Most people have childhood memories. The people I've talked to have detailed memories of what happened to them or around them. I do not. I have memories, I can remember a situation, but not the details. I only remember the gist of what happened, like a movie trailer of my life.
I know that home was never a happy place. There were happy moments that were killed by what might happen next. I'm not sure they were even happy, they just weren't bad. We all just existed in our house, emotion of any kind wasn't allowed. I remember always walking on eggshells.
Except Jenny. I wish I could remember things the way she does. I have no details, I know I said and did whatever would make dad happy, because thats how I could survive. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't.
I remember Gary and Dave getting beatings. But most of the time all I remember is being in my room covering my ears, wishing it would just end. I could feel the anger to my core and it would make me physically ill. I would sit there and wonder why, then just cry, because I didn't know why or how to make it stop. I would also make plans to shoot dad with his shot gun. My fear is that he wouldn't die, and everything would just get worse.
My abuse was mostly emotional. I was canstantly put down, but so were Gary and Dave. I did get knocked into a few walls and kicked or punched in the gut. But not nearly as bad a they did, or as much. Reading these blogs from Gary and Jenny, I wish I had the courage to shoot dad, and just end all that misery for everyone.
Maybe I blocked most of it out, my way of dealing with it? Maybe I was never around when most of it happened...I just don't know. I don't have memories of mom being there, but I know she wasn't. All I have are small clips of my childhood. Maybe there just isn't much to remember?
I look forward to reading what Gary and Jenny write..I rember the situations just not the details or why certain things happened. I'm going to work on this.
Thanks guys! I love you!!
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It's called repression--you've just blocked the unpleasant memories and unfortunately that comprised 95% of your childhood--so, yup, a movie trailer would be what's left. A lot of my memories were brought out in my years of therapy or remembered through journals or hearing snippets from you guys that would bring back the details. It's in there if you really want to dredge it. How strong is your stomach? Mine, I found out, wasn't quite strong enough to handle it all (when therapy started so did Crohn's if you remember). 17 years later (after the dredging started) I'm okay with it all again. You may just want to stick with the okay stuff you can remember and remember the other stuff vicariously through us :-) I love you too.
ReplyDeleteYour pain was no less brutal than ours, just different ( I recently read somewhere something about perception and reality, hmmmm).
ReplyDeleteKilling Dad was something we all wanted (which is just a metaphor for ending all of the bad and beginning happy times. I think I saw that on a rerun of Frasier :). But don't beat yourself up over not actually doing anything. Have you taken a good look at a 15, 16, or 17 year old kid lately? They're just kids! We were raised to fear him. He was huge and insane! (at least that was the perception! And physically he was big, compared to us.) NOT OUR FAULT! It was his doing not ours.
Now, as far as your memories are concerned, Jen's right they're just repressed, not gone. When you think about it you've got about 9,829,491 minutes of memories just while living at home. You've got more than just trailers (great analogy, by the way) in there. Start with good memories (even if they're just tid bits) like hanging out with friends in high school, forget about home life. These are just the names I came up with off the top of my head: Jean & Diane Foster, Jean Haskins, Margo, Mary, Sue F., Connie, Steve P., Steve C., Mark Kane, Paul Shunk, Rob Trumble, etc., etc., and I didn't really know everybody you were friends with and that's just high school. I know I can come up with names from grade school and middle school like Dawn Bronk and Jennifer Finklestein.(nothin wrong with my memory :)) Pick one name, one memory (a good one) and write about it. You'll be amazed at what other memories will be attached to them. Before you know it you've got 18 years worth. 1 minute at a time.
You are loved, you just have to drop the draw bridge and let it come in. And, this is just my opinion, when you let go of your sympathetic feelings for Dad (yes you do have them, you often feel sorry for him)and realize that he was a piece of shit (I am not saying that out of bitterness either, I'm looking at it as a grown man and a father myself), he was a terrible father, dad, provider, example, role model etc., etc., you will be on your way to looking at those memories as just moments in time that when combined together become your story. Kay.
Love you. Read ya later.