From what I can remember 3





Trigger Warning: Potentially Disturbing Content

The other day, I ran into my cousin Richard. He was sharing his dreams and talking about forgiveness and love. I didn’t mind—he’s family, and I do love my cousins. Then he mentioned that his dad’s stone feast is coming up in a few months, and that’s when my mind took a turn back to my childhood trauma.

When I was little, my mom would take me to stay with my cousins and aunties while she went out to bingo or parties. One day, my uncle Fred offered to stay home and look after me. I was only about 5 or 6, still speaking Gitxsan. That was the day he hurt me in the worst way. Yes, this is Richard’s dad, the same man who talks about love. When my mom came back to pick me up, I tried to tell her what happened. I remember struggling to find the right words in Gitxsan to explain that I was raped.

He hurt me many times after that—I lost track of how often. Sometimes, I would be lying down with his kids and a whole bunch of other kids, and he would pick me up and take me to another room… and then everything goes blank.

My uncle Fred is a war vet, and I guess that kind of behaviour is accepted in the army culture.

After many years of therapy—hypnotherapy, EMDR—I finally found a place of stability, self-love, and healing.

What does that mean for me today?

I still have triggers; there’s no quick fix for this. When I get triggered, I work through it. I check in with myself: What day is it? What colors can I see around me? I focus on my breath, nod to myself, and find a distraction.

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