Ripped apart at the heart

My childhood was surreal. I could not handle the emotions, the bad feelings, the loss of control. Maybe if I had been better, or minded, my family would not have fell apart. I know I felt responsible for this tragedy in my life. Why would a young child feel this? I must have been four years old and I remember this thought. "What did I do wrong?" "Why would I feel responsible?"

Things began to change. I felt no security and a huge sense of loss and abandonment. Wait a minute...don't I have a say about this? Evidently no was the answer.

It would not be long before my life was turned upside down because my parents divorced. My sister moved out with us to our grandparents home, but after a while she wanted to go and live with daddy. The judge ask my sister and I where we wanted to live. I stayed with my mother and my sister went to live with our daddy. My whole world changed. The loss of security, my safety, and my family. I was three years old and my sister was six years old. Poof...all gone up like smoke.


Moma found an apartment and a job with in walking distance from the apartment. She worked at a dentist office.I tried to help moma with the dishes and house work. I also did my best to be good and not get into trouble. My sister would come to visit us and I was so excited to see her, but then she always left to go back to daddy's.


Another odd memory I have is that moma dyed my hair blond. My blond hair was turning darker and I have no idea why she bleached it blond. This was the sort of stuff my mother was known for and I never knew what to expect.


I went to a day care center that I did not like. I remember that we all went to the bathrooms together. When we went swimming, we changed into our suits in the hall way in front of our lockers. I did not like that one bit. It felt embarrassing to be told to change in front of the other kids. I had never experienced anything as humiliating as this was. The only thing I did like was art. In the afternoon, we had art and I found my love of painting and color there.


When daddy remarried, he left my sister alone for a week while they went on their honeymoon. My sister called grandmoma and begged her to come and get her. Momma and I went to get her and bring her home with us. I remember it was cold and raining that night. Swoosh, swoosh went the windshield wipers. I sat in the car while moma went up the stairs to get my sister. What happened next upset me so much that I could barely believe my eyes. Moma and daddy got into a fight and the next thing I see is daddy pushing moma down the stairs. I hate the rain to this day because of that memory. It was awful to see daddy do that to moma. We brought my sister home with us that night. In that moment my sister and I both hated our daddy.


Safety, security, hunger, pain, and abandonment were words that became all too familiar. They next chapter in my life began when I wet the bed.





To be continued...