Get to Know A Little About Me (Part 1)

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Get to Know A Little About Me (Part 1)

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Below is a bit of my journey through life, my testimony if you will up to middle school. I stop at that point in this post because from high school forward there is a lot to unpack.I talk a lot about healing, but I never really talk about what I have been healing from.Well, now it is time to give you the inside details of why the healing journey has been so important to me.Be ready. I lived this life as I thought was completely normal, but many people have told me it is not, so just as a caution, I am going to be very real about my experiences in life. Some of it is triggering even for me, so I assume it can also be triggering for others.I will tell you my story not for bashing sake, or to make you feel any certain way about how good or bad I had itbut for the sake that I want my story to remind you that healing is possiblenot just for the extreme stories or the simple life stories,but for everyone.My earliest memories are not memories as much as stories told about me.My parents would frequently tell me about how obnoxious my cry was as a baby. My mom would imitate the cry to me every time she retold the story. I grew up knowing that my earliest years of needing safety needs were met by being ridiculed by at least one parent when they had enough of my cry.I also heard a story about my brother’s infancy, about how my dad stopped drinking because when he came home ended up breaking my brother’s crib, or breaking it while he was still sleeping. I tell you this because I put it together a while ago that if he was not safe I was likely not either, and we all knew that my dad was more of the angry drunk type instead of the playful silly kind.I also have distinct memories by the time I was in Kindergarten of both my parents stopping playtime with me from being overwhelmed or disappointed. I remember my mom being upset because I colored a page in a coloring book that we did together without her once and ended up coloring an elephant green and tried to surprise her in the coloring but I got yelled at when I showed her the picture and I was yelled at about it being the wrong color and should have waited for her. Well, we never colored together ever again, which is why that memory sticks out.Similarly, I was playing with my dad with my brother. He was happy, and then out of nowhere he pushes away and yells at us that he needs space and could not play with us anymore. I had no clue why at the time what was going on, but based on how I internalized it, I took it as an I did something wrong for trying to play with my dad, and we never really played together after that.During my elementary school years, I remember feeling misunderstood. My dad’s side of the family did not enjoy having me around, and I never really understood why I got that feeling, but I always felt pushed to the side and not wanted. So (trigger warning) when my older cousin would make comments like you are my favorite cousin and take me to his room to lay down on top of him or vice versa, I was happy to get the attention. I do not remember how far anything went, thankfully in this case, but I do remember this going on for months until the one day I remember asking him if I was still his favorite cousin and he turned the other way and ignored me. All though I understood what was happening now, then I saw it as another moment in which I could no longer show that I had value for being me.When I was in my third-grade year, I struggled with keeping friends. Being an AuDHD kid I had no idea that what I was doing when what I considered playing frustrated other people until they kept running away from me and my closest friends no longer liked being around me because they only saw that I was trying to take their ideas and not figure out how to play the games they enjoyed. I was very alone that year, and we did not makeup as friends until the last few days of school.This also happened to be the summer that we moved and left school districts. When I switched schools, I remember making friends, but also hearing a lot of remarks about how strange of a person I was. Towards the end of that year, there was another new student in the school and we ended up becoming close best friends.Middle school seemed like how I would expect any average middle school student to go. I played French Horn, worked through all the typical everyone lives through the beginning of puberty, and made it out the other side. I was bullied in what I think are minor ways, like a kid sitting behind me would kick my chair in class and throw spit wads in my hair. I was never told to my face during this time about being made fun of, but it was revealed later in high school of the person’s choosing that they did not talk to me because they were told not to hang out with me…. After all, I was strange.The middle school time frame was when I remember not seeing my dad’s side of the family that often anymore.What I can say is I was very thankful to be in a church with people who cared ...

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