New Shoes: Let People In; Ending the Circle

By Karen A. Harrington

New Shoes was a passing thought from years ago. I had begun a new journey in life of self-discovery. Many unanswered questions were being discovered. Many small steps were taken to begin to gain a better perspective of self. A real self-assurance was born. The journey involved a lot of hard work, persistence and determination. Such remarkable, indescribable feelings emerged. A sense of real pride was developing. A person of character and strength grew.
After many years of changes and growth, a writing course undertaken got me to think about my promise to myself to write a book some day; New Shoes. I gathered up some clinical files (from cognitive therapy), organized past letters, reflective writing and poems. I devoted a March Break to undertaking the task of fully letting others in. Both the writing and reading of the book added further healing to the author.
I am well aware of where I have been and who I am today. I hope to never have to experience many things again from the past. Choices I made helped shape who I am today. Through my personal growth, I am very comfortable in my own skin. No one should have to feel so terribly alone. Perhaps if I had done some of my own reading and sharing earlier, the healing process would have been quicker.
Enjoy New Shoes and always remember, everyone has a story to tell.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 21, 2010
• ISBN: 9781453501337

Karen A. Harrington

Karen lives in a small town in Midwestern, Ontario. She teaches in an elementary school. Tom and Karen have three daughters. Their love of animals is evident in their home where they have several pets, including an iguana. Several years ago, Karen stated she could write a book some day. After completing a writing course, she redirected her attention to this goal. In 2010, her March Break was didicated to this task. Her writing includes past experiences, letters, reflections and poems. She writes from her heart. it is her hope that no one ever has to feel so terribly alone. Everyone has a story to tell. it is her hope that in telling her own, others will be able to let others in and begin their own healing.

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Copyright © 2010 by Karen A. Harrington.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

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CONTENTS

Prelude

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Books

Prelude

Sun., May 4/97.

I have no idea where to begin. I am quite clueless as to how one goes about publishing a book to begin with. My experiences have brought me to the point where I have said, I am going to write a book. The title came quite easily to me: New Shoes. I shortly afterwards added New Shoes: Let People in; Ending the Circle.

I have finally come to realize I have suffered from depression on and off again for 17 years. That is a lot of wasted years. Life to me for the most part can be classified as a fight. I am now coming to realize it should not be and it is not meant to be.

After two weeks on Prozac I commented to our school secretary, I think the Prozac is finally kicking in. I am actually happy today. What a sad statement really. For one to be so miserable that it becomes the norm.

I am not a talker, but may come to be one. I have always found it easiest to express myself through my writing. I have also come to learn and understand myself through writing. Few people have seen the real me though because I have not written to a lot.

I am still not quite sure how I am going to convey everything to you, the reader or exactly what the everything is. I am now aware that there are a lot of self-help books out there and I am not really sure if the market needs another. I am not a well-known person to sell a book as an autobiography, but I think that will have to be the approach I take. Actually it is probably more of a self-discovery book.

I realize this book may take a very long time to complete, but I do not foresee writer’s block as they call it.

It will take long because of my life style. Just finding the time will be a task, but my girls do go to bed early enough. I do hold a full-time job as a primary teacher. It will take long as well because I am sure a lot will have to change as I go along as I am really not starting with any structure or guidelines involved. The last thing I know I will take time for is resources on how to write a book. I will have to learn who I need to make contacts with and how. If this book ever becomes, it will be an accomplishment for me. It will also take a long time because as I begin here tonight at home, on the couch with the T.V. on as background noise, I am only beginning my third week on Prozac which is a drug used for depression among other things and this week I have my second appointment with a counselor.

I know I have a ways to go, but I also know I have made big, big changes. I feel the circle just has to end. I do not want to return to what brought me to this point. I feel I know I will not. I am not saying I will not be depressed as everyone knows all do go through times of depression. I would like to think I will not ever again be suicidal.

Tues., Aug. 12/97.

I have not really begun any writing for New Shoes per say as a continuation from my introduction in May. However, I have done a lot of writing after therapy sessions.

I have come to understand better what it is I do wish to convey to the reader—that the mind is very complex.

I believe I finally got to the bottom of my depression. I did so quickly because I had enough. I was very motivated to change. The bottom of my depression stemmed back to the beginning 17 years ago. I had not realized what I had been referring to as a little incident was not so little. It affected me big time, but I was just unable to see how.

I had just spent a lot of time questioning what was wrong with me. I am finally able to see that there really is not anything wrong with me. I just had to not deny my past, accept it and move on.

My counselor suggested that perhaps if I did pursue writing a book that a pen name could be taken. This sounded like a good idea, but I got to thinking I would be adding to the taboo of the subject of suicide and or dealing with depression.

I feel people have to know and come to be aware that they are not alone. I feel if more people were honest and talked openly about their true feelings and experiences, I may have sought the proper help earlier and would have healed a lot sooner. I would not have been so hard on myself. Therefore, I have decided not to take a pen name because I should not be embarrassed or ashamed of my past. In fact, my past may now become my strength.

I feel in understanding myself better now I will be able to be there for my girls. I also feel I will be more determined to make the most or best out of other relationships. For one thing it is so nice to feel that my husband and I seem to be clicking as a couple again rather than as a mom and dad. Also I would say I have developed some very strong bonds in friendships because I let people really see who I was. I was accepted. I do not need to feel embarrassed. Actually I am probably seen more as a person of strength than ever before. I am being true and honest to myself and others.

Do not get me wrong, I have not changed that drastically that old friends would claim not to know me well anymore. I still carry the same personality traits. I am probably still more on the introvert side rather than extrovert. I am humble. I still have difficulty communicating effectively, but I am improving.

The major turning point for me was when I did some audio taping. I expressed my hurt and pain. I was able to really hear it. I could not deny it. It was then that I saw the little incident as one with such a great big impact. It was here where I saw or heard the truth. Others knew it, but I did not see it. I would not accept it. Now that I have, I feel more self-assured. I am able to see and believe that I am okay.

I am going to have a lot of back tracking so you the reader can fully understand.

I will include past writings I have done and past experiences.

I will have to begin my story in high school. I will not begin with the small incident because it was only 17 years after the fact that I even realized my moods may have been caused primarily because of that incident.

New Shoes

The soles were becoming unglued,

The toes were scuffed,

Laces frail,

Held together with knots.

They were comfortable,

But experienced nothing new

They travelled the same path for many years.

They were very worn.

One did not really care,

For one really did not know what to do.

The same endless circle was travelled too many times.

The shoes needed to be replaced.

The shoes were indeed finally replaced,

But not with one pair, but two.

Those shoes would not travel alone again.

Those shoes would shine.

Those shoes would take many different unknown paths.

Many changes,

Many discoveries.

The shoes would help reach the soul.

April 11, 2010.

Part 1

February 20, 2010.

I was 14 and a new adventure was to begin for me. I would be leaving my elementary school to join my older sister in high school. It was a time of nervousness and fear of the unknown. It was also a time of excitement. A new freedom, new friends and new courses. Many discoveries to be had.

The excitement I had felt was very short lived. It was not too long into grade nine when I wished I was back in grade 8. I hated high school and did not know why. I wanted to quit.

My parents used the reverse psychology role and it made it sound like that could be an option for me. There would be no free pass though. I would need to get a job, support myself and become self-sufficient.

Needless to say, I remained a high school student.

On the outside, I would say probably to many I was happy. I was content. On the inside I would struggle with inner-turmoil; not knowing why.

That not knowing was the worst part. I was hard on myself. I could see my life was great. I had average to above average grades, kept old friends, made new ones. My family life seemed fine—two working parents, one older sister and two younger. We had everything we really needed to survive. Everything needed to be successful. All was in place for me to lead a happy, content life.

This only added to my inner turmoil. For I could not see what was wrong with me. I became guilt ridden and very frustrated with myself. I hated myself. I hated my feelings. I hated my thoughts. I did not understand. I wanted out. I hated life.

I had so many questions. Why was I so miserable and yet there seemed to be no reason to be? I often questioned what was wrong with me. I questioned why God would give me such a life.

Another frustration for me was the wanting to end things—to end life, but not knowing if I would have the courage to do so. I certainly did not want to be known as the one who attempted suicide. I would rather be known as the one who took her own life and no one knew why.

I became very alone with my thoughts. After school I would isolate myself in my room and just sleep my life away.

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No one would ask what was wrong because no one knew. I wore my mask well.

Living with guilt. Living with shame would continue for me.

Our high school would at times have guest speakers in. They would share their struggles and how they would overcome those to triumph. They were meant to be inspirational speakers. For me, it was a slap across the face—a punch in the stomach.

For you see I had no reason to feel the way I did. I had faced no struggles, no obstacles that I knew of. I was just a suck. I was a loser. I was stupid. I was a freak of nature. I did not deserve to live. I was so unappreciative of life. I was so angry with myself. I was so frustrated with me.

In grade ten I had a typing teacher who many students disliked. She tolerated very little. She made her students work hard. She seemed tough. She seemed unapproachable, but one could not argue that she was a great teacher.

I felt the same way as others. Yet one night I remember writing a letter to a friend from Kitchener that I went to school with from kindergarten to grade 5 and then instead of mailing it, let Anita read it. She was the first person I let in.

I remember going to her classroom first thing in the morning before classes began. I felt very unnerved. She was sitting at her desk. I did not say a word. I gave her my paper I had wrote on and left.

I believe I