Leaving Ottawa

Leaving Ottawa

At the end of grade 11 we were packing up and leaving for Saguenay Valley to Bagotville.  As my father called it, ‘Bag Town’ and we were going to go to ‘Sag High’. It did not install confidence that this would be a fun posting. My mother’s attitude was a bit contagious as she saw postings as a new adventure.  But the moves were wearing thin as, this time, I was leaving too much behind.

The last night before our move, Art came over to say goodbye.  I had a curfew at midnight which I always respected but I did think  this situation called for some lee way. We were talking under the back porch light and the clock was ticking towards the midnight hour.

My father bade me to say goodnight to Art and I decided not to listen to him.  He was being unreasonable.  It would do no harm for us to have a little longer visit this night so I brazenly defied him and suggested to Art that we go for a walk.  He complied, against his better judgement.

It was late and the streets were quiet but well lit.  Soon we heard a car roll up behind us. My father told me to get in.  I said no, I would walk home.  But Art, afraid of my father, was nudging me, “Get in, get in.”  So I did. I never forgave my father for that because I could never understand why he would be so cold and not understand how important this night was for me. He was insufferable. 

To End It All

To end it all

In high school I experienced the highs of highs and the lows of lows.  My public life was an escape from the isolation I felt at home.  Art, handsome and adorable, was a panacea for my hurting soul.  However, the burdens of the loveless years, the sense of desertion and futility were taking over.  I failed at winning my parents love.  The continued abuse and feeling of aloneness and despair accumulated and became too much. I tried to end it all and drank some poison.

When the moment comes, its really amazing how easy it is.  There doesn’t seem to be any other decision that makes as much sense or that is so easy.  Karen helped but I didn’t need it.  She jeered, ‘Oh, you’re too chicken. You’ll never drink that’.  And when I did, I don’t remember her saying another word to me or anyone else.  It’s as if she were waiting in the sidelines or hiding back stage, observing.

At school the next day I was at the nurse’s office writhing in pain. [In those days they had a school nurse who wore a little white nurse hat on top of her head. I vividly remember when it was my turn. We were lined up in the hall outside the nurse’s office.  When I went in, the door was left ajar and I felt eyes on my back.  I was very hesitant to say anything because of the audience at the door, so I said nothing.  

She put me in a room and called my mother who came and took me to the hospital.  There, the doctors treated me for a kidney stone and wouldn’t release me for 5 days.  I was crazy with anxiety to see Art, so I insisted on leaving on day 6. I had no further health repercussions from this attempt.

As awful as this desperation sounds, I realized as an adult, that I was a strong person in the making under the hand of my father.  “The test of fire makes strong steel’   I realized that all my hardships make this true for me.  All these experiences formed me.  I learned to deal with my sensitivities.  I learned compassion for those suffering. I learned to face my demons, not run from them. I learned to understand suicide.  So, in the end, I had a lot to thank my dad for.