Suicide   Chronicles   



The popular thinking in earlier years were unfavourable to people with issues spanning the psychological spectrum. Needless to say, many lived off-the-grid as best they could or were treated as pariahs unless fortunate enough to have family support. That was only operational if things were identified, but when anxiety and depression were in the making, so to speak, flying under the radar war quite common.


Looking back over the decades, it’s noticeable how many had contributions to the maladies now labelled mental health issues. If you were male, the expectations laid out was quite different, harsh if you considered what was considered as boys being boys. Not to overlook the obsession that was fostered upon girls from early on in Life, which bore the brand-of-oppression deemed misogyny. I am of the opinion that this so-called battle of the sexes bore ingredients of mental illness.


My contributors came through both genders suffering under the brands already in vogue. The stereotypes of what constituted gender, social-economic-ethnic status applied their weightiness through the actions, behaviour and attitudes of the merciless ignorant and from those in-the-know, their predecessors, according to their inherited conditioning. I was to due get a heaping serving from the get go, which slowly but surely began by imprinting from unconscious psychological residues. 


Allow me to mention at this juncture, this is not-a-blame scenario but a laying out of conditions that contribute to what became dysfunctional qualities in this human being’s life.


My particular input was from an uncertain conception that culminated in the early departure of the masculine energy necessary in balancing the upbringing of any child. Once that contributing masculine energy departed, unwilling by its absence on its way out, this male-child was to remain in a primarily matriarchal environment within a transient-truncated and uncertain path. 


‘Home is where the heart is’ was the adage meant to be just that, since instability was the constancy balanced by a mother’s loving affection with two-children to provide care for in a male-dominated culture, without the support of her primary caregiver. This was the behaviour-pattern I into which emerged that cultivated its unique dysfunctional qualities.


I had the distinct pleasure of being more than bi-racial, a misnomer if I ever there was one. I was multi-national, ancestry hailing from many corners to the world. My contributors hailed from somewhere in the African continent, the British Isles,, the Caribbean, Central America, China and Europe. Exotic though this blending may sound, consider the periods in History these couplings occurred!


Certainly not recent history, and definitely not North America! The resultant fallouts continue to this day, a fuelled carry over from warnings fostered by fear from assailants afraid of their own shadows, another aspect of mental illness.


Suffice to say, the dynamics raging through each group, in each generation left scars gone unrecognized even where aberrant behaviours manifested. Of course, when I came on the scene dysfunctional behaviours were rampant and I could but navigate with what I had inherited by way the mindset of a brilliant caregiving mother dealing with inherited constrains as best she could, and timely pivotal inputs. Before, during and after the primary-masculine energy departed she had too much was on her plate to adequately manage. 


Something had to be done, which involved decisions embracing many issues that imprinted dysfunctions on this unsuspecting child’s psyche, including a younger sibling who by design was able benefit somewhat being of the dominant setting.


During an eight-year stretch in Time, ‘home’ occurred in as many locations before another definitive upheaval occurred.  










First steps, first words are outside the recollection process of the adult individual as are imprinting processes in her/his conscious awareness. Suffice to say, when Time allows for the introspection process whereby such recollection is possible, the individual has the choice of such an experience, or not. This process is not an easy choice to make, due to conditioning factors that ensue within developmental years. The years ensuing after walking and talking becomes second nature, as was the advent of socialized learning for survival amidst the cultural band.



In my situation, transiency and solitary endeavours became second-nature and overshadowed social orientation many others experienced. Though different, my beaten path flew beneath the radar of my peers and many dominant adults who viewed my behaviour within the normal scope of everyone else. My distinctions went unnoticed even when my performances began to lag, resulting in academic decline. It was a different Time and my female dominant demographic had more important issues in survival to manage. My family unit with its primary caregiver was sabotaged, not to mention instability for growth and sensibility. Alternative aspects were present, education and religious practices, accorded to biased social systems in keeping the behavioural constructs allowing unknowing development of a chameleon management/navigation skillset.





Be that as it may, Life in Time progressed, developing and evolving in keeping with the overall evolution of humankind economically, socially and politically.



I was clothed, housed, fed with education and religious tutelage in tow. What I had not noticed, as everyone else, I had lost the close nurturing of a matriarch and patriarch, along with extended-family units that supported many families cohesion. Being male and older than my younger sibling, I went unnoticed due to my wanderlust, a byproduct of being left to manage myself yet look out for the care and well-being of my younger sibling whenever I was consciously aware and being in a female-dominant environment. It was fortunate that she was younger and remained among the female folk whereby she gleaned behaviours to which I was partially and unconsciously exposed to which I adapted.



My mind acquired imprinting and conditionings at subconscious levels which I wasn’t able to fathom in spite of behaviours being affected, with resultant actions appearing within parameters of male-behaviour. Still, my behaviour was often misinterpreted due to appearing to run counter to masculine aggressiveness and leaning to more feminine passivity, a simplistic role distinction of that era. I was subject to behaviours I misinterpreted in passing, since I was often by myself and often unaware of what was occurring meant. There was a one-year term where I became more social and stability was presented as a possible option in living. But, that period was also short-lived and I was to relocate to parts unknown.





That oasis amidst the wasteland of unfamiliarity and neglect during my formative years was to the traded in for a new frontier by reuniting with my female/primary caregiver as I ventured my adolescence, a pivotal-moment in Time.




“The road to hell is paved with good intentions” but what about “the road through hell”? How does one navigate through, successfully? The road I travel has its own uniques qualities, not unlike others in general but its specifics are telling. I have a younger sibling who had been there for a time from she was born, but I’ll leave her to relate her perspective as this is a telling from my own perspective that began before her emergence …



I entered a specific Time/Space Continuum where goings on comprised of their own measures, much of the details are sketchy albeit divulged in part some time ago. Suffice to say, there was much to be desired and secrets ensued since and chapters are to remain undisclosed and unfinished, ledgers in-the-red. What is a most unique, unfolding in Time in retrospective introspection is the quantity of unknown qualities exiting the shadows. Unfortunately, what is being made clear reveals a quantity of chapters that will go unacknowledged and some will remain open, unable to be closed. 



From the outset I was to remain lacking in information, trusting in those who made the decisions about my comings and goings, and navigating my way as the information became known and understood albeit hardly comprehended. I doubt parents today would practice raising their young in the manner of my upbringing. 



Information concealed encompassed separation and divorce without destructive conflict when I was 2yrs old, just after my younger siblings birth. Thereafter, a transient lifestyle was the norm with asthma becoming a constant companion in a big way. In Time passages, decisions were made having hard choices in support of those decisions for other separations where alterations in my psychological functioning ensued. The sociological construct of that era was unaware of what was to take place, and what longterm effects would be forthcoming. These were constructs to function and develop during an era in social systems in transition and transformations.



The early stages of transiency took place from childhood throughout formative years and into adolescence where there were attempts to mitigate the earlier underdevelopments and misdirections through lack-of-adequate guidance and parental  nurturing. Without the imprinting from a father and mother bias, there was much in the way of reorientation to take place biased in dysfunctions.     



The spaces to be filled in during those stages-of-growth had depths beyond imagining and lacked adequate resources to mitigate beneficial growth; or, so it appeared. Fact of the matter, Life served up Its own catalysts to giving Its life-forms opportunities at survival. How these opportunities engage what’s already going on depends on many life-enhancing synchronistic factors beyond human reasoning, but manage under arduous conditions humans appear to be able to do.



The management has an interdependence on the understanding that belongs to the facility-of-parenting …





InSecurity  Life  Experiences ? 

Learning about one’s uniqueness ought not to be a deadly and diabolical process, but given the ongoing consciousness development into which I was born made it so. 

Having survived the Shakespearean “slings and arrows of outrageous fortunes” that made up my childhood in another place and time, I found myself learning a diaspora of unknown quality and quantity. I was an immigrant, a transplant into a place with only vaccinated preparations in embryonic enclosure that would begin to dissipate without my being conscious of all but the physical. There was an already established and functioning system of which I was to learn and discover simultaneously, unaware of prerequisite tools and support systems.

Geographic challenges were added to the emotional and psychological framework of inadequacy. I didn’t know where I was, what was required of me and how I was to equip myself with the required consciousness being without filial counsel. I was unaware of a family unit beyond my comprehension being a necessary evil. A father figure was missing in infancy, and a mother’s loving kindness disappeared at the outset of what is called “the formative years”. The mother’s loving kindness would reappear in puberty, without foreknowledge of what developments or lack thereof had transpired making the work-in-progress most daunting.

Picking up where we didn’t leave off was a hit the ground running metaphor. Balls were in motion, some damaging and damaged which had to be navigated in the business of survival. I had no way of recognizing the qualities of what was at play, not to mention their identities relative to my person, but my life depended on getting to know if I was to survive …

One such lesson was multi-layered, beginning with getting to understand that my physical appearance had significance beyond being a living entity. I belonged to a cultural and ethnic typography and geography with an unknown history. Making things more challenging was the fact that my ethnicity was multi-national with a predominance that was to become evident in definitive ways. One discovery was linguistic about which I was made aware through those in my immediate locale, classmates in public school. Turns out I spoke with an accent to the standard language used in communication. Not long after, I was introduced to a physical difference significance that took a while to settle in and challenge how I was to grow. A darker complexion appeared to have a social significance with dangerous intent whose content was unknowingly horrifying.

In an industrial education discipline of Carpentry/Woodworking, an incident occurred which had import that was left unattended and undiscovered because blood that was desired went unattained.

I was in what was called a Shop Class, and those of us in attendance received what is known as a Safety Lesson before commencing our exercise, a preparation for a grand project for successful transition into the next level of learning. My familiarity was limited and my lack-in-comprehension, also. While using a band-saw to cut a plank of wood I was distracted by a familiar sound, one to which one automatically: the sound of one’s name. 

Looking away for just a moment, in the direction of the sound but continuing to push the plank towards the spinning-saw, I hadn’t noticed the danger to which I was being deliberately placed by a classmate. Without alarm, a strong hand took hold of my small hand in time to stave off an unimaginable loss. I was chastised for my inattentiveness without knowing the incident’s import. I was deliberately distracted with the intention of being harmed by a peer, but that factor of social discourse on ethnic bias was not revealed and I continued through onto other incidents involving survival.

Decades later, given additional experiential knowledge to recognize and accept similar incidents qualified intent-on-harm, I came to comprehend deviousness in ample scenarios. That incident would have changed my life in unimaginable and untold ways, anger being the least of its results. It might have been labelled an ‘accident’ if the teacher had allowed that intention its desired fruition. I was most fortunate that teacher saw the bigger picture, its possibilities and probabilities, and its direct and indirect impact for all concerned beyond my loss of a thumb during class under a teacher’s supervision.

That was one of the defining incidents in being not only a unique individual, but also with distinctions that was to contribute unexpected and unknown challenges of varying qualities and quantities. I was tasked to navigate this Life by learning Its unfolding, with Its ‘systemic constructs’ evolving simultaneously …





While the world churns, political will bolstered by multinational corporations with globalization in mind and the restructuring process has been ongoing over decades as observed through trade agreements guided and subverted unaware through the various corporate-owned media. How this has been orchestrated, by whom and with what purposes in mind boggles the mind, mine at least. This has been ongoing for some time and I cannot for the life of me believe there’s a ‘long-game’ surrounding all of these goings on considering many in play weren’t alive at the outset. So, what’s the true story?

Consider, if you will, weather patterns over the past 100yrs and resultant food insecurities? Not to mention, Trade Agreements and manipulations through media-hype for one nation to benefit over another, primarily the upper echelon and the individual on the streets be damned, left to scrounge their sustenance for survival believing there is a beneficial trickle-down effect in place. Of course, the other well orchestrated distractions catering to imprinted biases in fear from the threat of unbearable pain according to beliefs, also created conditionings. What is really real?

We exist, living in survival-mode on the surface of styling by slick manipulations catering to illusions to delude and mystify varying mindsets to which we are all recipients. Can you step out of your subjectivity long enough to identify much less recognize the path we walk? We are no longer of the hunter-gatherer domain, nor ‘Early Civilization’ practitioners, but benefactors and products of all that’s been and gone before; the good, the bad and the ugly. We organize according to our basic predilections, tribal groupings delineated into hierarchies and political substrata with cultural, ethnic and socio-economic demographics which to orchestrate goes beyond any Zeitgeist management being offered.

Books have been written, labelled documentaries, fiction and non-fiction where it’s believed the truth may be deciphered by a select few who we are led to believe have the well-being of humankind as their goal, with a few naysayers! It’s been said that down through the ages Life is the orchestration of the masses by the few but to what end, if there truly is an End? When did these ideals become apparent ambitions to be fostered of an influential few, supported by policing sector and desired, not to mention expected by the general populace with a radical counter-force to keep the system repeating? 

This appears awfully peculiar, while we go about our lives food-surfing …




According to one position I may be labelled as one raised among the enemy being of the male gender. Raised in the absence of a male member in the family unit, I was slated to be raised among females, and the influence of females continued throughout my lifetime. In addition to 4yrs placement in board/foster-care, I was not only within their purview throughout childhood and throughout  adolescence, but also to have many female supervisors and executives as I traversed Life in the vocation I eventually discovered. 


That Life condition was not recognized as ‘different’ from any other it all I knew, even when amidst the company of men where ridicule was prevalent without being aware of their perspective. While growing up I held a perspective that ran counter in many aspects to the males I encountered, which I thought had only to do with being an individual. Little did I comprehend that there was a difference-in-psychological construct that had extenuating factors. Nonetheless, I grew into adulthood navigating the differences and learning to fend for myself while questioning the growing knowledge of how I was different without recognizing what it was. 


Until recently, I questioned the phrase, “Battle of the Sexes”. What was it, how did it come into being and what was Its purpose, in the content of what is termed a ‘Why’? I had little time to deconstruct the what/how of the battle as I ‘survival-mode’ was my daily existence. This legacy of looking into past occurrences is my  default-setting in retirement where I am unearthing a plethora of information of which I’m tasked with collating and co-ordinating for sense-making.


I’m discovering there really is ‘no battle of the sexes’, nor is there a difference in thinking of females and males save for the superficialities memes of ‘Venus’-&-‘Mars’ contextualizing. I postulate there are differences-in-thinking, everyone thinking differently because of positioning. No two things occupy the same space at the same time, making perspective intrinsically different. To my mindset, the major factor is Maturity! Physical maturity is readily understood and accepted as a fact of Life, as well as psychological and emotional/mental maturity. I found it is the Spiritual maturity that is mislabelled, and to me this of primary importance to the dilemma of human development and evolution.


“What we got here is failure to communicate” as stated in the film, ‘Cool Hand Luke’ has meaning that goes beyond the obvious antics in the film. Looking back in History we have the evidence of ongoing processes in Human Development/Evolution as adaptions occur in every habitable geographic region. We’ve studied and documented the animal kingdom, but we are sorely lacking in documenting human spiritual progress with the purpose of everyone adopting and adapting to its particular processes. It is usually considered specialized and is relegated to especial people who often faced persecution of one type or another, many being female who are ‘the hands that rock the cradle’.


What matters most is not being female or male, not discounting the current LGBTQ2+ labelling, but how one matures on all level in existence from human animal into a spiritually evolved human being. The path is arduous and, whether  long or short in duration, we are tasked with choices in becoming better along our ageing-out process from whence we came. So far, our choices have much to be desired and is less promising, as mindfulness appears unfavourable. 


As I age out of this Time/Space Continuum, I’ve learned from the best and the worst obstacles Life places along my path by which I’m to grow. I trust I’ve made the best of what I’ve overcome leaving behind ‘more black than red in my ledger’ as the character ‘Black Widow’ is scripted to say.






1a. Gated Guest c.'53


Moral Constructs


Have you ever heard the saying, “S/he must’ve gotten up on the wrong side of the bed”, and accepted it as mutual comprehension visualizing the person ‘getting up’ on one side of her/his bed and it being the ‘wrong’ side What is the ‘right’ side? I mean, people usually get up on the same side most, if not all mornings, or whenever they awaken, don’t they?


Consider then, how often we ‘interpret’ what’s being said from an assumed vantage point culturally ‘n ethnically biased, without giving it a second thought; of course, linguistically biased depending on where one’s situated. However, the easiest medium to steer more than one person is visual in spite of personal imprinting provided the images are of familiar realms.


Still, there is much in the way of assumption and presumption yet we get by. How is that?


Well, we have been getting by but it’s gotten harder with the exception that new technologies are muddying the waters arranging the ways forward in more ways than one. The ‘side of the bed’ matters not so long as the behaviour exhibited it within understood parameters. What you’re seeing reflects experiences with mutual familiarities, and you move on to the next presumption arranging your mindset in concert with desired outcomes.


Do you know where you’re going? Have you all that’s required for the ‘desired outcomes’? According to History, ever repeating Itself, it’s evidenced that ‘the desired outcomes‘ are not known, only acceptable within reasoning and/or rationalities all the while keeping up appearances. Fact of the matter, the Truth escapes perception due to mindsets biased in what may be rationalized as the 7 Deadly Sins, ego states of misguided ambitions: wrath – lust – gluttony – pride – sloth – envy – greed.


Much more is contained in these labels, especially when context is applied to comprehending each one. What ought to be applied is missed by those who feel superior upon first glance falling victim to the aforementioned. How to avoid being a victim of being a victimizer? Be aware of which side of the bed one gets out of the bed … ?




3e. Sleeping Quarters During Balcony Replacement


Somehow, somewhere out of the ether, as was my input for a process to manage my asthma, came the 3:00am awakening to do automatic ‘poetry writing’. This was unusual event that came upon me when I was at my lowest juncture, and I went with it. I sat at the writing table in my room, disturbing no one, and began aligning words into sentences that appeared to represent how I was feeling at 3:00am. 

This occurred with great regularity and efficiency, so much so that after a week I realized I had a collection of verses. One day, I dared approach my grade 12 English teacher, and requested she give me he opinion on the collection. She had me place them on her desk to look at, after her incoming class had gotten settled. Between the time I’d left it on her desk to the time I expected her feedback, there was a development most unexpected. It turned out that a nosey student had read a few of my poems and took a liking to them, and requested he use them as a part of his Printing class project. He wanted to publish my collection of poems as his class project, bound with cover. Miss Monroe approached me on the matter and I agreed, feeling most pleased at this turn of events. MY despondency resonated with another, possibly a few others, and was to become useful. I kept writing.

This felt like a siphoning of dark waters, just enough to keep the demons at bay while I continued in Time. The collection was made into numerous booklets of which I received three copies. The others were dispersed to where I do not know, but I was made aware of its resonance and it was used during poetry components of her English classes because of its relevance to my peers each year. Grade 13 followed, I was still writing, but there were interruptions which aligned with social involvements through my younger siblings ability to garner friends. Being the elder it was my responsibility, whenever appropriate and in keeping with get togethers when our mother was attending to her profession, to be present at her many social gatherings. 

We developed a circle of mutual friendships with older teens, and I was able to juggle these with an after-school and summer job and the extra-curricula that I fell into in those senior high school years- basketball manager, football, track and field, clubs and fundraising events which involved my singing. Amongst all of these I was able to have my very first girlfriend, learning yet again the colour of my skin plays a part in how our relationship would progress. It wasn’t to progress in the romantic manner of the silver-screen to which I attempted to align it. 

I was the eye of the storm with a torrent of activities whirling around me, unable to make sense of many of them, including the residential relocations which took us out of the neighbourhood where I was beginning to open up and feel settled.It was not to be, things were to continue in their transient, fluid and temporal way. My grades were falling again, unbeknownst to my mother, but I was able to keep afloat while recovering from a shoulder dislocation during a football practice. It was a jam packed year and I was able to manage my despondency, especially with additional 3:00am expressions. In spite of the turmoil unknown to those around, mistaking it for whatever their conditioned biases could identify, I continued on my university quest, leaving the choice to depart Life with the choice to explore the unknown into which I was headed…


During the year I was studying to achieve my grade 12 diploma, if I was not working or involved in sporting activities I was withdrawing into myself not knowing I was experiencing, what is called in today’s term, a mental health issue. All I knew was how I felt, and it wasn’t solvable by my understanding. Much of what I was involved in was a matter of course. Our family, like many immigrant and working-class citizens, was financially challenged with societal biases added to the roster. 

Yet, I was a high-functioning boy-of-colour, not overtly academic as I was sorting myself out given early childhood upheavals which contributed to my dilemma. I was quietening my asthmatic-condition, managing then unknown dyslexia and Daydreaming (ADD) coupled with the aforementioned social and filial conditions without a functioning adequate support, and a mother too busy to notice how our evolving dynamics made for the perfect storm of inner-emotional turmoil.

It didn’t matter, the expected outside-world demands to which everyone was adhering as best they knew, with whatever processes developed according to their ethnic – cultural, social and economic biases. Socially constructed systemic access and support were afforded accordingly, beneficial for some and often taken for granted. It was their privilege and right. With these and more weighing on my unconscious mind and emotions, I felt I needed a way out. Every request was felt a demand, another nail driven into a plank I felt I was walking with self-harm an option that seeped into mind partially acknowledged. Repeatedly, the notion of leaving this Life, especially after noticing I had gotten to becoming reclusive, from Friday after school until Monday morning, when I was to begin the school week.

It was odd, but acting on the thought of self-harm was regularly suppressed by my realization of who would be impacted. I never got past what I perceived as the devastating effect on my immediate family. We had endured, surviving a 5yrs separation sacrifice for a better life in Canada; but, there were the unknowns of unexpected, harmful side-effects many of which can be found in medical journals. That information and knowledge were not privy to us then, inaccessible, much less available. 

I was cognizant of the fact, that after having survived numerous beginnings, the processes affording us transition out our island home onto this continent, I was not to abandon them by the ‘choice’ I was considering. Suddenly departing would force a trauma into their lives. Whatever laid ahead was to take place without my presence and contributions as a stabilizing male figure, brother and son, they had grown accustomed to being there …


Those were interesting times; transient childhood with single parent escaping the economic difficulties of her time, no-parenting throughout formative years, then emigrating overseas to a distant continent.

Our reunification was haphazard, to say the least, where I was led into me pulling my weight without information but trusting in the say so of my mother at each turn. I learned to adapt to the reunification with the absentee parenting of my formative years, adjust ’n orienting to a new culture without knowing there was a bias towards my ethnicity, not to mention establishing dynamics with relatives that had their own presumptions that also went unnoticed. 

As far as social perceptions were concerned, I had a construct of openness and acceptance of everyone I interacted with until their behaviours towards me necessitated modification. Most often people were forthcoming, with behaviours I wasn’t able to fathom in my naivety and ignorance of bigotry: a pair of siblings informed me to not expect recognition away from the local swimming pool where we met under instruction of their parents, which was better than the unexpected bullying and assaults. If not for identifying some behaviours albeit many after the fact, I might not have successfully navigated the difficulties that came my way then.

During my high-school years I experienced some bullying, near misses in assaults and an untoward encounter with a staff/coach but, by and large, most behaved in a professional manner. Some did take care to guide all students with Life-Lessons in addition to academics, and from those I was able to benefit not having a father as most were male. The females that weren’t suppressive I was able to engage on a more personable level. One was able to lend support at a time when I was in crisis of which she and others were unaware, least of all me. I doubt if there were any of such a mindset beck in the 1960s, especially in a school of 2,700 students, 200 of which were female in Art, Home Economics, Typing/Office Management and Nursing.

After my untoward interaction with a coach I refrained from playing football for some time and took to track-and-field, which was to support my asthma project. It was in my senior year that members of the senior football team did a class-by-class drive to acquire enough players to tryout for the senior football team which was sorely lacking in players. As it turned out my track & field days were useful in spite of lacking in actual coaching as I was to discover in my grade 12 year. I was able to stay my crises by getting involved in co-curricula activities beginning in my 3rd high-school year. I was in a pressure-cooker internally, but my hyper-activity had an outlet in sports and performing, after it was discovered I had a good singing voice, and late-night poetry expressions.

Working after-school, during the summer months and on weekends meant I wasn’t having a social life, but acquired one by happenstance. My younger sibling being more of a social person was able to make friends easily and I was the older-protective brother doing his bit, as best I knew. We lived in a neighbourhood during a crucial period that allowed for social interaction. It was during that period I interacted with Italians, Jews and other Europeans adding dimension to what was unaccustomed, seeing names only on maps and Sunday school lessons. 

Information came like a steady downpour and I sorted all, as I was developing a new vocabulary adding to and replacing words to my previous recollections.

I was engaged in the world of my neighbourhood, the local swimming pool, the public-at-large; subsequently, high-school, the varying odd-jobs acquired that came and went with ensuing intermediary public/social interactions, along with family dynamics that held nuances on a daily basis. Needless to say, in addition to my internal constructs that were undiagnosed and unknown, I had quite the plate of activities requiring my attention. It was for those actions that a vocabulary was acquired, all while navigating my path to accomplishing my high-school diplomas without direct knowledgeable support through my family enclave.

I was to discern what I could given my base biases without knowing what I was constructing, as I went through the Times that were a-changing … 

Suicide    Chronicles       …..       …..       …..      





That first year on a continent was the beginning of many phases of my living. The preceding 13yrs held a deposit with much ‘in-the-red’ deficits if speaking in fiscal terms, all of which was unaccounted for by many involved. All involved except my mother. She was to carry a hurting pain that was to create her ticket of departure. 


Yes, there was a reunification, one of many on this spinning rock with protocols of unique qualifiers. One does not deposit their own children entering into their formative years in unknown and unfamiliar environments without consequences occurring all round. Only those who are parents may comprehend the difficulties arising from such a decision with adequate empathy, possibly. Additionally, the intervening years that followed emigrating to another land presented experiences intimate and intricate on many levels: dynamics of social politics of which only families engage. 


Then, there were the socio-economic intricacies involved in engaging and making a living. Being of colour and coming from an island where there were established dynamics of colour and prestige that had yet to take hold, I was now in unfamiliar territory where there was already established and functioning policies I had yet to discover and learn on this continent. The ensuing years presented what may be considered good and bad scenarios for one of my qualifications; a male of colour entering puberty with the challenge of getting-to-know ‘who I am’ in an unknown society, with unknown quantities.


The experiences flowed seamlessly around my ignorance, with my mind playing catch-up on many levels. There was schooling and getting oriented, not only in location but in customs that came non-stop inside and outside my residence. There was also the social dynamics of what seemed regular getting to know but with a side-order of unidentified racial-bias always at play just under-the-surface. Unexplained fisticuffs aside, geographic orientation created uncomfortable issues which accompanied relocations after the first few months.


By the time I went from grade eight into grade nine, we relocated twice. There were untoward incidents, emotional upheavals motivated by social differences but were smoothed over by students coming to my aid and I was able to develop a small social circle within which I felt comfortable. I felt the storm’s effects but my position was unflustered due to my naivety and trusting nature. Our economic position was unknown to me, but an added level of stress was added by being told to get a part-time jobs after school. I was to earn my keep in every way possible, never knowing the wherefore or why of the coming and goings of jobs to which my age was fabricated in acquiring. It seemed I could pass as being 2yrs older than I really was.


It took a while before I secured regular part-time occupations, which meant less of a financial outlay for my personal needs. I was still unravelling and orienting myself to this society and culture, not to mention my primary caregiver. I was an immigrant of 3yrs and accounting with much to discover and learn inside and outside of what was now considered ‘home’.


In the ensuing years jobs came and went due to flaws in my conscious awareness, as well as that of my mother being unaware of how to raise a male child on her own. She did the best she could through church-going, me that is, and timely placement of books that she discovered and thought would be beneficial. I kept myself busy, occupied with the temporal occurrences of part-time jobs, education and co-curricula activities which until senior years were unfulfilling. I had begun a self-determining program of managing my asthma. Unbeknownst to me at the time as well as, undiagnosed ADHD and Dyslexia, with Stuttering a holdover from childhood.


If I was to progress in high-school, succeeding in acquiring a university education as advised by Mr. Graham in Math class, these hurdles had to be overcome by any means possible.






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