A Mile in My Moccasins

Submitted by Kelli Kematch

I share these three stories, excerpts from my life, with the intention of inspiring hope and guidance.

ENTRY EARTHSIDE

My name is Kelli Kematch. I was born in December of 1988, in Vancouver, British Columbia. My mom was a severe addict who preferred alcohol to drugs. I know few things about my birth, but I do know that I was born with complications and was diagnosed early on with Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder (FASD), a diagnosis which has affected my entire life.

Even after my birth, my parent’s addictions took priority, but still I believe they did their best. I was neglected and became malnourished, and was eventually taken from them. I do believe my parents loved me and cared for me the only way they knew how, but addiction got the best of them.

I understand their struggles because I have lived this life—I was an addict, and I am a mother. I do believe their parenting skills were lacking due to their life experiences, combined with shame and guilt from attending residential school.

If my parents had a better upbringing, maybe they could have cared for me; unfortunately, life had other plans.

FOSTER CARE SYSTEM

To understand resilience, one must understand what it means to overcome adversity. The most difficult parts of my life took place during my childhood, where I had to overcome unimaginable obstacles. In the foster care system, I was placed with two different families. The first loved me, helped me recover from my parents and nursed me back to health, but because I am First Nation, they could never fully adopt me.

I was then placed with a family who was from the same reserve as my mother— Saddle Lake Treaty 6 Cree Nation. Sadly, my earliest memories of my adopted parents were of them fighting and drinking. I remember feeling lost and scared in those surroundings.

Domestic abuse eventually ended their marriage, including abuse directed towards me. I remember being confined to a room, hungry, deserted and terrified. I had to go to the washroom so badly that I urinated in the vent but was beaten afterwards for doing so. I became terrified of my new caregivers and dissociated to survive. I had some faith that things would get better, but my heartbroken adoptive father became an alcoholic and continued a cycle of unhealthy relationships.

My father did eventually seek help for his addiction. He got sober and started working as a social worker, but his time away at the office meant he was

not witness to the daily abuse I would endure next.

We eventually moved in with a seemingly kind woman and her children. I was excited to have new siblings, but it soon became clear that my life would not change for the better.

This new family treated me like an outcast, and they used my FASD as a reason to mistreat and manipulate me.

The woman and her children soon took their anger out on me. My only outlet was school—I loved learning and I even joined a drumming group to help release some of the hurt. The relief was short-lived, however, because my “siblings” attended the same school and they were my bullies. My safe haven became a war zone.

I suffered the horrors of sexual abuse for a long time. As a teenager, I remember feeling so much shame, guilt and remorse. I shut down. I dissociated to the point that I suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder. I started to self-harm and think of death as the gateway to peace.

I wouldn’t wish what I went through on anyone. The sad truth is my story is probably all too common in the adoption system.

BREAKING THE CHAIN

For many years I struggled with addictions stemming from shame and guilt, and it landed me in various toxic relationships. I chose numbing over healing.

Then I had my first child, and I finally felt what it was like to truly love. Unfortunately, I did what I said I would never do. I repeated the cycle of trauma from my childhood and lost custody of my daughter, which left me feeling hopeless and defeated.

Thankfully, a good friend came into my life at the right time and changed my world. We built a bond and I trusted her, which for me was never easy. She loved me unconditionally and showed me how to love myself. She taught me that love doesn’t come with a cost. She let me share my horror and didn’t judge. She was there to lift me up and tell me to keep going. She was my guardian angel, sent to pull me from the gates of hell.

When I had two more daughters, I knew I had to break the cycle of trauma. I entered a rehabilitation program and got some much-needed help. It was difficult facing the pain I had avoided for so many years. That hurt brought me to my knees, and I would pray to Creator for strength.

I walked out of that rehab centre with a new mindset. I was not a victim anymore. I was a survivor. I gained a fellowship of people just like me, so I wasn’t alone anymore. I went through a process that helped me confront my character defects, let go of my resentments and make amends. I was finally free to live and love.

A MISSION OF HOPE

I am now in control of my own story. It is now my mission to help people who have been through similar situations. I finally have the family I always wanted, full of love and understanding. My partner is a compassionate man willing to walk beside me while I continue my healing process. He protects and provides for our family, and I know he truly loves me. I have many challenges ahead, but I no longer carry that pain and hurt with me. Now I carry strength, faith and hope.

Kelli Kematch is a recovering addict who has overcome great odds. She currently works at the Bonnyville Indian Métis Rehabilitation Centre in Alberta where she is an addiction counsellor aid. Kematch plans to continue her education to become a fully licensed addiction counsellor.