Seekers-Listening to themselves

Joan #2

Finding her voice and connecting to nature

Seekers learn to look within themselves and beyond their families to find resources that help them tolerate pain, advocate for themselves, and make decisions in moments of crisis. They often begin developing this capacity in childhood when the adults closest to them don’t listen to their stories.

I(Ellen) was fortunate as a child to have a strong voice. My family story is that I was born talking. My sister still tells the story about a ride to our grandmother’s house when at age two, I got the idea that I wanted an ice cream cone, and, no matter what I was told, I continued for over an hour asking for something that I was denied. My first memory of myself is standing up in my crib protesting that someone had dared to leave me there and not include me in whatever was going on.

This strong sense of voice was silenced the day I sat with my husband Ron in the doctor’s office in Rotterdam and heard his diagnosis of ALS. I sat there frightened by a reality beyond my understanding. Following Ron’s illness and death, I had to rediscover my voice with others’ help. When I compared myself with Joan, I saw how my childhood of good fortune and indulgence encouraged me to believe in and to speak about whatever I wished, but that my voice disappeared in difficult circumstances.

Joan, like other Seekers, had difficulties as a child finding adults who listened to her. As I interviewed her about her childhood stories she told me how hard it was for her to speak up as a child and how she discovered her voice:

“When my father lost his money, we moved to Burlingame where we had a small summer house. It was a house I had always liked, with brown shingles on a deep, narrow lot. There was a bridge across a creek that led to an orchard on the other side. I was allowed to wander by myself all over the property, and I climbed the trees, although that was forbidden. I loved it out there. I didn’t mind moving to this house. The problem wasn’t the house, but who lived in the house, and outside I thought that many things were possible.

“In the house, the only way I knew how to express my frustrations were with tantrums, which didn’t help matters, but I think these were my first attempts to speak about what was happening to me.”

The rest of Joan’s childhood was spent mostly away from home. She was sent to boarding schools because her father was ill and Rose Bell, her step-mother, wouldn’t or couldn’t take care of her. She went to seven schools before she reached adolescence. When she visited home between the ages of nine and twelve, her father was gravely ill both physically and mentally.

The best times Joan had were out of doors, where she still continues to feel most alive. As a child she went to a camp in the Sierra Mountains in the summers and went skiing in the winters. Since Joan did not have adults on whom she could depend, she developed a relationship with nature where she learned to be competent and lively. It was there that she felt connected beyond herself.

At Peninsula, her favorite boarding school, Joan expanded her sense of roaming and found the words that she had been seeking. She told me this part of her story this way:

“Life really picked up for me at Peninsula School. It was a wonderful place, surrounded by wide fields where my best friend Diane and I roamed and were partners in crime. We would skip school and spend the day exploring places where no one could find us. When we returned, the principal sternly called us into her office, reprimanded us, and then gave us a punishment of some kind, but nothing very bad. This principal was a wonderful woman, and she was fond of us and admired our spunk.

“I was there for two years during the time when my Dad died. The school staff got me through. It was such a loving place. I felt free and happy as I walked over those dirt roads and fields.”

Joan laughed deeply as she remembered herself rambling. These memories of freedom pulled her out of her memories of loss. As a youngster suffering from the losses of her parents and the ensuing chaotic family changes, Joan enjoyed the few good moments in her life. She made a life in which her personal freedom was crucial to her sense of well- being. It was at Peninsula School that she began to develop her capacity to say and do the things that she needed to do to take care of herself.

“While I was at Peninsula, I dreamed that I had a lot to say, although I was actually shy and quiet. One day, I woke up after a particularly strong dream and felt compelled to write everything I had to say with a thick black pen on the walls and ceiling of my room. Without much thought, I began to write on one wall, then another wall, until they were all filled. Then I climbed up on a ladder and wrote on the ceiling. I was certain that this was a great idea and that everyone would be impressed with what I had to say. I especially wanted to impress my older brother Bob, who was coming down to visit that day. Diane may have come in and written on a small part of the wall, but I covered it all with a black marker I was so sure everyone would be proud of me and see how clever I was. I can’t remember what I wrote, but I do remember that I wrote all over.”

Joan burst out laughing, still delighted with herself.

“When my brother Bob arrived, he wasn’t impressed. He was shocked and his only response was to say that I had to wash it all off. I couldn’t believe it. I did wash it all off, but I never felt bad about it. I thought that they just didn’t get it.”
Joan continued to laugh throughout her telling of this tale, appreciating the part of her that finally wouldn’t be silenced.

“I had so much to say. I had always been shy. Everyone else had been much older and bigger than I was. They had seemed so smart, and I listened, but said nothing. This was the first time that I remember having a lot to say, and I said it. I had been saving it up for a long time.”
This theme carries throughout Joan’s life as she has repeatedly lost and found her voice. Over the years, difficult circumstances and confusion about who she was and what she wanted silenced her. Then she would find herself again, as she did on the day she wrote on the walls. Today, she listens intently to what others say. Her manner is receptive and open. Yet when roused, she speaks fiercely of things that matter to her.