My Residential School Hearing is tomorrow..

In reading this, please know that I’m okay.. okay? I’m .. I need to type out… to  vent, to not hold anything in.
**
I should be sleeping right now..
IMy residential school hearing is tomorrow,  AND, also on Friday.. two days! TWO DAYS?
For my own comfort, rather than the options of fancy hotels, I chose the Chief Simon Baker room at the Vancouver Aboriginal Friendship Centre. Because I just want to feel like I have some semblance of control.

I attended Kuper Island Residential School..
and so .. I’m going through the IAP the new one. & well.. not much to say right now.  Feeling somewhat numb &  trying not to feel yet,  afraid to be empty. Right now. I just .. just… look forward to my story, my reality being acknowledged.  Heard.   You know what I mean?
There are so many things.. so many.. things throughout my life that have been affected.
I feel like I screwed up.. Was I a good parent? Friend?  I know I was a good employee but could never stay in one job.. even the School Board at $21 an hour plus benefits.. or Providence Health Care.  Once the PTSD, or depression kicked in… and .. after my trying to explain, and… thus… the more my boss and coworkers supported me.. were nice to me,
the more my heart couldn’t take it & I felt pitied.
I realized how much I was loved & I am forever grateful, now.. but at the times… well.I feel like the many things that happened TO me, throughout life.. being  victmized.. reflect on ME even tho I know that’s not true.& so many decisions I’ve made throughout my life.. or so many things I didn’t do because of my experience at that school.

That school is what made me feel ugly.. little brown ugly kid. My “horse” hair.. ugly.. even tho girls used to love to comb it.

It’s my big day tomorrow.. and I do dread it.. tho I look forward to getting it over with it at the same time as, .. looking forward to the BIG RELEASE..whatever the hell THAT looks like.    I feel I deserve it.. yet.. I feel like I might die, because this is the BIG ONE for me..

Will I let go? Will I be freed? Freed of the prison that holds that little spirit..?  Freed of the prison that clamps down on true joy.. that blocks the light of the sun from my heart & my soul..?

and who do I tell? I’m taught not to tell, yet with every breath .. every day.. I yell to the world:  OKAY I’M SCREWED UP!

But I am ‘okay.” . despite the assumptions out there, that I am not worthy of love or kind attention.. or fine treatment.. & this thought even comes from “that little demon evil child” .. ‘spawn of the unworthy culture..”

I am one who, ‘CAN’T DO ANYTHING RIGHT!!”  who, “WILL NEVER AMOUNT TO ANYTHING!”
who’s only redeeming qualities were, “She can fight the good fight when she needs to do it,” and “she can keep the beat! Watch her, she can really dance that kathy.”  This in the requested playing of records so we girls could line up in two lines facing each other, in full view of Sister Superior Leonita.  And, s
o I was signed up for the Irish jigging troupe, but so afraid that it meant that Father Lopsinger would be the one taking us..  I ‘got sick’ a lot.

Is this why I truly love to dance?? It can’t be! Yet, it might be. Oh… dance! Dancing is such a gift.. But I say it it is mine! It belongs to my heart, MY body.. MY soul, to the spirit of that little brown ugly kid.

Dance is what freed me .. when I did it .. i was left alone.. and looked at longingly by other girls who shuffled about.. and the nun, sister leonita clapped along with the song.. & I danced so hard the priest when he came along.. all he could do was watch.. my bangs clinging to my forehead with sweat.

I would look back at her, making her smile..& knew she would keep me safe from him…as long as I kept dancing.. & even through the smile.. her eyes were a glassy blue.. piercing and stabbing.. her hands, long bony hands .. punching down on the other in time with the beat of the song…At least they weren’t punching me in the back of the head.

I’ll come out of it okay.. the hearing I mean. I know it. I have plans for the next steps..of healing.. & I will work it for the betterment of myself, my grown sons, my grandchildren.. & hopefully others will see a difference in me too!   Will I smile more?  Will I look happy?  will my ill wills go away?
For life is so short isn’t it? Too short to hold onto ‘stuff’ like we like to do.
I am thankful for who I am.. for experiencing hell & that I kept going, holding on to my grandfather’s words and kindness.
I’m thankful to that school & those people.. for it forced me to look at ME and it spurned me on to fight the good fight.. & it made me want to enjoy dancing for ME.. and I will be dancing until.. I will dance forever… ❤

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