Reflections

Book recommendations for National Truth & Reconciliation Day (and every day)

(The following is provided by Jennifer Lucking, Executive Director, as a reflection leading up to National Day for Truth and Reconciliation on September 30.)

As someone who loves to read, I’m choosing to spend time this weekend in honour of the National Day for Truth & Reconciliation to dive into a book that has been on my “to read” list. Written by the late Harold R. Johnson, member of the Montreal Lake Cree Nation, The Power of Story: On Truth, the Trickster, and New Fictions For a New Era, this book is a reflection “on the role of storytelling in every aspect of human life, from personal identity to history and the social contracts that structure our societies, and illustrates how we can direct its potential to re-create and reform not only our own lives, but the life we share” (from the book cover).

While days like the National Day for Truth & Reconciliation provide reminders to learn more, reading and learning about Indigenous experiences should not be limited to significant days of recognition. Intentional efforts to listen to and amplify marginalized voices should be ongoing throughout the year. I try to practice looking back at books I’ve been reading and asking myself “Whose voices and experiences have I prioritized? Whose voices and experiences am I missing?”

If you’re looking to read more books this weekend or throughout the year that help you live into truth and reconciliation, here are some I’ve really appreciated that you might want to add to your own “to read” list.


A Mind Spread out on the Ground

by Alicia Elliot | 240 pages / 6 hr 36 min audiobook

Synopsis: In an urgent and visceral work that asks essential questions about the treatment of Native people in North America while drawing on intimate details of her own life and experience with intergenerational trauma, Alicia Elliott offers indispensable insight into the ongoing legacy of colonialism. She engages with such wide-ranging topics as race, parenthood, love, mental illness, poverty, sexual assault, gentrifcation, writing and representation, and in the process makes connections both large and small between the past and present, the personal and political--from overcoming a years-long battle with head lice to the way Native writers are treated within the Canadian literary industry; her unplanned teenage pregnancy to the history of dark matter and how it relates to racism in the court system; her childhood diet of Kraft Dinner to how systemic oppression is directly linked to health problems in Native communities. With deep consideration and searing prose, Elliott provides a candid look at our past, an illuminating portrait of our present and a powerful tool for a better future.

My reflection: This is a brilliant collection of essays exploring Indigenous justice, colonialism, racism, and sexism. I especially appreciated it because it was written by someone local to me and I got a lot out of the references she made of nearby landmarks.


Legacy: Trauma, Story, and Indigenous Healing

by Suzanne Methot | 368 pages / 14 hr audiobook

Synopsis: Five hundred years of colonization have taken an incalculable toll on the Indigenous peoples of the substance use disorders and shockingly high rates of depression, diabetes, and other chronic health conditions brought on by genocide and colonial control. With passionate logic and chillingly clear prose, author and educator Suzanne Methot uses history, human development, and her own and others’ stories to trace the roots of Indigenous cultural dislocation and community breakdown in an original and provocative examination of the long-term effects of colonization. But all is not lost. Methot also shows how we can come back from this with Indigenous ways of knowing lighting the way.

My reflection: Though it has a focus on trauma specific to Indigenous experiences, it is one of the best books I’ve read to understand complex trauma and the effects of trauma more broadly. Though not necessarily overly graphic or explicit about traumatic events, it was a challenging read. I listened to the audiobook but promptly bought a paper copy to be able to reference in the future, especially since there are a few charts and pictures.


Peace and good order: The case for Indigenous Justice in Canada

by Harold R. Johnson | 160 pages / 3 hr 11 min audiobook

Synopsis: In this direct, concise, and essential volume, Harold R. Johnson examines the justice system's failures to deliver "peace and good order" to Indigenous people. He explores the part that he understands himself to have played in that mismanagement, drawing on insights he has gained from the experience; insights into the roots and immediate effects of how the justice system has failed Indigenous people, in all the communities in which they live; and insights into the struggle for peace and good order for Indigenous people now.

My reflection: I cannot recommend this book highly enough. It is a compelling, short book about mass incarceration of Indigenous peoples in Canada. It is concise and clear which makes it a super accessible. As a legal professional, Johnson reflects on being an Indigenous person working in a broken system. (You might recognize the name of the author from the book I mentioned above, The Power of Story.)


The Marrow Thieves

by Cherie Dimaline | 234 pages / (audiobook being released November 2023)

Synopsis: In a futuristic world ravaged by global warming, people have lost the ability to dream, and the dreamlessness has led to widespread madness. The only people still able to dream are North America's Indigenous people, and it is their marrow that holds the cure for the rest of the world. But getting the marrow, and dreams, means death for the unwilling donors. Driven to flight, a fifteen-year-old and his companions struggle for survival, attempt to reunite with loved ones and take refuge from the "recruiters" who seek them out to bring them to the marrow-stealing "factories."

My reflection: This remains one of my all-time favourite books (please don’t ask me to pick just one favourite book!), and I have re-read it multiple times (and plan to again when the audiobook is released). Dimaline’s writing and prose is beautiful. (If you are ever in the vicinity of me reading this, you will hear me exclaim aloud every few pages “I love this book…”) It can be found in the Young Adult section, but the plot can be heavy and emotionally challenging making it a worthwhile read for adults as well. Fans of dystopian and apocalyptic novels will enjoy this, and it provides an intriguing perspective of how Indigenous peoples are exploited and harmed. If you enjoy it, there is a sequel, but this can be a standalone read as well.


Truth Telling: Seven Conversations About Indigenous Life in Canada

by Michelle Good | 215 pages / 4 hr 19 min audiobook

Synopsis: Truth Telling examines a wide range of Indigenous issues framed by Michelle Good’s personal experience and knowledge. From racism, broken treaties, and cultural pillaging, to the value of Indigenous lives and the importance of Indigenous literature, this collection reveals facts about Indigenous life in Canada that are both devastating and enlightening. Truth Telling also demonstrates the myths underlying Canadian history and the human cost of colonialism, showing how it continues to underpin modern social institutions in Canada. Passionate and uncompromising, Michelle Good affirms that meaningful and substantive reconciliation hinges on recognition of Indigenous self-determination, the return of lands, and a just redistribution of the wealth that has been taken from those lands without regard for Indigenous peoples.

My reflection: You might recognize the author’s name from the popular book Five Little Indians (winner of 2022’s CBC Canada Read’s debates). This is another shorter book of essays and challenges non-Indigenous people to true truth and reconciliation. A favourite quote (from her essay on “The Rise and Resistance of Indigenous Literature”:

“Indigenous writers are doing what politicians can’t. They are reaching into the hearts and minds of non-Indigenous Canadians. This is not to say that our stories, our truths, are accepted wholeheartedly by all. To the contrary. Deep racism and hatred still haunt us in both subtle and overt ways. However, this fast-growing Indigenous literary canon serves as an invitation and an inspiration to non-Indigenous Canadians to second-guess what they think they know and to take responsibility for their own education.”
— Page 154

Seven Fallen Feathers: Racism, Death, and Hard Truths in a Northern City

by Tanya Talaga | 384 pages / 9 hr 7 min audiobook

Synopsis: In 1966, twelve-year-old Chanie Wenjack froze to death on the railway tracks after running away from residential school. An inquest was called and four recommendations were made to prevent another tragedy. None of those recommendations were applied.

More than a quarter of a century later, from 2000 to 2011, seven Indigenous high school students died in Thunder Bay, Ontario. The seven were hundreds of miles away from their families, forced to leave home and live in a foreign and unwelcoming city. Five were found dead in the rivers surrounding Lake Superior, below a sacred Indigenous site. Using a sweeping narrative focusing on the lives of the students, award-winning investigative journalist Tanya Talaga delves into the history of this small northern city that has come to manifest Canada’s long struggle with human rights violations against Indigenous communities.

My reflection: A hard but important read highlighting the impact of colonialism on northern Indigenous youth today.


The following book suggestions are not written by Indigenous authors, but can be helpful in learning more about Indigenous experiences.

Roughneck

by Jeff Lemire | 272 pages

Synopsis: Roughneck an all-original graphic novel about a brother and sister who must come together after years apart to face the disturbing history that has cursed their family.

Derek Ouelette’s glory days are behind him. His hockey career ended a decade earlier in a violent incident on ice, and since then he’s been living off his reputation in the remote northern community where he grew up, drinking too much and fighting anyone who crosses him. But he never counts on his long-lost sister, Beth, showing up one day out of the blue, back in town and on the run from an abusive boyfriend. Looking to hide out for a while, the two siblings hunker down in a secluded hunting camp deep in the local woods. It is there that they attempt to find a way to reconnect with each other and the painful secrets of their past...even as Beth’s ex draws closer, threatening to pull both Derek and Beth back into a world of self-destruction that they are fighting tooth and nail to leave behind.

My reflection: I love how graphic novels can convey stories in differently compelling ways. It’s been a number of years since I’ve read this, but I do remember really enjoying this book as well as Secret Path which was written in collaboration with Gord Downie (and is accompanied by an incredibly powerful album).


Stolen Sisters: The Story of Two Missing Girls, Their Families and How Canada Has Failed Indigenous Women

by Emmanuelle Walter | 240 pages

Synopsis: In 2014, the nation was rocked by the brutal violence against young Aboriginal women Loretta Saunders, Tina Fontaine and Rinelle Harper. But tragically, they were not the only Aboriginal women to suffer that year. In fact, an official report revealed that since 1980, 1,200 Canadian Aboriginal women have been murdered or have gone missing. This alarming official figure reveals a national tragedy and the systemic failure of law enforcement and of all levels of government to address the issue.

Journalist Emmanuelle Walter spent two years investigating this crisis and has crafted a moving representative account of the disappearance of two young women, Maisy Odjick and Shannon Alexander, teenagers from western Quebec, who have been missing since September 2008. Via personal testimonies, interviews, press clippings and official documents, Walter pieces together the disappearance and loss of these two young lives, revealing these young women to us through the voices of family members and witnesses. Stolen Sisters is a moving and deeply shocking work of investigative journalism that makes the claim that not only is Canada failing its First Nations communities, but that a feminicide is taking place.

My Reflection: Published in 2015, this was one of the first books I read about missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls. Because of her journalistic background, Walter’s writing conveys the topic in clear and concise ways.


Have you read any of these? Do you have other suggestions? Leave a comment on our Facebook or Instagram posts!

What "Home" Means To Me

Home means more to me than just a place or location; home is more of a feeling. Home is a place you grow up sometimes wanting to leave, but when you grow old you often want to go back to. A home is where I played, laughed, cried, learned and valued small moments that I hold so dearly. For some, despite the hardships, home pushed us to be more than just what our tough circumstances made of us and turned us into resilient women living our truth.

A home is more than four walls and a roof over our head; it is an environment. It's the welcoming emotion that greets us at the entrance, similar to how Restorations greeted me when I was too afraid to take the first step into this community. 

A home should be filled with people who love, support, and encourage you in the midst of chaos, people you can rely on when times get tough. A home can be made up of life's experiences, teachable moments, and the people around you. I believe that family is a relative concept that is defined by our interactions with one another rather than by blood. 

A house is defined as a structure for residential purposes. Home is where the heart is, where you’re surrounded by those who bring warmth when things get cold. And as I continue on my path of healing and self growth, I've met some incredible people, a community that accepts, supports, inspires, and leaves me feeling safe. This group of people is a community that I can call home, who motivate me to be the best version of myself. A place that has made a huge significance in my life and led me to meet people along the way who I will never forget. This is Home.

Written by Adalia.


Note: Restorations recognizes the importance of financially compensating survivors for their time, energy, and expertise and, as such, we financially compensate all survivors who contribute written pieces for the blog. We strongly believe in the necessity of financial compensation for this work, and we urge other organizations who request survivors to speak, write, or consult for their organization to do likewise for the following reasons:

  1. to demonstrate a commitment to honour and respect survivors’ time, energy, and expertise;

  2. to demonstrate an appreciation for the emotional, mental, and physical energy necessary to share their experiences with us in order to benefit others;

  3. and to demonstrate a commitment to developing the economic independence of survivors.

What “Peer Support” Means To Me

Peer support is a group of people who share something in common coming together to support one another through the ups and downs they may be facing in their life. We all come from different backgrounds, different ages and walks of life. We walked our own journeys and sometimes that left us feeling down, alone, misunderstood and defeated. But then unfortunate circumstances bring together a group of people to heal, learn, grow and remember what happened in our past doesn’t define us. We’ll turn pain into power because we’re strong and resilient to come this far. 

Peer support can feel like a friendship or even family, a family you didn’t know you had or even needed. Peer support doesn’t mean a group of friends supporting one another but a group of individuals who come together and may even find friendship along the way. Who says you can’t find a little sunshine after the rain?

Peer support means a safe place where you aren’t forced to do anything you don’t want to do. You don’t have to feel alone, you don’t have to be alone, you don’t have to be anything you don’t want to be other than yourself. Just coming as you are, socialize and have fun with others in the group. Peer support means having support in your daily life. You can have a very important meeting ahead of you that makes you feel anxious, and you’ll have the supports you need in order to be prepared, confident and ready to accomplish anything life throws your way.

You don’t have to talk about your problems - if you had a bad day and need to vent, you can vent away without judgement. Had a rough week? Peer support is there to turn your frown upside down, helping put things into perspective to be able to tackle life with more strength than you had before. Peer support is something I never knew I needed, something that has changed my life for the better after all I’ve been through. I still struggle to overcome certain obstacles, but I have peer support to make me feel accepted, feel good that I have a group I can turn to, and be myself.

We walk down different paths in life but we meet people along this journey; that doesn’t happen by chance, but happens for a reason. We may not know the reason, but the one thing I do know is that I’m safe, I’m strong, I’m better than I was yesterday thanks to having peer support.

Written by “Anonymous,” a peer participant in our Survivor-Led Peer Programming.

You can learn more about our Peer Program here.


Note: Restorations recognizes the importance of financially compensating survivors for their time, energy, and expertise and, as such, we financially compensate all survivors who contribute written pieces for the blog. We strongly believe in the necessity of financial compensation for this work, and we urge other organizations who request survivors to speak, write, or consult for their organization to do likewise for the following reasons:

  1. to demonstrate a commitment to honour and respect survivors’ time, energy, and expertise;

  2. to demonstrate an appreciation for the emotional, mental, and physical energy necessary to share their experiences with us in order to benefit others;

  3. and to demonstrate a commitment to developing the economic independence of survivors.

A few things I am learning about Myself, Community, and The World during COVID-19: Part 3 “The World”

This is a three part blog series from Survivor “Anonymous.” In this series, Anonymous shares her reflections on what she is learning about herself, her community, and her world during this season of living through COVD-19 and a global pandemic. You can read Part 1 here and Part 2 here.

 
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WHAT I AM LEARNING ABOUT THE WORLD.

The world can be dark and heavy, and it can also provide messages of growth. At the beginning of COVID, I felt overwhelmed by the world. I couldn't quite digest the sheer number of humans who were hurting as they fearfully clung to whatever safety they had to ride the virus out. Hyper-focused on the pandemic and its tragedy, I was only able to feed my own fear and harmful worldviews. What I have learned, however, is that if I adjust my attention, I can find evidence of the still painful, but powerful and humbling world events that are happening simultaneously. An example of this is that we are currently witnessing the globalization of community care and various social justice movements: the mobilization of individuals and resources on a scale that I have never witnessed before. 

We all have a part to play, regardless of our stories, in strengthening awareness and hope. As I write this entry and reflect on what is going on in the world, it would be ignorant to not call attention to the fact that racially oppressed communities are disproportionally experiencing the adverse effects of COVID. It is further paramount that I acknowledge that the privilege that I hold as a white person has contributed to the supports that I have had access to - as it has underpinned society's faith in my “redeemability.”

When thinking about how COVID affects survivors, time should be spent considering how survivors of colour, those living with disabilities, have non-heteronormative sexualities and/or gender non-conforming identities may be experiencing the impact of COVID. Those whose identities exist at the intersections of marginalization experience reduced access to financial supports, secure housing, adequate health care and community resources. It is equally important to then ask ourselves how we can show up with a posture of ally-ship, actively working to reduce the additional barriers survivors face both directly and in our homes, workplaces, and institutions. 

If you want to learn more about effective ally-ship check out this resource: https://guidetoallyship.com/

As I close this reflection series, I have learned that everything is interconnected: histories are connected to current events, and grief can trigger powerlessness, but reminders of powerlessness do not have to leave me helpless. I have learned that I need to be kinder to myself and continue to root in fruitful relationships. I have also learned that communities will panic together, but given the nudge can also heal together. Similarly, the world can be both scary and beautiful, and I can challenge myself to bend towards messages and movements of hope. 

I have learned that I need to be kinder to myself and continue to root in fruitful relationships.

I will leave you with this: perhaps the world needed something to force us to slow down so that it could make space for what matters: the health of our earth, bodies, relationships, and communities. Perhaps we were asked to slow down so that we may learn to love ourselves and each other better, encouraging us to show up for each other in meaningful and effective ways as we all experience this pandemic differently.

Thank you kindly for taking the time to read these posts.

Sincerely, 
Anonymous


Note: Restorations recognizes the importance of financially compensating survivors for their time, energy, and expertise and, as such, we financially compensate all survivors who contribute written pieces for the blog. We strongly believe in the necessity of financial compensation for this work, and we urge other organizations who request survivors to speak, write, or consult for their organization to do likewise for the following reasons:

  1. to demonstrate a commitment to honour and respect survivors’ time, energy, and expertise;

  2. to demonstrate an appreciation for the emotional, mental, and physical energy necessary to share their experiences with us in order to benefit others;

  3. and to demonstrate a commitment to developing the economic independence of survivors.

A few things I am learning about Myself, Community, and The World during COVID-19: Part 2

This is a three part blog series from Survivor “Anonymous.” In this series, Anonymous shares her reflections on what she is learning about herself, her community, and her world during this season of living through COVD-19 and a global pandemic. You can read Part 1 here.

 
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WHAT I AM LEARNING ABOUT COMMUNITY.

Grief is universal, grief has memory, and grief is intersectional: COVID has brought with it grief for many individuals in my community. This pandemic has brought with it not only death, but also the loss of resources, security, connection and personal agency. It can further be compounded by the previous experiences and traumas individuals and groups have faced, and I have learned that my community as one organism can be fearful and cruel but also kind and powerful. 

As COVID news was amplified, I saw individuals pushing themselves to the front of crowds to get groceries before others had the opportunity. I heard about individuals taking toilet paper out of other carts and intentionally blocking others from products. I heard discriminatory remarks and accounts of individuals preventing differently-abled humans from accessing resources that are crucial to their survival. 

Conversely, I saw people learning how to love each other through social distancing and virtual platforms. Most reassuringly, I have witnessed a collective resiliency (there is that word again), an imperfect but meaningful shift from individualistic survival and into a place of coming together amidst the chaos to adapt and support each other.  

I have witnessed a collective resiliency (there is that word again), an imperfect but meaningful shift from individualistic survival and into a place of coming together amidst the chaos to adapt and support each other.  

Access to a community is a key component to getting through this whole COVID thing. While we all may share similarities in physical experiences, our stories and their impacts are unique and profoundly nuanced, and thus the experience of COVID will also be unique. I find myself in a privileged place where I have access to post-secondary education, support from the government, and access to therapy, and I know that this is not the case for every survivor. Some of us are struggling financially, some of us are entirely isolated, some of us have too much time to think (too much time to get stuck in memories), and some of us don't have safe outlets for connection. Some of us are doing okay, and some of us need extra kindness and support. Some of us have the ability to see further than the direct impacts of COVID, and others have the ability to identify the good things that may be coming in the future because of it. These differences are precisely why communities are relevant – they offer critical hope by allowing us to arrive at the table (even the virtual one) exactly as we are and providing not only an outlet but the sharing of the collective burden. It is when the person with hope for the future says: "You don't need to carry this worry about how things will turn out - all you need to focus on is the next right thing – and today I will hold the hope that we are moving in the right direction for you." And when that hopeful person becomes tired or doubtful, someone else then offers to hold hope for a while.

Some of us are doing okay, and some of us need extra kindness and support.

Communities have the potential to allow us to release stress and fear as well as to teach us how to hold hope for others. A group of strong and powerful women, other survivors - some of whom I met at a safe-house eight years ago - are an example of this. We laugh, we read books, watch movies, unpack things that are going on in our lives and then we laugh again. The simple act of interacting with individuals who share similar experiences - those who don't need to imagine what it must have been like, those who can see me as a human outside of those experiences - provides relief.***

Thank you kindly for taking the time to read these posts.

Sincerely, 
Anonymous


***This is in reference to Restorations’ Peer Support Group. You can read more about our activities with survivors here.

Check back tomorrow for the next part of this reflection, “What I am learning about the world.”


Note: Restorations recognizes the importance of financially compensating survivors for their time, energy, and expertise and, as such, we financially compensate all survivors who contribute written pieces for the blog. We strongly believe in the necessity of financial compensation for this work, and we urge other organizations who request survivors to speak, write, or consult for their organization to do likewise for the following reasons:

  1. to demonstrate a commitment to honour and respect survivors’ time, energy, and expertise;

  2. to demonstrate an appreciation for the emotional, mental, and physical energy necessary to share their experiences with us in order to benefit others;

  3. and to demonstrate a commitment to developing the economic independence of survivors.

A few things I am learning about Myself, Community, and The World during COVID-19: Part 1 "Myself"

This is a three part blog series from Survivor “Anonymous.” In this series, Anonymous shares her reflections on what she is learning about herself, her community, and her world during this season of living through COVD-19 and a global pandemic.

 
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WHAT I AM LEARNING ABOUT MYSELF

I have been carrying a feeling of helplessness that runs deeper than COVID-19. COVID-19 has undoubtedly shaken up many of our lives. While my experience of this pandemic is entirely different than my experience being exploited by my trafficker, I am learning, through therapy, that my body can pick up on familiarities that my cognitive brain doesn't always make space for. One thing that has helped me up until this point has been my ability to use cognitive reasoning to “think my way to a balanced state,” and while that can be effective for many situations, it failed to bring comfort when COVID isolations started. On the one hand, I knew that I was safe and that I had everything I needed, but on the other, I felt as though something was still incredibly wrong. I shared with my therapist that I could not articulate the feeling of wrongness, which prompted her to illuminate the power of the body. Over this time, I have realized that the reason that I felt uneasy as COVID unfolded is that it brings a sense of powerlessness that is not a new feeling in my body. While the level of powerlessness I experience is not the same as when I was exploited, situations that activate a similar sense of helplessness can still be enough to trigger the discomfort I felt before.

Over this time, I have realized that the reason that I felt uneasy as COVID unfolded is that it brings a sense of powerlessness that is not a new feeling in my body.

My journey to self-acceptance involves actively learning to value myself exactly as I am regardless of where I have been. The past three months have woven into a season of trying to listen to my body and quiet my inner critic; it is both a season of movement and a season of grief: grieving change, connection and a type of freedom. I have always carried this belief that in order to be “normal” or successful, I needed to put my experiences into a box and hide them in a place that no one (including myself) would be able to find. It has been nine years since I was ready to leave my trafficker, and eight since I have been able to begin carving out a new life outside of his presence. My attempts at detaching from my experiences have been reinforced by the notion that “I should be over it by now.” This season has illuminated how fully I have fallen into a mind-frame aligned with the societal stigma surrounding my story. I have repeated a personal mantra that suggests that I can never “actually” be worthy of the life I aspire to - because of my inability to erase what has caused me to be permanently “damaged.” As I invited myself into reflection and unpacking of my self-assigned eternal unworthiness, the incongruency between how I see myself and others became apparent. I believe that that everyone is worthy of love, support, compassion and that their inherent worth is entirely separate from their actions or experiences. And even while I believe this, I work to apply this to every human being except myself. 

I believe that that everyone is worthy of love, support, compassion and that their inherent worth is entirely separate from their actions or experiences. And even while I believe this, I work to apply this to every human being except myself.  

This awareness has allowed COVID isolation to challenge me to ask myself how it is that I can reframe this narrative and welcome the trafficking part of my story into my life, not in a way that festers and continues to take up all of my resources, but in a way that encourages it to become a piece of my foundation – providing me with (healthily adapted) strengths and skills for future endeavours. This challenge is significant because the reality is that there won't be "an over it," not entirely; there will be seasons where my experiences are highly manageable and other seasons that will be a lot harder to hold, especially when trauma can be reignited by what is going on in the world, whether that is something like COVID or something like witnessing an accident. 

My takeaway is that I can choose to allow my past to swallow me whole, or I can learn to interact with it in such a way that places me at the center of my experience with power and agency. I am learning to talk about it a bit more when I have nightmares or feel a trigger as we walk through places that feel unsafe. I am learning to accept that inviting others in contributes to resilience. 

My takeaway is that I can choose to allow my past to swallow me whole, or I can learn to interact with it in such a way that places me at the center of my experience with power and agency.

A little food for thought: I currently am working through my Bachelor of Social Work, and I was met with a new approach to understanding resilience – a term those close to me often choose to 'compliment' me with. In a course, it was suggested that resiliency shouldn't be the only goal of recovery, but a key for understanding more about a survivor's journey. The problem lies behind what is forcing individuals to be resilient; resiliency isn't as much a gift as it is a full-time, life-long job. When considering and encouraging resiliency, we need also to allow space for resiliency to be both sad and celebrated, for the experience of injustice to be valid, and to be witnessed so that that injustice can be harnessed and interacted with in such a way that the individual may use it as their foundation - on their own terms.

Thank you kindly for taking the time to read these posts.

Sincerely, 
Anonymous


Check back tomorrow for the next part of this reflection, “What I am learning about community.”


Note: Restorations recognizes the importance of financially compensating survivors for their time, energy, and expertise and, as such, we financially compensate all survivors who contribute written pieces for the blog. We strongly believe in the necessity of financial compensation for this work, and we urge other organizations who request survivors to speak, write, or consult for their organization to do likewise for the following reasons:

  1. to demonstrate a commitment to honour and respect survivors’ time, energy, and expertise;

  2. to demonstrate an appreciation for the emotional, mental, and physical energy necessary to share their experiences with us in order to benefit others;

  3. and to demonstrate a commitment to developing the economic independence of survivors.

Voice

I’ve lost my voice.

Tis the season… of colds and illness. Combined with a busy season for Restorations attending numerous events and speaking engagements, a seasonal cold has caught up with me and I’ve lost my voice.

Every time I lose my voice, I am reminded of the privilege it is to have a voice – both the physical ability to speak words, and the privilege I hold in having my voice and my ideas heard.

Flourish

My daughter is three and in that phase where she’s curious and asks questions about everything and anything. We were running late one morning a couple of weeks ago, and as I was rushing her to the car she stooped over to pick up something from the ground. It was a bud of some sort and she asked, “Why is it green?” I quickly brushed her off with an “I don’t know.” Her response caught me off guard: “Maybe it didn’t have a chance to bloom.”

The Light of Hope

I am not a fan of winter – never have been, and likely never will be. The cold of our southern Ontario winters has me longing for milder spring and (better yet) warm summer.

This past weekend, we had above seasonal temperatures. It was glorious. Most winters, I find that I have to make extra effort to look after my mental health; something about winters just puts me in a funk. But this past weekend – as I spent time outdoors basking in the sun and milder temperature, thinking about my spring garden and summer barbeques – a word kept popping into my mind: hope.

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