The Wonder Years

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That’s me on the right. I must have been in junior high, so it was about 1989, 90 or 91. That is my cousin Debbie on the left and my grandmother Ruth. This is the family that became my family. I have no idea why my left cheek was so fat and swollen looking…

Be prepared to be bored. This part of my story is very uninteresting. There’s no horror stories of neglect and abandonment. No abuse. In fact, it was quite the opposite. My foster mother, Terry, was a part of a nice middle-class, maybe even upper-middle class family. To me it seemed they were rich. But coming from my background it wouldn’t take much to impress me. After Terry and I moved in with her mother, we all lived in a HUGE house in a fancy country club estate. It’s not huge in today’s standards, but then it was to me. I was an only child now, so I spent a lot of time exploring the trees in the backyard, climbing as high as I could. I read a lot of books. A lot. The bedtime chore of reading for 30 minutes before bed soon became an obsession. I cannot tell you how many books I read. I even tried to learn a new word a day by choosing a word out of the dictionary. And I wrote a lot. Imagine that.

My mom and I (I will refer to Terry as my mom from her on out and my bio-mom Valerie as bio-mom, it may get confusing), moved in with grandma because she decided to go back to college. She was 47. She started with her Associate’s all the way through to her Master’s in Family Therapy. She was a driven and independent woman. That may be one of the better qualities I got from her. There were many times when I would go to school with her. I spent plenty of time in the libraries at both the community college and university. Several times I would go to class with her. I didn’t realize it then what I was learning from her, independence, self-sufficiency, discipline…I didn’t realize it until my 30’s I suppose.

Because my mom had no real experience raising children, she had to wing it and also use what she was learning in all of her psychology books. Needless to say, she was strict. Overly strict. She even admits it now, that she was too hard on me. I went from no discipline to having too much discipline. And fear. She told me more than once that if I didn’t comply, I would go back to the Jamison Center. I hated that place so much that her fear tactic worked. I resented her for it. I hated her for it. But for what it’s worth, I graduated high school with out getting pregnant, so she must’ve done something right.

That is all for tonight friends. I am tired and my need for spellcheck is increasing, so I will bid you farewell!!!

2 thoughts on “The Wonder Years”

  1. I can’t tell you how much your blog means to me. I spent so much time alone and left to my own devices as a kid — I don’t think I realized how much it messed me up until recently. I skipped school, read like crazy, and made up a bunch of imaginary worlds and games to pass the time. I never had a strict parent. I don’t trust or have any confidence in my feelings and emotions. I quit drinking on May 5 2015 and stopped taking drugs in March of this year. I’m still struggling. It helps to read you. Please keep writing.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I am glad my story is helping you! I haven’t even got to the part where I did drugs- just wait!! Ha! I got clean in 2004. It has been a journey!! Keep up the good work. I know it is tough, especially when you get all these new feelings and emotions that you have never had to deal with before, because we numb ourselves. But growing as a person sometimes means that we have to hurt. Feeling your feelings (whether you think they are valid or not) is essential!!!

      Like

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