Healing & Happiness

Years ago, when I was going through my divorce, I was in a divorce care class through a church in Winnipeg.

As we sat there and shared a bit about ourselves and why we were there, I was the youngest person there. For a moment, as I sat there listening to others share their stories, I felt like mine was so mediocre. Like these people had been married for 10-30 years and were dealing with all sorts of levels of issues. And here I was 6.5 years into my marriage and it was falling apart.

It came to my turn and I started to talk about my relationship and where I was in life and touched a bit about my life. I was asked some questions regarding my childhood, which I answered. Then, one of the ladies leading the class spoke up and said something I will never forget.

She said, "It is ok to not always be strong. It is ok to grieve for the little girl inside and what she has been through. She deserves that."

I shrugged it off as if it didn't cut through my heart like a knife.

In my mind, I had always just took the next step forward, and never really allowed myself to reflect or really feel the things I was actually experiencing.

I had been really good at forgiving a person, not because I fully understood it, but because it was what we were called to do. Forgive and Forget, but in reality, I knew forgetting was never possible. But forgiveness I could do and I could let it go.

I felt that forgiving a person, meant you don't allow yourself to think about it anymore, so when things would happen and I would choose to forgive someone, I wouldn't allow myself to dwell in the hurt they caused. I moved forward not realizing, that I was leaving that little girl behind in my mind every time I ignored the way people hurt me. I was ignoring her to cover up the paid I was truly feeling.

I made her quiet, not because she didn't deserve to be heard, but rather I didn't want her pain to bother anyone, including myself.

I went home that night, and just allowed myself to feel all the things. The things she went through at such a young age, the abuse, the neglect, the feeling of loneliness and despair. The feelings of watching my family turn to addictions and leave me behind to pick up the pieces. The little girl inside who just wanted to be loved, valued and more importantly wanted. The little girl who had no choice but to be strong, even when all she wanted to do was fall apart.

There was never a time up until then, that I felt like I was in a safe enough place to fall apart. Who was going to be there to pick up the pieces? Who was going to hold me? Comfort me, tell me everything was going to be ok?

Even now 13 years later, I have to choose to allow myself at times, to just feel my feelings. That doesn't mean I stay in those feelings, but rather allow myself to feel what is happening so that I can properly reflect on the changes needed to move forward.

Everyday I have to make a choice. Somedays that choice is easier than others and somedays it feels impossible.

Nonetheless, I make a point of remembering for HER. Her voice, her story deserves to be told, so here I am... telling it for her.

There are a couple classmates I remember growing up and funny enough, this past week, one of them reached out to me asking if I was who she thought I was. And sure enough we remembered eachother quite well.

We chatted for quite sometime about the experiences we had in school and how bad the bullying was and how in some people, things never changed.

We also talked about a specific incident where several girls in my class seen the bruises on my body that I spent years hiding so well. Even in that moment I didn't fully share the source of it. I was only 11 years old at this time.

But I remember sitting in that change room, feeling as exposed as I had ever been, and all the girls looking at my bruised and broken body, and crying uncontrollably. I remember saying to myself this was the last time I would allow myself to be in this situation.

That if he threatened to hit me again, I was leaving for good. So it was no surprise to me that just 2 short weeks later, I was sitting on the end of my bed after he had a huge blow up threatening us that "we were in for a beating" when he got home from work. And deep down I knew, it was going to be really bad, I could feel it in my bones. There was no question... this was it.

Sharing my story has connected me with so many others who I knew back then or even new people who experienced something similar.

While the situation and story are sad, its absolutely beautiful to see the impact it is having with encouraging others. When I say I am thankful that you all are here, I truly mean it.

***TW***

There are moments I remember about specific situations, but can't remember how I got there. I remember being there, but not the events leading up to me being there.

There was this guy who was an acquaintance of my fathers, and I believe he had a daughter we hung out with from time to time. He lived a couple blocks away from us behind the Motel down the road.

I have memories of being half dressed, in his bedroom while he was passed out or not even there. And it was as if I was woken up in that space because. But I do not remember how I got there as I wouldn't normally go into my friends parents rooms. His room was dark, with rock band posters and the smell of liquor and ci******es. He wasn't a clean person by any means.

There has always been a question of the depths of abuse we endured and if it ever crossed that line, and deep down I know it did, even if I can't fully remember the actual act of it. And not knowing whether this type of abuse was from my father or someone else has haunted me for along time. For years growing up, I feared being alone with men. And I don't mean at a baseline, like I would get anxiety about the possibility of it happening. I was terrified as the thought of being intimate with someone into my 20s. It wasn't normal and early on I made a decision to just not get involved in that part of a relationship until I was married in fear that memories would come flooding back.

I know my mind is and has been protecting me and often childhood abuse survivors remember only a fraction of what they experienced. I am not surprised that with everything we endured, that my mind can't bring that memory to the surface. Ultimately I am kind of thankful at this point.

In many ways I feel God has protected my from things I am not able to handle yet. I can feel that something is brewing, like something will be exposed about this particular part of my life and I can feel that I am being prepared for it. To be able to handle it and process it in a healthy way.

For now, I will wait, patiently, knowing with every memory comes a new journey of healing. ❤️

Imagine being 10 years old and so scared of your father's choice of punishment that while waiting for him in your room for whatever discipline he deemed acceptable for whatever problem you created that as much as you fight it and try not to, you wet your pants. You change your clothes and hide them, knowing it will happen again when he comes to discipline you.

At just the THOUGHT of what he may choose to do once he came upstairs. Never mind the actual physical part of the punishment.

Sometimes it would be just a spanking and often it would be much worse and the degrading comments and random upside the head slaps would contiue for hours.

Generally it wasnt over anything major. Maybe I had the wrong tone or didn't finish a task as well as he expected. His reasons were never explained. It was never out of a blatant disobedience. It was usually an accident or misunderstanding.

After one particular beating I got, the next day, I felt so bad for causing him to be angry, that I took a piece of paper and wrote something on it and put stickers and drawings on it and taped it to his door, pretty much saying "I love you and I am sorry".

What I was hoping for from doing that? I do not know and now I look back and realize how messed up that was. I was afraid that he wouldn't love me anymore or want me anymore.

The manipulation and fear ran deep and all I wanted to do was to make him happy so that one day maybe I could feel that he actually loved me.

Sometimes my brain literally says WTF did I experience and why? Why did it have to be this way.

But I look back on everything that brought me to where I am today and who I am today and I choose to be thankful.

I look at my life and think WOW, God took me from there to here. Everything I dreamed of as a child and a healthy family, I am able to give my kids. A happy home filled with laughter, a safe home that is filled with love and compassion and a comfortable home that is never short on snuggles or hugs. They never have to worry about not being loved or that I won't be there.

My pain has turned into something so beautiful, that if I had to do it all again to arrive here... I wouldn't think twice. I would walk through it all knowing exactly what was waiting for me. ❤️

People often talk about the Child and Family Services system in such a negative way. And while I have my own issues with the system, I can not help but be grateful that when they got the chance to remove us from our home, they took it.

While there were reports about our family and CFS did their investigations, we never said anything and they couldn't actually prove he was hurting us because we wouldn't talk. This was the case for years.

Our situation ended up being a bit different. We weren't apprehended by CFS, because in our case WE called CFS and begged them to come take us. We were hiding out at a neighbors house and we called every hour asking when they were coming and their response was soon.

There was some logistics involved and we waited roughly 6 hours for them to physically come get us.

As they worked tirelessly to find us a temporary placement and exhausted every option they could think of, they feared that we would have to spend another night at home because they couldn't find someone to take us on such short notice. When they told us we may have to hold out for one night, I said "No, I will run."

There was no way I was going back there, especially with him in the house. They didn't understand or know the hell we were living in. They didn't know just how bad it was and if we went back and he found out we said anything, we would have been gone the next morning. On this particular day, we actually feared for our lives.

They knew this was their window to get us and they didn't want to miss it. And thankfully just when we felt hope was lost, the phone rang and they said they have a car on the way and have a temporary placement for us.

The car picked us up just in time, because as we were driving out of the apartment parking lot, he was pulling in, just getting home from work. We were ducking in the backseat hoping he didnt see us.

He was my best friend and alot of times my protector. He stood between my father and us several times. Somehow he was the ONLY person that could get my father to calm down. He adored his grandchildren and would never turn down an opportunity to spend time with them.

My grandfather was an amazing man. He believed in family and marriage and when he married my grandmother, he was committed to her in sickness and health. But she was committed only to herself.

She was a vile woman who treated everyone around her like dirt. She drank and gambled away his money, beat him and his children horribly and ultimately lives were lost and changed forever because of her. She lost everything they had due to her addictions and lack of desire to get help.

But Him, he was a good man. An honorable man. When he was finally able to break free from her, his heart ached for his children and I know his heart hurt knowing what kind of life we may have with what our father experienced at her hands. I really feel he did everything he could to protect us while he was still here... but even he didn't know just how evil my father could be to us.

To escape here and be with his younger kids, my aunt moved him out to BC to be with her and her other 2 brothers. It was so hard seeing him go, not knowing when I would see him again.

When he left, he gave me the purse in the photo below. This item is the ONLY piece of my childhood that I have and it means everything to me.

Unfortunately that would be the last time i seen him, got to hug him and feel his comfort. My grandfather suffered several heart attacks and strokes throughout his years. Stress was a huge factor and on the very day he was supposed to come home to see us for a visit, he had a massive heart attack. My father flew out to BC to see him and when he returned it was like something died in himself along with my grandfather. He passed away in April of 1995 and it felt like the worst day of my life.

What was our safety net, even from across the country was now gone and there was no one to stop him anymore. Things got worse, quickly.

For a long time, I felt like something in me died with him. I became very emotionally distant and the things we were experiencing at home, just felt like another day. No matter how bad it got, it really felt like it didnt even matter, I didnt matter.

I managed to find a picture of him when he was younger and had AI do a little one of us together. Makes me emotional looking at it, thinking about him and how proud he would be to see where we are all now. ❤️