There are large blanks in my memory, I think most people would have that though when looking back. I don't think most would have no memory of members of their family though. I don't remember my dad being there when I was at first school and considering I had apparently wanted to be close to my brother, I don't remember him either. Strange considering my dad used to walk me and my brother to school and back each day, I have absolutely no recollection of that, no recollection of walking to and from school at all actually. I can try as hard as I like but even now my dad and brother are invisible to me when I look back. I don't remember meals as a family, outings or anything. I have odd memories of my brother when we played outside but none of him being in the house. It seemed it was just me and my mum, we could've been the only ones living in that house.
I mentioned before that nothing was ever said about what had happened once the police left. I thought it was because what I had done was so bad and my parents must be so disgusted with me that they couldn't say anything for fear all their loathing for me would pour out and maybe they wouldn't be able to stop. My mum and the police lady who's lap I sat on both said I'd done nothing wrong, I wasn't in trouble. Yeah, right, because the police are always called when you've been good, you always get new clothes taken away and get taken away yourself by police when you've been good. And just to cap it off, a man in a white coat hurts you in pretty much the same way as he did, but managing to do it while keeping his clothes on. Besides, he warned me I'd be in trouble if anyone found out, he'd been warning me since it started.
He should've been my ally. The police took him away too so he should've understood and he could've at least given me a smile or something when passing by. But even he wouldn't look at me or speak to me anymore.
Still, things seemed better after he was gone and I didn't see him again.
Thursday, 26 February 2009
Wednesday, 25 February 2009
Deeper memories.
My mum never left the kitchen window looking over our road and play area, even when I was in the house standing next to her, she was looking for me.
She would read to me while I sat on her lap and she'd keep stopping and she was crying like her heart was breaking. I would cry too and keep asking her not to cry. I was sorry, I knew it was my fault. I was about 5 now or close to 5, the police had long since left our house and the doctor's examinations were over. I was still scared of toilets and the pain of just urinating. My mum used to try to make it a game, racing me to see who could get there first, we'd be laughing. Then I'd reach the door, stop and refuse to go. A switch was pressed and laughter was gone.
Never was anything mentioned from the day the police left the house, not his name, not what I had done. My mum took a plastic bag, what I now know was an evidence bag, it contained brand new clothes that I had worn just once, the whole outfit. A skirt, a top, socks, knickers and shoes to fit a 4 year old, I'd loved them when they were given to me. My mum took them into the garden and burnt them. I thought it was punishment even though no anger at me was involved. God, I love my mum, I can't stop her pain and it kills me.
Today, 28 years on, I can't stop her pain and it still kills me.
She would read to me while I sat on her lap and she'd keep stopping and she was crying like her heart was breaking. I would cry too and keep asking her not to cry. I was sorry, I knew it was my fault. I was about 5 now or close to 5, the police had long since left our house and the doctor's examinations were over. I was still scared of toilets and the pain of just urinating. My mum used to try to make it a game, racing me to see who could get there first, we'd be laughing. Then I'd reach the door, stop and refuse to go. A switch was pressed and laughter was gone.
Never was anything mentioned from the day the police left the house, not his name, not what I had done. My mum took a plastic bag, what I now know was an evidence bag, it contained brand new clothes that I had worn just once, the whole outfit. A skirt, a top, socks, knickers and shoes to fit a 4 year old, I'd loved them when they were given to me. My mum took them into the garden and burnt them. I thought it was punishment even though no anger at me was involved. God, I love my mum, I can't stop her pain and it kills me.
Today, 28 years on, I can't stop her pain and it still kills me.
Monday, 23 February 2009
Memories Before.
My memory was pretty good, I remember once seeing a picture of a yellow duckling with red wellies on his feet and a blue umbrella, I said to my mum, "I had that picture on my cot!" My mum was amazed as she said I was 2 at the most when they got rid of that cot but she said it was a very similar picture.
I started school early joining those who would be a year ahead for the rest of my school life. I clearly remember not wanting to stay behind in reception while my classmates moved up a year, I cried when I was told but soon stopped when the teacher explained I was needed to show the new children where the register is taken and where to put their things. Very quickly, I also realised I was conned. I've always hated being conned, it happened at around the same time I had my ears pierced, the first hurt like hell but the second didn't, I cried after the second because the lady said she was rubbing off the ink mark. She shot the stud into my ear, I realised I had been conned and then cried. I was 4, I didn't know what being conned meant but it's that feeling, deception.
I saw the school nurse very regularly. I grew up believing I started school early because I wanted to be by my brother who is 3 years older. I never questioned this. I couldn't identify with girls, felt inferior and shy but could be aggresive with boys and needed to feel in control of them and stronger than them. Girls could pretty much get away with anything where I was concerned, I felt lower than them.
I never much liked my personality, I wanted to be like all the other girls but didn't know what was different about me so could never correct it. I don't remember feeling particularly happy at any point as a child but had no reason that I could think of to be unhappy.
I started school early joining those who would be a year ahead for the rest of my school life. I clearly remember not wanting to stay behind in reception while my classmates moved up a year, I cried when I was told but soon stopped when the teacher explained I was needed to show the new children where the register is taken and where to put their things. Very quickly, I also realised I was conned. I've always hated being conned, it happened at around the same time I had my ears pierced, the first hurt like hell but the second didn't, I cried after the second because the lady said she was rubbing off the ink mark. She shot the stud into my ear, I realised I had been conned and then cried. I was 4, I didn't know what being conned meant but it's that feeling, deception.
I saw the school nurse very regularly. I grew up believing I started school early because I wanted to be by my brother who is 3 years older. I never questioned this. I couldn't identify with girls, felt inferior and shy but could be aggresive with boys and needed to feel in control of them and stronger than them. Girls could pretty much get away with anything where I was concerned, I felt lower than them.
I never much liked my personality, I wanted to be like all the other girls but didn't know what was different about me so could never correct it. I don't remember feeling particularly happy at any point as a child but had no reason that I could think of to be unhappy.
Mind Mess.
For a little while now I've been thinking about my past. Is it shameful? Was it right to stay hidden?
I had pretty much decided I was actually quite proud of my past and how I'd coped and how I'd turned out, not that I suddenly came out and told everyone but I was telling a bit more to select people whom I trusted.
It wasn't an issue up until I started university, it had it's niggling points but nothing major. I mainly lied my way through most things, not particularly well but then I didn't much care for questions.
All too quickly in a world of change that was already occurring around me, it became an issue, a potential threat to my future and to be honest, if not for my daughter, a threat to my life. My history was determining my future and my future was in the hands of those who knew the truth. I got through it with success but also with conditions to a certain extent. Conditions I don't agree with and that have since given me the feeling that I should be ashamed and cautious. It also had an opposite effect as I can't stand being told what I should or shouldn't do.
So now I'm going against advice and I'm going to leave it to those who read this to decide.
I had pretty much decided I was actually quite proud of my past and how I'd coped and how I'd turned out, not that I suddenly came out and told everyone but I was telling a bit more to select people whom I trusted.
It wasn't an issue up until I started university, it had it's niggling points but nothing major. I mainly lied my way through most things, not particularly well but then I didn't much care for questions.
All too quickly in a world of change that was already occurring around me, it became an issue, a potential threat to my future and to be honest, if not for my daughter, a threat to my life. My history was determining my future and my future was in the hands of those who knew the truth. I got through it with success but also with conditions to a certain extent. Conditions I don't agree with and that have since given me the feeling that I should be ashamed and cautious. It also had an opposite effect as I can't stand being told what I should or shouldn't do.
So now I'm going against advice and I'm going to leave it to those who read this to decide.
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