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After watching some of the drama around the lounge, I thought about how we could understand each other more clearly. I love those people who were having trouble, most of them have done so much good and tried to help anyone in need. They are good people, not perfect people. I started to think about how they could be so misunderstood since I see them so differently. (Don't get me wrong, I have a bad temper and have said things I regret, but I always get over the "mad", so I do understand that part.)
I know that we all have our share of pain that makes us vulnerable and defensive. I figured I'd start with me, as hard as this is, I wanted to give everyone a chance to be heard and to be seen as who they really are, if they feel the need.
I have not shared too much about myself here and what I have has been just bits and pieces. I suppose this is as a good a place as any to introduce myself and ask those of you brave enough to introduce yourselves too. I'll start at the beginning.
I was conceived in Germany, my father was a Master Sergent in the US Army, and I was born in the US. I was born early one September morning in an Army hospital placed just a mile or two from the pacific ocean. My parents were older than most parents by the time I came along and they were firmly established Army people, used to disruption and moving.
I had a normal birth except for the fact that the doctor wasn't prepared for my arrival and forced my mother to sit upright until he got his gloves on. :eyes: I was perfectly normal except that I was missing my left hand. This caused a great deal of concern to my parents and doctors and so I spent the better part of the next two years of my life commuting from my home to a hospital in LA. I never understood what the big deal was because to me I was normal. For instance I learned to jump rope when I was two (single rope with one end tied to my left wrist) and never felt in the least bit handicapped. I had more trouble with others reaction to me than I have ever had by just being born one handed.
We moved to Texas before my third birthday where I was nurtured in and by the desert. The town I lived in was spectacular at that time. The days were hot and the nights were cool. I chased butterflies and caught horny toads, lizards and fireflies. We were allowed to play in the yard long after the sun had gone down and so we played games that we made up. When I was four I became a bride and married the boy two doors down, I really did wear a slip on my head at my sisters insistence as this was a double ceremony and she was already a perfectionist by age six, she married the boy next door. I also became acquainted with death as I became very ill and nearly died just months after moving. I spent a month in the hospital watching my ward mates come and go as they either recovered or died.
I was always different but didn't put the pieces together until I was much older. I was very sensitive and felt pain when others were hurting. I took on a lot and as the family scapegoat was the target of much teasing and shame. I would tell my parents when one of their friends were not nice (I could feel their motives and I was not wrong as if would later turn out). I told them that I had chosen them as my parents, and I thought they were quite unreasonable when they punished me after they found out that I had been taking long walks across dangerous streets miles from home. Both of my parents worked and we were left in the care of a sitter who allowed us to play outside all day unsupervised. I was perfectly happy to just explore and play on my own. By the time I was eight I had built my turtles and Barbies a nice swimming pool under a tree in the back yard, I dug the hole and mixed some cement with water and poured it. It was a grand swimming pool about 18” in diameter. I planted seeds and dutifully took coffee grounds from the house to fertilize them. Alone in my own world I was quite happy.
The problems became much more intense as I grew older. I had judged my parents as too harsh and unfair by the time I could think and by the age of four I ran away for the first of two times. Parents were allowed to spank their children, in fact it was condoned. Unfortunately mine thought it meant beating their children. Life was a nightmare for all five of us. By the time I was fifteen, I and my other siblings had been placed in group homes, none of us together in the same place, except for my sister who found a place to stay with a friend whose parents didn't turn her in. I had a boyfriend at 15, whom I loved and still feel great fondness for and he kept me sane. We didn't end up together because he discovered that he was gay. I encouraged him to find the right partner which turned out to be a wonderful friend of mine. The two of them remained very close to my family and actually looked after my parents in their later years.
The home I was placed in was more for girls who were out of control. At this point I hadn't really even lied to my parents much less had sex or done drugs. This place was a great turning point in my life, I met another boy and I learned so many new things :eyes:
My new boyfriend moved to the east coast and one of my house siblings was a runaway who encouraged me to go after my boyfriend by hitchhiking. Her exact words were, “hitching is easy and the people are nice, you just need to remember to bring an extra pair of socks and lip balm, because you never know how long you'll be on the road.” I took her advice and one day around 5 pm I walked out the door and just started walking until I got my first ride, I have been on my own from that day forward...
The trip took me 11 days, I was raped 4 times, once at gun point.
There are two men, angels, that I will forever remember and be grateful to from this. One was a white used car salesman who wore a cowboy hat and boots and the other was a poor black man. Both of them were beautiful human beings who did everything in their power to help me. God love them because I know I do, they were the true measure of a man and the most decent human beings I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. They gave what they could in the brief time I was with them and neither asked a thing in return.
These are a few of the things from my early life, the foundation that has made me who I am. Life of course went on and I have had many adventures and experiences but these things have helped to form me though they haven't limited me in ways that affect who I am.
We are all a product of our genes and environment, none of us perfect but all of us in need of love and approval. No one deserves our hate and at least until we know their story, we might consider first how they got to where they are.
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