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Writer's pictureKatrina Paquin

Don't cry over spilled milk



It may come as no surprise that I was not well nourished as a child. Nourishment was lacking in all forms, such as comfort, safety, nutrition and connection. It’s not as though I wandered through my childhood years completely alone, but to me, I may as well have. I felt as though I was floating on the outside of everything that was happening around me, wishing that it were not my life. I wanted more, and at a very young age, I had no idea how else to get what I craved but to try to take it.


My Theft


I walk into the hallway

of our Broad St. apartment building

a musty smell fills and burns

my six year old nostrils

floating in the air as a result

of a twenty year old carpet

that’s never been cleaned


A carton of milk sits by the neighbour’s door

I’ll say that he put it down beside ours

there will be another one tomorrow

I am sure they will not notice

they will never know it was me

My grandmother gives me some

when I go to her house

mom doesn’t buy it

says that we can’t afford it

our milk comes in a can

you have to mix it with water

it’s warm and doesn’t taste good


I pick up the carton

bring it in the house

where my mom is sleeping

I’ll drink it before she wakes up

or hide it so she won’t find it

I pour a glass and another

she wakes to ask me of my findings

I fight to cover my theft

she wins and tells me to return

the milk to it’s owner


Ashamed I walk slowly

and knock on the door

head lowered I pass the carton

to it’s rightful owner

I gave the stranger my apologies

just as mom told me to do

his eyes told me that he was sorry

that he could not have given me the rest


A lot of the memories that I have feel as though they happened to someone else. I detached myself from so much of what happened that I am never one hundred percent sure if I am having a memory or if I had dreamt it. Though it feels surreal, and as if it didn’t happen - it did. I know that the reason that it all feels so far away and perhaps the scenes of a sad movie and at times a nightmare, is because I pushed all of the negative emotions that came with experiencing these traumatic events down as far as I could push them. Like Elsa in Frozen, “conceal, don’t feel”. A Disney lesson for a princess. Thankfully, the moral of the story is that the antidote is love. The kind of healing that is required does not come from hiding all of your pain so that other people do not see you as some sort of ugly duckling or orphan child. It is sharing your secrets with those who deserve to hear them and use your powers for good once you learn how to control them with love. Love for yourself and then love for others. For the majority of my life, I had this completely backwards. And just like Elsa, fear kept me from honouring myself.


I know that I may be painting a bleak picture here. Many would say that I’m very lucky that I was able to grow into the women that I am today. Luck had nothing to do with it though. In spite of the deep penetrating pain and wounds that had never healed, I charged forward with determination that I would be something greater than this miserable beginning. I would change the ending.

I hope you've enjoyed this draft excerpt to my book, Finding Serenity. I would love to hear any comments or feedback you may have. If you like this post, please consider sharing it with your friends.


Until next time, wishing you a wonderful week full of Serenity.


xo Kat

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