I sent away for my Common Experience payment thinking I had been at a residential school for only a couple of years, but it was actually five years. I had blocked those memories out of my mind; the anger I had felt was at the loss of my childhood and the time away from my family. Time away from my father and mother. My siblings were at the same residential school, but I wasn't allowed to be near them, or on the same floor. The wholeness and innocence of my childhood was stolen. It was an overwhelming sense of grief I was experiencing, shedding bitter tears over what I had lost in my life.
This was a difficult time in my healing journey and it was about to get worse. That piece of paper and the money that soon came with it brought home the reality of what had happened to me at Cecilia Jeffery. My broken finger was visible proof of a beating by a staff member and I had nightmare flashbacks of my experiences. Thoughts of suicide came to me during the night. Suicide to escape the sheer pain of what was inside of me … the emotional pain … the emptiness inside … echoes of homesickness even though I was an adult with children of my own. One night, I felt my room turning into my old dorm and I felt like I was pulled into the past. There was a small voice asking me why was I struggling so hard and why didn't I just give in and join the others. This voice scared me and I talked to Rev. Margeret Mullen who told me she would pray for me. There was counseling available to survivors, which I made use of right away, and was given a number for the 24-hour crisis
line for residential school survivors.
The counselor gave me some positive ways to cope. The headaches eased up and I was feeling better emotionally. I took time off from work and school. My sisters and brother were also going through similar experiences. We had gone to the same residential school and they were there longer then me. My family was coping with their experiences by drinking. My brother was taken twice to the hospital for alcohol poisoning and one of my sisters came close to committing suicide. She told me the money was bringing back old memories that were very hard for her to deal with. She didn't want to ask for help from any body, so I will wait and hope my family survives this stormy period. I had one brother, Andy who passed away two years ago waiting for this stage of the residential school settlement. I read the obituaries of friends and family in my home newspaper this past year. Many of them were under 50 years of age.
Yes, the money brought some comfort during the holiday season last year, but it also opened old wounds that have yet to heal for many of us. My memories have not gone away; I have to deal with them. I want people to truly understand what life was like in residential schools and trying to live in its shadow as a grown adult.
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On June 11, I was very fortunate to witness the Apology to the Residential School survivors. Maybe for some it was just a bunch of words spoken, but I heard the sincerity in their voices and saw the truth when the political leaders shook hands with the residential school survivors that are also our aboriginal leaders. There was a brief ceremony afterwards hosted by the government. Prime Minister Stephen Harper and National Chief Phil Fontaine signed an official apology. Again the aboriginal leaders spoke to the crowd that included Governor General Michaëlle Jean, Elijah Harper and Justice Harry S. Laforme. Afterwards the Prime Minister shook hands with us residential schools survivors. Stories and pictures were shared with one another without the media witnessing it. Copies of the apology were handed out and I was able to have mine signed by Fontaine and Harper. I am going to use the positive emotions and memories of that day to push away the nightmares that are
overwhelming me. It will help me move on in my healing process.
