friendship, trauma, resilience

and loss

TW: naming incest

Hey there,

In this message, you will find a moment of peace and reflection; I also mention the harsh reality of the impact of childhood trauma, including incest. This story is close to my heart—a tribute to a friend whose memory lingers in the corners of my mind.

During my college days in Toronto, amidst the hustle and bustle of a country girl-turned-city, I crossed paths with Teresa. She was a bright burst of light in a sea of unfamiliar faces; she smiled through in desperate pain and could improvise laughter through the corridors of the history of child abuse and our shared family experiences. We connected instantly, bonded by an understanding of how a young life of misery and adversity carried on in our choice in relationships, multiple double-double coffees while chain-smoking, drugs, alcohol, bad boyfriends, oversharing in school projects and other cry-for-help behaviours.

I vividly recall the day we sat in our psychology class, the topic of "The abused child" striking a chord deep within me. It was as if the words on the page were speaking directly to the hidden corners of my soul, awakening memories long buried beneath layers of denial and avoidance. 

At that moment, I connected with Teresa unlike any other—a bond forged in the fires of shared trauma and resilience.

As the years passed, our lives took different turns. While my acceptable addictions were buried within the challenges of motherhood, Teresa continued to grapple with her demons. As she fell through mental health cracks, lost in a cycle of street drugs, addiction, sex and despair, I watched on. Sometimes, getting calls from the ER or from jail. She often passed in and out of my life and stayed close to my heart. Her adult life was heavy with the weight of the struggles of a traumatized child. I wished I could ease her pain as much as my own. The only difference in our paths was I anchored into family life and did my best to be a good mother, wife and friend, but there was no magic pill or waving a wand, a secret knock to fix the broken hearts of the children that lost themselves in childhood the way we both had. 

This weekend, I hit an emotional wall all my own; sometimes, I reminisced about the darkness we shared, and no matter how far gone Teresa had gone, I loved her spirit for the absolute bravery it took her to be who she was, traumatized, addicted and all. I googled her name as I often do, hoping not to find what I knew would one day be her fate; it felt like a piece of my soul had been ripped away when I saw her obituary. Her life was marked by homelessness, psychiatric hospitals, group homes and incarceration. A stark reminder of the harsh realities faced by so many who walk the path of addiction and trauma. But amidst the darkness, there was also a glimmer of hope—a testament to Teresa's resilience and the power of the human spirit to endure, even in the face of overwhelming odds.

Teresa's precious life serves as a poignant reminder of the profound impact of trauma and addiction on our lives but also of the importance of compassion, understanding, and the healing power of connection. Though our time together spanned decades, it felt brief. Her memory lives on in strangers' faces, the complexity of humans acting as a beacon of light in a world too often shrouded in shame, judgment and darkness.

So today, as I reflect on friendships and relationships, I honour Teresa—a beautiful soul whose dark pain shines bright, illuminating the path for others who walk in darkness. You are not alone.

love,

PS: I also want to take a moment to share with you about Clementine Morrigan, a writer based in Montreal, Canada, known for her insightful essays on various topics, including politics, socialism, queer identities, polyamory, and veganism. Clementine has gained attention as an outspoken leftist critic of cancel culture. Her traumatic childhood, her journey through addiction and recovery, and her reflections and courage in speaking out about her experiences of childhood sexual abuse are truly inspiring, and I encourage you to consider listening to her perspective or following her journey if you have the emotional capacity or interest.