Carver's search for peace set in stone
Rankin Inlet man on the path to healing after fight with PTSD, alcoholism
Cody Punter
Northern News Services
Wednesday, August 10, 2016
RANKIN INLET
Johnny Aupilardjuk puts down his dremmel and holds two pieces of inushuk-shaped stone up to the fading daylight.
After being satisfied that they are ready to be polished he looks at his watch and darts across his tiny workshop toward a dust-covered boom box.
Aupilardjuk says he always makes sure to turn the dial to CBC right at 9 p.m. so he can listen to Sinnaksaut, a call-in show in which the community's elders reminisce about their history, their culture and their lives.
For the 35-year-old carver who has had his share of ups and downs their words of wisdom are just one the many things helping on his journey toward healing.
"I always imagine myself in their boots and living on the land," he says in between drags of his cigarette. "It helps me think twice."
By his own admission, Aupilardjuk has lived a hard life and he has the scars to prove it. He joined Rankin's volunteer firefighter service at the age of 19. It wasn't long until he had to respond to his first call for an unconscious person, who ended up dying as a result of huffing propane.
"I panicked because it was my first time ever," he recalls. "From there it all went downhill."
Although he had been drinking from a young age he started to rely heavily on booze to block out what happened. More deaths encountered on the job - an infant suffering a crib death, a gun shot wound to the head, a hanging, alcohol poisoning - only pushed him closer to the edge.
"All those deaths angered me and led to my alcoholism," Aupilardjuk says.
It wasn't all bad though. In his 13 years working as a firefighter he and his department represented Nunavut in three national firefighting championships. In his first two years the team was crowned the most sportsmanlike each year. And by the third year the team had gone from finishing in last to third place, thanks to the third place team being disqualified.
"To go from dead last to third place was pretty amazing," Aupilardjuk says with a look of pride on his face.
Before he turned 30 he had children with three women, none of whom he is in touch with anymore. At one point he was found guilty of assaulting one of them and he served time in jail for it, the first of two times he would be behind bars.
"Three ladies, I'm not proud of that. It was because of alcoholism that I lost those relationships," he says. "I was destroying those lives which I regret painfully."
The emotional scars he was accumulating were accompanied by a nasty complement of physical injuries: a broken index finger which he got by trying to protect a steel-toe boot to the head when he was passed out; a severed tendon in his thumb from trying to cut caribou with an ulu when drunk.
The last straw for Aupilardjuk was a stretch of four months in which he lost his biological father and his adopted farther Mariano Aupilardjuk, as well as his two nephews committed suicide.
After 13 years working as firefighter, one night he drank six 40-ounce bottles of vodka with two other friends and another two on his own, before deciding to take his own life. He went to the fire hall, got into his uniform, made a noose and hung himself.
"I woke up when I was hanging and I had my fire gear on. I guess I woke up from being blacked out when I was unable to breathe properly," he says. "Then I realized I had kids at home."
Following his unsuccessful attempt, Aupilardjuk's sister convinced him to seek professional help, something which he says saved his life. After an assessment in Rankin Inlet he was sent down to Mamisarvik, a long-term addictions counselling facility in Ottawa, where he was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and a severe alcohol addiction. It was also where he would discover his love of carving - a passion which has helped keep him sober since then.
In the years since he has started carving he has found a way to make money and do something which makes him happy too. Sometimes he can spend days pondering over a piece of stone or ivory, his favourite material to work with, before he knows how it will turn out. For the most part he likes to make smaller Inuit inspired earrings, only occasionally focusing on larger sculptures.
"I've got lots of patience for jewellery," he says. "But not a lot of patience for soapstone."
Aupilardjuk still gets flashbacks, and anxiety attacks. They can be set off because of a smell or a sound, especially when he is in crowded spaces. When that happens he knows he has to focus on his breathing to try and ground himself and control his emotions. But ultimately he says being able to work with his hands helps him get through the day.
"I fight my anxiety through my carvings." he says.
Aupilardjuk's fight to come to terms with his mistakes has been paralleled with a search for forgiveness from those that he has hurt. When he returned from treatment he penned a letter of apology to the fire department, the hamlet, and the SAO. In it he expressed regret for the damage he had done to the community.
His remorse with was met with understanding and he was ultimately forgiven. But there are still some in the community who see him as the same person he was before he got sober.
"I wish people could understand the things I can't explain," he laments.
Aupilardjuk realizes that may never happen. As he continues to heal what's important is making sure the five children he is raising with his common law don't repeat the mistakes he made.
"I don't know what the future brings. I just want to raise my kids to be good people, not the way I was living in the past," he says.
