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Chapter 7 : Notice Me

Alone often in my thoughts, not all my childhood was sad or odd.  Just a child, that’s where confusion sets in. As you grow , you watch your surroundings and you learn from your surroundings because that’s all you come to know. If you learn yelling as a form of communication during troubled times, you as an adult are quite possible going to use yelling, as that is what the brain learned. I don’t think I was a true troubled child, as often as I was spoke of. What I will say is I was different, I can remember when my parents we before the divorce, laughter, game playing and jumping in the leaves. Trips too my grandparents house and spending time at their cottage, having Smore’s on the rock and fireworks at the end of the dock. Memories that didn’t last very long, cut short a chapter of my life that ended too soon. Left to wonder why MY life puzzle was made with missing pieces. What was the purpose of that? Memories are few and far between. I only wish as an adult, I can close my eyes, hear and see more love, more laughter, more hugs. Often feeling robbed from something, I think I should have been entitled too, I was born right? Who asked me, if that is what i wanted? Someone had plan for me and it wasn’t my parents or step parents.

It’s a story I’ve never heard before not even close to it in all the years I’ve lived. I have searched high and low, listened to others conversations hoping to find someone like me. No where, was anyone like me; Not even remotely close.
Where did things go wrong? I’ve been often left to feel as though it was my fault but how could it be that was an innocent child growing so quickly and acting so Oddly a young age. Let me explain,

How does a young child know the difference between right and wrong unless they’re tired or not taught. Are young child who has not matured cannot understand the difference between normal and abnormal. Yeah at such a young age although I enjoy things children my age enjoyed I can remember smoking cigarettes not just once or twice but started at such a young age and became a battle was an adult. I was sneaking alcohol from my parents cabinets even as young as the fad of bringing milk and the milk bottle from a baby bottle and drinking it but I do remember adding clear liquor into that bottle at one time at a very young age.
I remember one night so vaguely and I’ve only spoke of this once. It was to a stranger, that stranger being a psychiatrist. The psychiatrist I spoke to at 21 years old.
I can’t remember how old I was but I could remember being in the basement of the old house and I can remember music been on upstairs and I had a friend over we were told to never go behind the bar and behind the bar was another room that we were not allowed to go in it was like storage for my dad made his wine I’m thinking. The same fridge I kept my tonsils in, for show in tell in Grade 1. Which I can still remember reaching in to take to school, 30 some years ago.
I can almost remember a 20 inch gray coloured old-fashioned television and I remember turning it on and as we look for stuff to watch we came across “Pornography” something back in those days you couldn’t block from the television. We watched that night for a short time and then we kind of inquired about what they were doing on the television. That memory has been with me all my life and it’s disturbing. It is something I’ve tried to figure out on my own but later needed to involve some specialized people to help me work through who I was and what I wanted in my life. Later on it will paint a picture that I may not want to understand. Or it could be part of that strange behaviour but I’ll continue to talk about.

See as a come to learn as an adult children can be born with genetic mental health issues just like anything. There are red flags through our life they give us clues to something is wrong and it was my parents job to see those clues, correct The behaviour and make sure their guidance for me is stronger than ever. I never got a chance to grow up ever was supportive parents. There has been no continuity routine of growth and development in my life, it is something that I had to manifest myself and learn through my own mistakes how to be a proper human being so that I can raise my children with respect, sympathy and compassion for other people.
I can see they tried, but as you will come to learn in life those that hide behind a mask will eventually show their true colours.
Sometimes I close my eyes and I want to go back to jumping off the dock and fishing in the boat. Looking through magazines wishing I look like Denise Richards again and having crystal clear skin if I use the special Noxzema soap. I can remember being so young and having a pink phone in my room to have no one call it. Constantly changing my room around so much because I got bored quickly. The last I could remember is listening to Paula Abdul, Madonnas “Immaculate” record.  I remember dancing with revealing clothing and using candy cigarettes and acting like an adult when I played in my room at times. Was I maturing quicker, or was a child so lost, trying to find themselves in a world of noise.


Yet there is another side of this wild child that is rare and unique in  this world, especially at a very young age of 11. I can still remember as though it was yesterday I can still remember the smell of her saliva on her hands. Kathleen was handicap and she didn’t understand much. She had a worker but sometimes she was left near the front of the school on recess. Kathleen used to clap her hands together, rub them and suck on the one from her hands to be red and chapped in the winter time and they weren’t pleasant. Most children don’t want to deal with stuff like that but I was different I stood up for Kathleen as kids made fun of her on the playground and I always made sure that her coat was on and their mitts for in there. All my life I’ve carried around envelopes of achievements from all years of my life, compiling into a 2 inch thick binder I’m proud of. I got an award in grade 5 for being sincere and brave. Later On, will reveal a career path of sincerity and compassion, more than most individuals can give.

There is another time I was hanging out at the low rentals, a few blocks away and I met someone by the name of Carla. This was a community of cheaper housing for those on Social Assistance or Welfare. Her townhouse with smelly and dirty , she didn’t have many friends of course, yet I was the one who cared.  I still remember asking my parents if we could adopt her and they told me no. I allowed her to try on some of my clothes and I think I gave her some later giving me a wonderful dose of scabies. I still can remember my mom rubbing that cream on my body because I have worms from sharing clothing was someone else who had it. Who would’ve known, six or seven years later I would be other foster kids convention and she was my partner how ironic was that.
I still have never figured out yet what ever happened to Carla or how a child can be so disconnected yet so ready to take on the world.
So with that life being over, my mom left us with my Dad, travelling the West Coast with a suitcase. sitting in a room alone looking next to me to a bed that belongs to a stepsister who doesn’t understand me or even wants to and I decided to return the favor. I don’t know much about the day I got the knife. Just like the other times there was some laughter and if you are the memories. Again there’s been so many warning signs red flags now with a new set of eyes to see them yet no one took notice.

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Cannabis Enthusiast : Craft Edible Creator : Recreation and Leisure Professional : Blogger
A Craft Edible Experience

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