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  MY STORY 

As a child and even now, as I look back at my life, I don't feel that it was much different than anyone else's.   The experiences I went through and the life I lived allowed me to become the person I am now.  This is true for everyone.  Each experience, lesson and step along the journey of life helps change, build and inspire us.  We become the people we are because of the lives we live.  Each moment of the day, each situation that tempts or tests us, helps us to grow and become the people we are destined to be.

Over the years, I have heard comments from people about how easy I appear to have it.  My views on life and people seem so simple.  Many times I have been asked how I could be so understanding and sympathetic to others.  People wonder how I can relate to their lives and their thoughts.  I appear so balanced and at peace in my own world.  Whereas they feel that their lives are in the middle of chaos and confusion.  Yet, I find the words to help them and I am able to relate to their pain on a very basic level.

I believe that in order to understand, empathize and help others, it is important that I have experienced many facets of life.  At an early age, I realized that the compassion I felt for others and the sense of love that I felt allowed me to touch other souls and hopefully make a difference.

To my family, I appeared very much like a typical child, growing up through typical childhood pains.  My mother was quite aware that my sense of love and compassion was heightened and my ability to forgive and forget seemed different than other children my age.  Although an astute lady, my mother was unaware of the extent of the emotional turmoil that this sensitivity to others caused me.   Growing up, my experience of compassion for others was the cause for much emotional pain and distress for me.

A few years ago, it was suggested to me that others who are going through difficult times in their lives might benefit from hearing about my childhood, my pains and my losses.  It was said that it might be possible by showing the pain that others go through in their life, that it might help people see that everyone has times in their lives when they struggle.  Perhaps, they would see that even as we struggle through the difficult times, wondering how we possibly can survive, that we somehow manage.  We do indeed have the strength to accomplish and do whatever is necessary, we only need to trust ourselves.  It might even help others find the strength within.

I sat back and thought about my childhood and the different pains and heartbreaks along the way.  In my opinion, pain is the way to grow and learn, dwelling on pain doesn't serve a purpose.  But, remembering the journey can, perhaps, help others along their path.

My Childhood

I am the baby of the family.   The youngest of two girls.  According to my mother, I was hesitant to come into the world and held on to the safe, secure haven of her womb for as long as I could.   I was two weeks overdue when I finally made myself known to the world. 

When I look back at my childhood, I am aware of the love that surrounded me and how much my family cared.  I was brought up knowing love and security.  As a child, I didn't know what stress was.

I strived desperately to fit in and be a part of the family that I was born into.  I would watch my family debate their respective points of view on many different topics.  I watched as they argued passionately back and forth.  My sister was, in my eyes, brilliant.  She was well-read and knowledgeable on many different topics.  I had little in common with her.  As a child I had no interest in what was happening anywhere, except for my little world.  I didn't want to think about children starving in other parts of the world, wars or anything remotely serious.  I wanted to enjoy my life and not think about much except perhaps what I would wear to school the next day.  It must have been quite disconcerting for someone like my sister, who had attained so much knowledge about the world and world events.  I didn't like to watch the news.  I found the real world with all its struggles and pain very distasteful to me.  I thrived on the here and now and on the little things in the world.  I didn't concern myself with deep issues and never thought about religion or politics. 

     At the time that I was growing up, there was no label to describe children like myself.  I was consistently referred to as "too sensitive" because I took too much to heart.  I cared so much about others opinion, feelings and needs.  My feelings went very deep, as did my emotions.  Caring as deeply as I did wasn't easy, but I didn't know any other way to exist.

I was always sensitive to other people's feelings and needs.  Growing up, I always thought that everyone understood how important it was to feel for others and consider their feelings.  As a child, I seemed to levitate toward friends who "needed" me.  I seemed to be attracted to the underdog; to the person who needed help, guidance and understanding.   The age of twelve was a pivotal age for me.  It was at this age that I started to draw children to me that were quite troubled.  I could see the pain they carried with them, yet, below the surface I understood them.  I believed they just needed more compassion, more understanding and really good friends.  I was determined to help them.  On more than one occasion, this desire to help these troubled souls caused me much sadness and grief.

The age of 12 can be difficult for most children.  It's the start of puberty for many.  It's a time for emotional upheaval, physical changes and a time to challenge the authority figures around you.   At 12, my best friend was someone who was emotionally mixed-up and very troubled.   I thought I could help her and tried very hard to be a good friend, strong and balanced for her.  Unfortunately, being sensitive to others is sometimes very difficult.  Not knowing that you are so sensitive and not understanding that you can be drained emotionally by others is even more difficult.

My friend was trouble from the start.  I knew it, and yet I was drawn into the web.  I saw her as someone who needed my helping hand, someone that I could help emotionally, who truly needed my help.   I was there for her in so many ways over the next few years.  Over this time, I allowed her to treat me poorly, take me for granted and be rude to me.  She wanted me as a friend on her terms only and whenever I questioned her behaviour or attitudes toward me, she would lash out at me.  My other childhood friends could not understand how I took her behaviour so lightly and they refused to invite her out to any social situations.  They thought she was a very mean person.  I felt, and to this date, still feel, that she was a person who was crying out for help.

There are some people who are much more tolerant of other's bad behaviours.  Often, they see below the surface and accept the person's attitude and poor treatment of them.  They understand that people often lash out at others because they are so hurt inside themselves.  They recognize that the pain people experience often creates situations where they end up hurting not only themselves, but others as well.  I was one of those people who understood this.

My desire to help others in need overwhelmed me.  I wanted so much to help them, that I didn't consider my own needs.  As a young child, I put their needs, wants and desires ahead of my own.   This friend was the first in a long-line of people in my life that I did this with.   My desire to help and to be good to them was so strong that it superceded any other need with me. 

I do believe that in relationships with others, we all have a breaking point.  A point where we recognize that no matter how supportive, loving and kind we are, that they are just not shifting, growing and treating us in a manner that reflects who they truly are.  Eventually, I reached that point with this friend.  For the past three years, I had tried to be a friend to her and in doing so I hadn't considered how her behaviour was affecting me.   In wanting to help her and be her friend, I had never asked, nor required, that she treat me with the same courtesy I treated her.  Once I recognized that I was not being treated as I deserved to be, I found the strength to walk away from the friendship.   I was not helping her if I continued to accept a behaviour that was not honouring me.

  Understanding the dynamics of people and relationships better didn't help alleviate the pain of loss of friendship with others.  In my fifteenth year, there was a young man named Steve who played a role in my life that I have never quite forgotten, nor understood.  His locker was situated near mine and I knew him from saying hi to him in the hall.  I wasn't in any of his classes, as he was a year my senior.  He was interested in me and always took the time to say hello and start up a casual conversation.  He was a rather shy person, but he was very nice and likeable.  Although, at that time, I was not interested in dating boys.  Throughout that year we remained social friends.

Steve had a hearing disability and wore a hearing aid to school.  Unfortunately, as was often the case, kids could be less than accepting of others at times and would find ways to bring attention to their differences.  The way the other boys in Steve's grade did this was by speaking in hushed voices near him.  When Steve couldn't hear the conversation, he assumed there was a problem with his hearing aid.  They would watch him fiddle with it and then when he appeared to be satisfied with the level of the hearing aid, they started to talk very loudly.  The boys thought this was quite fun.  When I heard about it, I thought it was rather cruel.

One afternoon, later that school year, the principal made an announcement to the entire school.  Unfortunately, one of the students had died tragically.  As everyone in class wondered who had died, the principal stated that Steve had been the student who had passed away.

I sat there stunned.  I felt very saddened by his loss.  A day later I talked to someone who had also known him.  She knew him much better than I and was aware of the personal dynamics in his family that I had not been aware of.  Although his father was a psychiatrist, this did not help Steve from taking his own life, nor his sister from taking her's the year before.  I sat in stunned silence as I realized the depth of despair Steve must have been living in.   I wondered if I could have helped him somehow by being a better friend.  I had never known someone who had taken their life before.

I think back on that time in my life and I realize that I couldn't have changed the hands of fate.  Being someone's friend and being a compassionate person isn't necessarily enough to change their course in life.

I believe that Steve must have been in turmoil for a while and that he must have felt there was no way out or no one to turn to.  I believe that there are many Steves out there.  What I learned from this experience was to look more closely at people and try to understand them more.   I try to see the world from their eyes and consider how my actions may appear to them.  I couldn't help Steve.  It is unfortunate that in the world that we live in many people cry out for help and so many people don't hear their cries.

The same year that Steve decided to end his life, was the year that I turned 16.  It was in this year that my life moved in a direction that changed me forever.  It was the year that I met my first boyfriend, the person I was willing to risk everything for.

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