Dearest Friend,
Amazingly, it all started sometime after being enrolled in the special school.
Of course, the initial change was quite strange and upsetting – and a huge part of me felt I didn’t belong there. For me, it was symbolical of my family’s absence and their unwillingness to help, but it was especially a sign of their lack of faith in my own potential to achieve much.
Children, however, are fantastic at adjusting to the environments that are revealed to them; so I did just that!
There was a great advantage, which is why I probably didn’t panic after the first week… There were no bullies anymore!
No kids lurking on the school playground, waiting to jump out and pick on me or call me a queer; no more fights, or having to flee my way around long routes to reach home, school or et cetera.
Now there was provided a private bus, what kids on my street called “The Handicap Bus”, which picked us children up outside our homes and brought us to school and back.
At most, there was initial gossip about the whole thing, from nosy neighbours or immature kids that would tease me about it in the mornings.
But that was all petty and bearable; more of an annoyance than anything taken to heart.
When I started at St Joseph’s School, aged nine, I had begun all the basics over again; some very useful, such as foundational maths, advanced reading material and English as a study in particular. But for the rest – the less said the better…!
Let’s just say: with the workload, I felt so underchallenged and bored, and the hours throughout the school day would drag by so slowly…
The teachers on the other hand were absolutely wonderful. They, of course, had to manage children with all kinds of physical and intellectual challenges, and even still it never broke their spirits.
The teachers also liked when I would offer to help out and support my fellow classmates in any way I could. This always felt so rewarding and good.
The same could be said when the young people supported me in other ways!
In terms of the classroom arrangements, it wasn’t based purely on children in certain age groups. Aside me – near aged ten – were children as young as five or six…
I guess it was based on intellectual maturity?
I do respect that I started out in many ways what can be considered very childish and wild, but I also bear in mind that I was exempt from the many social interactions between children that are crucial in their development at a certain age, and having consciously mature parents that would guide this process.
But this isn’t Mum’s or Tony’s fault – they were inexperienced and extremely young themselves! – to have the knowledge or awareness about these things.
All I do know is that from then on, from being around a much younger social circle, it definitely had an effect on my emotional maturity as I developed.
I don’t know if this was caused by habit or simply my limited situation, but for a long time I certainly wasn’t mixing with children that were my own age or at my capacity, and so I grew very comfortable in adapting with those much younger than me.
Even outside school this became more of a habit. Not a bad thing at all, but it unquestionably played with my intellect and made me see myself as much younger than I really was.
This can happen to anyone from a young age and being accustomed (or restricted?) to certain social circles, and age groups in particular.
You could say my sense of innocence and naivety was immense!
Can’t really judge if much changed in certain aspects… 😊
During my first year at the school, I was very quiet and withdrawn, but eventually I accepted my situation and tried to make the most of my time there.
Always in the back of my mind, I thought it was better than being bullied and finding schooldays fearful – so I tried to stay optimistic!
Some days I could be that cheerful chatterbox in the classroom, or that kid who makes his teacher smile. I might ramble on about high hopes, telling my mentors that one day I was gonna be somebody: travelling the world and becoming famous. They always smiled politely when I had rushes of happiness, and expressing ambitions as such as these.
There were also many unhappy days, too, when the fighting at home became so intense that I couldn’t sleep at night, that I’d invent excuses for being exhausted at my desk. Not always did the teachers see the signs; it could have been observed as laziness, or my acting out as an attention-seeker.
It was simply because I was afraid to share anything happening at home, knowing the punishments in store if I ever did gossip about such stuff.
Whenever I spoke to young people, I would invent stories of what my home-life was like; making it seem glamourous and ideal, so as to form some kind of barrier between me and outside school.
It did the trick, to ward off suspicions for my unpredictable behaviour; one moment being the life of the party, and the next a mute that could daydream off into space and be oblivious of his surroundings…
It was exhausting having to play a front day after day!
I’m conscious of the fact that my descriptions about all these developments are put forth so bluntly!
But let me tell you; in the very moment, and with so much going on, there was only utter confusion!
I didn’t have the clarity and sense of confidence as I may have progressed with at present…
I was only a troubled young child, making the most of his situation and playing by feel.
It’s a wonderful thing that, deep in my heart, I still had so much inspiration – and a drive that could be only explained as coming from Divine Intervention… I was blessed with a good disposition, and a vision that saw the best in everything; I marvelled in adventure in any way I could!
This all wouldn’t have been possible had I not, deep within myself, a strong sense of feeling guided and protected by some force.
Call that what you must: God, angels, spirit; maybe even the stronger part me I haven’t yet encountered…
All I do know is that I felt truly grateful for such gentle persuasion!
You might ask: “But, Jason, what was it that started all this change for you…How?”
And I can only respond with saying: it was always there, waiting to be uncovered; that better nature which lies within all of us.
It can only be understood by aspiring to be that better version of ourselves, and really allowing and accepting change into our lives… Change is where all true healing prospers!
The start of that change began for me when I really turned to writing; to not fear being the dreamer I was, to voice my place in the world – and to try and make sense of things in my immediate life.
It was a gradual process, and there was certainly no magic fix.
But writing became a wonderful compensation for me, as I battled through my most lonely moments.
It’s one thing to say the positive affect this way of expressing myself helped, but it’s not enough without also informing you what encouraged such practice.
In my third or fourth year at St Joseph’s, when I was around twelve or thirteen years of age, I was at this point moved up to a much more advanced level.
They called it “Class 3”. I would have been with people near enough my own age, too, or even a little older… Every student went at their own pace, and teachers formulated class structures which really worked and balanced out every young person’s needs, while at the same time being able to give that much needed support on an individual basis.
In this new class, I was given the nicest teacher you could imagine – who would later go on to become a huge role model of mine; in terms of educational growth. She was a short middle-aged American lady, who was extremely intelligent and articulate; this teacher really made learning fun and relevant!
She entrusted upon us a love for literature and physical activity. Every morning, the teacher would get us to do warm up exercises before we met the day; we all would jog around the school in two’s as a means to keep stimulated. I realize now that many of the children didn’t have playmates at home, so the school offered a compromise. In the afternoons, we would all gather in a circle of the class and listen to our teacher read with interest, while following along with our own reading companions.
Now and again she would get students to take a turn in paragraphs and ask us our honest thoughts on the part. This all kept us very focused, feeling very involved and having equal say in our learning.
We read books such as: How To Eat Fried Worms, Bridge To Terabithia (a children’s favourite of mine), Matilda by Roald Dahl, The Golden Compass and Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl, and much more…
As I’m sure you know too tell, Anne Frank’s Diary really resonated with me; both as a writer and a human being. Back then I didn’t know enough about the second world war, and I was really only beginning to appreciate literature in my life.
However, listening to our teacher read so passionately and with such a professionally spoken dialect; forming a sort of book club with the class, and the rewards we all got for doing well in our efforts, definitely all motivated me in a very special way…
I especially loved pouring through the bookstore catalogues and discovering reading of more interest. Seeing them arrive in packages and discussing them with the class felt extremely refreshing; I felt so proud of myself that I was beginning to actually enjoy learning, and not being afraid to show it within my efforts…
Anne’s story really moved me; despite coming from extremely different circumstances to mine, I could relate with many of the emotions of growing up that she expressed within her writings: about the relationship with her family, feeling misunderstood and trapped, but more importantly I appreciated Anne’s drive to seek good and optimism despite the odds.
I certainly wasn’t a passionate writer to begin with; actually, one might say I wasn’t far off from being illiterate in the written expression. My grammar and sentence structures were really poor, my handwriting was worse than it is now (still evidently needs improving!), and writing as a use itself, in the beginning, was a mere reminder of the tasks at hand. More a source to “remind” myself and complete goals, rather than anything of emotional significance.
Our American teacher, on a daily basis, would instruct every student to keep a journal and would ask in the mornings to record what we did the day before when we went home. This was all just something the teachers required to check our progress with writing as a school discipline, and ways to encourage us to keep up the habit as we improved in our literary skills.
But for me, it certainly was to have a more profound usage to my life.
After a while, I decided to start a more personal diary; one that was separate from school criteria, and begin filling it with more intimate content; started by saying how I really thought and felt day-to-day.
For some reason, it done wonders to have something that was mine, and mine alone. There was tremendous comfort in being able to turn to my diary like a dear friend and offload if I needed to.
Mad to say, but the self acknowledges a lot more on recall – and by reflecting on paper I felt my concerns were being heard.
More significantly to me, I formed my own logic about things and started to gain some control of my world.
On a more basic level, there was great accomplishment in setting yourself those tasks, being self-disciplined and completing them. Creating some healthy structure and routine is so important, for body and mind to function positively!
My last year at the special school was crucial in this change…
It was a very exciting time being a teenager and seeing many changes take place, both ones which occur through puberty in general, and emotional ones that manifested within.
I found the whole process wonderful, and a true indication that I was becoming my own person with his own ideals; in control of leading my own destiny!
I suddenly began to develop more self-belief, and felt the world had great things in store for me. I couldn’t quite explain it to myself, but I was immensely pleased with this better person I was becoming… I could see how I changed, and why, and I was humbled by this great bliss I was experiencing!
Something was steering me on, and I didn’t know what – but it’s power pushed me through and kept me going with a happy heart…
A very unexpected thing to add about my reflections of St Joseph’s is that despite firstly feeling misplaced and sort of seen as a lost cause for the adults, it wasn’t until I got a little older that I realized this whole experience was actually a blessing in disguise…
I couldn’t see that at the time because I was too busily absorbed in all the pressures that became my every day.
What made this particularly an enlightening experience was how I decided to approach this change with new will, and the unusual perception that overcame me with intensely good feeling.
Such feelings like a deeper sense of gratitude, towards God and the universe itself; for possessing me with good health and strong mobility – but also the many other daily privileges that some of us never think to consider and appreciate.
Appreciations like being able to freely take a walk in the sun or rain; feel the sand and waves beneath your feet as you run or dance; both seeing and hearing signs of the beauty that comes from Mother Nature, and just being able to make independent choices for ourselves and maneuvering around without needed assistance…
These are all things that can be snatched from us at the blink of an eye – losing one or more of our senses, etc., and so this gives wonderful room for thought.
Aside advancing in my academics at the most foundational level, my best education was both observing closely and experiencing at my most adapted to the challenging environments around me.
Every day brought with it new insights, and human behaviours at their most complex.
Witnessing many of the limitations in my fellow classmates at St Joseph’s, while also having the amazing opportunity to from long-term friendships with them, are all things that gave my heart a new appreciation for life – and maybe some extraordinary perspective on people (if I may say! 😊).
Those children were what I consider true angels throughout my journey of growing up!
They have no idea how much they inspired and impacted on my life; not to mention, also making my everyday worries seem pale in comparison, yet all the more overcome with their presence and support!
When I reflect on my times that came after St Joseph’s, like enrolling into mainstream secondary school, for example, I can see why people found my attitude towards life to be odd for someone so young.
It’s difficult to pinpoint why exactly, but all my inner resources (that were achieved from those earlier experiences) really pushed my spirit ahead with an eye for success; towards the little things, like a higher education (becoming more self-educated), knowing what it means to be independent and truly happy…
And this is where I come back and touch on that question about God.
I’m convinced all the struggles that hit me throughout childhood had a purpose, and from what’s happened a higher power can better understand.
And I can see from thinking this way that’s why spiritual growth really blossomed within.
Had I not been thrown out of my comfort zone and pushed into that unpredictable space (that felt extremely lonely and judgemental), I wouldn’t have connected inward more naturally and developed a better relationship with God.
What I envision when connecting to my God-Space, and being compassionately mindful, is that reassuring voice within – telling me to keep going and helping me get through; feeling beautifully connected to all things, and no longer as insignificant.
In this space, you’re no longer focusing purely on survival needs and the wants of Self, but in the position of balance and considering all points of view; really standing outside yourself and finding equal value in your opposite.
In time, my meditations brought me much deeper than I anticipated.
It brought me to reconsider all the things I had angst about.
I didn’t expect to connect with such deepened pains and trauma, and replace them with pure love and appreciation for all the knowledge it’s provided me about being human.
It’s little things, like gaining a better understanding of our parents, and empathizing with the many struggles they must have been encountering, too; learning to try loving Mum and Tony as people and not begrudging them from expecting ideal parental figures; trying to forgive and form a mature understanding/relationship with my Dad, and catching up on the many years missed; acknowledging without guilt that I’ve really had to be my own parent and guide in growing up.
This journey has taught me what it means to be truly resilient, be it my failures and strengths.
The strange part is I never really felt alone.
There’s a tremendous difference in feeling lonely, and being alone.
I only felt lonely because I knew my family were missing out on the person I am inside, and equally I was losing an opportunity to really know and understand them as people, be it their survival and emotional stance.
Now I see there is huge advantage in getting closer and coming to know, and all the more sincere when so much is shared and forgiven…
Once we discover where we want to be, all stubbornness and expectations are left behind; connecting beyond material things are where love and care is truly felt!
I wouldn’t have achieved any of these rewarding outlooks if I hadn’t admitted defeat and gave birth to a new change of seeing life.
It was writing to you that really brought out this change of person, and that willingness to see life as an education; not merrily the schooling system and what they teach alone…
I am out chasing for my own answers, just as much while I physically evolve - and I have found the core towards an enriching life derives from keeping an open mind!
I wonder what God would say…?
The message I hear back is one who holds immeasurable love and patience.
I really believe that the journeys we take are never truly taken alone; an experience had, is an experience shared...
We are all one in spirit! 😊
Yours always, Jay.