All I Know So Far
“Haven't always been this way I wasn't born a renegade I felt alone, still feel afraid I stumble through it anyway I wish someone would have told me that this life is ours to choose No one's handing you the keys or a book with all the rules The little that I know I'll tell to you When they dress you up in lies and you're left naked with the truth” – P!NK – “All I Know So Far”
It’s been a crazy week for me. I’ve been revisiting a place where I was posted when I first finished at the MP Academy. My first posting and, in retrospect, my most poignant one. The place, itself, full of memories and ghosts, haunting me for the past several years, ever since. And, I’ve been avoiding it because of these ghosts. But this week is different. I’ve chosen to be brave, and face these ghosts. I’m taking my life back; here, in the place that almost saw me end my life, a few years ago. Taking all of that pain, fighting those ghosts, and re-experiencing it with a different attitude and perspective. Choosing to see this place, and myself, in it with different eyes.
Right before I came here, I was assessed by the Operational Stress Injury (OSI) Clinic. Two sessions, each nearly four hours in length, and incredibly invasive, triggering and difficult. Having to talk about and share all of the things I’d been through, throughout the past several years; mostly due to my military experience. Discussing things, that you, my readers already know from reading my blogs over the past couple of years. Some of the worst experiences and most trying circumstances of my life have been because of my military service. I write about it all of the time, however. I write, because it’s cathartic. But talking about it and writing about it are entirely different things. Talking about it isn’t cathartic, it’s triggering and re-traumatizing; because talking about it means I’m taking ownership of it. I’m talking about me. Versus, writing about it. Writing about it feels different. It’s like I’m talking about someone else; a character in the story I’m telling. It’s easier. Easier to see things through her eyes; this character that I reference in all of my blog posts. Easier to speak with her tongue, and type with her fingers. It’s easier, because I can pretend it’s fiction. But it’s not. It’s my life. And, today I’m speaking about me; being honest and admitting that this is my life.
A life, lived by and through me. And, the things that I write about, happened to me. Places that I’ve lived, and things I’ve experienced in these places, were painful; for me. This place, in particular; although, it’s not as triggering here as it was in Kingston. The experiences here were difficult, and the things I went through; even ones that didn’t happen here, but that I had to survive and try to process when I was here. But this place is somehow different. This is where I started out my career; became a police officer, and fulfilled that lifelong dream. This is where I experienced a sense of comradery; despite the few who bullied and gossiped about me, there were many who were amazing people/comrades/partners here for me. I learned my craft here; honed my skills here. But my life was not my own here. My life wasn’t my own for many years. So, everywhere I went; for courses, taskings, postings, while I was in the Military, I saw things from a completely different perspective. Now, I’m seeing things with a different set of eyes. I’m seeing this place through different lenses too. I avoided this place for the longest time. In retrospect, knowing what I know now, I know that is because of what it symbolized to me. It symbolized trauma, divorce, suicidal ideations and an attempt. It symbolized grief, loss, pain and loss of autonomy. It symbolized lonely nights, spent fighting over text message with a husband who was lukewarm at best; because he had checked out the minute I’d got posted here. It symbolized seeing and experiencing the worst of humanity; arresting them, policing them, saving their lives or the lives of their victims. Suicide interventions, domestic violence, impaired driving, assaults, sudden deaths. Seeing people at their very worst; all of the time. And, becoming jaded because of it. This place symbolized horror. It symbolized pain. It symbolized, for me, being stuck here because I didn’t have a choice in my posting; confinement and claustrophobia. But not now. Now, even having been reminded of everything that happened here, only days before returning to the place where many of the things I rehashed and relived had happened to me. Now, I’m feeling less triggered and more empowered.
Now, I’m finding beauty here. Exploring places, I’ve never explored, and seeing things I’d never seen before – because I was too busy looking into the darkness and abyss that was policing on a combat base. Versus, finding the beauty and magic that exists here, in Petawawa. I’m finally seeing the truth of it all, here. And, I’m finally taking my life back. Taking the experiences and seeing the truth that exists within them, as well. Finally allowing myself to see more than what I saw in the tunnel I was living in, while living, serving and suffering here. I’m finally allowing myself to heal. And, in this place, this time, instead of finding darkness and pain, I’m finding truth, beauty and healing. I’m healing in the place where the pain began.
“And when the storm's out, you run in the rain Put your sword down, dive right into the pain Stay unfiltered and loud, you'll be proud of that skin full of scars That's all I know so far” – P!NK – “All I Know So Far”
I’m learning to run; or, in my case, cycle and walk, in the rain. I’ve put down my sword, waved a white flag, and called for peace here. I’m seeing it all clearly now. I’m seeing how the scars I now carry were made, and yet, am embracing those scars and seeing how important they are to my healing. This place is showing me this. This place, that dragged me through hell. This place that was my own personal hell for a time. This place, that always had the power to help me heal, but that I either didn’t see, or refused to see when I was here first. When I was here last.
“You throw your head back, and you spit in the wind Let the walls crack, 'cause it lets the light in Let 'em drag you through hell They can't tell you to change who you are That's all I know so far” – P!NK – “All I Know So Far”
In two days, I’ve already cycled 75 kilometers here. 75 kilometers; exploring, taking photos, taking in the beauty and magic of the scenery here; with new eyes. 75 kilometers; listening to songs like this one, by P!NK, making me think and wonder, and meditate deeply on all of these experiences throughout my rides. 75 kilometers of throwing my head back and spitting in the wind (well, not really spitting, as that’s not a considerate thing to do throughout a pandemic, but you know what I’m saying). 75 kilometers of deep self-reflection, consideration, healing and epiphanies. 75 kilometers of realizing that I finally own my own life. That I have the power to change my own circumstances. To change my response to the things that happen in my life; to me or around me. To decide how I respond to things that hurt or trigger me. That I can say ‘fuck it’ to anything and anyone that brings me pain, headaches or heartaches. That, although I have been repeatedly dragged through hell; in places and by people that lived, worked and bossed me around, in places like this, I have the autonomy to say ‘no more’. And, I can take back my power, and my life. And I can take back things like my attitude and experience here, in this place, now.
“I wish someone would have told me that this darkness comes and goes People will pretend but baby girl, nobody knows And even I can't teach you how to fly But I can show you how to live like your life is on the line” – P!NK – “All I Know So Far”
I now, finally know that darkness isn’t permanent. Pain doesn’t last forever. These things, as P!NK says, come and go. As I’ve recently realized; throughout the aging process, and watching my physical beauty fade, nothing lasts forever. Nothing good lasts forever. But that nothing bad does either. The beauty, and the light comes and goes, but so does the darkness and pain. Life is constantly changing and shifting, and we have to change and shift with it, or we get sucked into the abyss. We need to be open to doing and seeing things from a different perspective sometimes; especially if we’re trying to heal from the periods of darkness and pain. And, as painful as it is often is to do, sometimes we need to revisit these places. To walk, run, cycle or drive around and through. And, we need to look at and see it through different perspectives, in order to see the truth of it.
I don’t know much; after all of my life experience, training and education, I still don’t have all of the answers. But now I know that no one does. And that’s okay. We don’t need to know the answer or solution to all of life’s problems. We just need to be open to revisiting and experiencing these things, differently. We need to be open to exploring. Open to changing and shifting, when we need to change and shift. We need to learn to bend sometimes. Not compromise; just bend. Open our hearts and minds a little. See things a little differently. Just bend.
I don’t know much. But I know this much. If we don’t bend, we break. And, as Karen Salmansohn once wrote, "When Life's strong winds come blowing, bend with them, and let go. By bending you will become stronger in new places. By letting go, you will be making room for the new and and better".
That’s been driven home this week, from the seat of my bicycle.
I don’t know much. But that’s what I know. That’s all I know… all I know so far.
