Trauma

The human journey is a lot like taking a long and winding trip around the globe with its many terrains – some smooth sailing, some treacherous, some enjoyable, some painful. In today’s blog post, I am going to open my heart up and share some of those times that were painful, one or two even traumatic. Why? I suppose to illustrate that even those with happy lives have their burdens, and that it is okay to talk about it, and even learn from it.

---

This first experience, I’m not even sure I want to share because of the topic, but perhaps if I write about it, the PTSD I suffer from it will diminish. I was reminded of the trauma the other night when I had an awful dream about raising my daughter. In the dream, unlike in real life, my daughter was acting up in the noisiest way and making a huge mess with toys and whatnot. In the dream I was overwhelmed by the noise so I went outside for a break. While outside, I encountered many other children acting out in a similar fashion. The stress for me continued and I could find no escape. In the morning, I awoke with memories of the trauma I want to talk about now.

Many years ago, while Denise was still teaching, she telephoned one June day near the end of the school year. She had called to tell me that she had just received news of her transfer to a different school in the fall as the new principal there. She was fairly excited, but a bit nervous too, since the school where she currently governed was very dear to her. Hard to give up, in other words. We chatted a bit about it and all was good. I was working from home at the time and on this day, I decided that I would hop on my bike and ride by the new school to see where it was and what it looked like. I intended to take a couple of digital photos and then ride over to Denise’s current school to show her – to help her get into the idea of it. When I got to Denise’s school, she was surprised to see me, since we had talked not long before that and I had not let her in on my plan. She enjoyed seeing the pictures and I think that helped her feel better about the upcoming move.

I think it was the next week Denise went to the new school to meet the current principal and talk about handing over the reins. While there, the current principal told her of some man on a bike that had been taking pictures of the school and the children and how she had called the police. By the time the police arrived they could find no sign of the man – but that they would monitor the school and she should report anything more, if there were further occurrences.

Later in the day, Denise told me about the discussion with the other principal, thinking it kind of funny. I found no humor in it at all, in fact, I was traumatized by what I heard. Who even thinks that way, I thought! I don’t have an evil bone in my body, and yet I felt like I had been judged as some pervert out on the prowl. I get it, thinking about it rationally, why my actions might have been seen that way, knowing the crap that goes on in the world, but for me, as I said, this was unconscionable. I was crushed.

Redacted – Created by Don Cheke

The morning after the dream, and after my PTSD was sparked, I wanted to create a piece of art that reflected how I was feeling. I wanted to use a photo of a school with children and a school bus, and I wanted to black out everything that we are not supposed to look at. Although I had, at the time, taken two photos of Denise’s new school, which showed the front of the school and a bus nearby, the children were few – in fact, I think there was only one child near the bus as no others were out yet. Even still, after hearing the story mentioned above I deleted the two pictures feeling like they were somehow porn, that would land me in a heap of trouble if discovered. In lieu of those pictures, I located a holiday picture in my digital archive for this piece. I blacked out the people in the scene; I blacked out anything that would allow any hint about the location and what might have been there to see. I added the text to drive the point home. For your safety and protection, I cannot tell you more about the picture. Enjoy! – he says with painful sarcasm.

Continuing on…. My whole world changed that day when I realized how white men have been demonized, to use a current term, and how I would never again consider putting myself in a situation where I could be accused of such things. I thought about how I had, in the past, volunteered at the children’s festival many times, how I was a parent helper while Emma was in school, how I had been an Alateen sponsor, and how I gave all manner of art presentations and origami instruction at many schools. Did I put myself in danger, as a man, in every one of those instances!? When we hear in the news how some creep has yet again sullied the reputation of men, I am reminded of the trauma. Gosh, I think, who would ever want to be a teacher these days, who would want to let themselves be open to a made-up spiteful attack by some student that doesn’t like the mark you gave them on a test, or some such thing? These days, I don’t even like driving by schools or parks where the 30km speed limit makes one look like they are creeping by on the hunt.

I don’t know if I need to add this part or the next, but it is all symptomatic of the same thing, and it takes great strength on my part to not let it get the best of me. More and more people, not just men, are made to feel like villains. Go to Superstore, or Costco, where everyone is considered a thief until they pass all the checks. Consider all the corrals in the retail outlets that attempt to stifle a thief’s escape past the checkouts. I am a hard-working, honest man, and I feel insulted when I shop due to this dehumanizing yuk.

This next bit may not seem related to some, ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■■■, ■■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■■■■■. ■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■, ■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■■■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■■■, ■■■■■■■■■■■■■, ■■ ■■ ■■■■, ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■■■ ■■■■. ■■■■■ ■■■ ■■, ■ ■■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■■ ■■■■■ ■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■ ■■■■■■, ■■■■■■■ ■ ■■■■■ ■■■■■■. ■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■ ■■ ■■■■■■■■ ■■ ■■■■■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■, ■■■ ■ ■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■ ■■■■ ■ ■■. ■ ■■ ■■■■■■■■■■■ ■■■■ ■ ■■■ ■■ ■■■ ■■■■■ ■■■ ■■■■■■■■, ■■■■, and as I said, I am not responsible for the sins of the father.

A different trauma….

As of October 15, 2025, there have been 7,101,788 confirmed COVID-induced deaths worldwide. That said, most of us survived Covid, some with their psyche intact, while others, not so much. Although I didn’t know anyone personally who died from Covid, I did not come through it unscathed. I notice this every time I go grocery shopping. I feel apprehensive on the way to the store and fear the worst – that the shelves will have gaping holes where stock should be. Somehow, my unconscious belief that the availability of buying groceries, like the sun always rising, has been shattered. I feel the loss deeply, like I have been expelled from the Garden of Eden and see the nakedness. It feels quite traumatic, if I may say so.

Maybe I need to get EMDR to help process these traumas. (EMDR, or Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing, is a psychotherapy technique used to help people heal from trauma and other distressing life experiences.) I have done so in the past after I encountered a car crash years ago, and the visions of dead bodies on the road would not go away. Although I first thought the process of EMDR was hokey, I did do it and found the talk therapy component of it worked well, and perhaps the other aspects of the process had some effect based on science. Who can say!?

---

Just recently I watched the 2011 movie – The Way. Amazon Prime details it as such: an American father travels to France to retrieve the body of his estranged son, who died while attempting the pilgrimage to Spain’s Santiago de Compostela. He resolves to take the journey himself, in an effort to understand both himself and his son.

I found the story to be very heart-moving, and I found the trauma of the situation easy to feel and empathize with. I also found it interesting that the movie was written, produced, and directed by Emilio Estevez, and starred his father, Martin Sheen. I think that gave it a unique feel, if only in the abstract, outside the movie itself.

After watching the movie, and experiencing vicariously the long trek the travelers made, I remembered a walking trip that I attempted many years ago.

The attempt was made when Emma was young, Denise was still teaching, and we were on summer holidays. Up to that point I had often thought about embarking on a foot journey, or pilgrimage, which would take me over a hundred or more kilometers and would test my resolve and perhaps offer some time to think about my life and who I was. At the time I was already in fairly good shape by having spent time at the YWCA once a week and walking most days to keep fit. I made preparations for the food and the gear I would need and felt that I was all set to go. I planned the journey to take me from Denise’s cousin Wayne’s acreage near Breton Alberta south to Rimbey, and Sylvan Lake, and then over to Red Deer. Denise and Emma were going to stay at the acreage until I made contact down the line and needed to be picked up. On the morning I parted, Denise’s cousin drove me to the highway and dropped me off. I walked for about three hours before my feet were blistered beyond belief due to the heavy weight of my pack and my new boots which I then decided had been a bad decision. I found a rest area where I could set up my tent, and I strung my food pack in the trees, thinking I would rest until I was able to move on. Sitting there, I decided that the hike was ill conceived and I walked to a nearby farm to see if I could borrow their phone. The poor woman who answered the door obviously didn’t trust me, but she brought the phone out for me to use. I was so ashamed to be calling for a ride already, but neither Denise, nor her cousin, made me feel bad in any way. When Wayne picked me up, we chatted a bit about what I called the failed trek, but he just gently brushed it off as “you never know unless you try” kind of thing. We got back to his place and Denise, Emma, and I stayed the week having a great time, never thinking of the trek again while there.

I do think of the failed attempt now and again, and I wonder what it would have been like to have gone the distance. I never again thought about doing a hike like that one, and now I could never do it even if I wanted. In fact, if my doctor asked me if I could walk a kilometer or two, I would answer by saying, “is that in a week, or a month?” LOL!

Edge of the World – Photo by Don Cheke

The Edge of the World photo art, seen above, was something I came up with after all these thoughts about the journey and the trauma. It is really a reminder of the big journey, and where it ultimately ends. It is a sad thing with all its gray, but beautiful too – in its own way. I took this photo when Denise, Emma, and I had our big British Columbia trip in 2007. This included Vancouver Island, all the way over to Tofino, where the edge of the world seemed to be.

---

All the above must seem like a lot of trauma, and I must admit that it feels that way on some days. I do, however, have the tools I have learned through recovery that help lessen the amount of time I get stuck in there, and the drop into the depths is never very long lived. For me, the edge of the world is much brighter and more glorious, as it is most days – thanks be to Dee. 👍😊💖

How do you deal with trauma? Give it some thought!

Donald B. Cheke – Saskatoon, SK