Three Dimensional Rotten Roots

   Absolving my mother from the childhood or should I say inferno region I grew up in, is something that will never come to fruition, but at least I have been able to forgive her due to the powers of empathy and grey matter I’ve learned along the way. To this day when I tell confidants that I forgave my mother for what she has done, they do not understand. Nor do I expect them do understand, It’s the same reason that some rich people are out of touch with poor people problems. If you haven’t been there, you can have empathy, but not understand.
  As maintained by society standards, which I also believe is slowly keeping cadence with change at this current time in 2023, but when I was growing up, the standard of normal was still the “Keeping up with the Benjamins” everything is cookie cutter perfect; and if you talked about your problems you were perceived as negative.
    I was the only “white girl”( My mother is Native and Russian born and Raised in Alaska and my Father is German born and raised in Germany currently still living in Germany) in my class growing up, which created a feeling of always having a glass wall between others. I was born in The Virgin Islands, on the tiny 10-mile Island of St. Thomas where it has strong culture and no acceptance to American culture.
    My Father left my mentally ill Mother when I was only two moths old, and my three sisters, leaving us to grow up in poverty and a quotidian routine of abuse . My mom admitted to only having me and my sisters to keep my father, she told us this routinely. My first memories which are still eminently vivid as a toddler were my mom punching me and constantly trying to drown me. My mom broke all my fingers as a baby and enjoyed kicking me around the floor. She refused to change my diaper and would eventually take it off me and make me sit still with the dirty diaper on my head. If my sisters tried to help, they would get punished. Yes, child protective services would step in, but due to laws, we were always sent back home to her and the beatings would only get worse. It was as if she was never satisfied as in fulfilled, with the beatings, it would start when the sun came up until the sun went down. Because of the isolation of living on an island so far from our family in Alaska, my mother was able to pretend that everything was fine and we were supposed to put on a show for company if anyone ever came over.
   Ever Heard a saying and it peeved you? A saying that made you feel uncomfortable? Making you question what kind of solipsistic minded person would say this?  “Nothing wrong with a good ass whooping” has always made me miffed. Sayings like this add to a phlegmatic based personality culture. In a way, one of the fundamental things we should not do, is NOT desensitize our children.
   The abuse I suffered could to some be considered “A good ass whooping” but it was more like banging your head on the tile until blood came out of your ears and broke your nose. Stripping me and my sisters naked and spanking us in the shower for hours. There are a Myriad of other examples I could tell you but I think I’ve drawn the picture.
   My mother tried to commit Familicide through poisoning on me and my sisters in middle school. I see this as a result of her mental health not being taken seriously and not given better support, the mental and physical therapy post-partum, better wages, cheaper healthy food, free or less expensive health care. That would massively improve mental health for all. I still Forgive her.
     This began a journey of therapy and many visits with social workers. I remember a social worker Named Ms. Hodges. She gave me the only hug with love and security as a child I can remember. I remember her recommending books to read, and hobbies for me to try, something my mother never encouraged…these were books from a writer named Sister Souljah. I read them; I loved them. I felt she was one of my first friends.
   When I turned 14 my mother signed custody over to a man named Michael Palmer, who was a cult leader from Mobile, Alabama. I wish I could tell you this in epigrammatic form, but there is no way to out run this or be indirect. I was trapped in a building for four years with 40 other girls never seeing the sunlight and being brainwashed. Some of us were raped but all of us were starved, drugged, silenced and forced to do things incomprehensible. Two weeks before I turned eighteen the FBI intervened and we were rescued. We are now survivors and have The Breaking Code Silence Movement  #BreakingCodeSilence
      In Habilitation back to the “real world” I moved around only to become cognizant of the fact that I have never had a home or understood the concept of a home unless it was referred to as “a roof over my head”. My first job was doing roof work with the Haitian and Dominican immigrants, they were the only people I could connect or form a bond with. It was difficult for me to figure out what I liked and who I was. The one thing I had come to realize about myself was my love for Latin Jazz and Jazz Musicians.
       I moved to New York in an attempt to find myself and connect with people I could relate to. I didn’t want to pay the high rents of living in a trendy apartment because then I wouldn’t be able to concur New York City. I spent time being homeless and sleeping on rooftops until I got enough money to buy an old vintage sailboat. I lived on this sailboat in Far rockaway queens behind a Dunkin Donuts for seven years( I Love Sailing). Where I’ve lived and what I ate has never mattered or been the rationality of my happiness. So, a dirty old cold boat wasn’t equivalent to a life long friend or skill. I matured a lot from working at methadone clinics, adolescent homes for girls, and waitressing. I spent most of my free time learning new instruments and spending time in the park with unhoused people. In the winter I would leave and go to remote villages north of Yuramagways, Peru and work on Coffee and papaya farms. (These were not tourist attractions or accommodating places, no electricity, no phone service.) I just wanted to connect with people that I felt had no ego and were truly selfless.
      The only mature person that I kept any contact with in my family besides my sisters was my Grandpa LeRoy Shank. My Grandpa would always call when I was growing up to check on us. He knew what was happening in that house, but was also scared of my mother because he didn’t want to upset her and then never be able to talk to us again. My Grandpa LeRoy was a beautiful person who was a Proud Native Alaskan. LeRoy worked for the Fairbanks Minor for forty years while also being the founder of The Yukon Quest 1000-mile sled dog race and being one of several founders of The Fairbanks Trappers Association.  
   In 2012 My Grandpa was Diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease and just six months prior my Grandma Kathleen had just passed away. She taught at UAF for many years. I wanted to spend time with the only person I had anything in common with in my family.
     The most content I have ever felt was the time I spent with LeRoy. I got my first job in Fairbanks working at The North Star Council on Aging because at the time I arrived in Alaska my grandpa was unable to cook and take care of himself and they were delivering Meals on Wheels to him. Through working with the north star council on aging I was able to become acquainted with Geriatric Social Workers. These were the angels that Fairbanks sorely needs. Lots of Elderly people in Fairbanks are so easily taken advantage of and need protection. I understand this is all over the world, but I was able to witness this eye to eye while in Fairbanks which gave me a deep understanding of the necessity of adult protective services and Geriatric Social Workers.
     In a good-natured conversation on day my grandpa asked me when I was going to make him proud and run The Yukon Quest 1000-mile Race. LeRoy was the most Yes man that I had ever met. He was the man that had every tool in the box and when anyone needed anything he would say yes. If I could do anything for my Grandpa I would. I began learning from my grandpa and several other mushers everything I could. Once my pups were grown and trained, I was able to get my qualifiers and sign up for The Yukon Quest. I was able to compete in almost every race in the state of Alaska and get the practice my dogs needed to compete. In 2020 I Finished the Yukon Quest and just two months later my grandpa LeRoy passed away in my arms. Having the only family member and my best friend pass away changed me. I self-reflect a little too much, so much that I wish I smiled more. Through my time Spent in Alaska I have found a place that I can call home. A place where I can continue my grandpa’s legacy. I have been blessed to have met my Husband who is patient and has perspectives on who I am. My Husband and I both have a deep love for pinball, we use this to stay hard-pressed in these cold Alaskan winters. We have both decided to be sober and instead invested our extra money into creating our living room into a pinball arcade! I am in a comfortable space and fortunate where I currently am in my life. I am currently only able to go to school now because this is the most stable environment, I have been in. Although I am busy with a full dog yard, two jobs, and being a full-time student, I am determined to get my bachelors in social work, and if I excel, my masters. I do envision my future working with adolescents or my elders. I am not in it for the money.
       I’m gratified that I have defeated the default responses when I ran out of ways to deal with life’s obstacles. I have broken the pattern that could have been instinctively repeated whether I hated it or not. Growing up being physically and emotionally abused is something that I may never be fully healed from when you’ve been hardwired to think that everything you have been through, you deserved. In hindsight we are also hardwired to heal, and we may not be able to heal every trauma but we can manage them.
      No matter what I’ve been through, I’ve come to understand you can draw on the dream world for images and ideas without loosing touch with the concrete stuff of humanity, the stuff that keeps us engaged and propelling forward. My world has always been a waging war of consciousness wherein goodwill is the sharpest weapon. Doing good and being as selfless as you can be is what I perceive a good social worker to be. If I hadn’t gone through what I did, I wouldn’t be on the path that I am now and I could have possibly rushed into a profession that wasn’t my true pursuit, I finally feel like I am in my Time and understand my solidity.