Last night I heard the phone ringing as I was about to take a bath. I thought about ignoring it since it’s the first time all day that I was able to relax. And frankly, I didn’t really feel like talking to anyone else today. Sometimes I can barely bring myself to talk to anyone on the phone let alone in person. 
But at the last moment, I decide I better answer it. It might be important. But most likely it was someone trying to sell me something that I didn’t need or don’t want. So, I step out of the tub and grab a towel. I pick up the phone on the last ring I say, “Hello, hello is anyone there?”
“Oh, thank you for answering I have been trying to get ahold of you for several days. Are you Isabelle Trablaca?”
“Well, that was my married name, but I’m divorced now. I go by my maiden name Conway. What can I do for you?”
“My name is James Sarnow. You’re named as one of the people who will inherit property.”
“You’re kidding? I didn’t know anyone in my family had any property of value. And I have been out of contact with them for years. I can’t imagine who would leave me anything. I guess you could say I’m the black sheep of the family.
“As I was saying I was your Aunt Bernadette Conway’s attorney. She passed away recently. Your inheritance consists of a series of books, diaries of your Aunt. If you give me your address, I’ll send them to you tomorrow.”
“Diaries, what kind of diaries?”
“I believe they’re personal diaries that she kept throughout her life.”
“Really, I wonder why she left it to me? I haven’t seen her in years.”
“I’m sorry that is all the information I have about it. I’m sure you’ll understand after you read the diaries. She put a note in the final volume to your attention. You can text me your address.”
“Alright thank you, I will look forward to seeing them in the next few days. I have to go now.”
As I hung up the phone, I try to recall my Aunt Bernadette. I vaguely remember a tall thin woman, who was kind of high-strung and intense. Somewhat eccentric and energetic, yet often reclusive. She was estranged from the rest of the family. I think she left home at an early age because she got into some kind of trouble. And they lost contact with her. And here she is leaving me her diaries. I wonder why? I guess I’ll have to wait and find out what this is all about.
Frankly, I understand why she left. My father said his family was rather old-fashioned and did not forgive or forget easily, if at all. And if they didn’t agree with the decisions you made or forgive you for the mistakes made while you were young. They often felt Bernadette was out of control and overly emotional or at times, or completely withdrawn.
As a result, she left home right after high school. I don’t recall anything beyond that. I wonder if my father kept in touch with her over the years. He must have or she wouldn’t have known my name or my whereabouts.
I’ll just have to wait and find out what’s this is all about. Although I don’t like to think about the past too often. There are too many unfulfilled dreams and regrets. And being let down by people that should have been more accepting of me. Maybe that is why she left me her journals because she believed we were similar. In that, we often felt rejected and misunderstood. And we both made the decision to remove ourselves from our family’s criticism and rejection.
I have mixed feelings about any contact with anyone in my family. In the past, it has always turned out to be a negative experience. I found that it was better for me and them if we just went our separate ways. When I first left home, it was a relief not having to worry about every single word and action. Wondering how they would interpret it. If they would take everything I said personally, even though most of the time it had nothing to do with them. I have to say it was really exhausting trying to pretend to be something I never was. Which was a happy-go-lucky person with no problems whatsoever.
The fact is I was an unhappy child and adolescent that never felt accepted by any of them. I hope the diaries would not bring all that rejection and loneliness back again. On the other hand, it might help if I find a kindred spirit in Bernadette. It would be somehow cathartic.
Here it is three days later, and as I walk toward my front door, I see a box on the front step. The return address is my Aunt’s lawyer. I unlock the front door and push the box through the front door with my foot. I have my hands full with a bag of groceries that I picked up at the food store on my way home from work.
As I close the door behind me, I stare at the box. I decide I need to fortify myself with a cup of coffee or maybe a stiff drink before I open the box and discover what kind of secrets are about to unfold before me.
The box is surprisingly heavy. I suppose a lifetime of memories can be a heavy burden for someone to carry around with them their whole lives. Especially if their lives were full of struggle and uncertainty. Not to mention unhappiness, it really weighs a person down.
There are six numbered journals. I look through them to find the final journal for the note that my aunt’s attorney told me about the other day. The journals are all bound in red leather. My Aunt’s name, Bernadette Conway is imprinted on the front cover of each volume.
They are beautifully bound and edged in gold leaf. The pages of the journals are heavy and even a single page has weight to it. As if the words written by hand in ink on each page carry the actual feelings of the author. I handle each page as if its value is incalculable and irreplaceable. Because they are. These words are the only remaining remnants of this woman’s emotions and all the experiences of the entirety of her lifetime.
In the days I waited to receive this gift I realize that my Aunt has left me something I should cherish as it was left to me and me alone. I’m responsible for the safekeeping of each volume. In essence, her life’s memories were left for me to learn from, to cherish, and to protect. And perhaps to share.
As I open the box I almost feel as if I could be opening Pandora’s Box and all the secrets good and bad will come flying out from those pages written over all the years of Bernadette’s lifetime. I take a deep breath and remove one book at a time.
BOOK 1- SQUARE PED IN A ROUND HOLE
I handle each volume with care. I open the first page and read the first sentence of each of the six volumes. Book One states in the first sentence,” I Bernadette Conway begin this journey to find not only who I am but what I am and why I have never felt I fit anywhere. I have always been a Square Peg in a Round Hole.
As I read this sentence, I recognize myself in her words. I have never felt like I comfortably fit anywhere as far back as I can remember. I come from a fairly large family unit consisting of my mother, father, a much older brother, and a sister. I had no siblings my age or near my age. My parents were in their early forties when I was born. I was unexpected, and I have always felt unwanted. Perhaps an unpleasant surprise.
My older siblings always seem so intertwined with each other. They shared years of history before I even came into the story. They were always talking about memories from their childhood or adolescence. And laughing at jokes that I did not get and they would never explain. When I would ask what Is so funny? They often said in unison, “Oh you wouldn’t understand.” And they wouldn’t explain any further.
My parents would laugh along with them. And say, “oh those were wonderful days, weren’t they? We had so much fun all the time.”
I always felt I was on the outside looking in through a foggy window. Not quite clear enough to understand what was going on inside while I remain firmly locked on the outside of the window.
One day while my parents and my brother and sister were sitting at the kitchen table eating lunch I said, “Mom, Dad do you have any stories about when I was a little girl that was funny?”
“Well, Bernie I’m sure there are a great many stories to tell about you. Do you remember anything from when you were little that was funny that you would like to tell us?”
I sat there for several minutes and stared at my parent’s faces. They had no expressions on their faces at all. I looked into their eyes and they revealed nothing to me.
“No, I can’t remember anything because I was little. I do remember when Daddy took my favorite stuffed animal away from me and he said, “Bernadette you are a big girl now you don’t need this old stuffed animal anymore. And he took it and I never saw it again.”
“Well, Bernadette that isn’t a happy memory at all. Surely, you can remember one happy time?”
“No, I can’t. That’s why I ask you to remind me of those fun times.”
I always wished that I had a sister that was my age and she would play with me. And that we would have secrets that only we knew. In fact, sometimes I would pretend that I had a sister and talk to her when no one was around. “Mom, do you remember that I used to pretend that I had a sister my age?”
“Yes”, I remember.”My brother and sister said in unison. And they both laughed. “It was weird and we told you to stop pretending and make some real friends. And after a while, you stopped talking about your make-believe sister. You were always weird. It was embarrassing.”
“OK, that’s enough, Cindy and Charlie. Lots of kids have imaginary friends. It’s not weird. Little kids have big imaginations.”
“OK, mom if you say so.” Said, Charlie and he snickered.
I felt a tear run down my cheek. I look from my brother to my sister and my mother and I felt I was on the outside looking in again. And I knew that I still talked to that imaginary sister sometimes. And I always felt better afterward. I just never told my family about it. Or they would start picking on me again. I learned to keep my feelings to myself. Sometimes I felt really sad and alone but I never told anybody because they would just make fun of me.
And when they made fun of me, I would cry. And they would say you can’t say boo to Bernadette she such a big baby.
After a while my imaginary sister, her name was Angela became more real to me than my “real” brother and sister who seem to hate me. And who would do anything to get away from me.
This was about the time I decided it would be better not to tell people or let people see how I felt. Because they would just tell me to “stop acting like a baby.” And make me feel lonely. I just didn’t feel I fit in anywhere I was just a square peg in a round hole.
After I read this passage, I felt an aching in my stomach. It resonated with me. I can remember feeling like this when I was a child, alone and alienated from the people around me. I didn’t feel love or cherished or accepted. I was always on the outside looking in.
-Book 2-School Daze
I began to identify with Bernadette, I wondered what other similar experiences we shared. I decided to look at Book Two. Its title was School Daze. I imagine that this chapter would reflect Bernadette’s early school experiences. I hope they were better than mine.
Her story began, my mother started talking about my upcoming birthday in August. She said it was an important birthday because soon I would start going to school in September which was the next month. She didn’t send me to kindergarten because she felt I wasn’t ready for it yet. And maybe I wasn’t. But because I didn’t go to kindergarten with the rest of the kids, they all knew each other and had made lots of friends already. I didn’t know anyone. I have trouble making friends. I didn’t really know how to make friends.
My mother dropped me off at the schoolyard on the first day of school. She told me to find the kids that I had played with in my neighborhood. What she didn’t know and I’m not sure why she didn’t know was that I didn’t have any friends in the neighborhood. That when I went out to play, I was always alone. One day during the summer I saw some kids at the playground. I decided I would just join in without saying anything as if I belonged there.
They were playing kickball. I watched them play it before so I had a pretty good idea how it was played. It was something like soccer and something like baseball. I was good at hitting a baseball with a bat. I practice it in my backyard. But I had never played kickball. You have to hit the bigger ball with your feet. The whole game is played with your feet. Teems play against one another.
I jumped into the fray without telling anyone or asking what team I was playing on. I just jumped in and the ball came near me and I kicked it hard. It went flying. I started screaming “I got it, I got it.” I was jumping up and down excitedly. Some boy yelled, “who’s that, is she on your team?’”
“No, I never saw her before.”
“Hey, you can’t just start playing you have to be on a team.”
I got scared so I ran away. I never knew what I was supposed to do. I heard someone say, “what are you doing, don’t run away? Come back and join a team.” But, I didn’t. I felt stupid and I never tried to play again. I wished that I did run back and played with them and maybe things would have turned out differently. But unfortunately, I didn’t run back and join them to play. I wish that I had been braver, but I wasn’t brave. I was afraid of everything and everyone.
The rest of my school experience was the same. If I had been able to make one friend, I would have been alright. But by the time I hit Middle School, I had a reputation as a weirdo. And the kids would laugh at me and call me names. Once you have a reputation of being different in school no one will befriend you. Because then they will be considered weird too. You become a pariah. High School was worse. Teenagers can be absolutely heartless and brutal with kids that are different, or fat, or homely or quiet like I was. Maybe they are afraid it will rub off on them or something.
The 3rd journal – THE WORKING STIFF
After high school, I got a job in an office as a filing clerk in a law office. The people who worked in the office were pleasant enough. But by that time, I was so entrenched in the idea that I was so different from everyone else that I didn’t even try to make friends with my office mates. I would have like to have a close friend. I wanted to date, and have a boyfriend. But my anxiety was at an all-time high, I became depressed and caught in a cycle that I didn’t know how to break.
Sometimes I would eat compulsively and other times I stopped eating much of anything. I would go home and sit in my room. My mother and father would ask how I was doing. I would just mumble an answer, they never asked me to repeat what I said. My mother asks if I was going out with friends. I didn’t have any friends. They seem to be completely clueless about what was or what wasn’t going on in my life. Sometimes, I didn’t even shower or wash my clothes after I wore them. Sometimes I would keep putting the same clothes on for weeks at a time.
In the second year of my job, I was called into the Human Resources office. When I arrived the woman who worked there said, “Bernadette, my name is Mary Ellen Saunders. I’m the head of personnel. Do you know why you were called into the office today?”
“No, I don’t. Are you going to fire me?” I always expected the worst possible outcome for every situation.
“What? No, of course not. But I do have to talk to you about a couple of problem areas. Your work ethic is fine, and you are doing a good job. But and I’m trying to be as delicate as I can here. I’m not trying to hurt your feelings. You need to start taking an interest in your appearance and your health. Sometimes, you wear the same clothes over and over and you don’t appear to be aware of your personal hygiene. Some people in the office have complained about it. You will have to address these issues or there will be a problem. I feel bad about talking to you about this, but I’m trying to help you. Do you understand?”
I looked at her for a moment and then I said, “Yes, I’m sorry but please don’t fire me. This is the only job I’ve ever had. I will try to do better.”
“Bernadette, I hope you will. I feel you have the potential to do better. Please make yourself a priority. And I hope you won’t take this the wrong way. I’m not a psychiatrist but I can’t help but think that you seem depressed. Do you know that as an employee here you have health insurance and access to psychological assistance? I want you to know that it is confidential, and many people feel the need for counseling at some point in their lives. Please let me know if I can help you if you need assistance in any way.”
After my discussion with Mary Ellen Saunders in personnel, I made an effort to wash and iron my clothes. I had a tendency to wear the same clothes each week. Because I felt comfortable and more myself in the same clothes. I took care to shower and wash my hair every couple of days. But I had to make myself do these things. Maybe somewhere deep down I didn’t think I deserved any better. Maybe at some level, I hated myself for the way I was. It was kind of a self-fulfilling prophecy. I became the weird person everyone told me I was since I was a kid.
But the thought that I might lose my job and the only good thing in my life shook me to the core. I started taking care of myself, eating right, being clean and tidy. And best of all I made an effort to talk to the people in the office where I had worked for years., People in the office started talking to me. As a result, I was asked to go out to lunch occasionally and office mates started smiling at me instead of looking away.
The 4th Journal- LOVE IS ALL YOU NEED
I know Love is all you need is a song title of the Beatles. I’ve been told many times. But truth is truth. Love is all you need in life. Even in the most difficult times, when money is scarce, and the times are hard. If you have love you can make it through. I had a difficult time accepting that I was worthy of love. Because my past experience within my family taught me over and over again that they didn’t think I was worth loving. I didn’t even love myself. That is why I stopped taking care of myself.
But once I accepted that I was a person of value and substance and that I deserved love. I opened myself up to believe in the possibility that someday, somehow, I would find love, and love would find me. And when that happened I would grab it would both hands and never let it go.
As things at my job improved and people that worked with me saw me as a good person who had some problems. They began being kind, friendly and I returned their kindness with acceptance. And I began to make friends. Occasionally I even went out. And then one day, loved walked into my office and stepped up to my desk, and introduced himself. “Hello, my name is Frederica, but everyone calls me Freddy. Are you Bernadette?”
“Yes, I’m Bernadette. What can I do for you?”
“I was just hired to work here and your boss said that you would show me the ropes.”
“She did? Sure, I’ll show you around. What did you want to see first?”
“What? I don’t know. What do you think Bernadette?”
“I think we should walk down to the cafeteria and have some coffee and I’ll give you the lowdown on everyone here. And you can tell me what experience you have and what you hope to accomplish here?”
“Have a seat, Freddy, it will be my treat since you’re the new guy. Do you like your coffee strong and hot as hell? Because that’s what they serve here. They want everyone here to be super caffeinated.”
“Sounds perfect.” As Freddy waited, he looked around the employee cafeteria and he noticed that the occupants were an equal amount of men and women of all ages. He felt he would fit in here just fine.
“Here you go Freddy, strong and hot. And as a first-day surprise a blueberry muffin. Enjoy.”
“Thanks so much. How about telling me about your experience here.”
“Well believe it or not I started here right after high school. I was kind of shy and kept to myself for a long time, but recently I made an effort to get to know the people that work here. And guess what? In general, they are friendly and helpful, and kind. Of course, there’s always a jerk in every workplace. But I leave that up to you to figure out who that is.
“I think you will find it be challenging work, but satisfying. I think it is really up to you how far you want to make it up the corporate ladder. Some employees here work enormous amounts of overtime. I don’t. I give a 100% while I’m here. But when I go home, I don’t think about it until the next morning as I go through the front door of our building.”
“Sounds about right, I do hope that it is challenging and satisfying, but I certainly don’t entertain the idea of working here until 10:00 every night.”
“Well, I guess your family wouldn’t appreciate you working every night, would they?”
“Oh, I don’t have a family yet, I’m single. Someday hopefully.”
“Oh, me too, single I meant. I haven’t really been in any serious relationship yet.”
We smile at one another and within those smiles was hope. Hopefully a promise of the future for us together. And over time that hope grew and grew into a reality and a future together.
5th Journal- HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS
No matter what path I took or how far I traveled eventually I would go back home. Not to my childhood home, but to the home Freddy and I created. And home was not a place. It was Freddy. I always returned to him. We eventually married and we lived together our entire adult lives. We were not the perfect couple. But we both found a home in each other’s hearts and would always live there. We found acceptance and appreciation, love and joy. We did not have a perfect union. We were not perfect, but we fit together like puzzle pieces, joined but separate. We had our ups and downs, and disagreements. Love always brought us together again eventually. We considered having children but, in the end, we decided that the two of us were enough.
6th Journal-THE FINAL CHAPTER
Life is a journey and along the way, if you are lucky, you find love, happiness, and contentment in your life. But have no doubt you must make a mindful decision that love, happiness, and contentment are priorities. And the first love is self-love. Not to the exclusion of all others but before you can love and accept people into your life you must learn to love and accept yourself. You must acknowledge that we as humans make mistakes along the way. And we must learn how to learn from our mistakes and forgive them and move on. And once you have learned to forgive yourself for your faults and missteps in life you can do the same for all those people who are in your orbit during your life.
Once you are able to forgive you will feel lighter, the weight of anger will be lifted from your heart. And once I learned to forgive myself, I was able to forgive the other people in my life who had hurt me. And that is when I opened my life and my heart and I was able to allow Freddy to come into my life and fill my heart with love instead of anger and resentment towards myself.
Freddy and I had a wonderful life together with joy and happiness. I’m not saying every day was perfect or that we never said an unkind or thoughtless remark to one another. But we made a conscious commitment to forgive one another and let the little stuff go. We had time to travel the world and make friends. We also made the decision that wherever we went that place would be better for us having been there.
The final page in the sixth journal was a personal note to me.
Isabelle, the reason that I have left these diaries to you is that I realized when I first met you that you were struggling with many of the same issues that I had as a young person. You felt different from everyone around you. And you felt disconnected because of those differences.
I know my advice comes a little late, but perhaps it comes at a time when you are more open to looking at life with an open mind, and mature enough to see that your life can improve. But you must be willing to make the changes that will bring you the happiness I know that you have been looking for your whole life.
I’m not telling you that you have to change who you are, you do not. You are perfect the way you are. You only need to know and accept yourself. And the people around you will feel the change and realize that you are a person that they want to be a part of their lives. Forgive yourself for whatever mistakes or any decisions that you may have made in the past. And move forward without that useless baggage.
Happiness and love are waiting for you just on the other side of that door. Open your heart to people and they will welcome you with open arms. I promise you.
As I read my Aunt’s diaries, I felt my heart felt lighter and the knot that I felt in my stomach slowly loosened. For the first time in my life, I felt hope.
And the hope that sprung up in my heart helped me to deal with my anxiety and cope with adversity. It brought me a feeling of well-being and happiness.
And for the first time, I felt motivated to create a positive change in my life. I was able to start setting goals for myself and my life began to improve a little bit each day.
Hope can make a difficult situation more bearable and ultimately improve your outlook on life. Take one day at a time and slowly open your life to the people around you. Life is waiting for you on the other side of that door.
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