Saying goodbye has never been a fun thing for me. Individuals come in and out of you life for so many reason they are here or there for us through a period of transition, awareness and lessons. The belief is when we are children, we were brought into this world by 2 people who are to love us to the fullest, to have them be there at every special occasion;support us when in need, send us to school and help expenses of life. That is what I was taught in school, through the series of chapters in my life, as a parent myself. I cant imagine, neglecting the needs of your children for the selfish acts of the parents. Shame on any of you, who do this. It has all been a journey which has taught me love, sincerity, desire, figment of your imagine emotion and sorrow. None, which I believe as humans we all may never experience. In the last year, I have asked professionals and doctors a series of questions and have done my own social experiments, to help me see the whole world around me.
It was a weird kinda day, I was with my Mom and my brother went with my Dad at the separation. I have zero recollection of moving out, or the grief through it all. I have never been able to ask crucial question regarding my childhood and if I ever find the time and resources I might just do that. We were living in an upper apartment of a large home unit with 2 or 3 units within it. It was a shared bathroom ,which was the first for me. Going in at a young age to shower alone, knowing strangers were nearby was unnerving. I can still see the colour of the paint on the walls, a light blue, the colour wasn’t appealing. There was a certain smell to it, old and musty. My Mom and I had to share a bed. It was ok, but she became very much selfish in her ways. I knew she was gone lots, I cant remember if she was still working or not at the hospital; or not. I went from a disconnected family, to another disconnected environment and relationship.
I can remember a few days where I was alone. I can remember having some change in my small pocket and walking into the town to get some of those animal crackers at the closest dollar store. Odd as it seems why is a young girl, doing all alone buying groceries for the house as she was hungry. It wasn’t odd for me as my brother and I were ;left so many times to fend for ourselves. We were used to “Get Outside, Play … alone or with each other. I don’t remember anytime… they “played” with me when I was a kid. It will all reveal in time; my little brain didn’t know it yet.
The day she was in this kind of mood, almost edgy, She yelled at me to get ready for Church, she had me baptised in some weird church early on. Those times are all such a weird blur, hard to fill in the blanks. I had said I didn’t want to go , I was tired. It seemed that we were always on the go, here and there. Visiting her side of the family lots, which was short lived. Later , we drove across Canada in another bizarre journey, stalking the Edmonton Oilers, who actually some knew my Mom and had phone numbers. Weird, Crazy stuff hey?
After saying No, I wasn’t going. She had said she was calling my Dad, to go and get me, if I wasn’t going to do what she wanted me to. I then said go ahead as I already had been bounced around from place to place and I had no leadership, support of love at that young of age. Children around the neighbourhood were loving normal lived, eating 3 square meals a day and sleeping in a warm home. I am eating crackers for breakfast and scraps for dinner. With very little of my belongings? I was away from my friends and old neighbourhood. I wasn’t able do much of anything. I called her bluff, and my Dad picked me back up. I was back, although one person was gone forever.
One time we before the divorce, we hosted our own yard sale in the basement of the house, we layed stuff out on the pool table in the basement we thought they would never miss. I am not sure what we wanted to raise the money for. Later that story was told to him by us, although he wasn’t impressed. What could he do know? His belt wasn’t there.
Another time, I wanted a gerbil so badly and both parent’s had said No; I started resorting to stealing change in my parents cupboards to get what I wanted; I was learning from a neighbour ( I think her name was ? ) who was stealing money and cigarettes from her Mothers purse. That behavior continued until I was caught from my parents smelling like smoke. My parents smoked, so as I kid you would think it was ok to do.
Years prior to all this, they had drinking and parties when they were first married. People came in and out of the house at times. They were big into the bowling clique and we took part of Saturday morning bowling lessens that lead to years of fun competition. We went to parties with our parents to other bowlers homes. Drinking and smoking was a normal occurrence. Daily… weekly. Until the drinking became where my Mother was being hit and smacked around by my Dad.
One night I remember being at my Dads parents (my grandparents house) and they was a major fight. I may be 6? or 7? Maybe at the time. He had been drinking a lot that night and a fight or argument took place. She had left and we left later with him. I can remember him, storming in the house and kicking the bathroom door open, my Mom was in the shower and he pulled her out of it. We were screaming and I can remember watching it all unfold. She was crying, screaming to stop. He had pulled her to the bedroom and threw her on the bed. He was on top of her and he got off and slammed the door. I remember crying under the covers that night.
When the abuse started in the home, I started rubbing satin together as a nervous twitch that allowed me to focus on something other that what was happing; a distraction; a soothing feeling. I still to this day have satin chunks all over the place and during any stressful time you can guarantee that the miles will be put on. Some people have question this “bizarre satin rubbing habit. I always said it comforts me, and it is hurting anyone so Why Not?
It was the start of the emotional walls, brick by brick in a fashion to protect my innocence, unfortunate a virtue that was broken far too young.
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Cannabis Enthusiast : Craft Edible Creator : Recreation and Leisure Professional : Blogger
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