In life, how many times do you have to empty a can before the garbage is all gone?
The irony of life is that one never knows when life will kick out, and irony will kick in. To know that you have tried to be what everybody wanted, expected, drove you to be, even though there were never any expectations there in the first place. You were the scapegoat. This is not me looking for pity; this is reality. To see that no matter what you did, you could please no one. That is and was my reality. I was the garbage, I was the trash. I said for years that I was a White Negro. Think about it. My mother asked me one time if I ever wondered what life would have been like if my twin had survived and I had died. In my medical files from my family doctor, Dr. Austin Creighton of Tatamagouche, Nova Scotia, I found a medical document stating that at the age of eight years, I would never accomplish much in school, and I would have a hard time developing in life because of my family dynamic. It’s funny when you look at it, how something like that could be written, but nobody ever did anything about it or tried to help. I do not believe I’m the only one this has happened to, but it seems I’m the only one fighting for my life now, or what should have been my life. Now at 63, and waiting to take MAID, all I can hope for is that if somebody else reads these notes, maybe it’ll help them, maybe it’ll stop them from being the wrong type of parents. I say this over and over again: I would not wish this life on anyone. Thoughts?
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