help

The Thesis process

par ©Argolla LProulx

May 13th-2015
I am in the process of writting a thesis. It is taking a lots of my brain if not lots of my time. I always think about it. I have been thinking about it for the last 6 years. Many people around me have discorage in different ways me to pursuit my goal but i am still in it. Thus, my closest PhD collegues living the same experience as I, have been there for me when i needed to talk and are still there anytime i need them. It has been a long distance run, if i can put it in this way. Many time i have thought of surrending. But then i was asking myself why and what i would do instead with my time. My answers were always the same: my topic still stimulates me and i am not the type of person to give up almost at the end of a run. I will make it to final ceremony and receive the toge, the honnors, the applause and the papers. To be true, the participants who have been helping me with there sharing of stories and generous with their time are a big part of the reason as well why i am not giving up. Their story deserves to be told.

So far i have done the first three chapters and i am into reviewing them for the end of May in order to summit it for the last time to my supervisor before it reaches the Thesis Committee made of Professors and Specialits of some part of my topic. Some of you, Dear Readers, may ask why am I not into it just now instead of working on my blog? Well, this is part of my process. When writting so many pages on a topic you like, sometimes ones need to take distance from it in order to have a better view of the picture. In my case, i do many things to distract me from my thesis, so it may look. In fact. this is what i need to process all the informations i have read and it helps putting my ideas all together or even sometimes resting my thoughs about it. Of course, beside being a PhD thesis writer, i am also a professional working as a French language (Mother tongue) Professor which takes most of my time and allows me to earn my living. I have written other blog texts for my bilingual Students Association Newsletter some years ago about the experience of being a PhD student. Some have been published here and I will post more of them here again in the coming weeks. This is all about sharing my experience all together and to remind to any of you that entering into a project is important, but finishing it is even more important to reach the sense of accomplishment.

Feel free to comment and share your experience on the personal projects you are currently working on.

Cheers

Lynnda

Love shakes

par ©Argolla LProulx

Why is it that everytime love surrounds me I start shaking and it is not of pleasure? When i was young, i have associated love with receiving a slap on my face or a belt on my back and legs. I have heard my mother complaning enough of my dad’s brutality and from my two foot height, nothing good could come from the love of a man. But not much either would come from the loving hand of my mother since she was  pretty good too on beating on her children, or at least on me.The difference between me and other kids who suffer is that i had a roof over my head and was too scared to go on my own. Oh! I did try to leave the parents house when i was about 5 year old, but i soon realized i could not survive on my own just yet. So i have counted the days until i was able to fly on my own.

Beating a child is the last  thing on earth that should be happening. Adults, whom are the mature and reasonnable creatures of  »God » should be the ones to blame but many child abusers are let free unpunished, not feeling any guilt and pursuing their  life and abusive acts. The damage done on children, the victims, is a life threat. The facts on  child abuse and neglect are  that  »1 in 10 children suffer from child maltreatment. 1 in 16 children suffer from sexual abuse. Nearly 1 in 10 children are witnesses to family violence (SafeHorizon, 2015) ». Leaving children in poverty is no better. How many of them are sleeping in the streets of Manilla or living in a dump?

I believe that a society led by a Government who is not taking care of their youth and children is also as guilty as any adults who is beating up and abusing a child. This is neglecting care for those who need it. Seeing it and not acting to solve the situation is part of the problem. If you believe that solutions and concrete actions should come from your Government and the Society you are in, please forward this message to your friends and family. I also invite you to do an action today to help a child in need : you can become a Big brother or a big sister, you can adopt or foster a child, you can write petitions or blogs, make a video or photos to comment and collect information in you city about children who are neglected and sensitize your community with it using social media lile Twitter, Pinterest, Facebook, etc. The choice is yours and this short list is just an example of what is possible. Keep the ball rolling.

Tabous et voleurs d’enfance

par ©Argolla LProulx

– Chut! Silence! garde ça pour toi, essaie d’oublier, ça va passer!

– Mais pourquoi?

– Parce que. C’est comme ça. Ça arrive.

– Mais pourquoi?

– Ça sert à rien d’en parler, je t’ai dit.

– Mais moi ça me fait mal, j’en ai mal au ventre, ça me fout les boules!

– Ça fait rien, endure ton mal, ça va finit par passer.

Presque 44 ans plus tard, rien n’est passé et la boule continue de s’enrouler dans l’estomac. Seul le silence veille sur la douleur de ces moments qu’il a fallu taire en secret, enfouis dans le cerveau reptilien. Nous étions des gamins, des gamines et notre enfance a été volée par ces mains d’hommes à la recherche de la douceur immature, de l’interdit, des parfums défendus, ceux de l’innocence.Tout le village a gardé la tête dans le sable : les parents, les épouses, les tantes comme les oncles qui n’en étaient pas, les grands-mères. Mes sœurs, mes cousines, mes voisines, mes frères, mes cousins, mes voisins, ont-ils eux aussi  gardé le silence? Combien parmi nous se sont fait abuser, un attouchement par ici, une menace par là, des doigts dans la culotte, une langue, une mauvaise haleine trop près du nez, une chute qui nous mène face contre terre, maintenu au sol ou à la banquette de la voiture; viens voir ici, assis toi sur ma cuisse, mets ta main ici serre moi fort; ne le dit pas sinon je ne te ramène pas à la maison, je te garde ici avec moi pour toujours… chut, tais-toi, je ne ferai pas mal, laisse toi faire.

Les abuseurs sexuels d’enfants ne s’exécutent pas seulement dans des pays émergents comme la Thaïlande, l’Afrique du Sud  (vidéo) ou le Brésil (attention cette vidéo montre des images violentes). Les villages de pays soit disant développés dont le Canada, la France, les États-Unis ont des histoires sordides qui sont étouffées faute de savoir comment s’en sortir.

Quelles solutions envisager afin de mettre à jour ces esprits tordus?
Quels mécanismes peut-on mettre en place pour faciliter la dénonciation anonyme de ces actes immondes?
Informez-vous d’abord, c’est votre devoir, en consultant le site de la Sureté du Québec sur les agressions à caractère sexuel et le Départament de la protection de la jeunesse pour signaler les enfants en situation d’abus ou de tout autre situation que vous considérez inquiétante.

Si vous êtes devenus adultes et que vous avez été victime d’agression, d’abus ou de violence sexuelle durant votre petite enfance, enfance, puberté ou adolescence sans l’avoir signalé ou en ayant gardé un silence qui vous fait mal, contactez un Centre d’aide aux victimes d’actes criminels (CAVAC) ou un Centre d’aide de lutte aux agressions à caractère sexuelle (CALACS) de votre région. Un centre CALACS existe également à Ottawa

N’hésitez pas à partager. Votre histoire est importante. Vous êtes importants et importantes. Rappelez-vous que ce qui vous est arrivé ne définit pas qui vous êtes et que l’espoir d’un  meilleur avenir existe. Donnez-vous la main et avancer vers votre avenir pour chercher de l’aide et sortir du silence.

J’ai également découvert un site en anglais, pour ceux qui parlent cette langue, très intéressant : To Write Love on her Arm.