another row for the loss of who I thought I was for my vision of self died as well, another row for the anxiety and trauma of a life of love lost, add another because now I was told on a regular basis that I was not good enough to even be. And with every crushing blow of hurt in my life where the pain was to much to handle alone, I added another row. But through it all, I still emerged (with time) to believe in myself and feel worthy and happy. 

I am not judging your life experiences, I am asking you not to judge me by mine. The difficulties in my life today most certainly wouldn't be if I had not suffered loss in my childhood. But not for the reasons that are being put forth! The truth is, were it not for the events of March 21, 1974 my family would be by my side to help me kick your ass! But I don't want to talk about them - for they aren't worth it - but they work for the Dufferin-Peel Catholic District School Board. And they personify evil. 

Life as an Obstacle Course

How Many (Rivers to Cross) - Luba

How does that old saying go - You'll never understand your fellow man until you've walked a mile in his shoes...With each obstacle I come up against that I don't think I can scale on my own, I feel like I want to kick off my shoes for just a while and walk in yours. I get that everyone (or most people) have walls  or other setbacks in their life, but sometimes it is just too much for one person. 

Life reminds me of a obstacle course. Most often we are making our way from one event to another. We alone get to decide whether we are going to run blindly without stopping to look at the scenery or saunter casually smelling the flowers along the way. More often then not it is a combination of both and something in between. Although we all get to a certain point in our lives where time seems to have passed so quickly that we feel like we went through it at a dead run. But there are times where we must jump through the hoops - so to speak - so that we may grow and learn. Many of us have the same tests to accomplish as part of the journey of life - school, relationships, career - but some have more ladders to climb and walls to scale. And I swear that sometimes that damn wall is greased to make it damn near impossible to surmount.

The Tunnel: Of course, birth was the wiggling through the tunnel :) Don't know how hard I found that event, but I was successful. That is a good start for most of us. Not a lot of thought process necessary thankfully and a lot of celebration upon completion. 

The Tire Agility Test: I see this event as similar to our youth. There is a real knack to navigating this successfully without falling on our face. It is the dance that teaches us the difference between right and wrong, good and evil. But it is about the balance of choices as well, between family and friends, between school work and play. If we can step through as many tires on the left as on the right, we will have good balance in our lives. I think some people never learn the fine art of running through tires because their feet like their egos are too big to navigate them. They spend their lives stepping on people instead of dancing with them. 

The Balance Beam: Contrary to popular belief, it is okay to fall off the balance beam at least once if not more. This piece of equipment is all about relationships and that ever so intricate dance that we must do. It is perfectly acceptable to have a spotter/helper to walk along beside you to catch you if you fall but you need to learn how to be successful on your own up there on that narrow walkway. If you can't be successful in your own right, you will fail as a partnership. As we are learning in our immature teenage years, we often fall off when we have not chosen the correct mate to be our spotter. Getting back on is the key. It seems that in this day and age, many of us are encountering numerous balance beams through the course of our lives. 

The Rope: This is much like our career experiences. Every knot that helps us scale higher is a new challenge, new opportunity, new responsibility. Close to the ground, it isn't too hard to hang on and there are not too many demands made of us. As you ascend it gets harder to hold on and our grip is a little less secure as the competition swings our rope and the stability of our youth is gone. Sometimes we must get creative to find new ways to hang on - or drop and start again. That is another thing that is becoming quite common in this generation. Good or bad, depends on the person affected I suppose. 

The Ladder: We use the ladder to climb up and over setbacks in our path. The equipment we are provided may be the flimsy rope version or the more stable wood or metal type, or a combination of both. Essentially, if we have a support system in place we have the sturdier option - on our own, we are struggling with the insecurity of the rope. The ladder is placed before us in varying elevations. 

What we consider a step stool stool is a tiny obstacle in our life journey. Using the car as an example, this might be the day that your once reliable transportation is not and you must find another means to your end for the day. If you are on the rope ladder, you might not have another option like family to reach out to. A typical 6' household ladder has the stability to protect you and let's say your car is decommissioned waiting for parts to arrive but within a week you'll be back to normal. The ones on the rope ladder  are swinging indefinitely but will make their way with time - but with no guarantee how long you'll be left stranded. Then there is the extension ladder, much higher and a lot scarier. This could be compared to a collision and on that stable ladder we are safer and more protected, there is something secure to hold on to or waiting arms to help us back on our feet. Swinging on the that rope ladder when we get to the top, we fall alone and usually fall hard. Getting back up is more difficult.

The ladder is probably the most dangerous piece of equipment. We all have ladders in our path - it is the height and the construction and of course the sheer numbers of them that differentiate us. Of course never forget that here is an added danger of the foot slipping off the rung (consider that personal injury) and it is much easier to lose our footing of course on the rope ladder. 

The Crawl Under the Barrier: In the obstacle course, the barrier under which we crawl is often a webbing of intertwined ropes. As we wiggle our way through, we are exposed for all to see how we are doing and usually not our best side I might add. These are the times of our insecurity, where we want to crawl away and hide but we cannot. The best we can hope for it to come out the other side and find some sunshine, ever though we may be covered in mud from the journey. Not every one has experienced this event nor will they ever in their life time.

The Tire Swing: This is another event that is not placed in front of everyone to experience. It is the solitary existence. The tire is close enough to the ground that you can get into it alone, and manipulate the movement. In times of confusion it spins in circles. In peace and joy, the back and forth motion like rocking will soothe. In times of contemplation the wind to take it at will. It is a dance you do alone with the added benefit of being partially hidden from view with the size of the tire. It has always been easier to dance alone when it is harder to be seen. 

The Wall: Like the ladder, this apparatus comes in different heights for different folks with the added option of a helper rope for some, making the scaling of the wall much easier. Unlike ladders, walls have no exact footing there is no right and wrong path and the potential to slip is greater. The wall is terrifying - we cannot look at it and think "one step at a time to achieve success." On the way up we have nothing to hold onto and often must make a run for it and hope we reach the top before we begin to slide. Many a time, we can be knocked back down if we don't have enough of a grip onto the top ledge. Consider the wall like a faceless corporation that you have come up against. Just barely hanging on, they step on your fingers like so much hope and down you go again. And sometimes it doesn't matter how many times you get to the top, you can almost see the other side - but hope and faith alone won't keep you stable and give you the nudge you need to get over and not look back. The monster at the top is just waiting for you to relax ever so briefly before knocking you down again. 

Sometimes it is just easier to stay off the wall and look around to see the other side using the safety and security of the wall to protect you. Or build a doorway in the seemingly impenetrable facade and only let those with the right credentials in. Sometimes the wall, it's height, it's strength, it's frequency is just too much. We can't dismantle it, we can't overcome it, we can't bend it...and the more we hit it, the more we hurt.

The difficulty of the obstacle course we encounter in our life is random. It is not dependent on our gender, heritage, hair colour or financial status. Obstacles may be more frequent the longer we live but the difficulty of accomplishment does not necessarily increase with time. Consider losing a spouse to death as a household ladder, losing a child to death an extension ladder. Personally, I sometimes feel like I had a lot of obstacles that were hard to overcome very early in life. Raising my children alone was much like a sprint around the course, encountering hoops that I had to jump through and hurdles that I could overcome with perseverance and sometimes an extra run at it. But that damn wall that I alone built to protect myself when there was no one left to help me through the obstacles fell on me when the corporate monster (read Dufferin-Peel Catholic Board of Education) not only knocked me down but proceeded to throw the bricks at me! I am not alone on this side of the wall. I am learning to live with the wall and even peek around it now and then. I was happy with the wall being there before - I had it decorated so nice, I was comfortable and happy. I knew that I didn't have to finish the race around the track to be self-fulfilled and happy. Sometimes we need to make our own course. I believed in myself and that was enough for many years. All I want now is what I've earned and what I am entitled to without prejudice, further harassment and discrimination because of the obstacles I faced.