Settling In (or Frustration As A Way of Life)

First off I don't want anyone to think that my entire childhood was overwhelmingly depressing and without joy. I just happened to have one of those personalities that seemed to be overshadowed by "everything".

I was, and still am, a shy, sensitive individual. Mostly I remember my youth being filled with worry and doubt and much lacking of self-confidence. Of course, it seems to me that people usually remember the high's and low's of their life. For me though, the lows overshadow the high's.

Here I was, ten years old. The oldest of 4 children. A mother who seemed quite annoyed with my presence all the time - except when needed to do housework or babysit my sisters. And, as the other children grew older, they seemed to present a much different personality than mine. They were more outgoing, more self-confident and much more vocal and assertive than I. All of which made me more self-conscious about all the things that I was sure my personality lacked. I was never sure of myself - which became a daily torture to my ego.

Aside from all the nasty stuff my mom seemed to be feeding me (eg. if the kids misbehave, it's your fault), I did have some wonderful times. We had moved to a new house where we were surrounded by woods. And the neighborhood was full of children. All about the same age. Some pretty strong bonds were formed......bonds that would eventually be broken and would make my heart break. But, I did love those summers and school vacations where we would be up at the break of dawn and out playing (dragging the little one's along) until the sun went down.

We made up terriffic games and actually the neighborhood kids loved coming to my house. We didn't have a big yard, it was very, very small. But, grass never seemed to grow much because of all the feet running and jumping and swinging from the huge front maple tree. We climbed that tree everyday. It was my friend and my comfort when there was no one to play with.

My parents eventually cut that tree down, saying it was a danger to the house should a storm knock it down. I can remember being so afraid for the tree and when I heard the saws cutting away at it, I ran away and hid out in the woods for the entire day and cried. Of course, when I came back home, my mom was angry that I wasn't around when she needed me. All that was left of my maple tree was an ugly stump. I was so angry at my parents for doing this act I said a swear word. So again, that night while laying in bed, I cried. This time I cried because I thought I was going to hell for saying a bad word (the nuns had assured us that swearing would send you straight to the fires of the devil). My parents just thought I was weird. I cried and sulked way too much. But, that was me. As much as I searched, I could not find anyone else like me. Where were people with compassion?? Was there anyone else around like me?? Someone who had feelings??

To get through elementary school we had to make our Confirmation. Like being Baptised and First Communion, we were all drilled in the rules of Confirmation. Boys in one class and girls in another. We only came together in church. Boys sat on one side of the church, girls on the other.

Well, the day arrived. We were all dressed in our best. The Bishop was here to bless his children with the newest sacrament. The routine was that a row of children would kneel at the altar. The bishop would start at one end of the altar and say a prayer, give his blessing, then slap your face. Honestly, this is what happened. As I watched the Bishop getting closer I began to be afraid for the girl kneeling next to me. The Bishop was really hitting the kids hard, making their heads jerk. As it happened, the girl next to me had false teeth (I know, eighth grade and false teeth, but it was true).
I was worried that she would be struck by the Bishop and her teeth would go flying out of her mouth. ((told you I was a worrier)).

As it turned out, her teeth stayed in her mouth. I got my slap. The day was over. What a memory to take away with you from a day that was supposed to be so special. The nuns were all smiling and teary for us children. Nothing changed for me. I was glad I was almost through with catholic school. Looked forward to going to High School. Yes, I did look forward to going to High School with much worry and fear deep down in my guts.

OK, this was my last summer vacation. I was still the same shy person. Still filled with self-doubt. And still looking for someone like me. I was getting to the point where I felt I was just visiting this planet. Odd man out. And the nagging doubt echoing in my head 'what is wrong with me"?

This summer, we (me and my sister and our friends) would make the front page of our local newspaper. An event that my mother would predict before it happened. Freaky!!

Worrying As A Way of Life

Well, you might wonder why I've been away from the keyboard for a few days. Chock it up to: Work, Moving, Life.

For my job, I put in a full week in three days in a row. I love the routine, but find after three days, I am quite exausted.

Then the move. I'm selling my home of 15 years. The first offer on the house fell through two days after Christmas. I now have a new buyer and if all goes through (ya never know), I have 4 weeks to pack up the rest of my belongings and move, store, whatever I need to. The move also involves finding a home for my beloved dog - something I just last week found and am very happy about having a good home for her to go to. She is 10 years old and we are each other's constant companions at home. It is pure torture for me to even now write about having to give up one of, what I consider, a special family member.

My son and I are moving into a small (I mean no storage small) apartment. It is a good move. One that I have anticipated and worked towards for the last few years. I just did not think that things would move this fast. But the move is a welcome change for the two of us.

Next comes all the things that you have no control over, life. Aside from self, family and home, there's the country/world you live in and the world/planet you live on.

With this past week's IInaguratioNN of GGWWBBusHH and his plans to transform the world to his liking - democracy/freedom (whatever his interpretation of those words are), and the TTsunamII, the constant EEarthequakeSS and threat of Mt St. Helen's erupting again, the WaaRR in IIrraaQQ, GGlobal WWeather changeSS, the threat of MMeteorSS, how can anyone feel safe.

So, my worry gene has come back to find me. I'm fighting it, but everyday, after reading the news at large ... http://www.signs-of-the-times.org/ ..., I worry for the safety of myself, my family, the world - all of us.

So there, that's were I've been the last few days, worrying, gathering my self to find my inner strength, making peace with those things that I cannot change.

I'll be back tomorrow and let you know how this life of my is progressing. Hope ya'll come back. Stay tuned. This is as good as it gets!!

The Mediator

Notes From Grandfather Tree

Notes From Grandfather Tree

The Move.....

Somehow I made it through Second Grade. Friends were few (that I can remember). Who would want to be friends with a girl who was (a) taller than the rest of the class, (b) cried alot, (c) got the 'ruler' from the teacher and (d)was extremely unliked by Sister Something.

During the summer of the end of second grade my family moved to a nearby small city. Thankfully, we still lived near the woods and there was much to explore around the neighborhood. Since I felt so comfortable being alone and in the woods, it was normal for me to go off and find comfort with my new friend ... a wonderful old tree that I found. It was to be named The Great Oak. That tree was huge and, if you could climb to the top (which I never did for a number of years) you could actually see the local drive-in theatre. But exploring the woods was only part of my summer vacation. I was also big sister to two siblings and soon to be a third. Babysitting was now taking up more and more of my time.

Oh, by the way, our new home was just across the street from a Catholic Church. Our new church!! Not only that, but I was enrolled in another Catholic School. I had to be bussed to this school and the bus stop was a half mile walk from my house. Again I had to walk alone.

In second grade Sister Something was now being replaced with Sister Evil. Second Grade and in a new school with an 'english' name in a 'french' catholic school. I truly didn't fit in. I was shy, and when the nuns called my name it sounded horribly awful. Yep, I wasn't going to make too many friends right away. I got alot of stares and giggles, especially when the nuns screached my name. The second graders were cute and petite and mostly of french background. I was getting taller, and was very thin and I was had an english surname. Eventually, someone in school nicknamed me the Jolly Green Giant. I think it was one of the boys. Would this lonliness ever end.

Sister Evil wore a different style dress (or habit, as the nuns called their clothing). But again, it was a long, black flowing dress where she too hid a ruler. (What is it with nuns and rulers??). During my year in this classroom, I came to SEE that if you were petite, cute and had a french surname that the nuns loved you. Me, well I wasn't any of those things. Something in me seemed to make the nuns dislike me. I felt like fingernails on a blackboard. What could possibly be wrong with me. I can clearly remember Sister Evil not allowing me go to the bathroom when I asked. The result was that I peed in class one day when Sister Evil denied me lavatory privileges. How embarassing is that!?!

While in school, the class would study french lessons and religion in the morning - every morning. We had a book that we would memorize the questions and answers that were all about God. I didn't speak french, didn't understand french. But was thrown into this new world and did my best to adapt and to learn.

To this day, I remember the first question/answer I had to memorize from my religion book: "Qui vous mame sur la terre? Sai le bon dieu qui mame sur la terre. (SORRY, CAN'T REMEMBER ALL MY FRENCH SPELLING, BUT IT TRANSLATES TO: Who put me on earth. God put me on earth). I've always wondered why God put me on earth.

But I didn't think about God too much at first. I was too busy wondering about my self. What was wrong with me? Why didn't the teachers like me? Who could I go to with my questions? Well it obviously wasn't the nuns. Nor was it my mother, who was a stressed out martyr-type. Mom didn't talk to me much either. And so I never went to her with the many questions that were building in my head and being. I was mom's babysitter. She couldn't wait for me to come home from school, so I could take the young out to play.

Then one day in church during the priest's sermon, he was pondering on and on about God and his everpresence. HE sees all, knows all. Then, the following was directed at us children. The priest said that God knew everything we did. That we needed to be very good boys and girls. That no matter where we were we couldn't hide from the all-seeing eye of God. Whoa, I hadn't thought about that! God could see me all the time. How rude, I thought. How scary is that.

Leaving church I made this decision: I was not going to let God see me naked. Now I had something else to worry about. What was I going to do when I had to take a bath, go to the bathroom, change my clothes???? Wholly cow, I had a whole new set of worries to think about and not just today, but for every day of my life. And remember that I still worried about brushing my teeth and opening my mouth for fear a tape worm would come up through my throat.

No wonder I grew up to be a 'worry wart'. Just another thing to add to my worry list - I was now officially a worrier. Whew....this life was definitely going not going to be easy. AND IT WASN'T/ISN'T.

A Product of the Devil

OK, back at school, remember I'm still in first grade.

My memory of this first year of school is filled both with hope and fear. HOPE in making new friends, so as not to feel so alone anymore. FEAR of those nuns who wear all black outfits except for their 'bib' of white that goes around their neck. (I actually used to wonder how they ate and never got their 'bib' dirty).

Those nuns were very sadistic rulers of the school both in the schoolyard and classroom. They hid rulers (there's that word again!) in the depths of their black dresses that flowed from their neck to their toes. They also had 'clickers' in one of their pockets. I lived in fear of the ruler.

It wasnt't more than a few weeks into school. Sitting at my desk doing my classwork I felt someone watching me from behind. Now, I was a smart child. My mom told me that I was reading books at 18 months of age. Actually, I had memorized the books I loved most, but I very much impressed my aunts and friends of my mom as I would read away without missing a word!!!

Anyway, that chilly feeling over my shoulder made me so uncomfortable that I turned around. There stood Sister Something (I can't remember her name). She didn't look happy. Actually, she never looked happy. I just stared at her and she made a funny move with her mouth like she ate something very sour. Then she said to me in a very loud voice "Hold out your hands". So, I put my pencil down and did as she said. You always had to obey the nuns.

Out came the ruler and cracked down on my hands - across my nuckles. I moved my hands to my face and cried out in pain. She made me put my hands out again and hit them one more time. Then I began to cry.

"YOU ARE THE PRODUCT OF THE DEVIL", she yelled at me. "Pick up your pencil with your right hand". But I tried to tell her that I did not write with that hand. I was a lefty. Just like my dad. "Pick up your pencil with your other hand", she said again. So I did. "Now write", she said. And I did. And I cried again.

This cracking of the nuckles went on for some time. Maybe a few weeks - can't remember. Finally, after hearing Sister Something yell at me over and over, I told my mother.

My mother, thank heaven, came into school with me and spoke with the Sister Superior. From that time on, Sister Something never bothered me with her ruler. But I could tell she held the utmost contempt for me. I could fee it through my being.

This began my love/hate relationship with school. This also began my love/hate relationship with God.

The Nuns......and my Cousin

First day of school was not the best day of my life. Because my mother had two small children at home, I had to walk to school alone. This, in itself, was not a terrible task. I walked to school. Arrived on time. And was placed in the Second Grade line. Wait a minute, I was supposed to be in first grade.

I just stood there and cried. I was a first grader. This was my first day of school. The nuns insisted I was in the 2nd grade, due to my height most probably. Most of the 1st grade children were small, petite and cute. I had already outgrown that. I was much taller, and obviously more gangily (is this a word??). Anyway, it wasnt' until almost lunchtime that it was discovered that I was in the wrong classroom. Those nuns. They were not very understanding. Like it was my fault that I was too tall to be in first grade.

Anyway, the nuns (I'm going to say that alot: "nuns") took my class down to the lunch room. We had a cafeteria style lunch. You were given lunch and there was no talking at the tables while you ate. OK, that didn't bother me at all. I was really most comfortable not talking to the other kids that I was just shoved into class with. I felt so alone.

Lunch that day was not so memorable until we came to the dessert. It was a prune-type danish. It smelled awful, looked gross, and I did not want to eat it. Ok, I thought, I'll just throw this away in the rubbish. "NO WAY", said the nun who was in charge of the cafeteria. You must finish your lunch before you leave the room.

There was no choice in the matter. I had to eat the prune thing.....and guess what - I ate it. Actually, eating is not the correct term. Rather, I forced myself to chew each piece as few times as possible and then swallow - holding my breath so I would not smell the evil thing. I got it all down but not without consequence.

When my lunch tray was clean I was allowed to go back to the playground where the other children were. But I could not play. My stomach was making these lurching motions that I was unable to control. Oops!! up came my entire lunch. And guess who was blamed for the mess on the playground - ME. I cried, mostly from embarrasment. Here I was, my first day at school and how horrible a day. I was placed in the wrong grade and then I threw up in front on all these kids that I did not even know. I just wanted to go home. I wanted my mom. I wanted to talk to my friend Petey the dog. What did I get - just these cold stares from the nuns.

Back into the classroom we all went. I was assigned a seat in the back of the room. Eventually the day was over and I had to walk home - alone.

But, the walk home was not uneventful. I had to walk through a section of woods, where I noticed someone was hiding. It was a man. Whoa! I didn't know much about men. But, this one scared me. I saw him come out from behind a big tree. He was walking behind me. No one else around. I felt my feet moving me faster and faster. Up ahead I saw one of my favotite trees that I moved towards and just seemed to hug & slide my body around. It was a big ole maple and I just hugged the tree as I watched the man walk on by. Hugging my friend the tree, I continued on.

Whatever, I thought. I remember not being frightened, or so I thought. But there was some physical reaction within my body that made an imprint on me. And, if I think back to that day, I can bring up that same physical feeling within me.

Shortly after this, I was able to walk home from school with a cousin of mine. We never wanted to go directly home. There was too many other directions to explore first. As kids go, we went on a few adventures together - meaning we would decide not to go directly home, but to go through the town and explore.

On one particularly warm day, we had walked passed a bakery and just lingered watching the employees moving like little busy bees helping customer after customer. Plus, it smelled really good. Fresh baked bread was a dreamy smell to us.

Eventually we decided we'd better get home and began a slow walk home. Not wanting to hurry the process of getting to our destination (my house), we stopped by a small stream running along side the road and I, being thirsty, took a small drink from the stream.

My cousin, Andrea, laughed and laughed. (She was my friend, but after this I was never trusting of her.) I asked her what was so funny. She said that I had probably drank snake eggs and that they would hatch in my stomach. Oh my god, I thought. I was in terror mode. All I could imagine is a baby snake hatching in my stomach and making its way up my throat, choking me or worse, coming out my mouth. What was I to do???

For nights and weeks after this, I had nightmares and was terrified of my own being. I didn't want to brush my teeth or even open my mouth. Again, I find myself in an embarassing position - all within a matter of weeks of starting school.

This I tell you, because in retrospect I find that there have been a number of 'triggers' that have made such strong impressions upon my being that made it so uncomfortable for me to open my mouth and speak/talk. To this day, I find it uncomfortable to talk/speak. But I am continually working to overcome this personal terror.

Next, the nuns tell me what they really think of me. (Remember, I'm only in First Grade).

~ The Mediator

My Relationship With Trees

Since I was very young, I have had a special relationship with nature. And now, being a middle aged mom, my relationship with trees is still very special to me.

As a youngster of 4 years old, we lived in an area where there were no other children. My days were spent talking to the dog next door and exploring the woods around our small home located in a small town on a dead-end-street (keep this in mind, as the story progresses). I always thought that I lived in heaven. Apparently my mother never worried about me wandering in and out of the woods. She did have two other babies to care for and I was very tall. I never looked my age when I was young - I looked older, probably due to my height. The only time my mother was aware of me was when the 12:00 o'clock whistle blew. If I was not in the house, she would hear me scream in terror. Today I don't even remember doing that, but I have been told that it was the one thing I did to annoy mom.

At the age of six, I started First Grade. My first-day-of-school pictures show me as a very tall, willowy young girl. Again, my mother apparently didn't worry much about me or my safety, as she sent me off to school - 1 1/2 miles away ALONE!! Mind you we had test-walked to school a few times, and I knew the way and wasn't worried about going it alone. I was just worried about starting school and having to talk to kids my age. Remember, I was alone, talking to a dog most of my preschool life. And, I was extremely shy around people, especially adults ... never mind the nuns I was about to meet.

Well, this is the beginning of MY STORY of my relationship with trees and nature. I'll be posting more of my story and of how I CAME TO SEE HOW THE WORLD AROUND US IT NOT WHAT WE THINK IT IS.

~ The Mediator