The Beginning

As a little girl, my strongest memory was of always being afraid.

Afraid of meeting new people, nervous about trying new things and sick to my stomach about experiencing something different. One of my most vivid memories was when I was about 5 years old. I very distinctly remember hiding in the very back corner of my parents closet, crying because I was afraid that the Christmas tree would grow through the roof. I cried and argued with my parents, terrified that this big tree would just keep getting bigger and bigger and then the roof would pop off and we would die. When these “attacks” would happen I would feel uncomfortable in my skin, I would breathe quickly and recklessly, I’d feel tightness in my chest and throat and my mind would race. Unable to calm down it would lead me having to wake up my parents or call them from a sleepover. Although they didn’t quite understand why these “attacks” were happening or what triggered them, they did their best to calm me down

 Fear is a feeling. It is triggered by a perceived danger or threat that occurs, which causes a change in metabolic and organ functions and ultimately a change in behavior, such as fleeing, hiding, or freezing from perceived traumatic events. 

Where do our fears come from? How was I so young yet so afraid that in any instant my world could come tumbling down. I spent the majority of my life living in a state of high anxiety. Experiencing sleepless nights and intense knots in my stomach that made it hard to eat. I spent countless hours playing scenarios in my head of things that could happen if I said the wrong thing, wore something unflattering/untrendy, laughed too loud or at the wrong thing and so much more. I didn’t feel ok most days and more often than not I daydreamed of being somewhere else where these feelings didn’t exist. Fortunately I didn’t feel the immense sadness and hopelessness that depression often comes with but I knew that I couldn’t live this way forever. 

I spent all of my school years in this state and it didn’t help that I never really fit in anywhere. Being French in a mostly English city, I went to a small school and the “mistakes” I often made stuck with me. I couldn’t get away from this uncool, emotional, needy, supper awkward person that was me. There were times that I felt less out of place and had some good days, but for the most part I wasn’t sleeping or eating enough. My head and body weren’t happy. 

I needed an escape

I always wanted to feel useful, like I was doing something that helped people in some way; naturally I couldn’t wait to get a job. Although I had a fear of making mistakes and making people angry I knew that I had the capacity to make them happy. After spending most of my summers from the age of 12 babysitting, finally at 14 I had my first job. This opportunity allowed me a second reality of not being the person my classmates and my family decided I was and allowing myself a new chance at new relationships. With these new people I had the ability to let go of some of the negative self talk, consequently there was a slight shift in my self esteem and confidence. During this time, creating friendships became easier and took less effort. I looked forward to work as a way to get away from my past and my awkwardness.

Despite these strides in my confidence, my self worth and self esteem were still very low. Dating, even just being around boys was the most challenging. I embarrassingly desperately wanted to be admired and desired. I didn’t know how or what girls did to get boys to pay attention to them. Mimicking the actions and words of all my beautiful girlfriends only somewhat worked. I knew there was a big part of romantic, even platonic relationships where I wasn’t truly my genuine self. My fear, anxiety and self doubt increased. 

Sadly I turned to alcohol. It was the catalyst in making all my problems disappear. 

With alcohol came confidence and a decreased need to constantly over analyze all conversations. I was fun and carefree. I convinced myself that I was better with it. My behaviour became reckless, selfish and erratic. I had become a shell of who I wanted to be, who I knew I really was. This alter ego I had created became a bigger part of my life than I knew how to control. Spending time with boys who didn’t value or respect me became a new normal. I would often wake up with a terrible headache, gut wrenching stomach aches and crippling anxiety about the previous night. My health was taking a toll for the worse. Not only was I constantly ill but I lived most days with at least one headache and hardly ever had an appetite. Over these few years I developed shingles, acute psoriasis that was sporadically all over my body and a weird phenomenon where I randomly vomited for 3 hours every second saturday.

To my family none of this made sense. I was a healthy looking young woman, conventionally nice looking, I got along well with most people and so naturally I appeared to have the world in my hands. I was able to finish cosmetology school at 19 and was doing well at the hair salon I worked at. Despite my accomplishment, over time I felt like a fraud. The late nights and copious amounts of alcohol consumption lasted longer than I’d like to admit.

I was living on my own, renting the basement suite of my grandparents’ home, and things continued to get much worse. Although I was extremely grateful and appreciative of the opportunity to live there, I certainly didn’t show it. They welcomed me with open arms but had rules. Being conservative and from a religious background they had certain expectations of me. On more than one occasion I behaved in a way that definitely did not reflect my true self. I spent time with selfish, egotistical and quite honestly bad people who not only took advantage of me but of my centrally located living space. Despite knowing better and wanting better I continued to allow this behavior in my life. 

It wasn’t until the end of an extremely unhealthy relationship where I eventually hit my inevitable rock bottom..

I was asked to do wedding hair for an old friend from school. This old friend and I had a tumultuous relationship that dated back to grade 1. For the most part in our early school years, we got along well. It wasn’t till high school where things really shifted. As most of us know, girls have a reputation of being horrible to each other in the name of jealousy and insecurity. 

In grade 10 she allegedly started the rumour that became my narrative from grade 10-12; SLUT. That’s what I was deemed for all of high school, all because I drank too much the night of my first high school party, to curve my crippling social anxiety, and woke up in a bed with more than one stranger. To this day I still am not sure what happened that night. What I do know is that it changed my life forever. I was bullied for something I couldn’t deny with certainty. Subsequently I quietly coexisted, dodging the hurtful words and the erasers that were constantly hurled in my direction everyday for three years. I spent many nights crying myself to sleep, wondering how awful I must really be. I deserved this, slut. 

Not wanting to finish high school feeling anger and hate, I reached out a couple weeks before graduation to clean the slate. We agreed to let it all go and enjoy the last couple moments we were forced to share. 

When she reached out a couple years later asking me to do her hair for her wedding day, it was as if I was in highschool all over again. Despite having cleaned the slate, I felt a great sense of unworthiness and resentment that came back to the surface. I convinced myself that it was no big deal and that I should be nice and participate in her big life event. I should have realized this was a bad idea when I attended the bachelorette in the middle of the demise of my abusive relationship. Playing my role in my own narrative of the sad girl who drinks too much and acts foolish, I again came home with a headache and a very bad case of the booze blues. 

Then came the worst night of my life.

At the wedding, although I still had lingering feelings of hurt and resentment from our past, I was happy to see her find true love and start this new chapter in life. The day started off good, everyone was excited to be there and the energy was high. At the reception I’m not sure if it was the toonie bar, the fact that I was newly single at a table with couples, or the fact that I had to see the familiar faces of the people who mistreated me; but true to form, I over drank.

This time I ended up with the best man, who without my knowledge or care was not available. The next part is very blurry to this day but I remember being sick in a house I didn’t recognize. I was afraid. Trying to leave I made a mess and broke picture frames and other things I couldn’t see clearly. He left, I think and I awoke, scared and alone in an unfamiliar place. I had no idea where I was. I called my grandparents. I can only imagine how messy and disappointing I must have sounded. Slurring my words, not completing full sentences and then hanging up. I woke up hours later, with my underwear off and a somewhat familiar face in my crotch. It was the best man. My head was pounding, my eyes barely able to open and my mouth tasted like vomit. I got up and thanked him for not violating me (although he had) and asked him to call me a cab. I had fallen asleep with my contacts in and had contracted a severe eye infection that lasted weeks. This all resulted in an extremely diminished sense of self worth.

Here I was again, slut. 

Yet again I drank too much and recreated my high school identity I worked so hard to forget. She was right, I deserved it. They were all right. SLUT. I spent the day with my closest friends who tried to cheer me up and make my burning infected eyes cry less but I knew when I got home I would have to explain myself to my grandparents who I grew to love and admire so much. 

This would be my second warning, being more conservative I had a feeling it would be the last. The next morning they asked me to come upstairs. With a knot in my stomach the size of the world, I nervously welcomed the scolding and disappointed looks.

The conversation started with both of them expressing concern and obvious disappointment. They didn’t sign up for this. This living arrangement was supposed to be temporary and easy, and I certainly wasn’t being easy. I listened, really listened and humbly swallowed their truth.

It was time for a change, a big change in my life.

I was able to dig deep and speak my truth. Without going into too much detail, I explained to them that it was the worst night of my life. I knew I had truly disappointed them and worse than that, I disgusted myself. I promised them that this would never happen again and that I was ready to make some serious changes. 

I’m not sure how much they believed or my explanation but they agreed to give me a second chance. This was the unconditional love that I desperately needed. 

I didn’t grow up spending lots of time with my dad’s parents and when I initially moved in, I worried what they would think of me. It turned out to be the most rewarding experience in my young adult life. Not only did they hold me accountable for my actions but they allowed me space to grow and learn. What was supposed to be a temporary situation lasted two years. In those two years, I accomplished more than I ever imagined possible.

 After hitting rock bottom, everything shifted.

I took a long break from alcohol, stopped spending time with boys, rather opening my life to men who respected and valued me. I started teaching myself to cook, learned how to properly clean, acquired a similar love for plants that my grandmother has, committed to facing my fear of learning how to drive and most importantly introduced exercise into my daily routine. I believe that their unfaltering unconditional love broke the rusted thick old chain I had surrounding my life. My fear of never being enough took away the joy in living. Numbing my fears with alcohol was never the answer; it was blinding my ability to see my potential.

I see this transitional, awful and painful time in my life as one of the most special years because of the value in the lessons I learned.

I began to realize that although I will never be perfect, I will always be worth loving. My inner self,my soul started shining through and I started to truly love myself. I started to exercise almost daily and the changes in my mind and body were visible. My anxiety became less invasive and my self confidence was climbing. 

Everybody has imperfections and we all have a story of what made us who we are today. I believe that our stories and imperfections are here to teach us and guide us to our bigger purpose. In my soul I know without a doubt that everything in my life has happened for me and not to me. My life experiences, childhood traumas (believe me there are many), adolescent obstacles and my young adult tribulations have given me the ability to recognize my strength and resiliency. Everything that has happened and even continues to happen (no life is perfect), has given me the gift of unconditional love for all.  

If you’re reading this and are currently struggling with the question – Why is this happening to me? I invite you to redirect your question to – What can I learn from this? What skill, attribute or life lesson can this provide for me and my future?

Not every life lesson will be life altering but I promise you it will be a much heavier gift than you could ever imagine. 

Thank you for making time and space for me in your day or evening.
My soul honors your soul.I honor the place in you where the entire universe resides.
I honor the Light. Love. Truth. Beauty and Peace within you, because it is also within me. In sharing these things we are united. We are the same.
We are one.

love and light

Mélodie

Namaste.