My Life, My History

Background Information

I was raised by my grandparents. My mother lived with us sometimes. She is schizophrenic.
Little blurb on my mom. Should probably write a bit more about her. I did a lot for her and it was total role reversal. I had to be her mom while she was the child. That’s often just the way it is when you have a parent(s) with addictions/afflictions/disorders/diseases
https://flic.kr/p/2ofBszS

1
My grandfather died on May 10th, 1990 when I was 9 years old. He was 80 years old. I still miss him. He was my person. He died because a tumor eventually ate its way through his lungs. I remember sitting in the hospital on the 5th floor while he was dying. I sat on the sill of a floor-length window and stared out into the parking lot below which was full of rabbits. The nurses kept coming in to suction his lungs out and put jelly on his lips to keep his mouth moist. I remember my grandmother asking if they could give him water, but they said no because he would choke on it. He had tubes coming out all over the place - IVs in his arms and such. He didn't look comfortable at all. I remember the rattling in his throat and tears streaming down my face as he looked at me with a haunted expression and pointed right at me. He said, "She shouldn't be here watching this". I didn't understand then, but I understand now. He was going to die a harsh death because he was going to drown and choke on the pink frothy buildup of the bleeding into his lungs from the tumor. He was going to drown while being in a room full of air. He sent all of us away shortly after the rattled breathing started. He died shortly after this. I remember being woken up by my mother who was covered with tears and had a red complexion. She woke me up and just looked at me and said, "Grandpa's dead". I instantly burst into tears and ran out of the room. No one could comfort me. I wouldn't allow it. I never did. I had learned to comfort myself from a young age.

2
I loved my grandfather very much and cherish all my memories of him. My grandfather loved to listen to me play piano and encouraged me to learn and read and research. He couldn't hear well, so he always told me to play the piano loudly as then he could feel the vibrations beneath his feet and it would help him "hear" better. He played the bassoon and was a conductor for the Irish Guard band. He fought in World War II, Korea, and went on a UN "peacekeeping" mission in Palestine. I remember him showing me his war medals. He did not like to discuss his personal experiences in the war. He did tell me about a time they got ambushed while in a jeep. He bent down to pick something up off the floor of the jeep just before the ambush. Bullets rained in through the windows and the fellow driving was shot in the side of the head/ear and collapsed in a slump over the steering wheel - dead. He also told me that what they went to Palestine to do the for UN "peacekeeping" mission was not right. He told me, what they were asked to do there, it was not right. I will never forget the look on his face when he told me that. Whatever happened there haunted him. His eyes were full of pain. He said it was not right or fair to the Jewish people, especially after all they had been through during WWII, the Holocaust. I don't know the full details as the mission is classified at the UN, so you can't read about it; however, my grandfather's eyes told me everything I needed to know without speaking words.

3
I spent a lot of time with my grandfather reading books and newspapers, doing crossword puzzles, Mensa puzzles from the Times Colonist, and Penny Press variety puzzles (logic problems were always my favourite). I remember watching things on TV with him like National Geographic documentaries, news and political programs (60 Minutes and the National are the ones I remember most), and the BBC "World at War" series. I also remember my grandfather really liked listening to Walter Cronkite. He would answer whatever questions I had about whatever was being discussed on TV. I learned a lot from my grandfather, and I feel very blessed that I had such a wonderful parental figure and teacher when I was just a young child.

4
My grandfather lived a hard life himself. He was born in Cawnpore, India (now spelled, "Kanpur"), which was a British colony at the time. He had a brother named Basil and a sister named Edna. His mother died in his arms when he was a very young boy due to alcoholism. His father was in the military and was not able to care for his children after his wife died so my grandfather and his siblings were raised in a convent with nuns in Cawnpore, India. I remember him telling me about the big birds that flew above them while he lived there. They were called albatrosses (I remember thinking about that the first time I played Super Mario 2 for NES as they are in some of the levels). I remember him telling me about a time when he was looking up at the sky watching an albatross fly overhead and it just so happened to poop and it went into his eye. My grandfather got in trouble at the nun boarding convent school (not sure how to phrase that better at this time) for throwing paper airplanes and received the strap routinely. He told me that he learned one thing in Hindu to help combat the bullies and that was to say "Your mother is a pig, or your mother is a child of pigs", something along those lines. That was very insulting to the boys that teased him so it was his way of being able to fight back against them. His father eventually remarried a French woman, and they ended up moving to France, though I don't recall the area they lived in. I know my grandfather loved living in France and he was fluent in the language. He taught me a bit of basic words and sentences when I was a child.

5
As far as my grandmother goes, I did not have the same close, loving relationship with her like I did with my grandfather, but I know she worked hard and did her best. She raised 6 kids before me and lived through the Great Depression and World War II. She told me about how they used to have to head to bomb shelters when the air raid sirens would go off. This was a warning signal that the "buzzbees" (pilotless planes) were coming in and bombs may begin dropping from the air to destroy everything in their path below. My grandmother was in the Women's Air Force in the UK and she told me about the difficult times they went through. When rationing came about life was very hard and it was difficult for her and my grandfather to find enough food for themselves and their children. She told me about my grandfather sneaking extra rations out by filling his bassoon case up to help feed them and their children. My grandmother was around before there were vaccines and she told me about being afraid that her first couple of children were going to die from complications due to whooping cough or polio or rubella or the measles. She worried about them getting injured from rusty metal and nails and contracting tetanus. She told me about the children she used to help nurse that were very sick and about holding babies in her arms while she helplessly watched them turn red and suffocate due to complications from whooping cough and other horrible diseases. Diseases with fatal complications such as death, diseases that we can now easily prevent with vaccines and valuable medicines.

6
My grandmother was adopted and never knew her birth parents. She never knew she was adopted until she was about 18 years old and her parents told her that she had had a brother, but he had just died due to being hit by a car. This made her feel very sad. She also found out that she had lived and grown up on the same street as her brother, but each never knew the other existed. I can only imagine how that must have made her feel. She maintained that she was happy and loved her parents as her own regardless, and I believe her 100% as she always spoke positively about them and how much she loved them and felt loved by them. She never had an interest in finding out about her biological parents because "her parents were the parents who raised her" and that was that. My grandmother was born in Merthyr Tydfil, Wales and she always spoke of how beautiful it is there. She spent a lot of time on the beaches in Porthcawl. She had one sister whom she told me she was a bit jealous of only because she had no hair on her body other than her head so she never had to shave. This condition is now known as alopecia. Her sister also had no sense of smell. Her sister eventually married a firefighter and they had one daughter.

7
My grandmother was excellent at ensuring I was fed and clothed. I learned a lot about cooking, baking, and gardening from watching her and asking questions, but I mostly annoyed her and she didn't try and hide that from me. She also never took an interest in what I enjoyed for hobbies or what I did in school. However, that doesn't mean she didn't care and I certainly do not harbor any grudges or ill will towards her for anything. My grandmother sadly did not enjoy music like my grandfather did. She used to threaten to sell my piano because she simply didn't like hearing any noise. She just wanted silence. She replaced my upright piano with an electric one after my grandfather died. I had to wear headphones and I hated it because all I could hear was the dull thud of the keys instead of the music. My grandmother used to tell me that "Children should be seen and not heard". I loved her anyways. She died on Mother's Day, 2017 shortly after I graduated from University. I remember receiving the call that she had stopped eating on May 10th, 2017. My grandfather died May 10th, 1990. Maybe he finally called her from beyond to join him, I cannot say for sure, but I like to think this is a possibility.

8
I sat by her side for 72 hours and held her hand mostly in silence, as that is what she preferred. I did play a few songs here and there for her when I felt she needed them. I had downloaded some music onto my ipod before I went to her bedside to sit vigil. They were songs from a radio station in the video game, "Fallout 3". Bob Crosby was one of the artists. I knew she would like it. I sat with my grandmother until she took her last breath. I listened for her heart after that final gasp and pronounced to the rest of my family in the room at the hospital that she was gone, dead. And then I walked away with no tears. I had already shed them privately throughout my stay with her. My grandmother also holds a special place in my heart, but the real parental connection I had was with my grandfather. I think that is why I have often felt it difficult to connect with other women and I much prefer the company of males.

9
It may seem as though I was cold pronouncing my grandmother's death and walking out to leave the family behind to grieve, but I already knew what to expect while I sat watching her die because I had just sat vigil at my uncle's bedside for 24 hours the month before. That was my grandmother's first-born son and he died on Easter Sunday, 2017 due to stomach and esophageal cancer. I downloaded Christian sermons onto my iPod for him to listen to during his final hours as I knew that would bring him comfort. When I arrived at the hospital he was sitting upright in bed, obviously in a lot of pain. My two aunts stood on either side of him trying to help. I pressed play on my iPod and a sermon started. My uncle looked at me and i saw his eyes relax. He laid back down in bed and I settled in beside him while the sermon played. I remember the priest/pastor lady from the church downstairs in the hospital coming up with a wooden cross for my uncle to hold while we recited the Lord's Prayer together. My uncle wasn't catholic, but he did identify as Christian and he believed very strongly in God and Jesus Christ as the lord and savior - as did my grandmother.

10
My mother is schizophrenic.
I watched her yell at invisible people and speak about things that made no sense. I saw her get dragged out of the house by 2 police officers through the metal screen door at the front porch of the townhouse we lived in when I was 5 years old. She was lying face down on the floor screaming and yelling, arms and legs flailing like a child throwing a temper tantrum. It took both police officers to contain her and drag her out while she fought them with all her might. I sat halfway up the stairs on the green carpet watching with silent tears streaming down my face. I remember my grandfather realizing I was sitting there watching the whole thing. I will never forget the look in his eyes and on his face when he noticed I was sitting there. His face and eyes looked as though they were haunted. There was a textured greenish-yellow window that I was trying to focus on so I would stop crying. Crying used to really upset my grandmother and sometimes it would make her cry so I tried hard to suppress it whenever I felt the urge. If I couldn't stop the tears, I would go and hide in my closet and bury myself in my stuffed animals... or I would crawl under my bed and push myself up on the wooden slats the boxspring sat on so that no one would find me.

11
My mother was initially treated for her mental illness during the 1980s when they were really just starting to tinker around with mood and mind altering pharmaceuticals designed to assist these "disorders" of the brain. I can only imagine what she went through. I remember her being hospitalized a number of times for various reasons - medications not working as intended or simply having bad interactions with other medications that perhaps hadn't had enough clearance time within the body. I remember her being hospitalized quite seriously at one point as her blood had become toxic due to too many drugs mixing in her system. Unfortunately, there was no centralized "database" at the time for medical professionals to communicate with each other regarding a patient who is being seen and treated by multiple different doctors (and as far as I know, this system still isn't quite in the greatest place yet, but it's getting better all the time). I was left alone with my mother probably more often than was good, but my grandmother just often needed a break from it all so I was often left to spend time with my mother. She tried her best, but due to her mental illness, there were some scenarios that weren't the best for a kid to be involved in.

12
A few things that really stand out regarding time with my mother:
I remember going to feed the ducks at a pond in a local park. I was about 5 or 6 years old. I was feeding them bread and I was standing right at the edge of the pond. I fell in. I remember hearing my mother's voice telling me to swim, but I didn't know how. I remember looking up and seeing the sky through the water above and how hazy it all looked. I remember an arm grabbing me and the next thing I remember is being draped over the shoulder of a man with dark hair and a beard. He was my mother's boyfriend. He was carrying me down a paved pathway back to his car in the parking lot of the park. I remember being very cold and totally soaked through from falling in the water. It was a cold, grey day. I remember coughing up bits of pond scum and tiny tree bits over his shoulder along with nasty tasting cold water. I remember feeling a strong sense of him being very angry and upset, but it wasn't directed at me. I remember my mother trailing behind yelling and asking if I was okay. He was silent. He just kept walking with large purposeful strides until we got to the vehicle. He opened the door, placed me inside of the backseat and put my seatbelt on. He got in the driver's seat, my mother got in the passenger seat. She kept asking him if I was going to be okay. I don't think he spoke a word. I just remember the cold and deafening silence. I think I drifted off in the backseat. I never saw the man again, but he saved me and I am grateful for that.

13
I remember being with my mother in our old grey Dodge Plymouth when I was about 8 years old. I used to call it a boat because it was so large and unwieldy. My mother was driving down the highway in the left lane beside the concrete meridian. I remember she suddenly let go of the steering wheel and said, "Oh my god, Chan (my mother's nickname for me - pronounced with a "sh" not a "ch"), everything is upside down". I remember leaning over immediately and grabbing the steering wheel just as we were veering towards the meridian. I remember saying to her, "Ok mom, here's what we're going to do. I'm going to keep the car in between the lines on the road, but I can't reach the pedals so I need you to keep working them, ok?" She nodded in agreement. I remember staring at the speedometer, which was only in miles per hour because it was a vehicle made in the USA. I remember I said, "I need you to stay steady on the gas and try to keep it at 50mph (I knew the speed limit on the highway was 80km per hour and that meant 50mph). I remember watching the car ahead of us and noticing the red lights come on, which I knew meant they were braking. I remember telling her to take her foot off the gas and start applying pressure to the brake pedal because the car ahead was slowing down and we were closing in on it. I remember her doing as I instructed, and then she suddenly seem to "come back". She said, "Oh, what's going on? Why are you steering the vehicle?" and then she pushed my hands off the steering wheel and gently shoved me back towards the passenger side of the vehicle. I asked her if everything was okay and back to being the right way up, and she said yes. I just settled back in my seat and stared out the window as we drove back home. It was just another day with my mother. I never told anyone about it until many years later. It simply never occurred to me that this was unusual. This was my normal. I never knew any different.

14
I don't know who my father is for sure.
I was introduced to someone who may be my father
https://twitter.com/TheRealAgent_99/status/1640992508728709120?s=20
when I was a teenager, but no DNA test was ever performed. I moved in with him when I was 15 years old. One week later, he was arrested for raping a 14 year old girl in the home I inhabited with him and my "half-sister". This happened between 3am and 6am after I had gone to bed downstairs and after my "half-sister" had gone to bed herself. I woke up to a cop standing over me shining a flashlight in my face and informing me I had to go down to the station to make a statement as there had been a sexual assault. I remember passing out at the cop shop while I waited for them to come in and take my statement. I had a friend with me too. It was summer and she had a sleep-over at my place. They had taken her down in a separate vehicle and gathered a statement from her. When they were finished asking me questions and taking my statement, they said I was free to go. I left and walked back to the house I had just been removed from. I was not allowed back in. I sat in the middle of the boulevard on the grass with a few friends that lived nearby, along with my half-sister and we watched as a crew wearing white biohazard suits removed evidence from the house. It was hours before we were allowed back inside. When we got back in, I remember social workers coming to talk to us.

15
I remember the father of the girl who was raped calling the house and saying he was going to come and kill us all. He was angry and was upset we didn't do anything. But we didn't know anything was happening. We were asleep. We heard nothing and saw nothing. The social worker wouldn't let us stay in the house because of the death threats. My half-sister went somewhere, perhaps with other family members, I don't recall. I ended up being placed in a youth shelter. I remember sleeping in a bunk bed with a thin plastic covered mattress that was more like a gym mat than a mattress, but it was warm and safe. I only stayed there a few days and then I left and stayed at various friends houses for the next while. School started again and I went, but no longer cared about anything. I barely went to school and I remember receiving my first report card of the semester. It was full of C's with a few B's. I had always been a straight A student with the odd B mark. I was devastated. I gave up and stopped attending Reynolds Secondary School
https://flic.kr/p/2oUpNbZ

I went back to my grandmother's house to collect some belongings. I pawned my video games (NES, SNES, and a few games - Dragon Warrior was definitely one of them along with Super Mario/Duck Hunt) and my mostly cassette tape music collection (which would have included NIN and Skinny Puppy) at a strip mall near the "ghetto" townhouse complex (Parkside Place) I grew up in as a child. I had $200 in my pocket after all was pawned off. I moved away from the city I was born in and had inhabited my entire life shortly after this. It was early 1997 and I believe the month was January.

16
I was 16 years old and I moved to Vancouver, BC. I had no family or friends there.
I tried to find work. No one wanted to hire someone who hadn't yet graduated from high school and had no work experience. I remember thinking, how do I get work experience if no one gives me the chance to work and gain experience...
I was taken advantage of sexually by more than one person. I was 16 years old, these people were 24-28 years old. I was passed across the hallway like a piece of meat. I felt ashamed and disgusted with myself, but I didn't know what else to do. I had nowhere to go and I didn't know anyone.

17
One night, while being taken advantage of, I started to cry and I just couldn't stop. The person ignored me and just kept going. Once he was finished he started yelling at me. The man said, "How dare you cry like that and make me feel like I've done something wrong. You need to leave now. Get out." I grabbed my belongings and left.
https://flic.kr/p/2otBByB
It was 4am. I walked from the westside of Vancouver to downtown. I sat outside at a table and chair set at the library. The library was always my sanctuary when things would get crazy at home, so I guess that's why I immediately went there.


18
I remember dozing off and having my head against the table when a security guard in a yellow jacket suddenly woke me up. He told me I had to leave because I wasn't allowed to sit there. I didn't argue. I grabbed my backpack with my belongings and left. I went and sat on the steps of a youth assistance place on Seymour St and waited for them to open. I didn't tell them what happened. I just said I had nowhere to go. They placed me in a safe house in East Vancouver. I met a guy there who became my boyfriend. I should have seen the red flags and not trusted him, but I was young and dumb.

19
It was a very abusive relationship.
I ended up homeless
I was beaten
I was sexually assaulted, over and over again. I got thrown across the room against walls if I didn't say or do the correct things. I fell against the wall and lay like a broken naked doll in a pile on the floor.

20
I became a squeegee kid. I worked the corner at the Main St Skytrain station in Vancouver.
https://flic.kr/p/2o1CmqP

https://goo.gl/maps/uGFMbhQndzANTZ5Q9

I could wash 3 car windows in one light there because the light there took awhile. Some days I made nearly $80. I had to give it all to my boyfriend. He sat in the grass beside the skytrain stations and smoked cigarettes and watched me work. I had to be sure to have enough for him to buy McDonald's breakfast everyday or he would be very upset and that was not good for me. I got to eat his leftover food. Sometimes I would be able to take a couple dollars and I would go to the store across the street and get one of those big cake muffins. Usually blueberry or chocolate. Sometimes I would get a pizza slice for a dollar or go to the samosa place. You could usually get 3 samosas for a dollar. Having a full belly felt good and made it easier to continue spending my day walking up and down between the lines of traffic on the road. There were many nice people who would go by that corner. I was always friendly and polite. I always asked if I could wash people's windows and tried hard to not scare anyone.

21
I eventually became a heroin addict. It made me not care about how shitty I felt and how shitty things were with my life. I was a heroin addict for nearly 2 years, but I never turned to using needles. I smoked it off of tinfoil. We called it "chasing the dragon". I would look for empty cigarette packs on the ground for the tinfoil. You just took a lighter and burned off the paper from the inside packaging. That was good tinfoil for smoking the lovely, intoxicating white powder of the charming lady heroin.

22
I eventually detoxed from heroin in an apartment with no assistance other than marijuana to help ease the intense pain, chills, sweats, nausea, and loss of control over bodily functions that accompany an opioid detox. I later learned that you can actually die while detoxing from opioids as like alcohol, it is a physical dependence and therefore dangerous to just go cold turkey without the assistance and guidance of health professionals nearby to assist in case of any complications. I consider myself to be very lucky. Perhaps I have a guardian angel. If I do, I like to think it is my grandfather's spirit watching over me.

23
I have come a long way since that time. I have worked hard and overcame homelessness, addiction, and abuse. I did all this pretty much solely on my own. I did receive some assistance in the form of welfare money for awhile. I also was able to attend a job skills program through the Government of Canada, which helped me to land a job at White Spot. I have had many jobs since then, and have since gone back to complete high-school and graduate from University/College. My grandfather would been proud.

Extra note:

The writings contained within my portfolio, and those that will follow this entry, are some of my thoughts and experiences during my time on the streets and throughout my addiction and abuse. Some of what I wrote in my journals was written after beatings by my ex-boyfriend. Some things I wrote were basically forced apologies for whatever it was that "caused" him to hurt me. I would give them to him and hope it would stave off another beating for awhile. It usually wouldn't be longer than a week before another one would come. It was never anything I did, it was just him being abusive. One time I got beaten because I made Zoodles and accidentally spilled the bowl while bringing it to him. He got so mad. I had to go and panhandle for more money so he could eat. I tried hard to serve him and still got abused. I should not have stayed. Again, I was young and dumb. You can interpret my words and actions however you want. I have no control over what others may think. But perhaps, my explanations might help lend some understanding. Perhaps sharing my experiences can help even just one person. That would be amazing.

This is my history. This is a part of my story. This is a part of what has made me the person I am today. And I really like who I am. I am more comfortable in my own skin today than I have ever been in my life, though, I still struggle at times. Especially with my body size and image. I will eventually share some photos and words through my social media that will hopefully shed a bit of light on that aspect of me.

To anyone who may be reading this. Thank you. ❤

Links to more pieces:
https://goo.gl/maps/Go3zpsxVk3xRxdsw9

https://www.instagram.com/p/ClXwi3HrG5x/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link