The Damage Is Done

Fill Our Wounds by In-Flight Safety

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F3NWtUsZ2gs

I don't know about you but every now and then a story with come on the news and affect me in a way that I never expected. I'm not talking about the "feel good" stories that warm your heart or even the "crimes against humanity" stories that make your blood boil. I get those feels too but this is different. Sometimes a news story will bring up all the pain and sorrow of my past and my life and breaks me so hard I have to stop and fix myself...again. 

Right now, I am feeling damaged beyond my ability to repair. And the culprit is the current policy of the government of the United States to rip the children of refugees from their parents arms as they attempt to cross into the country from the Mexican border. The reporters talk to experts who say that the children are traumatized and likely to suffer from P.T.S.D. (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder), nightmares, anxiety and emotional stability even later in life. It never goes away. And every time I hear a snippet of this news item (I shut it off quickly) I feel pain. I feel like I am being ripped apart one more time from the last people who really loved me. My mother, my sisters, my brother and yes even my father (who I barely knew). 

This is an intense feeling of detachment. Feeling like I am not like others, like I don't quite fit in the world around me. That I don't belong. Like the bruised apple in the bag that isn't good enough to be taken out, given a little shine against the chest and then looked at admiringly and enjoyed. I spent the majority of my teenage and young adult life believing that I was not worthy in any way of love or to be loved...as a child is loved by their parents. 

Overall, I know I've done pretty well for myself (despite the hardships) and there are a few people who helped me to get as far as I did. Shout out to the Laws who stepped in to fill a void because their hearts were so big they had room to love 2 more. There have been others too (friends, extended family) but always you know that they have their own family priorities. It's just not the same. 

I had a mother, father, brother and sisters - past tense. I may love people and consider them like family but they will never have the blood bond or the ability to take the place of my loved ones. My ex-mother-in-law once said to me that I could call her "Mom" because I didn't have one of my own. I was deeply offended and from that day forward she was always referred to as "ex's mom", I never called her by name. That happened 14 years after my Mom died and 30 years ago and it still bothers me. I don't believe that she had any intent to hurt me as she did. Others hurt me, with and without intent. 

World We Know - Crash Parallel

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6WWi6ZL2JnE

After my Mom and sisters died in 1974 when I was 12 years old, I spent several months in the hospital and when I finally returned home, I was a different person (inside and out). I returned to live in the family home but it wasn't the same, for me it was a house of pain where I struggled for the next 5 years. Those were formative years, teenage years. Years, that for many spawn pleasant memories of friendship, young love, personal growth to look back on in later years. I left that home with resentment, anger, bitterness and a deep craving for love. I bought friends, spent money to be with others. I fell into relationships that weren't only fundamentally wrong for me but were un-healthly emotionally and psychologically. People telling me I was unworthy was all I knew. And when some of those people weren't verbally cruel they did take advantage of my vulnerabilities and kindness of heart. And no I am not saying I am in the running for sainthood. 

I do believe that I had a right to be angry but it didn't have to manifest itself the way it did. There needed to be some counselling to help work through the myriad of emotions and feelings of abandonment, and the anger. There needed to be some way to learn to love my self and know that I was okay. There needs to be someone to listen to the cries of the children. 

I'm not alone in my loss. There are many others who have lost loved ones. Others who have been scarred. Others with crappy teenage experiences. Others who have been bullied at school and at work. Why do I continue to feel the way I do? 

Life after Mom, I was constantly subjected to interactions that told me there was something wrong with me, that I didn't fit in, that I made people uncomfortable. That I wasn't okay. I was judged so they could put me in a place where I could be controlled. It took a tremendous and life-altering toll on my existence. I wasn't successful in school, I was told I was stupid. What career could I possibly have that would keep me hidden. Yes, I was told that my very appearance frightens people and I should do what I can to cover and hide my scars. The Unknown Comic could have been me without the laughs.

The difference then between me and others who suffer but still thrive is support. Primarily unconditional family support and love. If our families can be behind us we will be okay. Someone will be there to help us stand learn to walk and maybe even run again. 

That's what I hope for these children who have been ripped from the arms of their loved ones. That they will be re-united with that unconditional love that will help them understand they weren't left because they weren't good enough. 

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Final thoughts: I struggle to understand if all of this makes sense to the average person reading it. I can't do more to fix it. Let this graphic speak for me....

credits

Globe and Mail:

https://www.theglobeandmail.com/world/us-politics/article-babies-young-children-separated-from-parents-at-border-sent-to/

https://globalnews.ca/news/4286160/health-impact-family-separation/

A Unique Puzzle Piece That Still Fits In

Fear by In-Flight Safety

*Special author note: I have really struggled in trying to articulate my thoughts on this subject. Please don't judge me too harshly for I am admittedly still trying to understand and find my place and see how I fit in.


Fear. 

We all experience fear in some form or another. Fear of dying. Fear of spiders. Fear of heights. Fear of commitment. And to me one of the most paralyzing of fears - the fear of judgement.

Nobody wants to be judged on things that cannot be changed or shouldn't be changed particularly if we want to preserve the integrity of self. Judgement is inherently negative because it is typically a comparison against ourselves. We certainly don't want to make ourselves look bad so we demean another to "raise" our profile. That is the problem with judgement.

Starting with our first breath the labeling process begins. Girl/boy. Quickly followed by a religious and cultural distinction, and the comments concerning our skin colour. And we will generally keep those labels all our life. It seems that the most defining labels are the ones that make us unique within our community. First and foremost for all seems to be the sexual orientation. However using myself as an example I am a white female - and you can't tell much more beyond that without speaking to me. Indeed, I present myself with the intention of celebrating my gender. But even that line has blurred somewhat particularly with the advent of jeans as popular clothing for both sexes. 

If people wear specific items on their person do they want to be identified by that label? We often wear uniforms at work intentionally so that we can be quickly labelled as an employee. There are also uniforms for sports, hobbies, interests and groups. Wedding rings group us into very specific categories as well. If I wear a Nickelback t-shirt I am advertising myself as a fan of that band and I wear it proudly. That pride negates any negative comments that may be hurled my way. 

So how about embracing our differences and being proud of them. Will that help people feel more included? You are a part of the whole because you are different but like a puzzle piece you still fit in. 

We're All In This Together - Sam Roberts Band

In North America (I can only speak to what I know) we seem to want to make a distinction about people based on their skin colour. There is a notion that dark-skinned people are a minority and therefore are treated as less equal. No doubt of this figuring prominently in the past of the whole of the Americas and persisting in some forms to this day. I wonder if in a country that is predominately black skinned whether the tables are turned on the fairer skinned? But I digress, the point is that I'm not so sure that making a distinction is abnormal behaviour. Labels aren't the problem...negative judgement is, perpetuating the stereo-types that are thrust upon us via the media and our social circles is a problem. And although colour is the primary focus here, negative judgement hits us all in some way. The weaker sex, the differently-abled, the blondes, the fat, the skinny, the Catholics, the Muslims. It doesn't end. No one is immune it seems.

There is nothing wrong with identifying someone as a young, black female as long as we don't presume at the same time that said female is also an unwed mother with no clue who her baby daddy is. I guarantee that there is no shortage of young, white females in the exact same predicament. Does the same negative stereotype cloud your vision? That is what we have to change. And in my opinion a lot of that negativity comes from the media that manipulates much of what we see and hear about the world outside our own neighbourhood.

When a child or dementia patient goes missing I think that skin colour can help in the locating of an individual. In the same way that clothing, hair colour and size is a useful tool so would knowing if the person wore a turban or relied on a scooter/wheelchair for transportation. The more details I have the better the chance I have of identifying that person and finding them. We have to stop believing the hype and stop spreading the negativity. We need to look at the reality. We need tolerance. We need acceptance. 

The Academy Awards were held the other night and although not much of a fan of awards show - boredom found me watching this one. I also like Neil Patrick Harris and was curious as to how he would handle his hosting role. Although John Travolta's bizarre behaviour continues to be the trending topic, I want to focus on NPH's comment early in the broadcast welcoming the audience to "Hollywood's best and whitest..I mean brightest." I don't know what the ratio is of black to white actors and personnel in the movie business but maybe that is the cause of the lack of colour. I personally think it has more to do with the black story, how about just a movie that happens to feature a diversity in casting. Not about slavery, not about oppression but about life, about success, about the human condition. And to tell these stories maybe we need to see more people of colour as producers. Couldn't hurt, for one white male who produces films retelling the black story, says that he tells the stories in a way that he thinks white audiences will want to hear/see them. That is not necessarily the reality of the story - but the commercially acceptable one. The money making story? That's not okay.

The fact of the matter is that only studio released movies are eligible for Oscar nominations and there are small fortunes spent by the moguls lobbying for votes for their interests to win. It doesn't make the winner the best movie/actor/actress but the team that is the richest and cagiest. 

Just recently I heard a conversation whereby the speaker suggested that one way the colour barrier in the media could be changed would be to have a black man play the role of Superman. Nothing wrong with that really I suppose but I'm not sure that would solve anything. In terms of talent, there is no doubt that colour has no bearing on the ability to conquer a role but does that make it the right thing to do. My go to is - does it work both ways. Can a pale actor play Martin Luther King? Why would we want that? Why not be true to the character or person? There is a difference between black and white and it is something that should be embraced and not necessarily assimilated. Why not make a whole new story where the role could be played by the best actor not the best black or the best white actor. Or maybe we can stop putting so much credence on the Academy Awards as the be all end all source for what we think is good at the movies. 

I would like to see equality in the media and I am seeing some change. Morgan Freeman successfully portrayed the traditional white figure of God in Bruce Almighty. On the other hand one of the screenwriters of the recently remade film Noah, said that an all white cast was used as a representation of mankind because having people of colour might be distracting to the audience and take away from the telling of the story. I am not thinking about the US fed television/movie fare but our own Canadian newscasts. When prominent names in the industry come to mind, I don't see their colour or even gender I hear their voice and their sincerity. It's a step in the right direction.

Label yes. 
Judgement no.

Practice kindness. 
Act love.

credit
Academy Awards - Neil Patrick Harris
http://www.billboard.com/articles/events/oscars/6480217/oscars-neil-patrick-harris-monologue-watch
New Republic: Why Selma Didn't Win an Oscar
http://www.newrepublic.com/article/121113/selma-oscar-snub-why-film-wont-win-best-picture
Noah had no actors of colour
http://blogs.indiewire.com/shadowandact/co-screenwriter-of-noah-explains-why-there-are-no-black-people-or-poc-in-the-film

A Cry Only She Heard

Surround - In-Flight Safety

You surround yourself with people who make you happy and the places where you will find peace. But then you turn around and those people are gone. 

Maybe they walked, maybe they ran, maybe they were buried. But they are gone...they weren't meant to stay.

So how much should you fight to keep someone who doesn't want to be? It's a question I have struggled with. 

This is not a commentary on suicide because people who contemplate taking their own life really are only trying to stop pain in the only way they believe will work. People who don't feel alone (in the world or in their mind) in my opinion don't consider the end as the best route to happiness. People who feel supported aren't afraid to lean.

This is also not a discussion on the right to a dignified death when the time comes, at whatever age we are when that door is the only one open. There are no concrete answers to this dilemma for me. I always thought I would not want to be kept artificially alive, then I heard about Robyn Benson who was 22 weeks pregnant when she suffered a brain hemorrhage that left her brain dead. She was kept on life support to give her baby a fighting chance at life. Baby Iver was welcomed into the world as his mother was allowed to go. As a mother, I would not object to a machine-assisted existence to save the life of my child. Or to save my organs for transplant purposes.

So that's not what this is about...so what is the point of these ramblings today. Relationships is the pat answer. In most relationships you see what you want to see and feel what you want to feel. Maybe it's an addiction problem, maybe it's an indiscretion or a little white lie - but so often we grow into a comfort zone with another person and we don't want to upset the cart. So we pretend that what is happening is not real or it will go away. I'm not just talking about marital relationships but friends and colleagues as well. 

When we put ourselves into the vulnerable position of a relationship, we are opening ourselves up for pain. We trust that the other will not hurt us, but sometimes it is a trust misplaced and we are battered.  

I think it can be beneficial to look back on a failed relationship to seek ways to improve the odds of success for next time, or to give our self-esteems a boost by understanding that it wasn't all us. Self-doubt and criticism rules and tramples our fragile egos when a relationship fails. I would like to think that, but I can't always practice what I preach. Some relationships (work) I am simply not strong enough to want to remember. Yet - maybe never. 

One thing I know for sure is that all my relationships fail for one main reason. Me! I am the reason that they will not continue. I am the one who made the decision to end it. But sometimes, it is more of a hiatus than a permanent dismissal. There always seems to come a point where I realize how one-sided my relationships are and put an end to them. The grand optimist often surfaces and is quick to give an adversary a second (third, fourth etc) chance. This isn't looking through the mirror of the past with rose-coloured glasses, but reading the words written in the truth of anonymity. 

I have learned this about myself in recent months. Not through some intensive therapy laying on a couch or even hours spent in mindful introspection. But literally reading the words I myself wrote. Years of diaries that chronicle the day to day thoughts and occurrences of past life lived.

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. All there. Intimate details about personal experiences, youthful foibles and questionable decisions made. Reactions to others and their thoughts spoken about me. From the age of 8 years. The innocence of a child, the angry teenager and the insecure young adult. With no one left to talk to or listen without judgement I wrote/talked to myself. The problem was I didn't listen. I had no advice to give for I had no frame of reference for love and respect.

Over and over again I was taken advantage of. And I knew it was happening for I wrote about how I felt when it happened yet - I allowed it to continue over and over again. One-sided relationships. In love and in friends and even colleagues. I never spoke up. 

Ah, to look to the past as a predictor of future behaviour. I wish I was that smart to have done that. But I did not have that foresight. The written word now tells me that I was smart, but the people in my life convinced me that I was a fool who was undeserving of respect.

Looking back now, I feel sorry for that girl who had so much hope that things would get better that she was broken by the half-filled glass regularly. And more times than even I remembered she used that broken glass to try to stop the pain and cry for help. A cry that only she heard. 

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Flash forward a quarter of a century and nothing has changed. Six months have passed and we said WE would call often. They haven't called yet. I did. Then my eyes saw the one-sided relationship and I stopped. It hurt but no one heard me cry. 

It was written that in a drunken stupor you hurt me and I said nothing. I allowed it to continue. In a drunken stupor the tables were turned and I was blamed and hurt again. I wish I could tell you the whole truth and you would hear. But you don't want to hear what I have to say. I keep my pain hidden. 

I asked for help and I was forgotten. I just wanted to bring some closure to a painful incident. Just look and see if you can find anything. Do it for me, because I admit that I am too weak. I wait and then I stop asking. I may be important in your life but my usefullness is past expiration. I see that but I don't want it to be.

But the pain that hurts the most is the one I expected to never hurt me. I asked for very little because I knew that there was nothing to be offered. I just wanted the simple acknowledgement of being. How long does it take to say "Hi!"? How hard is it to type or text "Hey"? One-sided, I see that. I gave you what you needed but my wants were trampled on. You knew how much being lied to upset me but you wanted me to believe that you just weren't around. I know it's not the truth but I never confront you with the proof. I remain stupid and in pain. And as much as I know deep down that I am worth it, I am afraid. Afraid to let you know that I am worth it. Afraid to really believe it myself. Afraid of free-fall.  

Re-reading these journal entries is like watching my life pass before my eyes in high definition slow-motion. Clarity that comes from looking with the years of disconnection to the past. There are certain truths about me that I have come to accept. I fail at relationships because no one ever took the time to help me understand that my role in them is not to be a doormat. Nobody ever took the time to tell me that I was worth being respected. Nobody taught me to have a voice. Nobody every told me that I was worth it. 

These are things that parents teach their children. My parents didn't fail, they were taken from me. My subsequent guardian didn't believe I was worth it...so neither did I. 

I am trying to teach myself that I am a good person and that it is okay to tell people that I am to be respected. But years of rejection and self-doubt are hard to erase without the support of someone in your corner. 

I am in the corner trying to find my voice. And no one is there to hear me cry.

PS. I now understand my aversion to the telephone. I was told too often that no one wanted to hear from me. On the off chance I have taken the plunge to call, I often found rejection. I don't call for help without anguish. I learned to do it all without help. 

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With Valentines Day upon us tomorrow, I plead with you to put some thought into a truly heartfelt show of your love. Do not wait until the last minute and then go to the only store open 11:30pm on Valentines and buy barrettes for someone who never wears them (yeah it happened). If you are going to do breakfast in bed for your significant other make sure you don't confuse how they take their coffee with someone else of importance in your life. Having a frank discussion on expectations can alleviate some of these problems and isn't a terrible idea. Keep it light though since I heard one poll that found 22% of respondents had been dumped on Valentines Day. Ouch!

And for God sakes, if you are alone, don't impulsively change your entire life with the adoption of a pet that you aren't ready for. If your life is too screwed up, maybe a pet doesn't belong in it right now. Don't allow the commercialism of what is really just another day, to impact the welfare of an innocent animal. However...if on February 21 you still want to add a furry or feathered friend to your family...ADOPT! :)

credit where credit is due:

http://www.theprovince.com/health/Baby+Iver+good+survival+chances+pregnant+braindead+Victoria+woman/9469545/story.html