Today I learned a lot about myself, actually no, I realized things I thought I knew had changed.
Hopefully for the better.
The things I learned may have been for the better, but I can't say that didn't come with a cost.
For starters, I realized that my childhood really bothers me. Sure you may have realized it before I did but that's okay, I'll catch up to you soon enough.
I like children and I use to think that I wanted a few, that I'd be good mom eventually. Now, I'm not so sure that that's the case, I still think I'd be an okay mom, but I don't want kids.
What scares me into thinking that is that I don't want to make the same horrifying mistakes that my parents made.
To say that I haven't thought about making sure my parents mistakes end with me would be a lie.
As a child you pick up on your parent's skills, or lack there of. I've taken some time to analyze what I could have acquired as a kid and either I'll be the same brand of screwed up as my parents, or I'll make new mistakes on my own.
But one thing that lingers for me is that I may not realize everything that they, for lack of a better phrasing, sucked at.
I also learned how much I didn't realize was not normal, and wasn't appropriate.
It hurts to have people, licensed physicians, say that my parent's were abusive. I find it hard to come to grasps that some of the things that were highly common occurrences in my childhood, and in some cases still occur now.
I don't know that I'll ever totally accept some of the things as abuse, even though if I were seeing them in someone else's life they totally would be, because it's how they showed love, no matter how messed up that sounds.
I think I may actually care about my parents. Not in the normal sense though, I care about them in a sense as you care about the person who just walked past you on the sidewalk. You want the best for them, but you won't check in with them every few days to make sure it happens, simply because it doesn't matter.
That stranger could die tomorrow and you not lose sleep over it, because you didn't know it happened, or know them.
I do know that I care for my grandpa, a lot. He was and is the parent I needed. From picking my brother and I up after school, taking us for Friday Shakes even if it wasn't Friday, to coming to dinner when I'm home and making sure that I get a hug from some one who cares. He is a great man, I feel bad for leaving him behind, I really wish he could have came to college with me. That's unrealistic though..
One way I know he loves me, in an honest love, is that he has a picture from every year of school for both my brother and myself in his house. Not only that, but they are proudly displayed all over his house.
From kindergarten to fourth grade, my elementary school had something called grandparents day, where the students would be on risers, and sing songs to their grandparents. Although Donny isn't actually related, he didn't miss any of them. He has those pictures around his house too.
In fourth grade we did a project called Flat Stanley, I sent mine to him along with a letter and he was suppose to carry it around for a week then mail him back with a letter of what they did together.
Donny went above and beyond with it, he had Stanley sit on a cow, help feed the dogs, all things that are silly, but just barely believable.
Instead of keeping Flat Stanley myself, I gave him back to Donny, displayed on a poster and with pictures and the letters on it.
That hangs in his kitchen.
It makes me feel better knowing that I didn't grow up alone.
He was always there for me, even when I didn't realize it.
That's how I first learned what love was.
That's also how I learned I didn't love my parents and they didn't love me.
That's probably enough off my shoulders for one day, I'm sure you'll read about more of it another time though.
Take care of yourselves.
Hopefully for the better.
The things I learned may have been for the better, but I can't say that didn't come with a cost.
For starters, I realized that my childhood really bothers me. Sure you may have realized it before I did but that's okay, I'll catch up to you soon enough.
I like children and I use to think that I wanted a few, that I'd be good mom eventually. Now, I'm not so sure that that's the case, I still think I'd be an okay mom, but I don't want kids.
What scares me into thinking that is that I don't want to make the same horrifying mistakes that my parents made.
To say that I haven't thought about making sure my parents mistakes end with me would be a lie.
As a child you pick up on your parent's skills, or lack there of. I've taken some time to analyze what I could have acquired as a kid and either I'll be the same brand of screwed up as my parents, or I'll make new mistakes on my own.
But one thing that lingers for me is that I may not realize everything that they, for lack of a better phrasing, sucked at.
I also learned how much I didn't realize was not normal, and wasn't appropriate.
It hurts to have people, licensed physicians, say that my parent's were abusive. I find it hard to come to grasps that some of the things that were highly common occurrences in my childhood, and in some cases still occur now.
I don't know that I'll ever totally accept some of the things as abuse, even though if I were seeing them in someone else's life they totally would be, because it's how they showed love, no matter how messed up that sounds.
I think I may actually care about my parents. Not in the normal sense though, I care about them in a sense as you care about the person who just walked past you on the sidewalk. You want the best for them, but you won't check in with them every few days to make sure it happens, simply because it doesn't matter.
That stranger could die tomorrow and you not lose sleep over it, because you didn't know it happened, or know them.
I do know that I care for my grandpa, a lot. He was and is the parent I needed. From picking my brother and I up after school, taking us for Friday Shakes even if it wasn't Friday, to coming to dinner when I'm home and making sure that I get a hug from some one who cares. He is a great man, I feel bad for leaving him behind, I really wish he could have came to college with me. That's unrealistic though..
One way I know he loves me, in an honest love, is that he has a picture from every year of school for both my brother and myself in his house. Not only that, but they are proudly displayed all over his house.
From kindergarten to fourth grade, my elementary school had something called grandparents day, where the students would be on risers, and sing songs to their grandparents. Although Donny isn't actually related, he didn't miss any of them. He has those pictures around his house too.
In fourth grade we did a project called Flat Stanley, I sent mine to him along with a letter and he was suppose to carry it around for a week then mail him back with a letter of what they did together.
Donny went above and beyond with it, he had Stanley sit on a cow, help feed the dogs, all things that are silly, but just barely believable.
Instead of keeping Flat Stanley myself, I gave him back to Donny, displayed on a poster and with pictures and the letters on it.
That hangs in his kitchen.
It makes me feel better knowing that I didn't grow up alone.
He was always there for me, even when I didn't realize it.
That's how I first learned what love was.
That's also how I learned I didn't love my parents and they didn't love me.
That's probably enough off my shoulders for one day, I'm sure you'll read about more of it another time though.
Take care of yourselves.