When I was a kid my parents would send my to my grandparent’s farm every opportunity they could. The entire summer. Every second of christmas and march breaks. Any chance to send me away really. But most of the time, the farm wasn’t a happy place for me. I rarely felt loved while I was there. I almost always felt sad. Sad and lonely.
Brenda would never call me while I was there. Out of sight, I suppose… I wasn’t allowed to talk about my dad, let alone call him. A few times I had snook to the garage to call home, because I was lonely, only to later be grilled by grandmother about making calls. Not knowing that she had been listening in on the house line. She would ask me when I talked to daddy last, I would try to make up some lie, because that’s what my mom told me to do.
But she would call me out for lying. In fact she purposely would set these traps to catch me lying. Lying my mother’s lie.
I was shamed both for lying & for feeling lonely.
I rarely talk about my childhood. It's a scary subject for me. But why should I live through so much shit, just to be silent?! Other people don't get decide how their actions make me feel. Particularly when they were an adult, and knew better.
I'd like to talk more about my past. This might be a good start.
Don’t be afraid to be scared.