Hello, all. I am checking in on the second day of my blogging life.
I would like to share a bit about my life.
I was born in and still live in a town called Amarillo in the state of Texas, USA. I was born 3 and 1/2 months premature, and my mom almost died when I was born. But she lived. And besides having Chronic Lung Disease up until age three, I was unharmed by prematurity.
I lived with my mom until age 16. Living with my mom was odd, fun, strange, sometimes scary and weird, but I accepted things as they came. Most kids do.
I describe my life with Mom as such, because she was rather abusive throughout my teen years. But it wasn’t entirely her fault. She was and still is sick a lot of the time. She had chronic depression much of her young life. Her family and friends have mostly deserted her. Her past three husbands, my dad included, were not nice people and neither were their families.
Mom’s biggest fault was that she loved too much. Besides having a volitile, emotional personality. And not enjoying friendly debate.
But, my mom is still a cool person. She knows a lot a out health. She can analyse relationships quite well. She is interesting. She is an excellent cook and writer. And she was a great Mom while I was little.
My childhood was interesting. Played baseball and soccar when small. I always was outside climbing trees and creating imaginary obstacle-courses, when at home.
I always told stories to myself. At first there were cool girls with powers who defeated witches and had their own secret societies. Then there was a blind character and her deaf friends who had powers through the musical instuments they played. Then there were all these awesome aliens creatures who protected humans from evil spies.
I had many worlds of great characters. And I eventually figured out that I could pretend to be my characters and that then I could have their emotional strengths.
I always sort of felt emotionally weak and like I was different from so many others.
I was born a female. Up until age 8, I didn’t really care about my gender. I played with the neighborhood boys. We raced our bikes. We played in the mud. We climbed trees, jumped on trampolines, and fought imaginary wars. We had fun. At home I always fought imaginary battles and was an imaginary rockstar, and had imaginary competitions. I had so much fun as a kid.
At age six, my mom had been sick for a while, and I had to help take care of her for a while. I liked it, because I could stay inside and look at books.
I was homeschooled, and didn’t learn to read until nearly age 7. But before I could read, I loved looking at all the pictures in the kids books.
I had a hard time learning math and how to read. Mom was never a very patient teacher. But I soon learned to love math and reading. Until age 14, I hated writing. But I eventually discovered the power of being able to share all the characters and stories I had made up.
Back to age 8. Eight and a half I beleive I was when I started wanting to be a boy. My mom started wanting me to wear pretty dresses and be “lady-like”. It didn’t go over very well on my ideas of being female. I used to always say that when I grew up I would never make my bed, wear dresses, take showers, or go to church.
Now that I am grown up, I rarely make my bed, I never wear dresses, take a shower everyday (I have learned the value of being clean and the pleasure of a hot shower where I can spend time thinking and being alone), and no longer practice my mom’s religion.
I mean, I see the value of religion. I see it makes people stronger and gives them something to hold on to when shit hits the fan. I just have never been able to believe in or at least feel a real connection to any God or gods.
At age 9 my mom was sick for nearly a year. At this point, she told me she had Congestive Heart Failure – a condition in which fluid tends to back up on the heart and lungs when the sufferer is stressed – and that she needed to rest a lot. I had always known she would get sick often and that that was why she couldn’t work and we had to rely on her church to pay our bills and give us grocery money. I just never realuzed how easily she could suffocate in her sleep and die.
So, at age 9, I began doing all the household grocery shopping and doing much of the work involved in caring for our 15-30 cats which lived in our back yard.It was at this point that I learned to stand up for my mom’s needs and wishes in grocery selection and sacking, learned to deal with adults in a respectful manner, and learned to handle money carefully.
I also learned to give in to adults and be rather weak and overly nice. Which isn’t a bad thing in a child. But it caused me to become insecure in who I was.
My dad wasn’t always around. He and my mom were separated since I was 1. But he came to see me and we played and ate together in his car and talked about stuff. He just had anger issues and threatened me a lot when he got mad. He hated having to drive me around to gricery shop all the times my mom was sick. So he kinda always took it out on me. This messed me up emotionally a bit more than anything my mom taught about being respectful (my mom’s ideas of respect led me to believe I had to be submissive, quiet, not let my feelings show, be really nice to everyone. I took this upon myself, and kinda crushed my biosturous and energetic nature).
I always was a sensitive and emotional person. Showers toilets, the outdoors at night, stars, aliens, the dark, large open spaces, large crowds, cars, nit being in control, things breaking, and a while host of other things terrified me as a child.
I eventually overcame my fears. I was a slow learner, but I eventually learned to swim, to enjoy showers, to drive, to fix broken and leaky things, to love the night sjy and enjoy darkness and solitude. Just like I eventually learned to read and write and love math. But the one thing I never grew out of was feeling like an alien and not knowing who or what I was.
More in the next blog. Happy New Year!