I sometimes hesitate anymore to write when I’m having bad days. I’m really not sure if there’s a point to it other than it helps me to get these things out. I don’t know that anyone else really cares or even reads it so I guess in the big scheme it’s just myself and doesn’t matter. I feel pretty lost today. I can’t pinpoint the reason which is something I always feel like I have to be able to do. I guess today I just feel really sad. I’m starting to wonder if it’s loss related or if it’s just who I am. I’m not sure. I was reading one of those Facebook quizzes yesterday that claim to tell you about your personality, etc. Occasionally I’ll do them just for fun but rarely post them because I know they’re just for entertainment value, but the one I did yesterday…last night actually…asked about your early memories. I’ve thought about that a lot before. My early memories are not happy ones. When I think back on my childhood I don’t remember a lot of happy. I’m sure there was happy but I don’t know why it’s the sad ones that are there, it bothers me sometimes that my early memories are attached to emotions of fear and sadness and emptiness. Is that just because of who I am? My personality makeup? Or is it caused by events and situations? I don’t know that I’ll ever know. I don’t suppose it really matters. I think that these things formed me though. I remember as a child, that I felt unimportant and that definitely carried into adulthood. It’s nobody’s fault. When you grow up in a large family it’s hard to receive the nurturing that you need to really thrive. I don’t fault my parents or anyone else. Everybody is different and this is just my story and not a reflection on anyone else, nor anyone else’s story. It’s just me.
I think I’m at a point where I need to really deal with the sad, because I don’t think I need to let it continue to define me. Writing will help me with that, and I really need to say – I don’t want sympathy…this is just my vehicle…my tool to try to heal. It’s not intended to be complaining or “woe is me”…I just need to explore the reasons for the sad so that I can let it go. There is a lot to my story that absolutely nobody knows except myself and God and it will probably remain that way. But if I can get at least some of the painful memories out into the open then maybe I can take some huge steps in the right direction…but I’m starting with baby steps, which for the reader probably equates to boring steps 🙂 .
So…memories…my earliest memory is standing in the living room at night with three of my siblings. I must have been only a couple of years to three years old because of where we lived. We must not have been quietly going to sleep because we were being told that if we weren’t good we would be sleeping the night in the garage. Not a big deal right? I just remember though that I was sooo afraid. And that’s my memory. That’s all I remember of that.
I don’t know why that incident has stuck with me all of these years or why that is the particular one my psyche held onto.
My next memory was when I was a little older…possibly four or five. I was sleeping and all of a sudden woke up because my Dad had hit me with a belt. I don’t know why…he may have thought it was funny for all I know. But why does that isolated memory stay with me? I know we were disciplined in ways that today would not happen. It was a different world then. “Spare the rod..spoil the child” was a prevalent attitude. Was it a necessity with so many children? I don’t know…but I know it’s not a form of discipline that I needed in any way.
I remember a metal fly swatter that left welts…because as young children we forgot to brush our teeth after dinner one night. Overkill I think…right?
I remember playing a board game with older cousins and feeling inconsequential…unimportant and unwanted.
Why are these my prevalent memories?
When I was school age kindergarten was not required. My parents chose not to send us. I have a late birthday…November 23rd…so off to first grade I went…at five years old. I was so shy and sensitive. I didn’t know anyone at all because I hadn’t had the kindergarten experience. The other children had and were comfortable with each other. I adored my teacher…Mrs. Kucera…but I didn’t like the two boys that insisted on pinning me to the ground when a teacher wasn’t around, so that they could kiss me. I know…it was little boy games, right? But for me it was mortifying and scary. I found two friends that would try to protect me from the bullies…(because that’s what they were…all of the way through high school) but it was scary and the boys were mean. They would track me down at recess too, and after I found the friends to help me, they were angry so they would try to push me down stairs when we were in the building. Not sure what I did to garner the unwanted “attentions” but I venture to guess that the fact I was quiet and alone made me a good target. Nice kids right? To a little five/six year old girl this was really difficult.
I don’t know…I suppose all of these things are just normal kid stuff…I’m just trying to sort through things. Since these are my memories then they are over-riding the good ones and I have to sift through them and let them go.
I’m actually going to stop for now because this is a bit exhausting for me. (What you don’t know is I’ve had to rewrite this a few times for it to make sense at all.)
So…if you’ve managed to read to this point, I commend you…it’s a rather boring read today. I don’t know if it will help me or not. We will see soon enough.