Do You Have The Courage To Put Your Life On Paper?

September 4, 2020 | By Veronica Slaughter | Reply More

Courage is Fear Walking.

I was in Italy with my son Francis in 2002. He was 16 at the time and in private school. From first grade through the twelfth grade the students were taught Latin. It’s one of those subjects that can help you in a spelling bee but otherwise not useful in daily conversation.

Late one afternoon, when we were heading back to our hotel in Rome, hungry and completely walked out, I saw a beautiful old cathedral (I should say, another beautiful old cathedral) that I just had to stop in. Being the good son Francis is, he shuffled his way into the foyer with me.

That’s when I saw on a wall, the depiction of a group of soldiers readying for battle in all their armor. Under it, it read something like “Incessun animis metus.” Knowing this was Latin, I asked Francis to read it to me (getting my monies worth out of private school) and tell me what it meant. He said something about courage and fear walking together.

“Courage is Fear Walking,” I said out loud; louder than I meant it to be, seeing how it was a church. For some reason those four words hit me like a ton of bricks. I felt it deep in my stomach. That was the exact moment when a thought ran through my head; stop being afraid Veronica, have the courage to look your past in the eye and say, “no more being afraid; no more hiding the truth! You are a warrior.” This was my ah-ha moment. I understood that the reason I had to go into this church was because those soldiers on the wall had something to tell me. I wanted be one of them; without fear there is no courage.

I had never told anyone, not even Francis about the four years my siblings and I were abducted by our American father. Taken from the loving life we had with our mother in the Philippines to America where everything turned into a nightmare. We were nine, eight, six and three. Valorie, Veronica, Vance, and Vincent.

My memories of those four forever years, ran like little movies in my head and would show up when I least expected them. We were on the run, poor, hungry, and had become what you’d call poor white trash. I had no idea what that even meant until a boy, in one of the many schools we attended, called me that. He asked me who I was and where did I come from. I told him I was Veronica from the Philippines. That’s when he said, “You look like poor white trash to me.” What was he talking about and why were people in America so mean?

Living in six states and going to multiple schools, was terrifying. I spent four years praying for my mother to find us and taking care of my three-year-old brother. The four of us children were bonded by love and fear.

Even with this turbulent childhood, I managed to achieve my American Dream; to be a doctor. With success came fancy cars, beautiful condos, influential friends, and couture clothing. I was no longer poor white trash. I had put my nightmare of a previous life presumably behind me. But because those four years haunted me in my sleep, I knew I had to deal with it some way. It got to be so bad, that my marriages, my self-esteem, and self-worth were affected. I had this unrealistic need to be perfect, accepted, and loved.

A friend had mentioned that she journaled. I asked her why and she said it was like writing in a diary when she was a kid, it made her feel better about what was bothering her. It was therapeutic. That was the answer. If I could get it all out on paper, maybe I could let it go. I started journaling about my past. Every movie that popped into my head, I’d write about when I got home in the evenings. I started waking up early to journal. Journaling did help me feel better and at the same time I prayed no one would ever find my journals much less read them.

After my trip in 2002 with my son Francis, I decided to put these journals in some kind of chronological order; like a book and maybe one day, give them to my son. By 2013, after the death of my youngest and last sibling, I realized that what I had in those journals were treasures not humiliations. My story could help someone that felt hopeless or who had given up on their dreams. If they felt unworthy, I was here to tell them how valuable they were. That their past didn’t have to dictate their future. I wanted to tell them that perseverance will pay off.

To please get up because falling doesn’t mean failure. Courage is Fear walking. You may not win every battle but if you don’t fight you won’t triumph in the end. The only weapons you need are kindness and love, especially towards yourself.

My memoir, Have You Seen These Children, was launched August 18, 2020.

I’m free at last.

HAVE YOU SEEN THESE CHILDREN

Four young children caught between love and hate―hostages to the cruelty of revenge. A deceitful American father and a naïve decision by a Filipino mother transformed their lives forever.

Valorie, Veronica, Vance, and Vincent’s perfect world turned into a nightmare one hot afternoon in 1959 in Cebu, Philippines. What was to be a quick lunch with their father turned into a flight to America, where four dreadfully long years of running from state to state, hiding, and vanishing into the night followed. Kidnapped from the only world they knew, confusion quickly set in. At nine, Valorie, the eldest, liked seeing their father after his absence for over a year. Vance, a timid six-year-old, went along with whatever Valorie did. Vincent, the baby at three, cried for his mother while clinging to Veronica for comfort. Veronica, eight, was the only one who was truly panicked by what was happening around them―and she recognized instantly that she and her siblings would have to stick together in order to survive. In that moment, her childhood ended and the warrior within her emerged.

Moving from state to state and school to school, avoiding the law, looking over their shoulders at every turn, the four Slaughter children found themselves fighting not only the heartbreak of separation from their loving mother but also poverty, discrimination, and abuse. Their only weapons were their deep love for one another and an unwavering determination to survive the trials they faced―and find their way back to their mother.

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Dr. Veronica Slaughter was born in the Philippines to an American father and a Filipino mother in 1951. At eight, she, along with her siblings, were kidnapped by their father and brought to the United States. In spite of her turbulent childhood, she was able to achieve the American Dream through her resilience and determination. In 2017, she retired from her thirty-five-year chiropractic practice in California and moved to the beautiful island of Maui, where she continues to live with her many animals. She has one son; he lives in Northern California and is the love of her life.