The Gift of Life: Part One

For most of my life I have had a constant feeling that I experience everyday life in a way that is unique and unknown to most people. I knew it when I was a young child, spending the majority of my time in nature, seeking its safety and wonder, listening to the trees, organizing my large collection of crystals and gemstones that were a magical gift from my grandma...and I was always surrounded with a plethora of various pets and wildlife. I felt that I could connect with animals (and plants) more than the others in my circle of friends and family (except maybe my little sister. I'm quite sure that she has these skills, and now her 8 year old son does, too).  I think my gift of animal communication was shattered when I had a severe horseback riding "accident" at age 14. I lost my lust and confidence for animal communication and felt like I had failed my horse. I "outgrew" my animal phase. 

At age 7, I was singled out with a handful of other students, tested, and labeled as "gifted and talented".  By who's standards? For the remainder of my grade school years, our group met weekly to hone our "gifts and talents". I never really thought much about it though. It seemed normal enough at the time. We all looked forward to an annual convention of the G&T called Odyssey of the Mind. From early elementary and onward, we did things like build balsa wood bridges to see who could engineer the strongest one. We also wrote, acted in, and directed our own plays -soundtracks included. We practiced brainstorming, had philosophical discussions and polished up on our problem-solving skills. It was a non-stop mind challenge.

Outside of school, I grew up in a household that was quite violent and very tense. There was lots of shouting, which I always ran and hid from, and even sometimes when it was really intense, there was throwing and smashing of various objects. There were often forceful physical assaults, which I was never once involved in, only a witness to on numerous occasions. 

I have always had a photographic memory. It is a curse and a blessing. I can remember things from at least 25 years ago in fine detail. The good, the bad and the ugly. It was extremely useful in school when it came time to take exams. I would have a flash of the exact paragraph in a textbook where the answer to a question was. I have pretty much everything from the last 32 years of life stored in my visual memory. On a regular basis now, random moments in history pop up in my consciousness. Things that I didn't even consciously know that I saw or experienced at the time. What people were wearing, the music in the background and what the weather was like on any given day. 

As a child with extremely high sensitivity to other people's (and animals') energy, I struggled with all of this. A LOT. I learned the habit of emotional eating from my parents. So I became the chubby kid. My big brother teased me relentlessly and had cruel nicknames for me until I was a teenager, when I finally joined sports teams, ate healthier and slimmed down to normal-ish. I also cried often as a kid. Pretty much daily. I was often very sad and so afraid for myself, my family and our pets. 

I was always the overachiever in the family, much to my two siblings' dismay. I was a straight-A Honor Roll student most of my 12 years of school and was always striving to prove myself to the world. Somehow though, nothing any of us did was ever good enough for our father. Why weren't the A-minuses A-pluses?? He had (and still clings to) extremely high hopes for me. He told me repeatedly that I would make a great doctor or lawyer someday.  I knew he was wrong. Those things were not in my destiny. At least not this time around. 

Finally one day in grade 11, at age 16, I couldn't cope with the violence and pressure at home and at school ANY. MORE. My body, mind and spirit started to crumble. I developed severe anxiety, including a debilitating fear of traveling in enclosed vehicles with other people (cars, buses, airplanes, subways, etc) regardless of who they were. 

When IBS (irritable bowel syndrome) was a brand new discovery back then, I was labeled with that, too. I felt just awful! I quit attending high school a few weeks before grade 11 final exams, and I insisted on homeschooling myself for grade 12. It took a boatload of convincing but I did it, with the help of a very supportive tutor and his wife, who became my second family for that year. 

My closest friends had no idea what was happening because I was really embarrassed and very confused at the time. I spent nearly the entire year of grade 12 holed up reading and writing and spending tons of time in nature. I was constantly asking myself "what is the meaning of all of this?!". I knew that my life just had to be about more than this ugliness that I had experienced so much of for those early years of life.

My search began for the answers to some really tough questions:  "Why am I here? What can I do to make my world a better place? Is this the reality that everyone experiences? Is life this scary for other kids? How did I end up in this family? Am I going nuts? Will I wake up and realize that this was all a bad dream?" 

To be continued...(it was too long to fit into one blog post.)