Messaging an old friend

I wrote a while back that I had found my best friend from grade 7. I was contemplating whether to contact her.

Since then, I have been watching her reels on Instagram and hearing what she has to say. It took a recent reel in which she talked about trying to tell folks about her torture through her body language that encouraged me to finally contact her.

I remember her jumping at touch. She would walk fast with her arms crossed in front of her chest when she was upset. She had that flee instinct.

She was brave to state in grade 8 that she was sexually abused. She didn't spill all the beans about being tortured in a cult because she was still a part of it. It was tough for her to escape and be safe.

I am glad that I contacted her. I let her know that I have always believed her. I hope that she writes back. We'll see.

Finding my best friend from grade 7 and debating whether to contact her

I don't write as much as I used to here. It's partly life. It's partly because I am not in an intimate relationship.

I have topics to write about. I haven't prioritized posting them.

I do have some news to share. It's good news. I'm just not sure if I should take the bold step and reach out, or let the past stay in the past.

In grade 7, I was best friends with a person. I'll call her Candy. She was awesome, except that she was teased whenever someone would tap her on the shoulder or give her a hug.

I don't think we ever hugged. I didn't want to trigger anything. I never asked why she was so sensitive. I figured it out in grade 8.

We were in extended French class. We had an exercise to reveal a secret by writing it on a piece of paper. It would then be placed in a jar. Each one of us would fish out an entry, read it, and figure out who it was.

Candy asked how to say abuse in French. It caught my attention. It also caught the attention of two of our classmates.

We reported it to our French teacher. She spent a lot of time talking to counsellors after she shared what had happened to her. Our friendship started to change, well into grades 9 and 10.

She became a feminist. She didn't like eating lunch with our usual friends in the cafeteria. She preferred to eat lunch in the washroom.

We used to walk up to school and home together. All that stopped.

She changed high schools. We drifted apart. We saw each other a couple of times in Toronto. Once was when we were in grade 12. The last time was when I was in my second year of undergraduate studies. We met in a store on Yonge Street. She called my name. I said hi. That was it.

I have thought about her often over the years. I'd try searching for her online. Nothing.

I gave it a try today. Somehow, my persistence worked. It also helped that she openly stated her birthday on her Web site, right down to the year. I looked at her birthmark on her forehead and immediately knew that it was her.

She is definitely more verbally articulate than she used to be. She is far more open about being abused and her past. I didn't realize that she automatically grew up in a cult and ran away from home shortly after she changed school.

She changed her last name after she ran away from home. It explains one reason why I had a tough time finding her.

I'd like to contact her and say hi. I don't know whether that's a good idea. The abuse that she endured happened while we were best friends. She couldn't tell me anything because her abusers threatened to kill her, which is understandable.

Part of me wants to because I care that she's alive and seems to be doing well. Part of me thinks that if I do reach out, I will be resurrecting the horrible abuse flashbacks that was happening. 

I would like to think that our friendship was maybe an escape from this abuse. I just don't know.

I will sit on it and think some more. I am happy that she's doing great. She seems healthy. She is an author and an artist. 

Thinking of a best friend from the past

I had a best friend in grades 7 through 9. In grade 8, in an activity that we did in French class, she revealed that she was sexually abused.

I stayed with her and our French teacher to talk it out. I had an orthodontist's appointment and my dad was waiting for me, wondering why I was running late.

Our friendship suffered as she became more of a feminist and preferred to have lunch in the washroom by herself, rather than eating in the lunch room with a bunch of us.

Walking together to school slowly dwindled. We drifted apart. She changed high schools in grade 11. We didn't keep in touch.

The last time I saw her was in a store on Yonge Street, which is the longest street in the world and starts in Toronto. It was at the end of my second year of undergraduate studies. We said hi. She was with a woman. I was with my good friend whom we are still friends to this day.

I think of her often. Today is her birthday. I hope that she is doing well, wherever she is.

The other side of the coin - consent is missing

Every story has different perspectives. A few days ago, we got radio and TV host's Jian Ghomeshi's take on why he believes he was fired from the CBC. I provided my thoughts about it, if it was indeed the case that he was unfairly let go because he likes consensual "rough sex" behind closed doors.

Well, the other side of this case is that eight women have indicated that they were beaten by Ghomeshi, without any consent whatsoever. Canadian television actor Lucy DeCoutere shared her story of having her hair pulled back hard by Ghomeshi and being slapped with a decent amount of force on the side of her head by him.

There wasn't any warning. No consent. It just happened.

So wrong.

No woman deserves that kind of treatment from a man. The fact that eight women have come forward, indicating similar abuse, is convincing support that Ghomeshi does not respect women as much as we'd like to believe.

I am sure that the story will continue to unravel. It is simply a sad story all around.

I hope that all these women are doing okay. Perhaps CBC did do the right thing by letting Ghomeshi go. His image is becoming more tainted, painting him as a monster than a respectable, intelligent on-air host.