Tag Archives: Family

The monsters under the bed

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Every day I wonder if I made the right decision by moving back home. Yes, there are many wonderful, new and positive things happening in the community, but there are also the same old negative and unhealthy habits that I left so I could get away from them.

​In my last blog post, I spoke of lateral violence and the poison that this behavior injects into the community. Coming home after being away for so many years means having to face that monster all over again. It’s disheartening to see that it hasn’t changed much. Coming home also means having to face personal monsters (family dysfunction) and the historical roots of oppression that have had long lingering effects on generations of families in the Aboriginal population.

​Indian Residential schools, political battles, racism, ignorance, apathy, denial and in-fighting are all ugly things I can’t avoid anymore, especially now that I am living and working in such a small community. Living in Toronto, it was easy for me to go to work, do my job and then leave, disappear into the city and go home.

​It’s not like that here and I feel that I stick out like a sore thumb. That is just one of many reasons why I have doubts about my decision. Do I really want to deal with all this stuff all over again? Do I really want to expose my children to all the things that made me leave in the first place?

​If I’m going to be really honest, I would have to say that no, I don’t want to deal with it all over again. But I’m a different person now than I was when I left. I have skills, I have experience, I have something to contribute and something to say and I don’t want to let my old fear and my doubts silence the Voice I fought so hard to reclaim.

​The fact is that I chose to come back here because I felt compelled to do so and I firmly believe that this is where I am meant to be, right here, right now. All the negative stuff might still be here and the monsters are lingering under my bed and in the closets, but I’m a stronger person than I was before and better equipped to look those monsters in the eye and scare them off for good.

I’m all grown up now.

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On being alone, solitude and writing

My children are away at summer camp and visiting my parents in Northern Ontario for most of the summer.  I know, it’s a long time, but before anyone goes and gets all judgy let me explain.

In my culture (Native American, Aboriginal, First Nations) it’s quite common for extended family such as Aunties, Uncles and Grandparents to have a role in child-rearing responsibilities.  When they are old enough, children spend time with extended family members in their communities and it enriches their lives.  I don’t live near my family, so summer holidays is the time that my children get to have long visits with my parents, go to summer day camp and just be out of this large polluted city that we live in.  It’s important to me that my children have a connection to my home community, the culture and my huge family.

But that’s not my point.  How quickly I get off track.

My point is that I have been spending a lot of time at home alone in the evenings.  Up until this summer, it was just my daughter that was spending the summer with the grandparents.  This is the first summer that my son is also up north with them.  They are having a great time and I’m looking forward to them coming home this weekend to spend a few days before they go back for the last three weeks of summer day camp.

I enjoy the quiet, but my missing them comes and goes and I have spent many evenings at home alone not really sure what to do with myself.  I’m used to always being on the go, rushing to my next appointment.  Being alone has been kind of weird.  So, in response to that I have started to indulge myself in two solitary activities – walking, and writing.

I’ve always enjoyed long walks and leisurely strolls.  I’m a walker.  I have been walking home from work, which is a great way to clear my mind of the day, and get some exercise.  By the time I get home, all the problems and dilemmas that I have been dealing with all day at work, are gone.  Walking is my daily meditation.

This summer, I have also gained an understanding and appreciation for the Writer’s need for solitude.  Intellectually, I understood this when I would hear other writer’s talk about it.  But really, my understanding never went beyond that because, well, I am rarely ever alone long enough to experience true Solitude.  Also, I don’t think I ever really understood what Solitude really was.  It’s different from being alone and loneliness.

I get it now.  And maybe that is my gift and lesson to learn from being away from my kids for this long.  I miss them and sometimes it gets lonely in the evenings.  When I start to feel that way, I open my laptop and I write down all the thoughts and ideas in my head that are now magnified by my alone-ness.  Writing keeps me company, and is teaching me that being alone doesn’t necessarily mean being lonely.

Solitude is an under-rated virtue that I am lucky to have been blessed with in these last few weeks.  It is an essential component in living a creative life.

One Echinaccea flower

P.S – I still can’t wait until the kids are back and making noise and a mess of my house.