Catherine has become a loyal listener and from my interactions with her online, she’s a fantastic woman and mother. We actually FIRST spoke because her son is a BIG fan of the Hot 7@7, and has been a 10 second co-host on more than one occasion. When I was sending out my major SOS in the summer for material for the Anti-bully Blog Series, Catherine came to the rescue in a BIG way. She actually studied bullying and the behavior, and sent me a couple of her papers. Needless to say they ARE long so I’ll be breaking them up a little. I find them fascinating! I’ll stop my rambling now and share it with you . This CATHY OR CATHERINE? THE SEARCH FOR IDENTITY IN THE FACE OF ADVERSITY
School was where my journey with peer rejection started. By the time I was eight, I dreaded getting up in the morning because I knew the day ahead would result in rejection of some sort. The dread would form itself into a small ball in the pit of my stomach. I remember walking to the bus stop with a stomachache every morning, wondering what the day would hold. Would I be left out of other children’s games? Would I be laughed at? Would I be beat up? This was my reality once I started school.
This chapter will examine my memories of rejection. According to van Manen “The purpose of phenomenological reflection is to try to grasp the essential meaning of something” But how does one make sense of years of memories? What does all this pain mean? As discussed earlier, these memories were analyzed thematically. To put it simply, I looked for important themes underlying each memory. It wasn’t always that simple - some memories are made up of more than one experiential structure, and I uncovered more themes than it was possible to explore here. But after much thought and analysis, I narrowed the focus to four themes that stand out in my story: 1) It wasn’t always that way, 2) Helplessness, 3) Identity, 4) Rebellion or rejecting the rejecter. These will be explored individually in the following sections.
It Wasn’t Always That Way
Living with her extended family afforded Janis extra love and attention (Joplin, 1994, p.24).
Some of you know Mrs. Wilson, who teaches with me. Her building shares a backyard with two other buildings. All the children in all the buildings play in that one yard and they follow a simple rule: Everyone Can Play (Paley, 1992, p.36).
If I think back to my early childhood one statement comes to mind. “I was perfectly happy until I was five.
During the first five years of my life, I experienced a period of overwhelming unconditional love from my new family. On November 9, 1970, I was adopted by Bob and Joan, a couple who had hoped for a child throughout their thirteen years of marriage, but had been unable to conceive. I was adopted into a very small family, an only child, and the last of the cousins born. My maternal grandmother, who I lovingly referred to as Baba, lived with my parents. Also, my mother’s sister, Aunt Lena, doted on me and considered herself to be my second mother. I had other relatives who also doted on “the baby”, as I was called until I was well into my teens! The story of how I came home as a newly adopted baby was recounted to me many times by my mother. I will let her words, as she told them to me, tell the story, as this memory is hers not mine, but is a part of my story.
The baby arrives
You arrived a day later than we expected. Daddy couldn’t get the day off work but he telephoned me every half-hour from work to see if the baby had arrived. Finally, the social worker brought you over. You were all pink cheeked, with orange peach fuzz on the top of your head, dressed in a pretty blue dress that matched your eyes. The minute they laid you in my arms a big smile broke out on your face. It was love at first sight for both of us. As soon as Daddy found out you had arrived, he rushed home from work to see his new baby. He was very happy, as he had wanted a baby for years and a baby girl was what he had specifically requested. Your Daddy had your new name all picked out- Catherine Elizabeth Derry. As soon as Aunt Lena got off work, she, too, hurried over to see her new niece. In that very first moment she saw you, you became Aunt Lena’s favorite family member.
There is a picture taken of me that first Christmas (see figure 2.2). I am sitting in my baby seat holding a doll, underneath the Christmas tree, surrounded by all the opened Christmas presents. My mother said that they had put their new baby under the tree because they considered me the best Christmas present they ever received!
These early memories, although they are not mine, show a child who was very much wanted and showered with much affection. Before reflecting on this, let’s turn to some of my own memories of this time period. I try to remember what I can of those early years, when I felt happy, safe and unconditionally loved, my world defined by my close-knit family.
Band leader
It was shortly before my beloved BaBa died, when I was about five. I remember it was night because I had my pajamas on. I went into the kitchen where the adults were talking. Aunt Lena was visiting. The four of them were sitting around the kitchen table, smoking and discussing whatever boring things adults discussed. I told them I was bored and wanted to play. BaBa asked me what I wanted to play. “Band,” I said. With a smile I went into my room and found five toy instruments. I distributed them to the adults, keeping the tambourine for myself. Then the adult proceeded around the living room led by me, singing, laughing, and making lots of noise.
This is one of my earliest childhood memories. Other episodes I recollect include picnics, vacations and sitting on everyone’s lap and being read to. What does this memory say to me now? What is its essence? This memory makes me feel loved and important. How could one not feel important being the band leader and having the adults follow your lead! This was the spirit of my early childhood. I was loved and was at the
center of four adults’ worlds. I did not know then that this was not the way the real world was going to be. This was a protective, inclusive world in which I was the queen and the adults were my court. As I reflect back on this, I realize that it must have somehow been a shock to my five-year-old self to go out in the world and find out that I wasn’t the queen.
I remember only a little bit about my early friendships. I had plenty of friends when I was little (see figure 2.3). I lived in a neighborhood full of children, and aside from a few of the usual childish squabbles, we all played well together. I had two best friends, Paula and Kendra (not their real names). I have no memory of meeting Paula, because our mothers sat us in front of each other when I was about nine months old and Paula was about eleven months old. Paula and her family lived down the street from us. According to my mother, when we met, we all became instant best friends. In fact, our
mothers are still best friends to this day. Before we started school, Paula and I used to play everyday while our mothers had coffee. Sometimes we would fight, but it would be forgotten by the next day. We did everything together and would enter each other's houses without knocking. My first memory of Paula involves our separation in a department store
A trip to Woolco
Our mothers did their shopping together, going in the morning after our fathers had gone to work. It was always Woolco, because at that time it was the new place to shop in our neighborhood. Our mothers would always put us in the front of their carts where Paula and I would babble to each other or play little games with our hands. On this particular day, our mothers proceded to drive their carts in different directions, agreeing to meet at the “Red Grill” later. I remember feeling surprised and upset that Paula and I were going to be separated. We reached for each other's hands in unison and held on tight, in hopes that our mothers would not separate us. It was to no avail - our mothers went in their separate directions. I remember stretching my hand out in the air to Paula, crying.
When I reflect on this memory I recognize the feeling I felt as panic. I felt panicked at the loss of a playmate, even though it was temporary. To my two-year-old self, it seemed like the end of the world. Perhaps this was my first realization that you can’t always have a friend around when you want one, a thought that had not entered my world yet
Kendra was my other childhood best friend, although I don’t think we became best friends until I was in grade two or three. I can remember meeting her for the first time at a young age.
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