So as I remember things and think of reasons why I am the way I am, I'm going to blog them.
This all started with me finally accepting that I need to see a psych. I started off with a therapist, whom wasn't directly helpful, but indirectly. She referred me to a psych, who eventually got me to look around for an effective therapist.
My husband and I were having issues, so he Googled for therapists and she was the first one to come up. From the moment we talked to her, I knew she was "the one". She pulled no punches and stated it like it was. Echoing the ideas I'd had in my head and presenting the ones I was afraid to think. She called me out for being a hypocrite in not so many words. She was so effective that I decided to see her by myself.
I've had about 4 sessions with her so far. The things I've learned have been eye-opening. The issues in my childhood. The issues in my adulthood. I've always been one to spurn the whole idea of what happened in your childhood defines you as an adult, but the way she explained it made so much sense. And I'm a very skeptical person.
So now I'm reading a book on Inner Child. When she presented them to me, I initially laughed. I'm not one for new age thinking. But I decided, she's extremely intelligent and why not?
So now, I'm trying to accurately remember my childhood. Accurately, because both my mother and father have passed away. My brain wants to fight any sad memories. I don't want to think of either of them negatively anymore. However, this book explains the ability to remember these memories without villianizing the parent. Knowing, that they too, had their own emotional issues to deal with.
My mother grew up in an abusive household. My grandmother, always a strong character, but dealing with an abusive and controlling husband. My father, always knowing that he wasn't wanted by his mother.
It's ironic. I grew up knowing my father always wanted a son. Knew what my name would have been. Knew that him and my mother hated each other.
The first memories I had were of daycare. For some reason, I can not remember my mother. I'm sure she was there, just not in my memories. I remember being dropped off at daycare. Listening to the song "Queen of Hearts." Interested in this new environment, but a bit afraid. I loved all the activities available to me.
I don't know if that was the same daycare that was on 23rd avenue at the time. I do recall good fuzzy feeling of that daycare, however. I remember the daycare on 19th avenue. The kiddy door that I loved. The big wooden playground that felt like a massive pirate ship. The days in summer where we would play in the pool. I remember my mother dropping me off. But I was so excited to be at such a fun place, that there was no fear. It was just another place to go to.
After daycares, I remember Kindergarten at Martin Luther. I always loved school. Loved my teachers. Not so much the kids. But I don't think it started at ML. I remember having a crush on Adam. With the big birthmark on his face. Reading in a large reading tub. Playing on the playground for smaller kids. Walking in a line on the cement. I got called to the principals office for hitting someone one day. My mother came down and explained to the principal that she was proud of me for standing my ground because I was being picked on. She brought me home and I enjoyed that day.
Earliest recollection of my father was when Anne entered the picture. Perhaps he had a renewed need to be father now he was in a relationship? I don't know. But I do remember his camaro. And his motorcycle. He took me for a ride on the back of one and got stopped by the police. It was legal just not safe. He used to put a brown sheet up in the apartment he and Anne shared. And I would "camp" out in their living room.
Wait...earliest memory of mom may have been when she would put me in the bicycle seat and we would ride on her bicycle. I still feel the push and pull of her pushing the pedals. The wind in my hair. The sway of the bike.
As I got older, things became more difficult. My father married Anne (I was bitter because Dad was meant to be with mom.) And my mom married George (a man I bitterly despised for taking my fathers place.) We left my grandmothers and was thrown into a difficult situation. My father would talk badly about George. Preacher with a gun, he would call him. And my mom talked badly of my father. He would never come to the door. Just honk his horn for me to come outside. My mother and grandmother would always detest that. But I suppose they probably detested everything he did.
My father would talk about how dirty I was, or my house. How poor my mom was. He would lavish me with gifts that initially he would send home with me. But eventually he made me keep them (along with my clothes) at his house or otherwise they would come back dirty. This made me feel ashamed. Anne and he would shop at Dillards. Mom and gramma would shop at Savers. We would have Coke and pizza at Dads. We would have homemade meals and entemanns baked goods at Moms.
When we lived with my gramma, mom and I shared a room. I had piled mattresses on top of each other to make one large mattress. Way up high (or at least to me.)
When Donna and Diana came into my world, I was excited! I hated George, but I was so excited to have two new sisters. Donna was initially angry at me, but we became the best of friends. Closer because of the tragedies we suffered. George was a loud and yelling man. I was to pretty much stay out of the way. Play by myself. Donna and Diana said we did things together with George, but I don't remember them. I remember being in the house that Donna and Diana lived in. I was too young to know, but that was their house. The one they shared with their mom. Before Donna left with Yolanda. Diana stayed with us and I idolized her. She was the older sibling I had never had before. I remember singing eye of the tiger and Diana being impressed with my voice. However, in my mind it was me and my Mom against George. Everytime she sided with him, it made me angry. But honestly, I don't think she sided with him much until later days. Whenever he would leave, it would be me and my mom's world again. Watching tv. Eating snacks. Snuggling. How I loved that world. I couldn't wait for him to leave. Whenever they were in their room together it was like a knife to the heart. It was like my mom chose him over me. And I was alone again.
I became an avid reader. I loved books. They were my escape. That and tv and music. I loved to dance. However, I didn't do these things in front of other people. I would always find a little hole somewhere and hide myself and read or dance. That's when I started to really become lonely.
Dad had a new girlfriend. Mom had her husband. Diana and Donna weren't around much. So I was left to my own devices most of the time. My relationships weren't close. I attached myself to other kids who I hung out with but didn't have much of a relationship.
The last true friendship I had when I was a kid, was Aimee. I remember playing Mario Brothers with her when it first came out. Riding on our bikes. Walking barefoot over to her house. However, I also vaguely remember her brother trying to talk me into doing things I should not have been doing. I was found naked with him and Aimme one time. I still feel shame over that. I vaguely remember something behind a playhouse as well. Although, what exactly happened is blocked from memory.
After that, was a string of friends that I never really got close to. When we lived in South Phoenix, mom worked for a church. I would help her out with stuff, however the paster had two kids. I would play with them on the grounds. And sometimes we would look at her fathers Playboys that she found. Or play doctor. All of which I felt shame for as well.
It was difficult for me to make friends. Even harder to keep them. We moved each year. From school to school And the older I got, the rougher the crowd was. I was picked on for being a redhead and having freckles. I had a friend that would only be my friend when no one was looking. I was picked on in line at the cafeteria. I always found a friend or two that accepted me, but my friendships were more out of desperation than an actual kinship. Look! Someone that finds me valuable enough to actually stick around!
In high school I developed a friend in Bobbie. A girl who had taken me under her wing and befriended me when no one else would. I became close to her and admired her for her beauty and her smartness. We would both compare our grades. However, she smoked pot and I did not. Her boyfriend smoked even more pot. But they allowed me into their little group and thats when I realized that it was the nerds and the geeks who were my friends. Who I aspire to be. I didn't want to be perfect anymore. Pretty and skinny yes, but intellect and quirkiness were the way to go. I was always drawn to nice people and those with an affinity to life and risk. We stayed friends until we moved from Maricopa my senior year.
Ripped out and placed somewhere new again, I went to school in the mornings and worked in the afternoon. There was no time for relationships now. And I was even more miserable as mom and George brought a new kid into the house.
My brother Josh. Poor kid. Neglected and left with a bad foster home. My mom embraced him and I suppose this is what started my mentality of being independent. I felt for the kid. George had told me he didn't want to adopt, but my mom forced his hand. She loved this kid. I loved this kid but felt horribly awkward with him. Boys were so messy.
I rejoined my old church, got involved in peer counseling, and met my future husband. First man to say he loved me. He needed help, therefore he needed me. It was a mistake. Mistake after mistake after mistake. He was addicted to drugs. trying to reform but never quite made it. I had to support him for quite sometime. I kept believing that things would change, but they never did.
Goodness, that's enough for tonight. I have left out my brother and sister. Many other things. The story of my first marriage is a doozy and I don't have the time or energy for it right now.
Perhaps next time.
