Extracting the magic from the tragedy . . . by Jaeda DeWalt

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Face the Pain – Self Portrait – © Jaeda DeWalt

I’ve been reaching into the recesses of my childhood, as of late, trying to extract the magic from the tragedy. When I was younger, I wouldn’t let myself think too much about my childhood. It was militant and hyper-religious, at best. And kind of bizarre . . . I remember my dad being a super-intellect, eccentric genius; into his aviation, flight simulators, artificial intelligence, computers and science fiction (and i love him dearly). Emotionally he was almost robotic, treating us more like work colleagues than his children, but that was just my Dad, being himself. Now i can laugh about it, in fact . . . he reminded me a lot of Data on Star Trek.

While my mother, of whom, was sick a lot, spent much of her time in bed, losing herself in sappy soap operas, macrame/crocheting/needlepoint projects and the latest gossip. As a result, my sister and i had to assume much of the household responsibility, very young.

It was an emotionally barren, love-starved environment laced with dark secrets that were painful to live, painful to keep. On the surface our family may have seemed eerily perfect. Perhaps no one suspected that all was not as it seemed. I had to call upon a tremendous amount of inner-strength to maintain my sanity and to survive.

As I got older, I realized I would have to wade through those painful childhood memories, so the happier ones, could be free to surface. I noticed that when I shut down negative feelings like anger, fear, or sadness, I was also shutting down my ability to experience positive feelings such as joy, love, and happiness.

I surprised myself by all the magic that came bubbling up to the surface, when I reached back into memory. I have beautiful memories of sailing two weeks out of every summer. My dad sold our power boat after some rocky excursions that resulted in sea sickness. After that, our family took sailing lessons and became certified, so we could rent a sailboat. I remember falling asleep to the melodic sounds of the sea, nestled tightly in the bow of the sail boat. The places we went and the people we met were rich with unexpected things. I loved the smell of salt water and sea weed, of sun on my skin.

I have happy memories of my sister and I standing on the bars of our swing set and singing at the top of our lungs. I remember riding my bike around my neighborhood for hours and roller-skating until the street lights came on and I had to return home. I also had fun playing street tennis with the neighborhood children, creating spy games and climbing trees. I also remember Pac Man Fever, the joy of the arcade and Atari. LOL

There was a beautiful creek in-between/behind the neighboring streets. I used to walk that creek with my best friend, Shaota. We would talk for hours and get out of our not-so-happy home lives for awhile. It was a welcome, nature-inspired escape from reality.

I loved walking to my school bus stop because their was a beautiful horse pasture across the street. In the fall, the fog would hug the grass and softly roll across the dew-kissed ground. Horses would trot across the field as their warm breath trailed behind them in the cool morning mist. It was beautifully surreal. I remember yearning to be and feel that free.

When I was younger I was quite a little sprinter and loved running ahead of my classmates during P.E. in the fall, feeling the cold air strike against my hot skin. I loved when I could get into a running space by myself and enjoy a few brief moments of solitude as I pushed my body to the limit, feeling the sting of cold air being sucked into my oxygen-deprived lungs. Made me feel so vital and alive, literally keeping pace with the rhythm of life.

My parents MADE me take piano lessons from age 8 to 16. I HATED my lessons but was so grateful to be taught the piano. I would only learn enough of my weekly lessons to scrape by and would spend the rest of the time, learning to play my favorite songs by ear and re-arranging them to my liking. I’d also improvise, making up whatever song wanted to be created inside that moment. I would go down to our basement and play that piano for hours at a time. Getting lost inside my own world, SAFE, for a time – nothing else existed. Playing the piano soothed and nurtured my soul.

I’d also escape into books. My parents didn’t bother with introducing us to the classics, but I still loved the books I read. I remember the joy of reading books like, “James and the Giant Peach, The Box Car Children, Nancy Drew / Hardy Boys Super Mystery books, and The Chronicles of Narnia”. I also remember being introduced to the fabulous Ray Bradbury and “Fahrenheit 451" in 6th Grade. And Eric Arthur Blair’s, “1984". And of course there were the amazing books, “The Grapes of Wrath, Catcher in the Rye and Of Mice and Men. The library was one of my favorite places to go. And I remember my Mormon mind being shocked and entranced by my first introduction to V. C. Andrews with the book, “Flowers in the Attic”. I felt like such a bad girl, reading that series of books! LOL

I also recall fond memories of sitting in my room, listening to music why I wrote in my journal and composed Gothic poetry that was far too along for my years. LOL

I spent A LOT of time in hospitals, my mom was ill often and underwent numerous surgeries. I had my share fair of time in hospitals, too. BUT hospitals and waiting rooms were a fascinating world to me. Workers in pristine white, men in green masks emerging from the swinging surgery doors . . . the feeling of tension in the halls as life and death loomed in the balance. I remember the strange scent of chemical disinfectants permeating the air, coupled with the sounds of life-sustaining medical equipment. It was a strange, surreal world that i found endlessly fascinating.

All, in all, I am evolving in my healing and I thank you for sharing this journey with me, in words.

PEACE and LOVE
j a e d a :)

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