So I got this PVR hook-up for my satellite dish almost a year ago, and now I have no idea how I survived without it. Admittedly, I spend more time deleting shows that I'll never watch, and fast-forwarding parts of shows that ... suck, but not being a slave to the broadcast schedule has been grrrreat.
Case in point: I like "The View" only when it gets down and dirty. When something happens and ABC promotes it all over in the afternoon, I used to think "Damn, I wish I'd seen it." Those days are gone. At home for lunch today, I turned it on just as the Ashley Judd interview was winding down. So, because I tape the 2pm/West Coast edition, I knew I'd be able to watch it in full this evening.
And I was blown away.
Check out this video ...
Ashley's always been the smart one. Not Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm like her mom. Not Wynonna with all the self-help catchphrases. She's been the thinker and it's evident to anyone who's ever listened to her speak. So, while I am surprised Ashley would require a professional co-writer for this autobiography, I'm nonetheless excited to get my hands on a copy of "All That is Bitter and Sweet: A Memoir."
"I was sick and tired of being sick and tired." I get this. Just within the past few days, I've been wondering, "Why do I feel good physically but I don't feel like I'm thinking well?" Not like I'm thinking dumb or anything. My mind just hasn't been going to good, uplifting, optimistic places.
If you can find a full video of this segment, watch it. There's a short discussion about coping mechanisms that children develop, because they have to adapt to situations they can't control. She said she learned to put her head in a book. I get that. We uncontrollaby use those coping mechanisms into adulthood until we reach a point where they can't help us any longer. So we're forced into that growth.
About her experience volunteering across the world: "I connected to the fact that things happened to me when I was a kid about which I had never spoken."
Native people should understand this well. Whether you're a sexual abuse survivor or not, every word from that interview should make sense to you. Social workers and educators who work with Aboriginal people talk about generations-long trauma and its effect on our people, and the ways it manifests itself today: alcoholism, drugs, cycles of abuse in all its forms. Those are the big examples.
Consider these less obvious ones: social hesitation that others interpret as snobbery; rumination/silence that looks like ignorance or disinterest; a smile or blank stare when everyone else gushes with joy. We're people who tread carefully wherever we go -- except in a room full of Indians -- because we've conditioned ourselves to prepare for a surprise. That's the lightbulb that lit over my head, these past six months or so: I've conditioned myself to prepare for a surprise. And it's not fun.
Think about that, if you haven't experienced it for yourself. Trying to predict the next thing someone says, thinking about what you'd do, how you'd react if this (or that) were to happen right now, constantly guarding yourself emotionally, to the extent that you can't genuinely react impulsively to anything.
This is what the world needs to understand when we talk about "the effects of residential schools." It's what job recruiters need to understand if they're genuinely serious about reflecting the Canadian fabric at their workplace. It's so much more than the headlines in the newpapers.
As for me right now, today: don't worry about me. This time tomorrow, I'll have Ashley Judd's book. I'll find my way.
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