I have been lucky enough to be juried into the Vancouver Manuscript Intensive with the guardian angel editor hovering over my shoulder. Elee Kraljii Gardiner has walked me through the seventh edit of my non-fiction book. And yesterday I submitted to her the eighth edit.

In the past six weeks I have spent four of them editing, rewriting, going deeper and it has been both a wonderful experience and a challenge.

To retell the stories of my childhood of violence and abuse is not an easy task to undertake. But it is necessary. The book itself focuses on the stunting damage of a trauma inducing event or series of events on the human psyche. What I saw in Paris as over 90 people were murdered links back exactly to my experiences with my father who suffered PTSD.

My intention in travelling through places which held a history of my ancestors was grounded in the urge to understand more fully how people become capable of cruelty.

My goal as I edit is to be fearless and open in connecting the cause with the effect. My goal is to look at ways that horrific events can be lived through without scarring the adult who is experiencing them using mindfulness training.

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Children have little defence because a facility with language is what clears the debris from the Amygdala through the Hippocampus. If a mind is not developed, it is not capable of flushing out the dark events.

Left without language, left without an understanding adult to sustain us and give us the strength that allows us to talk about the experienced violence, leaves us forever after in its grip.

And so I devote myself to using my experience, my path of intense commitment to recovering my soul identity in order to teach others.

I can endure looking at things that I have kept hidden so others can learn. I can take a breath and open myself to others so they can see what happens to children who are in war zones; whose village is bombed flat; whose very ethnology is a death sentence; who have no rights to protection. My war zone was the fall out from my ancestor’s trauma. It spilled out between the walls of my home.

I share what I have learned with the desire to help others understand how hatred breeds social chaos. I firmly believe that understanding leads to change, to kindness.

And so I go through it all again. It is tough. But love is at the end of the darkness. Always.