How Did I End Up on Medium
By: Deborah Krulicki
Tags: Writing, Child Abuse, Survival, Life, Self

Thomas Gaudex suggested that I write a brief intro about myself. He was very polite about it and I just set it aside because I really hate doing such things. However, I like and respect Thomas; he has been a great editor and support, so this is completely his fault.

I am Canadian, there are no polar bears in my backyard but I have seen deer, bobcats, coyotes, owls, foxes and eagles on a fairly regular basis. I live beside Lake Huron and it is pretty much paradise. I am a wife, mother, mother-in-law, grandmother, gardener, artist, walker, reader, writer and mischief seeker. Some of which I do well and some of which I do with more effort than skill. I have perfectionist tendencies, a puppy-like exuberance and am frequently irreverent. All of which can be annoying. I can sound articulate when required but on occasion have the mouth of a sailor. (No offense is intended to sailors.)

I had the misfortune to grow up in circumstances that involved emotional, physical and sexual abuse, misogyny and neglect. I also experienced moments of joy, access to an incredible library, proximity to the natural world and siblings I bonded with like a tribe. By some great good fortune of the genetic lottery or whatever, I found the determination and strength to overcome my background and have done so in most regards. It was not done alone but with research, work and perseverance, I found myself surprised by the amount of joy I achieved along the way. In no small part this was due to discovering a wise and gentle doctor/counsellor who walked beside me on a lengthy journey to grace.

I did try to speak the truth of my life several times in an effort to protect other children from harm. I failed: was not believed and was shunned. I kept the story of my life silent for decades. I painted my stories and wrote them with metaphor and inference all couched in euphemisms rooted in fear.

I have decided I want to die clean and honest. I want to be the sole proprietor of the truth of my own life.

My husband is terminally ill and the coronavirus has left us in further isolation. Sometimes, I am overwhelmed by loneliness. My husband, our sons and their partners encouraged and supported me to step away from the turmoil and anguish of my past life. My family and closest friends know that I have spent decades writing and journaling. One of our sons suggested to me the potential of publishing on Medium. I was shy about doing so because higher education was not something easily acquired by a female in my world and I am often insecure about bringing my voice to the discussion in light of my lack of credentials.

I lived in silence, oppression and terror for a lot of my life. I still face crippling fear when writing my story. It is the result of years of threats of reprisal not just for telling my story but for believing it. That is perhaps the most harmful of the abuses perpetrated upon a victim: to deny them their own reality.

I have discovered that fear is a prison of my own making and the courage to speak the truth of my narrative contains the keys to freedom. It is not comfortable to begin the discourse of truth but every time I do so it becomes easier. I write often of difficult things that many do not wish to think about let alone speak of. We must speak because within our cultures of silence each of us choosing to remain silent aids and abets criminals, abusers and perpetrators of harm. Indifference is not neutral, indifference makes those who turn away accomplices. So I write of child abuse, misogyny and more. I also write of joy, wonder and grace. I do not do so because I am an expert in these fields but because I have lived all of it.

I write to encourage, to shout that there is hope and to tell others that the story is not in the falling down but in the rising up. I try to speak the truth with freedom and not succumb to timidity and fear. I try to not fall prey to doubt arising from my awareness of the discomfort and disdain of those who wish to not hear. They react from a place of their own fears and I endeavour to respect that. I try to be still and listen quietly to the soft breeze of my truth as I let it sing through the forest of my life.

I have tried to share with you the words that most capture the story of how and why I made my way to Medium and Scribe. My focus is predominately on the writing, the reading, the community and hopefully, encouraging someone else who is rising up. I thank all who take their time to read through my stories: the joyful, the sorrowful and the sometimes uncomfortable ones.