It has been quite some time since I felt I had anything to say important enough to share. I have been grieving, not just for my friend Mali, but for the complete change in my life. I was explaining to someone the other day, my birthday in fact, that while I acknowledge I have lost a great deal, I have gained so much. When I left Canada I believed Mali was my whole world, she really had been. We clung to each other as if we were stranded on a piece of driftwood in the ocean, waiting for rescue.
I know if I had stayed for her, I would probably not have made it. I feel like a coward for leaving her behind in order to save my own life, and often when I wake in the middle of the night I believe I should have stayed and had the trust I would have been ok. But we cannot go back and change such decisions to see if there would have been a different outcome. We can only try to forgive ourselves for the choice made which somehow feels so wrong, yet somehow right. This makes me wonder what my mother felt when she agreed to hand me over to the care of the Phypers, the family who raised me. Did she ever wish she had made a different choice? Would I have lived, had she chose to keep me?
I did not search for the story which has found me with regards to my heritage. I had no reason to doubt who I had grown up to be. The memories of my childhood pushed so deep into my subconscious, I had only a discomfort which haunted me, like a shadow. You know what it’s like when you see movement from the corner of your eye, but when you turn to look at it, there is nothing there. There is a lingering sense of discomfort though because you want to be able to prove you saw something. We have this need to prove what we cannot see, and at times it can make us feel we are crazy.
My dreams are like that. They told me a story about a little girl who experienced a different life, one which most likely would never be proven. The dreams reminded me, you cannot run away from who you are. You cannot ever truly forget who you were born to be – there will always be a hint of your true self in all that you do.
I have been thinking a great deal about the past few years of my life, and still cannot understand completely why I am back in Canada. In the past few weeks, three different people have given back to me items I selected for them when I left. This has also got me curious. I wondered if, in particular, the artwork returned was an indication, I should stop believing my art has value, should it be only for my personal therapy? I wondered at the irony that while items I willingly gave away returned, those which were most precious have likely been lost forever.
Patrick returned to Canada last year, stayed with his brother and there was a fight between them. Patrick then removed all the tubs containing not just his personal belongings, but also mine and placed them in storage. I realized when this was explained to me, I would never see my most personal and dear treasures again. It was as if my home was destroyed by fire and my connection to all I thought held great importance gone with it. It has been a little difficult to accept, yet I know there is deeper meaning involved. I have to truly step out of the life I understood as being mine in order to enter the one I now live in.
In South America, it is El Dia de Los Muertos, so it is not surprising my father and of course Mali are heavy on my mind. There has been much thought on my part to understand the purpose of my journey these past two years. I realized my need to go to Ecuador, was also my fathers need and thus he gave me the push to have the courage to leave all I knew here to be absorbed in the culture close to him. It seemed at the time I was being funnelled towards a destination I would never have thought possible for myself. How could I ever understand who my father was, what his life meant, and as a result who I am, if I did not experience the world he came from? His name means nothing for the most part in this country, his life, his sacrifices unknown or distorted to fit a storyline which excuses the behaviour of power hungry men.
So, why did I have to return? For as surely as I was funnelled into my decision to go to Ecuador, I was equally led to my decision to return to Maple Creek, leaving behind the most import companion I have ever had in this life.
This morning I came to understand better why I am here. Not only was it important for me to accept the incredible friendships made here before I left, something I truly did not fully grasp, but the greater reason was for me to have the courage to accept who I am here in the country I was raised in. It is one thing to have the courage to accept who I am in my fathers world, in a place where he is honoured and respected by so many. But to have the courage to accept and face who I am, my heritage and what that means, in a world that does not even recognize for the most part who my father was, is not so easy. To openly admit to loving my father, to being his daughter at the risk of being humiliated takes a very different level of courage, something I am learning I have.
I don’t have to prove it, explain it or justify it, only accept completely my own value as his daughter. But I also must forgive and let go of all which was done to me because I was his daughter, the scars still healing. This also takes a degree of courage because it was so much easier to hide in the shadows of my own mind and allow the pain of my past decide my path. It is not an easy thing to cut the webs securing us to the fear of those memories giving us the freedom to choose happiness.
On the day I grew up believing was my birthday, I received a most unusual gift. It did not come from the earthly plane, but rather the spirit realm. The gift came in dream form as follows:
I was in fear, my life was unpredictable and I was under the control,of Patrick. It was a dream showing me how much of my life with him was lived in fear, most likely coming from my discussion with a friend last night.
In the dream I was with another man, although I never saw who it was, only felt his presence. I trusted him completely, felt safe with him. He was helping me as I made plans to leave Patrick, taking Lucas with me. Lucas was just a child under the age of 5.
I saw the spider as I was looking for something. We were outside at the time and I remember hoping it would stay outside. Then Patrick was there, my plans to leave before he got back abruptly changing gear. I’m not sure where the other man went or whether his presence in my home was something accepted by Patrick, but I feel it was not something he was comfortable with, perhaps suspecting our plans to leave.
There was a strong sense of an abusive situation brewing and there was a great deal of tension involved as I tried to stay out of his way. I saw the spider move very suddenly and very quickly as it seemed to make an impossible leap over a large distance and then run to Patrick. Patrick saw it as a friendly gesture, like the spider was his friend, one he enjoyed frightening me with. Lucas and I were hiding, and found ourselves in a position where we could see what was happening. Not just the death, but the truth about his manipulations. How he used the spider to create fear for me, controlling me, making my life a misery.
But the spider turned on him, biting him on his neck the venom going quickly into his body through the jugular vein. Patrick died quickly, but the spider also died with him, being squished as he flailed trying to save himself.
I continued my plan to leave, choosing to see the opportunity as a chance to remove myself from the situation at last. There was still so much fear connected to what was happening in my life. The death did not bring relief just yet, I needed to get away from the place connected to the memories.
But as I walked outside, the man who was helping me was welcoming a visitor. I stopped short, not understanding why this new person was here. It seemed this man was offering me a job or more like he wanted to commission be to do something art related. It was such a strange turn of events, the timing too incredible to believe. This is when I woke up, considering the dilemma of staying to create a new and positive beginning by staying in the place where I had only moment ago hoped to escape from.
The spider was protecting me……was the connection made when I was a child the source of this protection? My strong desire to not hurt it just because I was frightened of it, what bound us together? Is my connection to Patrick officially severed, even if it does not mean physical death for him? Has he lost his power over me with the spiders loyalty becoming clear?
It seems that even though I was in such a frightened state throughout the dream, that this was a very special gift to receive on this day which I have always known as my birthday.
I can only begin to wonder at the possibilities before me as I consider the very positive message of this dream. It’s as though the spirit of the giant spider has become part of me despite the distance between us. Every bit as important as Mali has been to me, the spirit of each continue to be part of my day.
No, we truly cannot run from the truth of who we are, nor the destiny known as our life. The strange and twisted path my life has taken, often does not make sense to me, but as I emerge from the fog bringing me back to Canada, I see the new strength gained from the journey to Ecuador. I believe people here who do not know me well, see the same person who left when they look at me walking down the street or when they walk into my place of work. I am not that little girl they saw before, although there are still traces of her which I need to hold on to. She is part of my new found strength, her buried love for her father brought me home in the end. My new found strength comes from her childlike innocence which refused to allow the hate to destroy her. I am here because of the beauty of her existence. I am my fathers daughter, I carry his love and passion for for the beautiful world I live in. I will not run from who I am any longer.