I never really got to believe in Santa Clause. I can barely remember the one Christmas I did though, and we saw the little Santa tracker on the news. That meant it was time for us kids to get to bed. I remember looking out my window and hoping to see Santa fly by with his reindeer to bring us presents...
This was crushed when I was 6 or 7, maybe younger. My mom decided she had to tell us the truth because she didn't think she was going to be able to get us anything for Christmas. That's actually very sad, and she did work and everything, but I personally would have waited until I knew for sure that I couldn't buy even a single gift for each child! We never would have even known if we celebrated a day or a few days late- we were really little kids! But, I guess that's what my mom felt she had to do.
Now, even though my kids are starting to get older and figure out there is no Santa, I still go along with it... it's just fun to pretend and believe in something!
Life wasn't so bad until my parents got divorced. Of course, by the time it finally happened I was so afraid of my dad that I wanted him gone. But once he was gone, it was like all the anger was taken out on us- on ME.
I remember when I first knew that black people existed, I was just so fascinated! I wanted a black baby doll SO BAD but my dad wouldn't allow it. He said it would make me grow up to actually have a black baby (which I did!) Actually I had 2, so maybe he was right. Or maybe I just wanted what I wanted no matter what color dolls I had.
One Christmas morning I woke up and was opening presents... lots of Barbie dolls... and... a BLACK baby doll! I was so excited! I started yelling "A BLACK BABY!! LOOK I GOT A BLACK BABY!" I was going on about it for a few minutes before my mom said to me "That's not for you! That's for your sister!"... I had to give my black baby, the only thing I really wanted, to my sister who never even mentioned a black doll. I loved the doll. When my sister got her, she just sat her on the floor... not even impressed with it. If the doll really was supposed to be for my sister, why wouldn't she have also gotten me one- I was the one who asked for it. If that situation happened with my kids, one opened the others gift and loved it while the one it belonged to didn't even look twice, I wouldn't even say anything.
I know that my mom got that baby for my sister and put my name on it hurt me. She wanted me to be jealous and I know that's the reason...
I can only remember one Easter. I remember a few bits and pieces from a 2nd. one too, but this particular Easter memory has stuck with me the strongest...
Me and my sisters and brother were hunting for eggs. I found one that was too high for me to reach, so I asked my older sister to help me get it. When I showed her where the egg was, she took it and put it in her own basket. She said to me "You don't need this, you just want the extra fat!" And when I told my mom, she didn't say a word... She wanted my siblings to make fun of me. In fact, she encouraged it.
We never had holiday traditions when I was a kid. I always wanted them, and tried to present them to my mom but was always shot down. They all made fun of me for wanting the family to say something they were thankful for on Thanksgiving, my mom didn't bake so there were no Christmas cookies- we didn't even leave Santa milk and cookies that I can remember.
So many holiday traditions, and we didn't have any! So now that I have kids, I do all of the things I wanted to do... we decorate our tree together while listening to Christmas music or watching a Christmas show, the kids are allowed to stay up past bedtime to watch Christmas specials, we bake cookies for Santa... everything.
I really only remember a little bit about Halloween also... I remember dressing as a witch and my bag ripped while we were trick or treating. My brother and sisters and my dad (I think my mom might have been driving so we could get in when we got tired) were all way ahead of me. When I stopped to pick up my candy, I was lost from them. It was pretty scary to me, I don't even remember catching up to them but I obviously must have.
I often wondered as a kid, and while growing up and even still, if treating me like shit was the plan or what reason it happened. I remember thinking I must be a bad person, or I must have done something really bad, maybe I was a bad person in a past life, but for whatever reason, I always felt like God was punishing me. Now who knows if I'm being punished for being a bad person- if I ever was- or the reason my life has turned out the way it has because of the choices I made... which is the most likely scenario, but one thing for sure is I turned out the way I am today because of the way I was treated and how I was raised.
In a lot of ways, being treated so bad has helped me but it has also hurt me. It has made me a good mother in some ways and a terrible one in other ways.
All of that will be explained here later...
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Childhood...
When most people think about their childhood, they think of mostly happy thoughts, maybe some bad also.
They probably think back about fun times with their families and friends, mom cooking wholesome meals, helping with homework, giving hugs and kisses, dad teaching them to ride their bike, build a tree house, maybe how to play sports or fish... When I think about my childhood, here are just a few things I remember...
shopping for school clothes and standing in a public, very crowded dressing room with my mom while I tried on clothes and she yelled "HOW can you be wearing such a big size pants?! You're almost as big as me! Why are you so big? You GOTTA lose some weight! Look at you!"... I remember looking down at someones feet in the dressing room beside us and thinking "When I come out of here, everyone is going to be looking at me and laughing at the nasty fat girl!"
I remember coming into school late since we didn't have an alarm (you cant have an alarm without power) to wake us up, and walking to my class with dirty mismatched clothes, matted hair and a growling stomach and having a teacher stop me to tell me "We have your brother in the office... He says he's hungry, are you hungry too?" Then being taken to the cafeteria for some food before going to my class to envy all the clean, well groomed and nicely dressed little boys and girls. I would often dream about being them and how wonderful their lives must have been.
I remember my mother telling me that it was no wonder nobody wanted to be my friend- just look at me! Who would want to be friends with ME! Besides being fat, I dressed like a bum. Of course that was my fault... how, I'll never know.
I remember having to be woken up in the middle of the night to leave our house on several occasions because we were afraid my father was going to kill us, and I remember him and my uncle putting all of our cats and kittens into a garbage bag and beating them to death with crow bars... I didn't see this happen, but for some reason, my mother decided to tell us about it. My youngest sister was less than 3, my brother was about 5 and I was around 6... Why she would decide to tell us that story about our dad- true or not- was completely inappropriate at those ages!
I remember having no electricity or heat, which also meant no hot water or phone, and having to burn our toys (at least my oldest sister who was about 13 or 14 at the time said it had to be done for heat), and having no food in the house. I would go to the refrigerator over and over, as if by magic some food might appear. I did find some cans of Slim Fast though. That was a must! Don't wanna get fat!
I remember going to the nice, warm, comfortable house of my Christian grandparents less than a mile down the street to be fed. My grandmother had made grilled cheese sandwiches with ham or some sort of meat inside, and I ate maybe 2 or 3 sandwiches. Of course that was a lot for a little 6 year old girl to eat, but I didn't know when I was going to get another meal so I had to eat while I had the chance. Then when I got home, I found out my bitch of an aunt had called my older sister, (who already despised me for having to stay home and babysit me while my mom worked) and told her that I ate 12 sandwiches. (This was one of the brief periods of times we had a phone) I already was made fun of for being fat and now my mom and sister got to laugh in my face and tell me how disgusting I was for eating.
Having my own kids, I can't even imagine treating them that way. I would never put my child down, especially for something that was my fault. Like for instance, you may be wondering "If you had no food, how were you fat?" That's actually very interesting, and I wondered that my entire life. Since our house caught on fire, supposedly all of our photos were lost. I didn't even think there were any photos of me in existence until years later. The real funny thing is, I was not fat as a young child. Not even chubby. But the older I got, the bigger I got. Of course I never knew I wasn't fat- I was always told I was! So I when I did get the chance to eat, I gorged.
Maybe me being fat was the reason my mom kicked me and knocked me down in the gravel driveway to keep from getting in a picture with my 'precious' little sister- she was good enough to take pictures of, she wasn't fat and nasty like I was. My brother was just as precious, being the only boy. My older sister was'nt skinny, but for some strange reason, she was never made fun of. She did get beat though, worse than the rest of us. And my mom was fat herself so she had no room what so ever to call anyone else fat.
So many fond memories, I don't know where to end this...
Stay tuned for my fun filled holiday memories!
They probably think back about fun times with their families and friends, mom cooking wholesome meals, helping with homework, giving hugs and kisses, dad teaching them to ride their bike, build a tree house, maybe how to play sports or fish... When I think about my childhood, here are just a few things I remember...
shopping for school clothes and standing in a public, very crowded dressing room with my mom while I tried on clothes and she yelled "HOW can you be wearing such a big size pants?! You're almost as big as me! Why are you so big? You GOTTA lose some weight! Look at you!"... I remember looking down at someones feet in the dressing room beside us and thinking "When I come out of here, everyone is going to be looking at me and laughing at the nasty fat girl!"
I remember coming into school late since we didn't have an alarm (you cant have an alarm without power) to wake us up, and walking to my class with dirty mismatched clothes, matted hair and a growling stomach and having a teacher stop me to tell me "We have your brother in the office... He says he's hungry, are you hungry too?" Then being taken to the cafeteria for some food before going to my class to envy all the clean, well groomed and nicely dressed little boys and girls. I would often dream about being them and how wonderful their lives must have been.
I remember my mother telling me that it was no wonder nobody wanted to be my friend- just look at me! Who would want to be friends with ME! Besides being fat, I dressed like a bum. Of course that was my fault... how, I'll never know.
I remember having to be woken up in the middle of the night to leave our house on several occasions because we were afraid my father was going to kill us, and I remember him and my uncle putting all of our cats and kittens into a garbage bag and beating them to death with crow bars... I didn't see this happen, but for some reason, my mother decided to tell us about it. My youngest sister was less than 3, my brother was about 5 and I was around 6... Why she would decide to tell us that story about our dad- true or not- was completely inappropriate at those ages!
I remember having no electricity or heat, which also meant no hot water or phone, and having to burn our toys (at least my oldest sister who was about 13 or 14 at the time said it had to be done for heat), and having no food in the house. I would go to the refrigerator over and over, as if by magic some food might appear. I did find some cans of Slim Fast though. That was a must! Don't wanna get fat!
I remember going to the nice, warm, comfortable house of my Christian grandparents less than a mile down the street to be fed. My grandmother had made grilled cheese sandwiches with ham or some sort of meat inside, and I ate maybe 2 or 3 sandwiches. Of course that was a lot for a little 6 year old girl to eat, but I didn't know when I was going to get another meal so I had to eat while I had the chance. Then when I got home, I found out my bitch of an aunt had called my older sister, (who already despised me for having to stay home and babysit me while my mom worked) and told her that I ate 12 sandwiches. (This was one of the brief periods of times we had a phone) I already was made fun of for being fat and now my mom and sister got to laugh in my face and tell me how disgusting I was for eating.
Having my own kids, I can't even imagine treating them that way. I would never put my child down, especially for something that was my fault. Like for instance, you may be wondering "If you had no food, how were you fat?" That's actually very interesting, and I wondered that my entire life. Since our house caught on fire, supposedly all of our photos were lost. I didn't even think there were any photos of me in existence until years later. The real funny thing is, I was not fat as a young child. Not even chubby. But the older I got, the bigger I got. Of course I never knew I wasn't fat- I was always told I was! So I when I did get the chance to eat, I gorged.
Maybe me being fat was the reason my mom kicked me and knocked me down in the gravel driveway to keep from getting in a picture with my 'precious' little sister- she was good enough to take pictures of, she wasn't fat and nasty like I was. My brother was just as precious, being the only boy. My older sister was'nt skinny, but for some strange reason, she was never made fun of. She did get beat though, worse than the rest of us. And my mom was fat herself so she had no room what so ever to call anyone else fat.
So many fond memories, I don't know where to end this...
Stay tuned for my fun filled holiday memories!
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