Fragments and Meaning

Written by Alecs Kakon

Photos by Jen Fellegi

*Trigger Warning

Some people just know who they are, while others’ identities form like a constellations over time. I’ve always stood in awe of those who had figured themselves out early on for so many reasons, namely, because the concept felt so foreign to me. Perhaps it’s because I only recently started to heal and so am now ready to stand in my unobstructed truth. I can’t say for sure, but it’s only in the past years, in becoming a mother and finally working through the traumas of my life, that I’ve stepped into the light and feel a sense of alignment with who I am. It’s tricky, learning the ins and outs of being human; the soft and hard skills needed to navigate all of the socio-emotional situations we live through, which, inadvertently, shape us as humans. I lacked a lot of those innate skills, and like most, had to learn them in the field. I didn’t build my narrative layer upon layer, rather I lived unrelated periods that floated around one another like silos, one a reaction to the other, never an extension of. It took a long time to untangle it all and make sense of the overarching narrative. Anchored in my past, stunted psychologically, I can now look back and see connections, but, incidentally, I barely identify with the person I once was; I almost can’t believe that was my life. Regardless of how long it’s taken me to come into my own, I’m here now, and all of the experiences I’ve had along the way have irrevocably contributed to the individual I am, and I’ve accepted that. I’ve excavated parts that once infringed on my agency and I’ve transformed those moments into empowering aspects that have given me dimension. That’s how I’ve made sense of it all. Sitting down with Michelle, we talked about the disorienting task of aligning with one’s purpose, and the fractured moments of her past that are retrospectively synthesizing with poetic fervour, and what it feels like to confront the true Michelle in the mirror.

A precocious child, Michelle’s home growing up was made up of disconnected members. Teaching herself basic life skills, it became apparent to Michelle at a very young age that she had to nurture herself. “I taught myself to read and wash my own hair and just take care of myself,” she explains. “There was a lot of chaos around me and I had to figure things out on my own. I didn’t want to be needy.” Making things looks pretty on the outside, so no one would see that she was falling apart on the inside, Michelle was barely eight years old when the stress of being in charge of herself and feeling responsible for others became too great a burden to bear. At 10, Michelle found the theatre. “I had no friends and I was miserable, but I knew I was different and I liked that about myself. I was imaginative and I was a good actor,” she says. “I thought that if I would become a famous star, then people would know who I was and have to like me.” Finding a sense of belonging amongst theatre folk, Michelle felt she had found a place where she fit in and could thrive. However, although her love for the theatre world bloated her with a sense of purpose, certain aspects of performing exacerbated her shrinking confidence. “I loved that I was a good actor and singer; it’s something I valued about myself. But, there was still this idea of external recognition, this validation that comes with performing. You literally get a round of applause when you do well, and so in my off-stage life, the lack of clapping was tangible.” Mirroring a projected image of what was expected of her, either at home, in a role, or with friends, Michelle’s little self-worth started to play itself out.

It was only recently, in light of the #MeToo movement, that many of Michelle’s repressed memories began to surface. “I entered the acting world young. I was 10, but my friends were 16 and older. I remember going to a bar and getting drunk and having my first kiss with some guy my friend forced onto me. Later, producers would touch me against my better judgment and at one point, I just started getting inebriated and letting men do whatever they wanted. I became this physical thing and really disconnected from my body,” Michelle explains. The sundry iterations of sexual violence touching on all aspects from harassment and degradation to assault and explicit forms of sexual abuse, Michelle began unearthing painful moments from her past that had left their traumatic trace on both her mind and body. “One night, I went to do drugs with a man I didn’t know in a bathroom at a supper club,” she describes. “I didn’t understand what was happening at the time, but, he raped me. We then went back to sit at the dinner table with our group as though nothing had happened. When we all left to go to a club, a friend could see that I was visibly not OK. We left to drive up to the country house where everyone would later meet us. I fell asleep and when I woke up, the same man was on top of me. I pushed him off of me, but he simply laughed and told me I wanted it. When I told a few friends, I was laughed at.” An accumulation of humiliation, invalidation and commodification had started to slowly chip away at her, until, as she says, there was nothing left. Numbing herself to the pain, her poison was everything from drugs, alcohol, sex and partying. “I would get into my head and think, whatever this is, I’ll deal with it tomorrow.” Knowing that something was overtly wrong with what was happening, Michelle didn’t understand boundaries and she didn’t value her body. “I became less and less of a person and felt more and more worthless. I only recently started opening up about this stuff, before I would detach completely whenever I talked about it. I wouldn’t even call it by its name; it wasn’t rape until, I guess, I started to get more information about what it was. I know now what to call it. I’m mad for that little girl who let these things happen to her and didn’t know how to stand up for herself.”

Michelle’s escapist tendencies converted into a decade’s worth of travelling and living abroad; she raced toward a path of healing. “I realized when I got to Thailand that I was completely switched off. I wouldn’t let anyone touch me or hug me. I had a ton of anxiety and was suicidally depressed,” she explains. “I was 32, I lost my period, I was fat, I quit acting and I was completely lost.” Set on a journey inward, it took a while for Michelle to sit in the quiet without the noise in her head being amplified. “I was told to surrender to the process; to let go of whatever I was holding onto. I did yoga, meditation, and a ton of different modalities. It all worked until it didn’t, and I couldn’t understand the constant swinging between healing and hurting.” Like a pendulum anchored to that existential boulder, Michelle made progress in her self-discovery, but something bigger than her was happening on a physiological level. “I was in so much pain and it took a long time for the doctors to diagnose, but I finally learned that I had Thyroid cancer. One week before my 40th birthday, I had surgery to remove the tumour in my neck.” Now 44, Michelle lives with Tall Cell cancer, and despite the invalidating reactions of those who tell her that it is the “good cancer,” Michelle has developed a resilience to stand in her truth, as well as an acute self-awareness that has carried her on her multi-layered healing journey complete with a developing sense of self-worth and confidence.

Reconciling her self-governance, Michelle’s sense of self has expanded beyond the fragmented experiences of her past. No longer seeing herself through the prismatic lenses of others, her self-conception is a full-formed truth that has expanded her vocabulary and allowed her to finally see her true self reflected in her a mirror. “All the things I’ve lived through have made me who I am. I feel I had to go through it all to get to where I’m at. I’ve done the exploration tour, now I’m on a healing tour. I ask questions from a place of curiosity, not anger, and I am in tune with knowing that I have something to say, and people listen, because my tone has changed.” The perplexing characteristics that make us human can at times be registered with uncertainty. We can resist, we can rebel, we can react, but if we can learn to simply unlearn all the untruths we’ve absorbed about ourselves along the way, we can begin to value ourselves and all that we have to share. “I’m teaching myself boundaries and learning to say no. I’m worth more than the size of my jeans. I nurture myself. I don’t sleep with every man who buys me dinner,” Michelle explains. “It’s humbling to learn these things about myself, and I’m finally comfortable with being kind and gentle to myself. I’m more aware of my triggers; I can tune into that part of my body that is holding onto the pain so as to soothe my inner child. And, I’m learning to value myself more. Now I just need to figure out how I’m going to share all of this with the world!”