Edges Issue 16: My Reckless Years

EDGES MAGAZINE Issue

My Reckless Years.
ADELE LOOKS BACK ON HER LIFE.

I was born abroad and my mother brought me back to England when I was very young, so I had no recollection of my father. I did, however, have a yearning to meet him and a longing to find part of myself which was missing. I constantly carried an image of my father in my mind as a beautiful person, someone who could bring a sparkle into my mind and bring magic into my life.

When I was a baby, my mother had a struggle to look after me as a single parent. She had to move around a considerable amount and also had to arrange childcare. My mother is a beautiful woman, with a very deep faith in God. When she initially discovered she was expecting a baby, my mother asked God to help her and when I was a baby, she took me to the local Cathedral and literally gave me to God, entrusting me into his care.

I know the former statement may sound ludicrous, however, I was always aware that this was true, that there was a presence with me, guiding my life and keeping me from harm.

When I was nine years old, my mother married my stepfather. The relationship initially was far from the beautiful father-child relationship which I described earlier. We were like chalk and cheese and being a normal child, given to honest expression of feeling, I reminded him frequently that he was not my real father. He tried to give me an upbringing by giving me a firm hand, which I probably needed, however it resulted in my feeling totally misunderstood and rejected.

My parents then had a child who died in a cot death. By this point I was a teenager and was unable to cope with the grief. I became extremely depressed and basically felt that life had no point. I wished that I was no longer alive. I did not attempt suicide however, because my Catholic beliefs were that I would go to a worse place if I did take my own life and I could not bear to have a worse existence than my present one.

This dark time found expression in wearing black clothes and make-up and listening to depressing music. Unfortunately, this exacerbated the situation with my stepfather, who did not endorse my clothes or behaviour and when I became embroiled in a relationship with someone who had a similar appearance and I began to stay out until all hours, I was asked to leave.

I had attended a Catholic school and not surprisingly, feeling utterly negative about life was not very productive as far as studying was concerned. The teachers all washed their hands of me, other than a few who I remember to this day, as believing in me. One of the people whom I now hold in the highest regard was the headmistress, a Nun, who, at a parents evening when the invariable comments about my poor behaviour would be given, used to offer reassurance and say that I had potential.

The depression continued and I was utterly lost and did not know which way to turn. The final straw came when I sat an entrance exam for Cambridge,passed the exam and subsequently failed the interview. I utterly resented God for this, blaming him for everything which had gone wrong in my life.

Eventually, I got to breaking point. I stood on a cliff and shouted out "if you're out there help me" to God, in utter desperation. After this I went to an event which I really had no desire to attend. It was a presentation of the Christian message and at the end, people were asked to come to the front if they wished to respond to the message. I felt as if God was calling me and that this was my last chance. In the end, I left my seat and went forward. I suddenly felt as if a net of peace fell on me from the sky and suddenly that I had found the truth which I had been searching for.

I know this may sound like a psychological mind trick, however, after this point my life turned around. I felt a hope and an inspiration that life did have a purpose. I began going to a Church, which was not institutionalised religion, but rather a family.

Eventually, I went to University in Durham and am now working with disadvantaged people, many of whom have been through far worse experiences than myself. However, I do feel I have a lot in common with them, due to my background and an understanding of suffering.

Perhaps the happiest moment of my whole life, which is reflected in the word 'reconciliation', was when I met my father for the first time. I decided to find him and eventually managed to do this through a friend. I was absolutely terrified at first, sitting on the train, I thought 'why am I doing this?'. Sometimes it is the hardest thing to face the possibility of your dreams coming true, in case they turn out to be less than that which has been hoped for.

However, the meeting was a magical moment, when the scattered jigsaw pieces of my life were rearranged into a glorious whole. Two spinning circles came into contact and produced an eternal moment. The reconciliation with my natural father also dramatically changed my relationship with my stepfather, whom I realised had acted and been in all respects a father to me, though I was not his natural child. I love him deeply now. In closing, I would just like to offer two thoughts for the Christmas season.

Christmas represents reconciliation and forgiveness and it is never too late to be reconciled to another person.

Secondly a quote which is inspirational;
"the real future belongs to the dreamer with enough passion to bring it into being".