Everything I've ever done, I have done by myself. Every award I’ve ever one, I made it by myself. There was no support crew, there was little nurturing, no base. There was no acknowledgement of my needs or my grace. The loneliness of not being adequately cared for. The loneliness of being second, third best, not as important as the rest. The feeling of surviving, making your way on your own. In your heart the feeling that no one’s home. The loneliness of losing family. Of losing your heart. The pain and the anger of losing that one person in your life that could be your rock.
I never realised how alone I truly felt. I never realised why I wrote my poems and raged and wept. The loneliness of loss, of grief all alone. The loneliness of changing schools, instability, moving homes. The wondering and the hoping that someone might notice the pain in me. The striving and achieving that I thought would set me free. I never truly realised how all of this could interweave. But now I realise how the loss of family, of love, send me so young and so deep into grief. No one at school or in my young life, adult or child, could understand the source of my pain. So I ran wild.
How much pain and loss can one child take? All the destructive things I tried to make the hurt go away, to stop the ache. I have been into the darkness, and I've found my way back to the light. I have swum through a deep ocean of pain, sifting through my emotions trying to set it all right. Only now that I am older, wiser, can I see the patterns in my life. So much set into motion from one fateful night. The loss of my father, age 10, the one who was most like me, left the hole in my soul that no one else could see. They could never understand my behaviour, my rage, my need to fight. But all I wanted was to feel loved again, to feel held, for someone to tell me it would be alright.
When you deny a child the right to be playful, young and carefree, you create a rift in their being, their soul, their sense of self belief. The saddest discovery I have made in my journey so far, is realising the guilt that I have held deeply, secretly carried so far. You see the mind of a child is not fully grown, it has thoughts and feelings not fully formed. So much of my frustration, my rage and my pain, came from my innocent belief it was my fault that he died. I couldn’t save him but in my heart I tried. But a child is not responsible for the death of their parent, and now twenty year later I am seeing my truth, the source of my lament.
All of these feelings that lay hidden in my being, have found a way to emerge, to process, the result liberating, freeing. I am no longer a victim of my history of sorrow. I am releasing my hurt, my mourning, I am finally free to leave my past behind and live for a better tomorrow.