The Adult Child

I was watching a movie of a true story about a woman who was on death row. Throughout the story they tried to convince not only the jury but the viewer that it was because of the womans childhood or lack of upbringing that made her a candidate for murder. I can't remember exactly when I had a conscious understanding of right and wrong but I knew from very early on what didn't feel right or seem right. In many instances we do have roll models that reflect right and wrong. We look to adults in youth groups, neighbors, relatives and yes even other children and their families, etc. Even before we are introduced to the world beyond our own we have an internal understanding of what is expected or what is society's normal. I tried to think about my emotions and my thoughts in what I believed was a world of turmoil.

I can remember being ten years old very clearly. There was a merge of personality still part child and another part of me entering the world of adults. I always thought that any stability that I had came at this particular time but I also had a deep and profound understanding of the dysfunction in which we as children were raised. I thought it was pretty amazing how much you know and understand as a child without even discussing it with anyone. Repeatedly watching attempted murder is like watching a murder being carried out over and over again. The irony was that it was like the Bill Murray movie " Ground Hog Day" it was the same violent and disruptive life style over and over again. I don't believe we became numb to the violence but on the contrary we learned to recognize the signs and expect the worst. My mother was an obvious key, as it was her actions that prepped us both early in the morning and through out the day. I can remember laying across the bed and thinking about all the negativity with in my own life. I don't really recall wondering what my brother and sister thought, in many ways we each were looking for our own out. I believe early on that it was about own survival. The 60's came with their own set of problems, it was a time of rebellion and change in society's structure, especially closer to the 70's. People were talking more and less was being hidden in the closet. Because we really knew it wasn't right, it forced each of us to leave home at an early age, to find an escape. My brother was the eldest he joined the military, my eldest sister fought and earned her right at 16 in the courts when she won her right with minor emancipation. The third born was pregnant as a teen and ended up marrying the baby's father and of course dying way before her time. I went to live with my brother after his release from the military and my youngest sister left in her teens on a road of most would expect from a troubled teen. Choices we were at the age where we could decide to get away and we did. But no matter where we run the memories come with us. Almost all of my life I had this internal drive to run, run as far and as fast I could,but no matter where I went I had to deal with all that happen. I couldn't run fast enough nor far enough and I couldn't hide. The beginning of writing was the first step in standing up and accepting the past as a chapter that happened. Turning the pages and looking ahead to the future without the need to run was not easy but necessary. I understood at this time the importance of facing our ghost and acknowledging that in many ways our tools to achieve were limited to what we were taught as a child. Do I believe my parents loved me, strangely enough I do believe my father did, I thought my mother regretted having children. She always said she didn't want girls and she had four of them. She hated domestics cooking, baking and I can guess really what I learned about all the necessary skills of homemaking came from my eldest sister Lex. I can't ever remember her lovingly combing my hair an when I try to think of the time that was positive with mother in those early years I find it almost impossible. Except for one day when I was really small and I had to have an operation on my feet, I remember crying as they took me from her, " I want my mommie, I want my mommie" In most situations that is what a child wants is to be loved and I guess that is why even though it's wrong we love our abuser. Love is a need no different than food and water and a essential part of our internal human being. Whether our love comes from a dysfunctional parent or an abusive spouse, we seek and need to be loved. I am not sure why that is so, doesn't seem to happen to everyone that way, but as much as I love my parents, I hate them for what they did to five innocent children. I am not proud of that anger that has remained inside of me for so many years and letting it go is in itself therapeutic. I spent the better part of my life trying to understand why my parents were like this and the obvious always surfaces, they were two people who were never meant to come together and have five children. The love between them was weak and they didn't have what it takes to rise above the negative chapters of life. I shall not carry their guilt and yet when push comes to shove I have done all I can to continue to walk without ruffling feathers. Why? Because I am so aware of what people are capable of and I have learned that fear is the ultimate motivator in a dysfunctional family. Once that trigger of fear is pulled the gears are in motion and a life is altered.

Bloom....

I worked a very depressed location this weekend. I called it a reality check to the low middle class. People were opening up with so many personal stories. A few stood out in my mind. Total strangers reaching
out and expressing their most inner thoughts. Those emotions that are many times kept buried.

One woman, I didn’t get a name she was moved by what she read, I felt a sadness as I watched her several times wipe away the tears. I had hoped my words would bring comfort and not stir the emotion of sadness. For me writing was my survival, my escape from reality.

There is a old expression “ you are the company you keep.” I thought about the situations we are thrust into at times, yes, many are dependent upon our own choices, still so much is due to circumstances. The importance of that particular expression is that we are vulnerable to the people around us.

A friend said to me several years back "doubt and fear plays a role in how fast or how well or how far we continue to strive and grow. A good mentor once told me that in order to maintain strength and diligence one must be around strong and positive people. for the negative will drain us surely as a short in a wiring will drain a battery, taking all the positive charge and grounding in to the frame of the vehicle. "

I looked at my present situation, the people around me and the differences in our outlook on life.I found their negativity draining my energy. As much as I wanted to help, help comes to those who ask. I looked at my alternatives, I found that through out my life there has only been two to fight or die. I found a piece I wrote a couple of years back , It was at the beginning of my fight to live.

I had questioned the limit of time that our physical being has in exploring the gifts with which nature showers upon us. The soil rich in nutrients at my finger tips. The garden indeed blessing us with lessons . The flowers seeded , grow stronger with the warmth of the sun and the hint of rain which allows its roots to grow deeper into the earth. Set to bloom the garden threaten by storms that repeatedly conjure up an array of destruction. Beat down continuously the weak not able to overcome the elements allows for the strongest to hold on reaching once more for the sun .
Shall I allow the storms of life to continuously badger the heart . I say not, as I look into the heavens and feel the suns rays warm against my face. I am once again filled with an awakening that challenges my soul to grow, to bloom, to give back all that has been seeded from the time of birth. The lack of nutrients, such as love and warmth , caring and understanding had gone the way of the storm. Replaced with the nourishment of a new beginning. Life gives us a repeated chances to bloom . I shall not look away but accept the gift that was given. Weakened at the roots the stem threaten, forces a bloom. Once compared to a weakened flower, the love , the caring the warmth felt has strengthened the inner being and I flourish amongst the storms of life blooming once more.
The importance in sharing, was in my notion that we are capable of reinventing ourselves it is called survival and that will get us through today.....as I tell myself I will make it through today and I will conquer tomorrow.

It was mandatory family night out at the cinema, the children had chose the Disney movie “Bridge to Terabithia”. At first the movie began to drag a bit as it reflected on the ever so common theme of school bullies, but then it expanded into friendship and fantasy.

The imagination is a very clever tool used by children to survive. It separates you from the current issues. Reality can weigh heavily on you at any age, that I found, I still escaped into the clouds, when the stress of the day surfaced.I watched the movie and then my mind rotating like a pinwheel in the wind, scanned my own life for a comparison. Falling back to the years of childhood, I peered through the window of my own soul. I am not sure at what age I stopped at, It was elementary school age, but the constant moves,make it hard to actually remember, what age at what house. I can't remember anything except for the basement. I guess we must have stayed there for at least a year, but I cannot vision the upstairs of the house, no matter how much I tried. The basement was dark and cool, the floors were of dirt. My parents were on one of their most raging battles. Mother lived upstairs, my father down he had two rooms, one where he ran his television repair shop and the other where he slept.

In the room was a box of mixed matched tea sets and dishes. One tea pot was of the finest china, I remember turning it over and it said from England. Father was a ham operator and he we could communicate with people in Europe, sometimes they would speak in other languages and I remember the feeling of distance as I had no Idea what they were saying.

On the floor made of dirt, I set the tea set, filling the fragile tea pot with water. For a child who had siblings, I felt very much like a only child or is that I was a lonely child. Not instinctively the tom boy like my sisters, slim chance to get them to have a tea party on the dirt basement floor.

Escape, I found that when I needed to get away many times I hid, whether it was for a moment or a hour, but sometimes I didn’t have to hide, my mind was working overtime. The imagination creates the perfect world and your the princess. That's the reflection of childhood fairytales, as we reach out for the" happily ever after. " I explored the world through my mind and this was the gateway to the perfect escape.

I spoke with my sister some months back and asked what she thought of me as she was very maternal and very close to me. She said you had a extraordinary way of blocking out what went on. Did I,? Eyes and ears open, you can’t help but see and hear. She said you very quiet, I thought outloud, that's because my mind was doing all the talking.

Meet me in the clouds, beyond the

darkness of the day.

In a world we’ve created, where only love

is invited to stay.

Dreams unfolding are magical at best

and when I close my eyes, I could be a

princess or a traveler on a quest.

Laughing and giggling, a sponge to all

the tears, as I hold your hand,

there is no room for fear..

The spin within fantasia, blocked the mind at best,
to the clouds I traveled, to escape the mess.

Slipping from the heavens, reality took a hold,
and earth bound I tumbled, as my life un-spooled.


In the sea of emotion, draped in the dark of storm,
the thunder and the lightening seem to be the norm.