In my previous post, I told you about my amazing childhood homeland. Now I will tell you a little bit about my parents' decision to move our family back to the United States.
Initially, we moved to a small town in North Florida. Instead of admitting me to the local junior college, my parents decided it would be better if I repeated my senior year of high school here in the United States. What made this decision even worse was they ended up having me go into a local high school that was out in the middle of nowhere land. This time it wasn’t because I was behind academically and had to catch up to my peers, but rather because my parents felt I was too young and naive, having grown up overseas.
In the British school system, children graduate high school a year younger than in American schools. Albeit I know many 17-18 year olds that go to junior college. Unfortunately, that one decision compounded my overall shock, confusion, stress, and the trauma of moving to this foreign land.
I really really struggled with that particular transition for many reasons, the biggest one being the whole American school system was so very different from the British school system, which was all I knew growing up. Then there were the whole high school cultural differences. First, I had already graduated high school so repeating my senior year in a school where most students have known each other for years and have already established their own group of friends, was incredibly difficult. Secondly, the school subjects, fashion styles, current fads, and music preferences were completely different from anything I was accustomed to. Thirdly, I was no longer a minority, either in ethnicity or nationality, and because I now had the same colored skin as the majority of kids in this school, there were certain standards I was expected to follow that I absolutely could not understand nor did I want to be any part of. Lastly, between my strong Trinidadian accent, and my radically different likes and dislikes, views, beliefs, opinions, and values I stood out like a sore thumb. I didn't know where I belonged and that led me to getting into a whole lot of trouble that first year!
The only thing that gave my life any kind of grounding and stability during those first two traumatizing years was running on the cross-country teams, both at high school and in college during my freshman year. I will be forever grateful to the coaches who encouraged me and stood by my side. At the end of the cross-country season during my senior year of high school, I ended up breaking the high school record for the women's team. This allowed me the opportunity to run at the local university the following year.
During that one year of American high school, and the following year at the local University, I encountered several traumatizing and painful experiences. Some were of my own choosing as I was desperate to be accepted and find a place where I belonged in this foreign land. However, in trying to navigate those incredibly difficult years with nowhere to go, and no one to help me process my confusion, pain, and suffering, I mastered the art of posturing, under a hidden sheet of fear, and a heavy heavy blanket of anger. Unfortunately, this led to even deeper wounding of my body and soul.
As the number of masks and layers of anger grew deep within me, I became completely blind to my own true emotions. I became very adept at living in other people's feelings and circumstances. I lacked authentic awareness about myself. Today, I affectionately and gently call my diminished self-awareness --- “introspectively challenged.”
As my anger deepened and intensified, I also became a terrible listener and all my unrealistic expectations of others grew in judgementalism and harshness. I had little desire to understand others’ perspectives because I was too busy agreeing with their values and beliefs, so I could blend in and be accepted. Ironically the more I thought I was blending in the more I gradually morphed, from someone who was once known as “kind and sweet” in her younger years to someone who was now being labeled a “big personality”, “too much”, "too intense", “too angry” and “very rude" or "insensitive”. Unfortunately, I not only started listening to those negative labels but I started believing they were true. I unfortunately allowed them to become a part of my identity throughout most of the first half of my life.
You could say I adapted to others' negative labels of me by "playing the part" of making sure I was too loud, overly confident, and or a bold strong person. I mastered the art of posturing in an attempt to keep things under control. Well, at least that’s what I thought. All the while I kept suppressing my real emotions and feelings more and more. In the end, all that did was enable me to become very proficient at using different methods of self-medication, such as eating, TV, social media, and busyness to try and numb the fear and pain! The more I buffered the more my God-holes grew and they became stuffed with ungodly self-reliance, pride, escapism, envy, and selfishness.
It wasn’t until 38 years after moving to the United States, that a holy and beautiful grief counselor helped me to see, for the very first time, that "my entire childhood identity was ripped away from me". She also pointed out how I was never given the proper support that I desperately needed to process such traumatic changes and circumstances and all the emotions that came with them! Unfortunately, emotional literacy was never taught or practiced in my family of origin growing up, so it wasn't until well into my second half of life that I started learning how to self-regulate my emotions. I'm still a work in progress but immensely grateful, the good Lord is allowing me to redeem myself.
By the grace of God, right before my parents moved permanently to Texas, I transferred to Florida State University. One semester after my transfer I met my wonderful husband. After getting married we ended up living in the state of Georgia. As I look back on those difficult years, I can see how it was truly my mother-in-law (and father-in-law) who helped to "Americanize" me. I wish they were still alive today so I could thank them face to face. Love and miss you very much Me-maw and Pap!!
I know I was not an easy person to be around during those difficult transitional years, especially when I flipped out into bouts of blind hatred and rage. However, little by little, through God’s great mercy and my in-law's patience and endurance, Southern charm, and Christian charity, they slowly won me over. I can honestly say I was never one of those people who had 'terrible' inlaws. What an incredible grace-filled gift from God that was in my broken life!!
Today my husband and I have been married 33 years as of this posting and we are still living happily in the state of Georgia. Praise God!!
Dear reader, would you please join me and say a quick prayer of gratitude to God for all those wonderful coaches, and in particular for my deceased in-laws Hugh Dorsey and Jackie Adamson?
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I pray you found what you needed today. Please leave a comment below, I would love to hear how this post might have been helpful to you.
Remember you are not alone! No matter what you’ve done or failed to do you are still loved unconditionally by a very merciful and just Lord and Savior!
May God Bless You,
Leslie
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