A better decade for Simone Jennifer Smith: reliving my past traumas Part III

BY SIMONE J. SMITH

“The very reason I write is so that I might not sleepwalk through my entire life.” Zadie Smith

It is hard to decide where to start. There is just so much to share. I figure I will start you at the point of my arrest, and then take it from there.

I have always enjoyed traveling. Immensely. Traveling is in my blood. When I was younger, I was fortunate enough to have parents who were immigrants to the country. It meant that they would travel back to Jamaica often. They did so not only because they missed home, but they wanted my brother Simon and I to experience our culture to the fullest.

I have been travelling from before I can remember. To be honest, it was one of the hardest parts of my house arrest. From October 2012–September 2017, I was restricted to going to work, and coming home. I was not even allowed to leave the province. I was stuck between four walls; I couldn’t decide what was worst, being in an actual jail cell, or being given a little bit of rope knowing that you are limited. I guess for some, it would be one in the same. It was a source of my mental health challenges at that time.

In 2012, I was living it up. I had all those aspects of life that make you successful. I had my own home that I was using as rental property in Windsor. I had just started my business Hear 2 Help, and things were going really well. I started with one family, and in a month’s time, I had about 20 families that I was servicing in the GTA. Alongside this, I had a contract with a technology company to act as a manager when the owner was not around. Money was flowing. Life was good.

To add to all the great things that were happening to me, I had just completed my accelerated Masters Program at the Michigan Professional School of Psychology in Auburn Hills, Michigan. I was proud of myself. I graduated with a 3.9 in my Masters Program, and I had begun to learn more about myself as a person existing in this world. What could wrong?

During that time, I was also dating a young man who we will call Peter. Peter was a great guy: supportive, cultured, and he happened to be a drug dealer. Actually, my five-year relationship before Peter had also been a drug dealer. I don’t know what to say. I have a thing for bad boys. At that time, I was intrigued by the danger. What society found unacceptable, I found appealing.

Peter and I had a lifestyle that you only see in the movies. Fur jackets, high-end restaurants, shopping sprees, trips around the world, I experienced it all. My parents didn’t know this part of my life. I kept them shielded from my dark side because I knew they would be disappointed. My parents knew I was rebellious, they just didn’t know the extent. The one part of my life that kept them at bay was the fact that I was a great student. I had always done well in school, and for most West Indian parents, that is all they need to know. As long as you are doing well, and not in jail, they were cool. So, I kept this pace through my 20’s, and early 30’s. On October 21^st, 2012, that all changed.

I was coming back from a vacation in Costa Rica. It was Peter’s and my second time going there. The trip to Costa Rica included a layover, both on the way there and back. This trip back, our layover was in Panama. I was in good spirits that day. It had been a pretty good trip. This all changed the moment we exited the plane in Panama. Everything changed the moment I got off the plane in Panama….