Under the Dirt Sky

Wreck On The Highway - Bruce Springsteen

Remembering: 

Dante Sdraulig (my dad)

Livia Sdraulig (my Mom)

Sandra Sdraulig (my sister)

Ron Sdraulig (my brother)

Linda Sdraulig (my sister)

Recently the concept of justice and deservedness (is that even a word) seems to come up an awful lot in the course of casual conversation. If I wanted to fight for justice or what I deserved I would have to look back some 40 odd years or even more to bitch and complain about an injustice that is unparallelled and can never be corrected. The day my life as I knew it changed forever - the day my mother and sisters died. Today is the anniversary of that event, March 21st, 1974.


My dad dying was equally life-changing but not in a way that I can comprehend. I was way too young and although I understand that life would have been different with two parents in the house, I don't know what that means. It was even more so different for us because of the circumstances of my Dad's death. Trying to get justice and avenge his death meant that my Mother was embroiled in a lengthy and costly lawsuit that consumed much of her time and a lot of her mentally. As my Dad was laid to rest in Peace so too did my Mom want peace. But it was elusive and came at what ultimately was too high a cost. For years she fought the system. She fought and clawed her way to the Supreme Court of Canada. But she fought for nothing. She put her faith in the support system she had behind her. Her parents and worst of all the professionals. The lawyer - Alfred PETRONE and his antics worthy of a place in the Cartoon Hall of Fame (as opposed to the Halls of Justice) lost the law suit for my mother. In punishing the unprofessionalism of the lawyer, the judge in fact punished my family. A lifetime of struggles ensued, including financial hardships. I get it, the quest for justice consumes your life. I get it, I am there. I can't calculate the cost I have paid in physical property, and mental stability. And I have my mothers legacy to draw strength from. She didn't have that luxury. 


So, what if Dad was around - most assuredly, he would have been an emotional support to Mom and a financial one as well. I raised children as a single parent without financial or emotional support also and I know it isn't easy. But, Mom had a career that by all accounts should have afforded her a lifestyle of some comfort. She was an educated professional and graduate of North Bay Teachers College. To be fair, I don't know all the details of her employment. Was she working full time or part time? With the Catholic Board or the public Board? But I know they screwed her. This much I understand to be true. Mom was working and at some point requested a leave to return to university and obtain the now necessary Bachelors Degree to maintain her credentials. Many teachers at the time, continued working while taking a course or two during the school year and doing some upgrading during the summer. Whatever their reasoning, my Mom was denied this option. It is actually kind of scary thinking about that now since it is eerily one more parallel between my life and my Mothers. I once said in jest that I was living my Mothers' life. Then the validity of that statement hit me like a ton of bricks. But I digress, if Dad was with us, would we all have been in the car for that fateful trip? Would the appointment have been kept via a quick plane ride? How many different scenarios would have kept us off that highway that fateful night. 

But, it is what it is and an accident did happen and my life was turned upside down. Perhaps there was some justice in the courts in this instance. The driver of the truck was found responsible - or so I understand (I have never read the verdict from the courts). But I still don't know why. Was he drunk? High? Asleep? What is the justification for his actions? He left behind a young family and a wife - do they have a sense of guilt for his actions? They were victims of his actions as well. I was 12 years old and to be honest I didn't care at the time and put it out of my mind. Like a fact of history that you can't do anything about and eventually you simply let it go. I can sympathise with his family as much as I can sympathise with the families of those left behind in the aftermath of 9-11.  I could allow hatred or anger towards him consume by life but to what purpose? Would it change anything now? If we can time travel - I'm in, if only to stop whatever action he took that caused the accident. Until then, he is nothing to me. It's survival really. Put your energy into the fight you can win, the fight you have a hope of affecting some change. Otherwise, anger consumes you and you lose. 

I lost a lot of years of my life being consumed by anger. But it wasn't so much anger about the accident - which I couldn't control but the circumstances of my life because of the accident. Suddenly I was being molded to be someone I wasn't and overnight I became a person who wasn't good enough. That perception came from my grandmother. I felt loved and valued just as I was when my Mom walked this earth with me. It felt like everyone who thought I was okay, everyone who loved me for who and what I was walked out of my life and went to live under the dirt sky. And that sucked. It took me approximately 8 years to re-claim my life and learn that I was indeed okay. I didn't forgive my grandparents their discretions, so much as, with the wisdom of age I began to understand their motivations. All of which were twisted, selfish or simply them feeling superior to everyone else and therefore above reproach and unnecessary for them to heed the knowledge of others. That is an unforgivable offence. From them, all I can honestly say I learned is that people are not as they seem. That all sounds very harsh, but it is not random. My grandmother (like many of her Italian culture and age) favoured the male species. I was a girl who had a brother. A brother made more special in her eyes because he was sick. Double whammy for both he and I. My grandmother disliked my father and his side of the family long before my parents got married. I was a product of that union - so not as worthy from the start. I was scarred and therefore difficult to marry off to a suitable mate. Fortunately I had some very good role models who helped me to see that her thinking was warped and I was okay (or would be, once I was released from her clutches). I left a house I half owned and went on to make mistakes trying to find myself, the me that I could like.

It wasn't easy, because while I jumped over some potholes, I fell into others. A little worse for wear, I did become a little gun-shy. Meanwhile, I was gratefully re-establishing a relationship with my brother. Growing up under the rule of Nonna (Italian for grandmother), our sibling rivalry bordered on disgust. My brother received everything his heart desired before he even knew he wanted it. I fought for everything, including believe it or not, the basic necessity for a young girl - sanitary protection. I resorted to lying and stealing. I had as much disgust for myself as my brother had for me. That changed when I moved out and maturity let him see the reality and reasons for my struggles and the battles I caused. I am forever grateful for those short 4 years that allowed us to learn to love each other again. I forget the words that were spoken, the sound of his voice - but I will never forget the feeling. Because my heart holds the memories. Bottom line - after facing a lifetime of adversity and the death of my brother - I at the age of 22 re-invented myself. I left behind everyone and everything that I felt was toxic and holding me back. I stopped letting the anger consume me and decided to make the best of whatever time I had on this planet. I knew all too well that the rug could be pulled from under you without a moments notice. I ended a bad relationship, tried to remedy some bad financial decisions - new place to live, new job, new life. It worked and became a pattern I would follow several more times since then. The next time was to let go of a bad relationship that left me destitute and running off halfway across the country to start anew.
 

10 years have passed and I am at it again. I will never under the motivations of the Dufferin-Peel Catholic District School Board and their employees which drove me to the point of preferring death over survival under their terms. I will never forgive them their transgressions. I hope that with time I will let it go and forget them. Put them out of my mind - for most assuredly I know that they don't deserve my time or consideration. I could stay and fight for justice but it is not an easy thing to do on your own. You don't know what you have when you have family that you can count on for emotional support in times of joy and sadness. Treasure them. 


But have I deserved the hand I have been dealt? Is Karma sitting at my back door waiting to bite me in the ass again for some wrong I did? What did I do at the age of two to piss Karma off so badly that I have been punished my entire life by having those I love the most leave me? It is said that the good die young - at my age I am continuing to live on - despite the repeated attempts to change this scenario. So I deserve the pain that is forcing me to leave and re-invent myself once again? Or am I left here to walk this earth for a purpose that I don't fully understand yet. It has also been said that God never gives you more than you can handle - apparently God thinks I am a linebacker with enormous shoulders to carry this weight. Deep in the heart and soul that I have dissected and scrutinised repeatedly, I know that I am not a person deserving of pain and heartache but someone who learns from the experience and helps others with the knowledge gained. That is what I will continue to do from whatever location I shall find myself in. Justice can be meted out by a court that is much higher and powerful than myself. I have peace in my heart and knowledge that I am okay. 

One Step Ahead of the White Tuxedo Army

Some Say - Skydiggers

I haven't written anything in a long time because I don't like to write with nothing but dark thoughts running through my brain. When all control of life is gone there is only one way to find peace and tranquility. For me, in the depths of the bathtub filled with salty tears there is peace. Sometimes you just want the pain to stop. These last two years of my life have been the hardest I have ever dealt with. And if you know me, that is saying a lot. 

I know and understand desperation. I know and understand loss. I know and understand pain. But this is different. Hope is gone. Hope is that one singular thing that can keep you going above everything else. With hope, you can see the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. With hope you can see a brighter tomorrow and you can garner the strength from deep within to wait for that day to come. I had hope...once...not anymore. And that hurts. 

I was that annoying optimist that could always find good in everything. I grew up without a father but I had an amazing mother who ensured we were happy and well-adjusted despite that. I felt my fathers love and I was barely 2 years old when he died. When my Mom and 2 sisters died, I concocted an explanation in my head as to why they left me and my brother behind. It made sense to my 12-year old mind and gave me peace. Besides, I wasn't alone, I still had my brother. Even in the extensive burn scars I suffered I saw positive aspects. I didn't lose my sight, I had all my limbs and full mobility. No matter how bad things were, they could always be worse. That attitude and a stubbornness that worked tirelessly to ensure that bad things within my control were turned around did indeed flip to the sunny side of life and outlook.

Control is a key concept here. If you leave your circumstances to chance or in the hands of others you lose control of your life. I think that fundamentally what we seek from infancy to adulthood and beyond, is not so much independence as it is control. What we wear, eat, do and who we hang out with etc. It's a battle with our parents. And to be considered successfully reared, we have wrested this control from our parents and used it for the good and benefit of ourselves and others with whom we may connect. Having independence really just means you can do it on your own. Being as most of us have a burning desire to find a mate to share our life with, I don't think we really want independence. Co-dependency is what we really seek.

I had indeed achieved success in my life because I had that control. I had survived and thrived despite a decidedly traumatic early childhood that beat on me until my mid-20's. I made a lot of bad choices in terms of my personal relationships but I was smart enough to get out before too much damage was done. And ever the optimist - if it weren't for the genetic input of one specific relationship, I wouldn't have the beautiful children I have today. Nature vs Nurture, I will take some credit for the people they have become despite my lack of the y-chromosome :)

But I digress, back to the idea of my personal success. Just living and breathing is not life -that is existence. I carved out a happy life for myself and children despite some rough economic times and times when the support of a secondary parental figure or family member would have been beneficial. We didn't have it all but we had each other. Just recently I found myself scanning 19 photo albums filled with memories before packing them up for storage - and with every page I turned and digitized  I found myself smiling and thinking "We had a good life!" Besides a few camping trips, there aren't a lot of vacation pictures in that hoard of albums but rather Life Pictures. What we did, what we had, where we lived was my decision as the soul parental influence. I think I was successful because I had everything I needed including the essentials of life but also two children I was fiercely proud of, a job I loved and above all else - peace, contentment and happiness. That's success - to me.

Did I want more? Of course, that is what dreams are made of and what keeps us reaching forward to improve. One day that European vacation or re-doing the hardwood floors would be a reality. Just like it took time to get the new fridge and car. If a magic genie popped down in front of me to grant a wish, I would naturally by-pass all the material crap and bring my family back for one more hug and to introduce my babes to them. 

People/professionals who have met me since my breakdown can't believe that I was so happy. But it is the truth. To me life was too short to be sad. Unpleasantness was cast aside. The adult game of Peek-a-boo. If I didn't see it I could pretend it wasn't real. So when people at the Dufferin-Peel Catholic District School Board attacked me - I didn't fight back. I believed in the honesty and good will of people. I believed that the truth would reveal itself. I believed that I would be protected if I spoke honestly. But no, it wasn't to be. Eventually, I voiced my allegations of bullying to people who were in a position to investigate. They didn't. But I became a liability with information that would set nobody free and hang a lot of people from the crucifix without their Savior to bail them out. I had to go. Relentless in their attack until I broke. And then to add insult to injury, my traumatic past was used against me. In layman's terms, I wasn't bullied by my supervisors, I was reacting inappropriately to people because I was still traumatized by my past. Neatly absolves them from mistreating an employee by bullying them. Something like blaming a back injury as a result of a work incident on a fall off a tricycle as a toddler. Yes, it's that stupid!

In the depths of despair today, after two years of battling the demons of S-L Corporation, I can't make anyone understand that this depression will continue until I am believed and able to regain control. For 10 years I worked and paid both my union dues and share of benefits so that I would be covered in the event of disability. So tell me why I have to now watch everything I worked so hard for slip through my fingers. My home, which I bought to secure my future and was not so extravagant that I could not afford it. Indeed it was completely affordable and I had far less than 15 years left until I was free and clear of a mortgage. Now, that home is a shell. Everything that made it a home is sold or boxed up. Without my income, without my Long-term disability, I can no longer afford to live here. Of course having done everything right and not sponging off the governmental system to raise my family, I have screwed myself. No one will subsidize me living here. Does anyone understand that I don't want that? I just want what I am entitled to.

Please tell me what I did to deserve to lose my house and everything in it. Did I skip a payment of my benefit package? Did I lie about my current medical and mental condition? Did 4 separate mental health professionals, my family doctor and countless other professionals I have encountered in the last 2 years lie on my behalf. I have supportive documentation that would fill the trunk of a mid-sized sedan and yet I continue to be denied Long-term disability. I wonder if the corporation stooges would like someone in my current mentally fragile state being responsible for the care, safety and education of their special needs children? I've said it before, there is only one way I'll feel safe at work, if I can bring my friend Smith and his sidekick with me.  

Someone needs to tell these insurance companies that it isn't fair to totally destroy a persons life while they sit back in their executive chairs pushing your file from one claims consultant to another. Am I asking for money from your personal bank account or money that I paid into the insurance? Why is it okay to allow this to drag on with no end in sight. 

Well, the end may be near. Professionals are trying to get me a new residence in the Rubber Room Hotel. Meanwhile the employees of the crisis center call daily to see if I am still breathing. And you have to answer their phone calls or they send the policing brigade to break down your door to verify or disprove your current meta-physical state. And the insurers continue to leave me hanging while I pack away the life I had into boxes not knowing where I am going. Maybe I am just getting my affairs in order. You see, I can't really go anywhere. Technically, I am still an employee, how far away can I go from my place of work before they say - you are fired. I wish they would fire me - because I promise you that a lot of information would be leaked to the public for the to draw their own conclusions. "Heels" would be named, so would the "Oh dear" ladies - the pain associated with the thoughts of these people is so great that I have to push them out of my mind. I am not strong enough right now to deal with that pain.

Did you hear about that Los Angeles police officer, Christopher Jordan Dorner,  that was fired and then went on a shooting rampage? When he snapped and began to seek revenge, his employer issued a statement indicated that they would re-open his allegations of racism as they may have been erroneous in their dismissal of him. Too little too late, I'd say. I sympathize with the man and I understand what drove him. I am sorry he died instead of his tormentors. These are his words from his manifesto. It sounds eerily familiar if you substitute DPCDSB for LAPD.

"I know most of you who personally know me are in disbelief to hear from media reports that I am suspected of committing such horrendous murders and have taken drastic and shocking actions in the last couple of days. You are saying to yourself that this is completely out of character of the man you knew who always wore a smile wherever he was seen. I know I will be villified by the LAPD and the media. Unfortunately, this is a necessary evil that I do not enjoy but must partake and complete for substantial change to occur within the LAPD and reclaim my name.....The question is, what would you do to clear your name?"

I leave you now with a simple musing that I wrote trying to succinctly state my case:

"My childhood including...

                     - surviving the deaths of all 5 of my family members

                     - over-coming my grandmothers warped sense of child-rearing

                     - refusing to succumb to the typical teenage angst and tribulations 

...had NO bearing on the events that occurred during my employ with the Dufferin-Peel Catholic District School Board 25 years later. Nor did those childhood events give them the right to abuse and harass me in any way."

And finally, an insurance company that is set up and we pay into to be there when we need them should not be permitted to take our life and dignity to avoid paying what is owed. 

Running Scared

Rage - Blue Rodeo

When will you rage again, is it enough 
Just getting out of your head night after night
Are you running scared or you just don't care
Or are you waiting for that one high and holy sign
To shine a light on you and pull you through to the silent true

A lot of things have happened lately that have me swimming in quicksand trying not to drown. And I'm so tired that I really want to stop flailing about and just let the mud invade my lungs and pull me down. The mud is warm and comforting and the pressure against the skin is providing the first sense of security I have not felt in a long time. 

But every time I think..."It's time" my eyes well up with tears. There is a conflict that compresses my chest like an elephant sitting upon it. I'm tired. My heart hurts. My brain is pushing against my skull trying to break free. A desire to let go and give in but a stubborn streak that doesn't want them to win. I'm not sure that God is going to let them see the light of day so I have to prove them wrong. 

Forgiveness is not an option. When you knowingly and willful set out to hurt someone you may try and seek solace in another realm but in my world you can go fuck yourself. The drunk who gets behind the wheel and kills - that wasn't an accident. The truck driver who follows to close and uses his bulk to intimidate, who alters his driving log unmindful of the innocent people on the road who aren't sleep deprived - no pity here. Anyone who has mistreated another human or animal in anyway - may you rot in hell. And the people of the Dufferin-Peel Catholic District School Board who systematically and willfully whittled away at everything that was good about me. I can't imagine a punishment I could inflict that would bring me any peace. 

And to all the professionals who have taken a microscope to my life since my character was pulverized by the Catholic Educators and Administrators, I only have one thing to say that I hope you will take into consideration. We all have a past and some of us had a difficult childhood with imperfect parents, we somehow managed to survive. I happened to have had an especially traumatic childhood and was forced to cope with a lot of diversity. My past happened. It affected me. But it was the 1970's. Three decades ago! So today you can label me social phobic and try to change my pattern of avoidance for dealing with issues. You can blame that on the pain of my childhood and try to fix me. But I want to ask just one thing "Would you even be aware of my existence today if it were not for the work issues I was forced to endure at the hands of my crucifix-touting supervisors?" I was being nailed to the cross and slowly tortured until I finally broke. Wouldn't you? Doesn't everyone have a breaking point? What the hell do these actions have to do with an accident I survived 36 years previous?? 

Was I a misfit cruising under the radar of society? Waiting to be hauled off to the rubber room because I was depressed, anxious and social phobic? Or did I learn to cope and survive despite the rocks that were pelleted at me trying to knock me down. I think the latter, despite being far from perfect I managed to not only fit into societal expectations but did it on my own - Thank you very much. A single parent who raised two kids on her own without the benefit of spousal support (financial or otherwise), no familial support, no handouts from the government. When we lacked, I volunteered my time in lieu of paying for extra-curriculars. As the kids became a little more independent, I took on a second job to try and make our life easier. I didn't ask for help because that's not what I do - well I used to but having to go to distant relatives instead of immediate family meant I was flatly turned down. Who should I have asked for help from?

I was doing fine. I was happy. I was satisfied with my life (although always looking for ways to improve). My children had both graduated high school and gone off to post-secondary education. Now tell me how children of single parents don't succeed cousin! Regardless while I was busy minding my own business I was successful not only in my chosen career but every part time job I engaged in. I allowed the Catholic School Board to systematically assassinate my character and I never stood up to them. That behaviour and lack of willingness to fight for myself you can put down to learned behaviour as an emotionally abused teenager. But if someone chastises you simply because you refuse to say hello when you pass them in the crowded halls of the high school - how do you fight that? When you are told lies and they say that they have people who swear to hearing you make a racial slur - how do you refute that? When there are 6-8 of them staring down at you and listing off infractions and flaws in your character and personality while you look at the ground and clench your jaw to stop from screaming..."Look at ME when I speak to you!" they command me. I cry and hide further within myself. The one person that was there to protect me and my rights (my union rep) sat beside me, scribbling furiously on her note bad and saying nothing. How was I, a simple peon in the mighty cog of one of the largest employers in the county is not the country, how was I supposed to fight for my rights?        

They finally broke me! After nearly 10 years of suffering abuse at their hands I finally broke. I could hear them laughing at me in my warped consciousness. I strived to change myself - so that I could be what they said I should be. I failed and began to hate everything about me. Councillors, psychiatrists, doctors, therapists, group sessions. I did it all. I heeded the recommendations. Get out of the house, volunteer. Exercise, it elevates the anti-depressant hormones. Write, be productive. Each one of the activities I engaged myself in was used against me as proof that I was okay. They threw my childhood trauma in my face as a reason for the problems with the School Board. Hell, even the Board in official documentation to Workers Safety Insurance Board said that my behaviour in the work place was due to trauma suffered as a child. HOW THE HELL DID THEY EVEN KNOW ABOUT IT? I'll tell you how, I bore the scars like a badge all over my body. If someone asked what happened, I shared. I didn't shrink away and pretend it never happened. But tell me this - if I had no scars would anyone have ever known what I went through? The answer is NO! So to avoid an allegation of bullying the Dufferin-Peel Catholic District School Board chose to lie. 

And much to the displeasure of the School Board, I have the proof. 10 years of documentation, of wrong-doing, of mistreatment of students, of bullying students and staff. The Good The Bad and The Ugly. I have it. Long before I left work, I made accusations of being bullied by superiors and instead of action being taken, it was dismissed. I was dismissed. The law was broken to save the ass of employees who had a stronger union than I. Oh dear! 

As Blue Rodeo (in the above song) says so eloquently in their lyrics "Fuck off and die, I feel like the lucky one"

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Everybody Loves You When You're Dead - Wild Strawberries

Anybody can get so tired of the fight that they don't want to do it anymore. The fight is survival. Instead of feeling stronger for the effort the strength is sapped out of you and you feel yourself wilting like a dead flower in the middle of the winter - never to feel the warmth of spring. I am that tired and sometimes I really don't want to take another breath. I want the pain to stop. 

It just seems to be a constant struggle to try and make people understand...to believe. As I said previously, a lot of labels of mental deficiency have been heaped upon me of late. None which I specifically dispute - what I dispute is that they are being lumped together with childhood trauma as if I was still a child - that child. Nobody asks about the 36 years in between - how I coped for those years. 

That is what I want people to understand. I survived the trauma because my mind and resolve was stronger than the people who tried to break me. I knew that the unpleasantness couldn't and wouldn't last forever. There was light at the end of the tunnel. I was an optimist. I could see good in everything. I saw good in my scars - it could have been worse. I saw good in the death of my family - at least I still had my brother. When he left I was grateful for the time we had together - I was glad he was going to a better place even if it meant leaving me. I wasn't selfish. 

I now know that most of my life's outlook was based on what psychiatry deems as Solution Focused Brief Therapy (SFBT), and it should be noted that I did it without benefit of any counselling. SFBT is essentially is goal-orientated concentrating on where you want to be and how to get there. There is no point focusing on the past. We know how and why we are what we are, but it's the future that is important and how we are going to get there. I was an angry, frightened and intelligent person who was dealt a shit hand of cards. I can analyze the who, why, how to death but it won't change the past. I had to move on and decide how I wanted to live my life. I chose the high road and walked away from the pain. The ironic thing is that I never had an psychiatric counselling besides during the brief initial stay in the hospital after the accident. I became the person I was because that's who I wanted to be. I succeeded and I was confident. I was left alone and learned to live my life that way. Alone and self-sufficient. I learned to protect myself from anyone who I thought was trying to hurt me. I shut down, I avoided, I hid behind the wall.

New Normal Philosophy

Eventually your life will have a new "normal" without him but you can never expect to forget or hurt sometimes. The new existence comes with a certain amount of pain that will always rear its ugly head, usually when you least expect it but there is some predictability as well. Loss is almost always harder when it is sudden and unexpected because we have to process the loss and are expected to cope in the blink of an eye. 

by Gigi