My Tickers

Thursday, July 23, 2009

Making a change..........

Flashy Friday will become Thoughtful Thursday and here's why...I'm almost never on the computer on Fridays anymore! Some weeks I work late on Thursday night so I am actually here in the wee hours of the morning on Friday, but more often than not I'm just not here on a Friday. Friday is my day off of work and since I work on the computer I try to avoid it on my day off if I can.
Now for those who are new to (what was ) Flashy Friday, it's my own unique twist on a weekly themed post. I pick 2 or 3 things to have a "flashback" on and tell the lessons I have learned from these things. I flash 2 or 3 events each week, one of which will be from the first 11 years of my life....this is because my first 11 years were filled with abuse and unimaginable things. When I was 11 I was placed in foster care because of these horrid events, but I never fully recovered. Flashy Friday is (was) my cheap therapy and hopefully someone will happen upon it and my words will help them heal as well...for some good must come from the evil. And so, without further ado, here is this weeks Thoughtful Thursday.
I've been doing a lot of reflecting this past week, it seems the older my son gets the more stuff comes back to me. I'm guessing this has a lot to do with the fact that it's becoming easier to remember things that happened when I was his age since early memories in general are fewer and further between. People seem to only remember little bits and pieces of their childhood before they were 7 or 8 years old, and it seems to me the older I get the harder it becomes. However as I watch my son struggle with a punishment recently handed out for wrong-doings or even just watching him play with his cats I suddenly find my mind bringing up things I had completely forgotten about and I am amazed with how wonderful the mind is at protecting its human. If I had remembered some of these things years ago I probably would have been too afraid to do so many of the things I do on a daily basis, honestly I think I would be even more afraid of my own shadow than I already am...if that's even possible! My mind has blocked out so much and a part of me thinks it's because if I were younger I wouldn't be able to deal with it, I wouldn't be able to handle the emotional turmoil. Now that I am "older and wiser" as they say, I can handle more so my mind is slowly opening the window into my world, my life that was. Now that I am older I can look at it, learn a lesson or just release it into the wild and let it go. It's kind of like that pesky little moth that gets into the house when I take the dog flutters around the light for awhile and then it dies, never to be thought of again (or it gets eatten by one of the cats which is even more entertaining to watch lol)
My mother was a scary woman on her best days, I feared her like my son fears getting stolen at the mall. When I was his age I practically begged to be stolen...I remember standing on the side of the road when a big truck would happen to come through, I would stick out my leg, hold up my thumb and pray to the powers that be for that truck driver to stop and take me away. However all they ever did was drive on by, occassionally honking their horn thinking I just wanted to hear the big loud mac truck horn. I always walked away sad thinking I was never getting out, I was never going to get out of that world alive. Once my big brother turned 18 I was done for, I just knew it! See big brother was my keeper, he looked out for me and made sure I survived my youth. Yes, he was a mean big brother sometimes, he would tear the head off my doll and throw the pieces over the porch rail into the mud....and then laugh in my face as I cried....but he also kept me alive LITERALLY! I clearly remember the scar he has on his left breast, the scar he got because he stepped in front of me!
It was late evening, it had been my turn to clear the table and I had forgotten a knife. I was the youngest of 7 chldren, there were lots of plates and forks and knives on the table, but I forgot 1, just 1. Mother screamed my name from the kitchen and it was one of those screams that tears right through you because you know it means trouble. Every child in our house knew that scream, it was something out of a horror movie, you just knew you were going to get it. The knot in your stomach grows and tightens, you feel sick with anticipation...the thoughts start going through your brain..."What did I do?" "What did I forget?" "How bad is this going to be?" You slowly walk out through the living room toward the kitchen...all my brothers and sisters eyes upon me. They knew that scream, they knew I had done something and they knew I was gonna get it yet again. I take deep breaths trying to keep myself strong knowing if I walk in there scared and crying I'm gonna get it so much worse, I must be strong, I must be brave but I truly want to run out the door and never come back! As I walk toward the kitchen door I am aware of my big brother, he's right there near me, his very presense giving me strength to walk as she continues to scream for me to get into the kitchen RIGHT NOW! Then as I walk in the door I find myself walking into my brother as he steps in front of me.....I hadn't seen it coming but he had....all I had heard was "What is this doing on the table? You were supposed to clear the table!" Big brother had seen the knife sailing across the room, he had stepped between me and that knife and he took it for me. If he had not done that it would have gone straight into my eye socket I'm sure, instead it went into his chest. I'll never forget that look on his face, not pain, not shock, it was nothing but a calm rage. You could see the rage in his eyes but he had a calmness that was outside the moment, something out of place. He simply pulled the knife out of his chest, tossed it into the sink, glared into her eyes and said "Don't you EVER do that again" It was calmly stated but you could tell there was a rage there behind those words. he turned and walked away to tend to his wound, my mother silenced by my big brother. I washed the knife dripping with his blood, dried it and put it away. I walked out of the kitchen without a beating that night, saved by a big brother who knew the signs of trouble, a big brother who was stronger than I could ever dream of being.
This past week I took my son to the can see the photos in my previous post. He had a great time but while I was there I couldn't help but be reminded of the very first time I ever went to the beach. We were in foster care and my older sister had this blue bathing was one of those swimsuits that had no top straps, just relied on your boobs to hold it up...well my sister she didn't really have a set (still doesn't but that's beside the point lol) My sister was often refered to as a carpenters dream (flat as a board and never been screwed) once I realized the importance of boobs, I felt sorry for her. ANYWAY....the first time we ever went to the beach was Hampton Beach in New Hampshire with our foster family and as the waves hit my sister she did not know their force. they knocked her over and took her swimsuit with it. She stood up wiping the water off her face totally not realizing that her swimsuit was down by her ankles. I believe the swimsuit was thrown away as soon as we got home and she has never worn one without straps to keep it up since. Of course this was a learning experience for me as well....tan lines are ok as long as your suit is gonna stay up!
And on that note I will leave you for the day, probably the weekend. Hope everyone has a great, fun-filled and rain free weekend :)

1 comment:

Vickie said...

Oh my goodness!! I am sorry that was your childhood! Thank God for Big Brothers!!

Happy SITS Saturday Sharefest!