In the journey of life, we often find ourselves in situations where our control is limited, relying on others for things we wish we could determine ourselves. Whether it is emotional, physical, or mental, this dependence can put an immense strain on our sense of self-worth, leading to anxiety and stress that ripple through various aspects of our lives.

Take, for example, starting a new job. When we first step into a role, we are at the mercy of our employer. The stability of that job often determines whether we can pay our rent or mortgage, and it can be daunting to know that someone else decides if we get more hours, fewer hours, or, in some cases, whether we stay employed at all. Even something as simple as waiting for your boss to approve a day off can send waves of stress. It leaves us questioning our value and erodes our mental well-being because our livelihood rests in someone else’s hands. The sense of control we yearn for—over our time, our career, our future—feels tenuous.

This lack of control can seep into every corner of life, and for many, it can weigh heavily. It is natural to want to feel in charge of our own path, to know that our choices are our own. But when our lives are influenced or dictated by someone else, it can lead to feelings of helplessness, impacting our mental health in ways we may not fully realize at first. Over time, the strain of not being able to make decisions for ourselves chips away at our confidence, leaving us more vulnerable to self-doubt.

This internal battle is something we see clearly in Marta’s story in Tracks of Our Tears. Marta, once a celebrated violinist, finds herself in a struggle with her identity. She loves her son, Manny, deeply but feels incomplete being solely a mother. The need to return to the orchestra—to the passion that once defined her—becomes a source of emotional conflict. Yet, to pursue this dream, she must rely on her husband, Klaus, for permission, a reality that amplifies her sense of dependence.

For Marta, relying on someone else to determine such a crucial part of her life strips her of the agency she desires. She feels trapped, not just by her circumstances but by the expectation that her role as a mother should be enough to fulfill her. The mental strain this causes is palpable. It is not simply about the music—it is about control over her own identity. Being forced to ask for Klaus’s approval magnifies her frustration, making her question not only her worth as a musician but as a person. Marta’s experience mirrors the feelings many of us face when relying on others for important decisions. It is a reminder that the mental toll of dependence can be just as heavy as the circumstances themselves.

The struggle to feel in control of one’s life is universal. Whether it is navigating work, relationships, or personal passions, being at the mercy of others can leave us feeling unbalanced. This ongoing battle—one where we wrestle with autonomy and dependence—can create emotional stress that builds over time, challenging our self-worth and testing our resilience.

​In reflecting on Marta’s story, we are reminded that everyone needs a sense of control over their destiny. When that control is placed in someone else’s hands, it can be overwhelming, leading to feelings of inadequacy and frustration. But acknowledging these struggles can also be the first step in regaining a sense of empowerment, reminding us that while we cannot always control our circumstances, we can still find strength in how we respond to them.

#SelfWorthJourney #MentalHealthAwareness #LifeStruggles #FindingBalance #OvercomingDependency #PersonalGrowth #EmotionalWellbeing #IdentityStruggles #SeekingAutonomy #InnerStrength #LifeReflections  #SelfEmpowerment  #Resilience  #ControlOverLife  #BalancingRoles

​Finding sacred documents that I never knew existed – Why would I search for something I never knew existed?
My dear wife Regina was born in a Displaced Persons (DP) camp on the western border of Germany on January 27 th , 1949. She was the first child of Jan and Julia, the heroic characters in my historical fiction saga, Tracks Of Our Tears; they were my mother and father-in-law. About five months after Regina passed on August 3, 2017, I was rummaging through various dresser drawers in our large two-story house, searching for an old VHS video I filmed about thirty years prior; memories of wonderful family times without much relevance other than
sentimentality. There were many scenes with our children, interspersed with my grandfather, my parents and Regina’s mother and father as well, Jan and Julia. The videotape was found inside an old but fancy perfume box Regina had evidently placed there. However, what was much more significant, was my discovery of some yellowish, brown papers rolled tightly and tied with a thin string. Somehow, I just knew these were not delivered by Canada Post!

As I carefully unrolled the documents, I was shocked to see Julia’s birth certificate, Jan and Julia’s marriage certificate, and Regina’s birth certificate. This information was how I could determine the date and precise location of the genocide of Julia’s family, friends and entire village, when Julia was orphaned at only thirteen years of age. I also now knew her future husband, Jan, was born 700 miles away in western Poland where he
and his family were conscripted by the Germans to grow potatoes for German soldiers who had invaded Poland in 1939. Miraculously, Julia somehow survived her ordeal and found her way over the ensuing years to eventually find her future husband on his family’s potato farm. The missing details were notable, but I found other refugees’ similar circumstances that I incorporated into her probable story, using poetic license to do so. What was most shocking to me was that Regina’s date of birth was apparently January 27 th 1949 and NOT January 27th 1950, as all of her official Canadian documents identified her, ie. Canadian Social Insurance Certificate, Ontario Driver’s License, Canada Pension and Old Age Security, life insurance policies, etc. She was in fact, one year older than she thought. I discovered later that Jan gave these documents to Regina on his death bed only four months before she herself, passed away.

I immediately felt angry that her parents misrepresented Regina’s date of birth, and in fact,
where she was born. In my opinion, it was a denial of who she was, and who she became. It was
disgraceful of them, from my perspective at that time. The only potential justification for misrepresenting her real age was likely because she was conceived almost a year before Jan and Julia were married.
A previous blog I wrote a few months ago in September 19th of this year, pertained to how people worry and stress about what other people think of us, and how we often compromise our attitudes, our values and our expectations for ourselves because of peer pressure and other people’s interpretations of who we should become. I believe this denial of a truth somehow jaded Regina’s self-impressions... and undeservingly so.
Here is where the story becomes even more intriguing.

I first laid eyes on an attractive young lady walking about twelve feet ahead of me in early September, 1967. I walked that way home from high school for almost five years and was in my final year, grade 13. I had never seen this lovely person before. As it happens, I introduced myself to a young lady working in the same grocery store as me a few days later. It was the same young woman I saw walking home from school. Her name was Regina!
I must emphasize that what I am about to tell you has just occurred to me only a few hours ago, late last evening.
If Jan and Julia had told the truth about Regina’s date of birth when they came to Canada, she would have graduated from high school one year ahead of me. This is relevant because her family moved to Etobicoke where my family lived, from Gladstone Avenue in the heart of Toronto. She would have already graduated from Parkdale Collegiate in Toronto at the end of the prior school term.
Hence, she would not have been walking home from school that September when she first stepped into my world. She would have likely been working at the TD Bank in Etobicoke a full year before she actually did so and we would never have met.
What are the obvious implications of her parents’ misrepresentation of her actual age?
If I had not met and fallen in love with Regina, who would I have married?
Our children Kristen, Jennifer and Stephen would never have been born. Our grandchildren Benjamin, Brandon and Grace would never have been born. Who would Jennifer’s loving husband have married and who would be born into his world with a distinctly different wife?
​
All these profound lives that would have been inexorably altered, for better... or worse? And why; because of the fear of Jan and Julia of being ostracized by people they would never know. 
​Now, I thank God they lied! Yet, this leaves me questioning: what does this say about my own sense of morality?

#FamilyHistory
#LifeChoices
#HiddenTruths
#HistoricalFiction
#Genealogy
#ImpactOfDecisions
#JuliaAndJan
#UnexpectedConsequences
#LegacyOfLove
#Morality