Not an easy road, but I am still standing today!

Never has the ticking of the rain on the window sounded more beautiful and blissful than today. Finally, after weeks of dryness, and sometimes unbearable heat, we are getting some coolness. I hope it stays like this for a while. In the rain, you can take bike rides and walks. In the heat, that's not a good idea. I'm really looking forward to get outside a bit more, with Nina and also on my own. Over the past few days, the list of mapped out routes has only gotten longer. It's time to shorten it. 

After a 10-day vacation, I retreated to our attic. 10 days with 5 people in the house is intense. At least for me. Which is not due to those four other people. It's totally my own thing. Something I do have to deal with more often than not. 

Nina recently shared an essay on trauma. How it continues to profoundly affect your life and how people usually try to put a positive spin on it. How you should use a traumatic event to become "stronger". Reading this essay triggered me. And that's why I'm sitting here writing about it now. 

I've regularly said over the past few years that I'm proud of where I am in life. That I have come quite far. That negative experiences have not shortchanged me. That it could just as easily have been very different. Even if things looked less promising in the beginning for a few years. And sometimes the not-so-nice things pop up again unexpectedly.

Let me give you an example of such an experience

For a long time I was more than tired of school, I was in a negative spiral. With a very negative self-image, sometimes doubting why I was on this earth. Believing that if I were no longer here, no one would miss me. 

In none of the schools where I took classes I received positive feelings or motivational feedback. On the contrary, comments about what a slacker I was were written in red in my school reports.I became a textbook example of a self-fulfilling prophecy. 

Until the fifth secondary vocational "printing companies". I saw the end of my school career and, above all, another practical teacher in prospect. Because with the current one there was no good match. And with the practical teacher of the last grade I was on the same wavelength. With him I really wanted to end my school career in beauty. I was looking forward to it and I saw it all in a much brighter light! 

At the end of the fifth grade, we had to take a practice test, in four-color printing. Something that could not be done in one morning. Together with Jacky, I was allowed to start first.After that first print, the teacher was unexpectedly very helpful. He explained quite extensive that during evening school, printed products disappeared. That's why Jacky and I were allowed to put our work in his closet. A closet which he then locked and to which only he had a key. So our printed materials would be safe there. I remember going home from that lesson with a positive feeling. That maybe he wasn't such a terrible person after all, maybe I had been a little mistaken in how I saw him. 

But...the next day it turned out that my printed work was no longer in his locker. Jacky's still was... Again he was very friendly and helpful. He gave me tips on where it might be. Of course it was untraceable. But at a time like that you don't imagine that a teacher can be so bad that he deliberately sabotages your project. So I kept looking for a while, but in no luck! 

So no, it was nowhere to be found. He told me to occupy myself in silence during the last weeks of the school year during his practical lessons. If there was time left I could still do my assignment. There was no time left...but not to worry. That fifth secondary school year I picked myself up. During the final exams I really did my best, studied hard for the first time for all subjects. I had a good feeling about it, the exams went well. 

Then came the day of truth. We were assembled in the refectory. A teacher took a seat at the podium to say everyone's name one by one to indicate whether you were finishing your fifth year with success. First, those with an A certificate. I wasn't one of them but I didn't mind so much. I would also have been satisfied with a B certificate. As long as I could go on to the next and last year. It didn't matter to me how. Because of the good feeling at the exams I was convinced I could go on. But I wasn’t one of the lucky students. 

Then the students with a C certificate. It turned out that there was only one: Erik Richart. I kept my cool, pretending it didn't affect me, but it came in very deeply. A very humiliating experience that only got worse with the parent-teacher conference. Several teachers expressed their disagreement with my C-attestation. They thought I had done a great job. That I deserved to go to the 6th and last grade.  I finally got positive feedback at school. But it turned out to be negative after all. 

They told me that they had really tried their best to let me through via deliberation. But one teacher wouldn't, insisted on giving me a C certificate. Yes, you guessed it, the practical teacher. He absolutely did not want to let me through, he was the only one who wouldn't give me a chance to go to the last grade. 

Once again I felt like I wasn't worth much. To be on my own, to have no one who was really there for me. I was sure of one thing: there was no way I was going to do my fifth year there again. So I decided to get an  apprenticeship contract, which meant I only had to go to school for one more year and could finally start my life.

 

It remains slumbering

This experience played on for a very long time. Every time I heard a story in the news about a teacher who had been assaulted by a student, I wanted to hear that student's story first before passing judgment. For many years I walked around with real feelings of hatred towards that practical teacher. Something that doesn't really make you happy.Of course, those feelings have begun to wear off over the years, but I notice that this situation still comes up a lot. Always with the question: "If I hadn't gotten a C-statement back then, what would my life be like now?" 

Also the thought that if you can't stand someone, you don't let them do their year again, right? Because then you're stuck with them for another year. I also wonder if he is still alive. I would like to ask him what inspired him then? Are there other students in his career that he has ripped off like that? 

It's also an experience I don't talk about much because I imagine that many would not really believe it. That I am misinterpreting things and there really is another side to this story. 

Another reason why I want to meet him is to tell and show him that he has not gotten me down. That I am going through life in a successful and positive way and that I have a Bachelor degree "graduate in orthopedagogy". 

And so there have been other experiences and situations in my early years of life that have not pulled me down. That made me decide that perhaps I have actually become stronger because of them. That these traumatic stories have made me where I am today. That I should almost be grateful for it. On the other hand: I have to admit that it was not an easy journey. That to this day I am still paying a price for it.

Thanks Sanne

Until today, that is, because Sanne Van Rij rightly questions this mechanism in her essay. By stating that we got something positive out of our negative experiences, we soften them. In itself an understandable and human reaction. But the question is how much did that ultimately cost? And still costs on a daily basis? She indicates that it's okay to come out for the negative effects and consequences. You should not always pretend that everything is going perfectly. You are allowed to assume that without those traumatic experiences, maybe your life would be completely different. Without the negative effects and the price you are now paying to be where you are in your life. Maybe then you would be standing somewhere completely different or even stronger in life… 

Bessel van der Kolk describes this very well in his book "The body keeps the score". How trauma has a lasting effect on your life. Ok, I came out of it fine, but how would my life be today without all those negative experiences? Where would I be now? Would I still feel the need to separate myself from others at the attic now and then?  

I know, there's no point in busting my head over that. I try not to do that, because it wouldn't make me happy. But still, sometimes I wonder. Especially because it costs me a lot to be where I am now and it continues to take a lot out of me on a daily basis.

 

Done with eternal positivism?

That's why I try not to participate in the eternal positivism and the beautiful pictures and videos on social media. That's why I don't keep quiet about our difficult financial situation and how that really does have an impact on our lives. No, we do not live in poverty. Our children don't lack anything. They have the luxury of their own room and being able to follow studies in higher education. But even that costs us something. 

That's why I don't keep quiet sometimes, or want to, about how certain experiences make my life not always a wonderful one. It costs me a lot of energy to stand there every day and try my hardest to keep up in the daily rat race. Even though I have experienced that honestly sharing what is going on in me is not always accepted with the same amount of gratitude. Not everyone seems able to open up to it without prejudice. But I think I should keep doing it. Because I am sure that many are suffering in silence and keeping up appearances. That there are still too many taboos. 

In the Flemish version of this write-up, I recommend reading the article that triggered me to write this. But it is in Dutch, so not really possible for you guys. 

It only remains for me to thank you for your attention and for continuing to read my musings and thoughts. Don't hesitate to share your reaction. But do not feel obliged