A wanderer in the forest

 

Fifty four years ago I was a solitary, frightened, little four year old.

We had moved to a rural area south of Vancouver near present day Whiterock. Our home was actually a converted cottage. I though it quite beautiful what with it's huge picture windows touched by cedar bows reaching outwards. The cottage was surrounded by forest with a very small clearing for a yard and an equally small clearing for a little Volkswagen Beatle.

I loved this forest. For here, practically clothed in cedar, hummous beneath my feet, soft mosses, and damp smelling underbrush, I was home. I have felt this home only twice in my life. And here, was my first escape from life.

Yes

I was a scared and deeply depressed child. Suicide ideation was constant. I clearly needed help yet no one offered to help. My grandmother, whom I saw perhaps 5 times in my life grand total I think recognised there was a problem. I recall her attempting more than once to set things right for me, to ease my circumstances.

Yes and Yes again.

To say I was not treated well would be a real understatement. All was not well at the Christensen household. It was one of those I-could-do-no-right things. There had also been trauma.

I knew I was different. Than other kids. They were happy while I was not. I was surrounded by youngsters squeeling in delight - in joy. Yet I had none. I went through the motions. There I was a four year old child adept at the art of pretend and acting. I was a role player in life and the role was not an easy one. It had to be constant, it had to be vigilant. All the while I asked 'God' (this imaginary figure apparently in charge of everything) why I had been burdened with the trauma, the tears, a mother I could not please, and so on.

But at five years old, I discovered that God hadn't entirely abandoned me, he had given me trees.

The trees became my life, they were my life. Every living breathing moment I was either in the trees or thinking about being in the trees. I hugged them, I climbed them (very very high s the further I was from the house and the ground it sat on the further away I was from whatever ailed me).

And it ailed me so.

Imagine being in grade one and wanting to escape the fear and loathing so badly that you want to die? 

Yes

Every night I prayed to not have to wake up the next morning. I continued to do this for the next 40 years of life. And no one noticed. No one offered help. 

Life was pretty shitty, but there were times there were trees and life improved a touch.