Skip to main content

A trip across the country helped Laurelle Policarpio let go of the past and find her own peace

First Person is a daily personal piece submitted by readers. Have a story to tell? See our guidelines at tgam.ca/essayguide.

One morning I woke up on a beach with the ocean tide only a metre or so away from my tent. That night we slept without the fly so I could stargaze through the mesh. I was imagining myself floating in space. Ironically, it was that moment that brought me back to Earth – I was in bliss, and feeling happiness again.

A few months ago I wasn't sure that I wanted to be on this Earth. I could not hold back thoughts of ending my life.

It all began when I had something valuable stolen from me. My arms were left bruised for days. I felt soiled, and the bruises bloomed like fresh purple flowers and green weeds on the insides of my biceps. My body was clean but I felt like I was covered in dirt. Dirt so ingrained that a hot shower and scrubbing my skin raw couldn't remove the grime. I was scared, I felt guilty and self-doubt weighed heavily upon me. But I wanted to be strong and stand up for myself. It took a lot of courage to report what happened to the police. But after a long, emotionally draining fight, I found no justice. I needed to let it go and find my own peace.

For a few months following the attack I was nearly catatonic, crippled by my nightmares and flashbacks. I fought with myself every day to go to classes and to work. It was incredibly frustrating when I would try to write a paper because my mind would be elsewhere: I was being strangled against a wall or wondering if what happened was my fault, and I went through every scenario where I fought harder and was able to get away. For months, no matter how hard I tried, my mind would return to what happened. I couldn't handle it. I lost my job and I failed my courses.

To recover, I needed to want to recover – no one could do it for me. It took three therapists until I found the one that was right. I would watch videos of places that I wished to see some day, to remind me that there is so much more to this world. I had never seen the ocean. The idea of looking out at the open ocean captivated me. Perhaps because the end of it is unimaginably far, and I wanted to look at my life that way: with the end unimaginably far away.

Then something extraordinary happened: I fell in love. He made me feel safe, held me like I was a butterfly that landed on the palm of his hand. He understood that he can't take away my pain but that he can bring me joy. He was a tree planter and a traveller, and I joined him on his adventures. He planned to take me tree planting and then on a trip across Canada. Seeing Prince Edward Island was my childhood fantasy because I loved the book Anne of Green Gables.

A 1972 Dodge Campervan became my new home and I became a tree planter in northern Ontario. For about two months, I would load trees into my bags and plant them one by one. I would commonly work alone and learned how to be content in my own mind and with the silence. I learned to fight through my flashbacks; the sounds of nature soothed me and the physical work distracted me. The job itself was backbreaking; I would be cold and wet or hot and sweaty, the bugs were relenting, and my body ached.

Despite the hardships, I loved it; located on a beautiful lake, our camp would have no cell service for days. I fully appreciated the company around me. There were no mirrors to start my day with a harsh critique of my own face. I wasn't angry at my body any more – I appreciated it for being strong and allowing me to work hard. A cold lake bath could never remove the layers of dirt, but for the first time in a long time, I truly felt clean.

After we finished in Ontario, we packed up our van and headed west to the British Columbia interior. The drive surprised me with a beauty I had never even expected. Saskatchewan had lush rolling hills and bright yellow fields of canola that blanketed the land for kilometres. It was a beauty that looked humble, so simple and vast. I expected the Rocky Mountains to be gorgeous. What I didn't anticipate was that the landscape demanded my attention. I couldn't take my eyes away – every angle was awe-inspiring and regal.

I was living in a dream. It all felt too perfect and I felt guilty when I would get stuck in the trauma of a flashback. All my boyfriend wanted to do was comfort me, but I wouldn't let him touch me. Eventually, I realized that beating myself up for being sad just made the situation escalate. I didn't want it to consume my life, but I didn't magically get better overnight.

After a couple weeks of planting in B.C., it was time for us to head back east. We drove across all 10 of Canada's provinces, camping and hiking along the way. Prince Edward Island was everything I'd imagined. I'd finally made it to the ocean. The tide astonished me with its shining waters and velvety red sand. The open ocean – unimaginably far with endless possibilities – captivated me.

Time began to feel like distance. I looked back at what happened as if I was looking down from a high peak. I saw my life in front of me. I saw forgiveness, not for my attacker but for myself. I looked back at the path I'd climbed and saw that I'd picked up pride and strength along the way.

I was raped and I'm going to be okay.


Laurelle Policarpio lives in Mississauga, Ont.