I won’t give anyone permission to write my Biography simply because no one other than me can better relay my life story. Gear 2,3,4,5 cruising I present you my autobiography.
Everyone knows “Queen” but few know where this name comes from. My older biological brother “KC” use to beat the crap out of young boys at elementary school who called me a Nigger. He’d get into deep trouble but he just didn’t care because all he wanted to do was protect me at all costs. Forty years ago the word Bullying was not created, but I sure felt it. KC affectionately called me “Queen Sister” and it stuck with me like a second set of skin ever since.
Mix of Indian and Afro-American, born the last child of a family of four, here I was. My mother was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen but never knew. She was six feet tall with flawless skin and she owned a lavish collection of wigs. The only information I have about my father is about his nationality and that he lived in Wisconsin.
Myra my mother was madly in love with Michele, yes with an E. They wanted to have children and it was decided that Myra was to carry us. They were lovers happily living in the cutest little house in the city of Beauport Quebec surrounded with beautiful black children. Michele worked at the main hospital as a nurse and Myra as a professional Jazz ballet dancer. Myra, which is a beautiful name by the way, had to constantly travel for work to perform on various stages from Montreal to New York.
Tragically, my beloved mother Myra died of a car accident in Boston Massachusetts. My destiny changed at this very moment, only thirteen months old. One morning about a month after my mother’s passing, the doorbell rang. Michele opened the door and standing on the foot step there was a woman from child protective services with a male police officer. I kid you not Michele was given twenty minutes to gather all of her children’s belongings and surrender us to the governmental agency, yes, surrender. I cannot begin to tell you how devastated Michele was. All of this because a neighbour filled a complaint about lesbians living with kids that weren’t hers. Thinking back on it, if I were old enough to, I would’ve killed that bitch. All jokes aside, in the 70’s gays and lesbians had no parental rights. It didn’t matter how hard Michele fought there was just no hope, she lost her children and we lost our mother for the second time.
I’ll be back in a few, hicks and pain is getting to me time to lay down and relax my nerves and muscles.
Arriving in Montreal the four of us were placed for adoption, it took no time, a couple who came to see us fell in love at the first glance, I mean what can I say, we were way to adorable.. The couple had already adopted two children, a caucasian boy whom the mother was a crack head and a native boy from the reserve of Kahnawake. The couple filled the paperwork and were successful in adopting me ‘the youngest of my biological family’ and my oldest sister whom at the time was five. As I was getting older I was told by my adoptive mother that they couldn’t adopt more than four children, it was the law. That bullshit explanation was used for not adopting my siblings alongside myself. I later found out this isn’t true. Friends of my adoptive parents were looking to adopt children as well and they adopted my brother and other sister. We lived in the same city just two streets away from each other. Michele was privileged to the information of our whereabouts, she then contacted my adoptive family and arranged a visit. To make a long story short, Michele drove from Quebec city to Beloeil Montreal suburb, hugged us and showed us love for an hour. After our wonderful time with Michele my adoptive mother told her word for word “you saw them for the last time, they are mine now, and you are not to come here ever again.”
You are probably wondering how I came about all of these details, well ladies fasten your helmet and get ready for a ride!
One minute in her shoes
Year 1995, living on Base Valcartier Quebec in a little room… yep you have guessed it, Queen is wearing the Canadian Armed Forces uniform for the past 5 years! Great social circle, single, one boyfriend after another mindng my own business and proud owner of a brand spanking new red Toyota Celica (yes I still love and miss that car to this day). I had no clue how to drive standard when I bought yet I couldn’t care less, I knew my limits were beyond the sky. My little brother from my adoptive family which I will refer from now on drove the car from the dealer to an empty parking lot. He showed me a thing or two about standard driving and I drove the car back to my parent’s house and left right away for Quebec. It was a challenge but nothing I couldn’t handle.
One of my dear friends Liz at the time, whom by the way I lost along the way because of my stupidity, was living in a room adjacent to mine. Liz was a lesbian and you’ll see it is relevant to the memory, she enjoyed going out to lesbian clubs and bars. One night she asked me to join her and her partner for a night out, a chance to get out, c’mon I was cute, always on heels with my hair and make-up done, and a darn good looking chick but I didn’t feel like it. Any place, any club, any location, I was always comfortable to go out and I should admit I liked getting compliments from other woman haha! Liz who is very jovial noticed a woman of a certain age sitting by herself in the corner of the bar with a tallboy in hand. Liz asked her if she cared to join them at their table, she looked very beautiful, tanned with immaculate white short hair. The stranger gladly accepted the offer. The chatting went on and on about nothing until finally the time came for the stranger to talk about her family. She is telling Liz that her daughter is also a member of the Army but she does not know her whereabouts. Even though Liz knows there are thousands of people in the Armed Forces she asked this stranger “What is your daughter’s name” and the stranger named my first name. Liz though it was funny because she said my best friend name is the same, then the stranger mentioned my last name…sure enough her daughter has the same name as Liz’s friend. The stranger describes her daughter as tall, light skin and adopted with three siblings. Which was the only information I told Liz about my past because this is all I knew.
It was Michele, my beloved mother. Liz couldn’t believe what she just witnessed, and can you imagine Michele’s body language and mind! She wanted to reach out right away. Cautiously Liz asked for her phone number and told her she will pass it along the very next morning. Well she did not waste any time, she woke me up at two in the morning. I remember it like it was 5 minutes ago. She informed me of what came about. I thought I was dreaming it was so surreal. Everything Liz was telling me I had no idea, I was never told anything about my past. Seven in the morning it was time to call, I hadn’t slept since two a.m, too many unanswered questions were circling my mind and I wanted answers asap. I did not have time to introduce myself before Michele said “allo and my first name”, it felt like I recognized her voice! We arranged to meet at Jardins Hamel in Beauport because I couldn’t get the instructions to get to her place, I have no sense of orientation what so ever, some things never change. I don’t even remember if I brushed my teeth that day…a bit disgusting for a first meeting haha. She was in the parking lot window rolled down with her poodle sitting on her lap looking radiant. She said “You are the copy of your mother” and burst into tears.
With my enthusiasms and bubbly personality I said you have all the time in the world to cry but not today, let’s go grab a bite to eat. She had already prepared a brunch at her residence. When she opened the side door of her house and I put my first foot inside her home I felt a sense of relief, I felt like I had never left this home. Pictures of Myra and us were posted at almost every inch of her place, I wanted time to stop at this very moment.
Minute after minute, story after story, memory after memory, laughter and crying I was glued to what she had to say. I finally knew where I came from, I knew my mothers and frankly did not care about the unknown dad which by the way was the best male friend of Myra, he never asked or demanded anything from her and that was their the deal. At least that’s what she thought…I had never ever asked any questions of my parents about my heritage, these kinds of reflections never came to me. I knew I was adopted and I thought I lived a happy childhood among my brothers and sisters and was blessed to have great parents. It was not what it appeared to be…
If it’s not open it’s not your door
I am 23, life is good to me I have a pretty good and normal relationship with my parents, I visit them from time to time and especially after spending time in field exercises and overseas travel for work. My mother knows about my relation with Michele but does not show any enthusiasm. The information regarding not being allowed to adopt more than four children was fake news and to this day it’s a mystery to me why my parents only adopted two children from my biological family. Newly posted to St-Jean-Sur-Richelieu Quebec I started dating, I am now in a serious relationship with a Chef and a darn good one, he also is military. He is my King for many reasons that I won’t be needing to describe. He treats me as his Queen and always has for almost 23 years now and as you all know women are Queens and deserve to be treated like such! Ladies please always remember that.
Our journey in our new posting was brief, they needed my King back in Valcartier and I happened to be pregnant! Fantastic news although we had many discussion and argument about having a child. My king’s divorce was pronounced soon after the move, he did not want another child because he felt he failed at keeping his previous family together. He changed his mind and I was pregnant soon after. Bizarrely I did not want a girl, you heard me correctly, did not want…at the time I tried and tried to come up with and explanation why but never put the finger on it. My King did not know how to take this rejection. Mimi is my King’s daughter she came into my life or I should say I came into hers when she was two in a half years old. Sweetest little blond girl with ocean like blue eyes who adored her daddy like there’s no tomorrow. Mimi showed the same love to her half-brother, she knew little of what a half-brother meant because her mom made sure of it, but inside her heart she never felt any difference. I still think to this day that back in that time she must of felt my psychotic episode. This is hard to admit, I liked her, treated her well but I would not say that I demonstrated love towards her.
This breaks my heart, it would’ve also broke hers and my husband’s heart at the time to know that. Today she is a grown woman, so brilliant, beautiful inside and out, she would understand where this lack of love came from, but be reassured it did not last long. You will understand momentarily.
A trigger I need a moment…
We ask my husband’s uncle to be the God father of our son, yes a boy. Imagine my relief and happiness. We have asked Michele the honour of being our sons God Mother which she accepts with enormous pleasure and gratitude. The day of the baptism there are so many people thinking that everything is going well and according to plan. Next day I asked my husband if Michele came to him before leaving the reception, she did not. Twenty years later I’ve never spoken, seen or heard about Michele. I’ve called her, went to her house many times, sent letter, and sent a courier with a letter asking for signature etc… Nothing. I lost tons of sleep over this for weeks, she just vanished from our lives. My son lost his God Mother in a day and years later lost his God Father to leukemia. Remember my friend Liz, she told me that she saw my mom and Michele beside the pool balcony having a conversation that seemed very unpleasant. Voila!!! Unpleasant is actually a description of my mother’s character. Michele was back in my life and my mother did not accept that, and she had to let Michele know. Needless to say that I confronted my mother and of course she denied any involvement.
A few times when visiting my parents my husband noticed that my mother was being a little ruff with the foster kids that she is caring for. She has five at the time and I told him that all is normal and not to worry. One weekend we as a family are visiting my parents, my son is almost two years old, an incident happened with one of the kids. My mother completely lost it on her and she was roughly beaten, once again no big deal for me but then I saw my son’s reaction. He was standing right beside by mother and protected himself with his two tiny hands in front of his face. In a heartbeat my husband grabbed our son under his arm went downstairs to pack our bags. I gave my mother the look of a tiger ready to attack to protect her cub “Are you fucking kidding me? What have you done!?” I said to my mother. Her reply was “Oh you think you and your kid are so perfect?! My husband was already in the car waiting for me. I asked my father if he had anything to say. He had his head down as he continued to eat his soup like nothing happened. Spineless mother fucker he always was!
My son is now two and I am in Overseas in East Timor Indonesia. I have seen kids like my son getting deplorable treatment and it’s breaking my heart but I am able to continue on with my mission. Few months after my return to Canada things started to go south,. My relationship with my husband is getting challenging. I have difficulties regaining the love coming from my son. On a professional level oh boy the Queen is no longer on top of the mountain and my supervisors are not interested to find out where this is coming from. I was stressed, did not sleep, I lied to everyone around me. I don’t show up to work, falsification of documents in order to get more sick days etc. I was charged on many occasions, my personal military file was getting thicker and thicker, I even physically assaulted a female civilian employee which almost got me in jail, oh wait this append years later. I also spend seven days in Jail for stealing money, another topic! I lost my wonder woman physical shape, my life was a mess. I was falling into a state of major depression, poor nutrition, often crying and having a lack of energy and interest. I couldn’t make sound decisions. I felt so sad and helpless. Nightmare after nightmare, waking up in tears and so devastated I didn’t want to sleep anymore. I couldn’t comprehend those nightmares. I was beaten almost daily by my mother, and when my dad came home he was told stories from my mother about our behaviour and my dad would beat us with a belt and by us I mean my sister and I. I always thought to myself “It was not true, I thought I had a great childhood, my parents would never do that to us, the cute little black children who were chosen”. I finally lost my parents for the third time. Have you ever had the feeling where you can literally touch and smell your dreams? this is how I felt. My husband honestly and truly did everything in his power to help me, he never quit on me, not for a second. I love that man.
Long story short I had psychological therapy support for years, I got it on my own. My chain of command did not inform me of the help I could’ve gotten for this. I was suffering terribly but determined to get to the bottom of this. I was no longer myself and I hated me. I suffered from a mental block from a trauma for all these years. Everything came clear, I can tell you memories now of almost every single time I was beaten, miss fed, the times I was sexually abused, whom am I kidding let’s call a cat a cat , raped is what it was by a low life uncle, my mother’s brother who enjoyed babysitting us. He would wake up my sister to bring her in the bathroom half asleep. When he was done with her it was my turn. My sister left home the day of her birthday, May 23rd, she was finally eighteen years old. She called a taxi, grabbed all of her clothes, and in a hurry she placed it all in a heavy duty garbage bag. She had kissed me on the forehead and said “Good luck”, I was 13 and I never saw her again. Correction I saw her briefly at one of my brother’s funeral. It has been many years now and she has changed her name back to our biological last name “Dahlander”. She never seemed to have a mental block, or realize the severity and relive every minute of it. I guess the block trauma was not meant to be for her. Similar trauma different outcome. It is during a session with my psychologist that I understood why my sister left me, I stopped hating her at that very moment and respected her choices. Butterflies speak to me. I always did love those little creatures without really knowing why, they are my interpretation of my guardian angel. Right in front from our house there was a wheat field, this was my favourite place to go cry and lay down. Every single time I went there after the abuse, there was always one little butterfly flying around me.
Do you get the picture now, the only reason I did not want a girl was because in my subconscious I was terrified, the fear and thought of my own flesh and blood, my baby girl being abused. Who knows maybe I would’ve broken the circle or maybe not. Now looking back I had broken the circle, regardless of a girl or a boy, a child is human being. I am loud and proud about the way I have raised my son. I protected Mimi from myself. I WAS BORN STRONG.
I had regained the control of my life, the dice are in order, and I called my mother whom I haven’t spoken since the last visit. I ordered her not to hang up the phone and told her “You have seven days exactly to get rid of all five children, if you fail to do so you will go to jail” and then I hung up. A week later I called my brother, he informed me that my mother decided to retire and that the kids were no longer under her care, lying bitch!
Year 2005. We now live in Barrie Ontario, we meet with a neighbour Doreen who has become family in no time, we love to call her our Ontario Grandma and we still do to this day. She took care of my son in the morning before school, walked with him to school and provided for him during our absence. A Christian lady, a widow who lived with her sister and Aunt who are very involved in the community and enjoy playing golf even with a torn ankle, lol. I enjoyed my assignments on Base Borden, my career is doing great I am in superb physical shape, I biked, I jogged, I lifted weights at the gym 4 times a week. We had a great network of friends civilian and military. My son played competitive Basketball and ice hockey, in Quebec I enjoyed being a hockey mom and my husband a trainer. We used to be billet for peewee New York Islanders.
Year 2007. Before moving to a different assignment from Procurement to Instructor/Course director at the culinary school I had to train my replacement as a ration clerk at one of the biggest and busiest kitchens on Base. We would have breakfast at the mess hall and then move downstairs in my office to carry on with his training. The staff kitchen cooks all started their day at 5am. One of the employee’s had picked up a bag of peas for the soup of the day from the ration department right beside my office, going upstairs some peas where dropped from the already open bags all over the stairs and this employee did not observe the rules of safety at work by never picking up those peas. On our way to my office I was behind the trainee, he had made it successfully downstairs, I however did not have the same luck, slipping on peas and landing on my back after two sets of stairs, stupid accident which could’ve been prevented! I was scared, couldn’t feel my spine. In no time the trainee mobilized my neck while calling for help, he did not sleep during the First Aid course, thank you again bud!☺My supervisor whom by the way was one of my mentors, I have very few in my twenty year career, arrived on location very rapidly, he stabilized my legs and feet. Paramedics were around me as well as my husband, someone had contacted him, isn’t that great. Ran some tests at the hospital, hip fracture oh well, not the end of the world. I then had to do physiotherapy exercises to strengthen my bones and improve my balance, piece of cake, I got this!
2010, crap I was on the operation table, I needed a L5S1 Fusion, I couldn’t stand the pain anymore, for three years my physical condition was decreasing significantly despite my will to get better and my quality of life. I never complained at work, never took a day of sick leave for cause of back pain, I took my annual leave instead blah. No way I would’ve let my chain of command see my weakness, I was Queen back on top of the mountain and would not give up my throne. First in line at my section for promotion. “I got this”, my plan is to get back on my feet in the rank to show to everyone that super woman is back and well, the surgery went well.
2011, it did not go so well, my back was fried, the surgery was not successful after all. Our career manager wanted to post us in Edmonton, combat unit once again, that was not the issue, I loved practicing my trade with the boys, of course. I had showed them what I was made of, it was a man’s world and I demanded respect. For my career progression it made sense, my career goal was to be career manager, I was part of the succession plan. My husband and I sat down at the kitchenette table on a Saturday morning, coffee in hands discussing about our future plan and my physical condition, I had to be realistic, me in Edmonton they would’ve placed me on a shelf until I expired. I was no good for operational requirement, I can’t carry seventy pounds of equipment on my back anymore and do not want to end up in a wheel chair at 40. I voluntarily released myself from the Forces thirty days later, same day of my to be promotion. You think I would’ve waited and medically been released, wrong it would’ve been a sign of weakness, if only I would’ve known what plan life had for me. It could have helped, having assistance and care from the Veterans Affairs right away and at that time of need, I thought I had the answer, I thought the transition I needed was to get back to work asap. Life had other challenges in line for me. My husband also got released from the regular forces and joined a reserve unit, same job as Operational and Training Officer, same office, same toast crumbs on his key board.
Thirty five days after my release date I was already on post with the Corps of Commissionaire Great Lake, still working on Base supervising five employees, we were a great team. We wanted to retire in Barrie because it was a great city to live in, our son was happy, perfectly bilingual and he had plans of his own for the future. Not even a year later, two days before leaving on a family trip cruising the Caribbean, my site supervisor knocked on my door of my residence. I was advised that I lost my job due to budget cuts, last one to join first one to go! He had already found me a job one hour away from home and twelve hour shifts at Beaver Creek Institution, it is a minimum and medium security federal prison operated by the Correctional Service of Canada in Gravenhurst, Ontario. No problem! I am grateful so I took the job and once again it appeared to be tailor made for me. My husband leaves the Armed Forces for good, he was no longer happy with administrative work so he did what he had to better his life.
Me working twelve hour shifts as security in a correctional facility in Gravenhurst away from home for fourteen hours. My husband learning a new vocation away from home in Gatineau. To top it off, my teenage kid went wild, dropping grades, smoking weed, lying, stealing and all. The kid who showed qualities of a leader at a very young age is letting himself be influenced by a not trustworthy crowd, father figure only home on weekends and a mom basically walking asleep. Here was the perfect opportunity for him to experience the unknown. I refused to quit on him, he would not let me for a period of time but I got the best of him. All back in order with my kid around two years later, my husband happy with in his new trade. In the month of March we decided to pack our bags and move to Gatineau, closer to my husband’s daughter and extended family of his own. My kids grade twelve school year was not over, he wanted to stay back to finish high school with his friends and girlfriend. We drafted a contract with conditions that if he ever failed to fulfill one of those conditions it was over for him. He did awesome, we gave him the power to succeed and he did not disappoint himself and never stopped being grateful to us.
New living, reconnecting with good old friends back to work in the same field, I did not want action and challenges, I felt tired and in pain. The feeling did not last, I was presented with a Training Officer position opportunity for Immigration, Refugees and Citizenship for the Government of Canada, Babam! Cookie cutter for me.
During that time, my husband and I were approached to be a part of a Motorcycle club, I was already riding as well as my husband. We were in, it took me about one year and a half to find my place and my ground in this club, I questioned many times if this was meant for me. After that year and a bit of adjustment I can say I am proud to be part of a the Veterans Society .
Two years ago in June my brother reached out, he wanted to let me know that my parents weren’t doing so great, they filed for bankruptcy a few years back and since had moved to an apartment. My parents were very comfortable financially, my dad owned a business and because of it they were living a luxurious life style, but you still have to pay your freaking bills! My dad suffered from two different cancers and overcame both. Then depression came along, not having a penny on the side for the rainy days the bank took it all. I was yet to be interested, I did not give a fuck.
About the same time last year my brother reached out again but he had a message to me from my parents, they wanted to meet, “why on earth” I asked, my mom was getting sicker with Parkinson’s disease along with stage two Alzheimer’s disease with very mild cognitive impairment. I stayed cold, months after you guessed it, my brother barged in again with the same request except this time he stated it was important for him, for his own conscience anyway. My brother is very sensitive and would not be able to live with the thought of my parents leaving this world without reconnecting with me. I love my little brother so I accepted and went to see them. When my mother opened the door she was unrecognizable physically, of course it had been 17 years since we had parted ways, her tone of voice was like the one of a five year old, smiling, and laughing over nothing and everything. The most striking of it all, is she had told my husband and I multiple times “Je t’aime”. Which I have never ever heard my mother mention this word to me in all the years of living under her roof.
My parents were happy, my brother was happy, and I was happy for my brother. Afterward I went to visit them almost once a month, with in that time I became pleased that we were reunited, I never once felt the need to bring back memories, they were in a state of misery!
“The sum of a person’s actions in this and previous states of existence, viewed as deciding their fate in future existences” nothing in my life is more truthful than Karma.
They were struggling to make a decent living, so I had helped them financially. Not too long into the year, my mother was diagnosed with liver cancer and passed in January of this year. A great lost, devastating loss for my dad and brother. I took care of all details, I slept along my mother’s side in palliative care the night my mother passed, because my dad was not man enough to stay alongside her for the last few hours of her life, “too much to handle” this is how he lived his life so no surprise there. What got me emotionally vulnerable was to see my club assist the service showing love and support. I was proud…After discussing with my husband, we asked my dad to come and live with us until the private residence I found for him has an apartment available. I always had affection for my dad regardless. It came after my brother manifested that he was not capable to care for him. From January 27th until to May 12, my husband and I educated my dad in all aspects of his life in order for him not to regain, but to gain independence. We have placed our own life on a burner, no one forced us and we had no obligation what so ever, we did it out of kindness and do not want nor hope for anything in return. It was challenging for me caring for my dad between psychiatrist, physiotherapy, Osteopath and therapeutic massage appointments. Do I work would they ask? Yes I work full time on myself.
I participate in community events whose primary purpose is to raise money. Volunteer base is important to keep any charitable organization afloat. Breakfast club of Canada is close to my heart, I donate money time and skills once a week and the goal is to feed kids hunger.
“They say” who are they?
They are the society, the society is composed of people like you and I. Who gave us the right to judge and to decide who we should be and what we should like? Or to limit ourselves to five qualities and five flaws. I realized a few things over the years, I am materialistic, unapologetic, arrogant, obnoxious, and bossy at times. These traits of character did not always serve me well, I still keep them in my front left pocket because these make up what I am made of. Now in my back right pocket you will find, caring, and confident, bold, proactive, educated, loving, nurturing, determined, affectionate, silly, daring, fearless and stubborn (oops this one got away lol!).
Almost two years ago I had enough of the pain, so I quit…In my blogs about Chronic Pain you will learn all about why.
Pretty close to a novel don’t you think? I did not write about all aspects of my life out of respect to certain people. I also did not write about everyone I love because I tell them and they know who they are. No point of reviewing and making changes, this is my true story and the past cannot be changed. Today at 46 years of age, I know where I came from, I know who I am and I know what I stand for. As for my future, who knows what’s in store for me, quite frankly I do not give a rat’s ass, I live for the moment.