Maybe I should just come right out and let everything out of the bag. Would that spoil the plot or the storyline? Or should I lead up to it over the next several posts? Well….I guess I’ll just start blogging and see where this all leads me.
You see I’m no writer…I’m an engineer. I’m a numbers guy so literature, history and reading have never been one of my strongest points. I’ve always had to struggle with content and ideas and being unique when it comes to having a writing style. That’s just me. An engiNERD.
So I guess I get to storyline pretty quickly as I’m sitting here with all these thoughts going through my head of how to tell my story. I’ll start it out by saying that I had two very hard working parents. In fact, they were both workaholics. I think they latched onto work because they hated each other so much.
I was a latchkey kid at a very early age. Times were different then and the females were just beginning to get their own careers and stepping out from being stay at home moms to being powers in the workforce. Most did it to provide for their children and families. Some did it because they had to and others did it for sheer girl power…and i can’t say I blame any of them.
My parents left the house early in the morning and didn’t return home until late evening. Often times I can remember being so afraid of being at the house alone after dark. I’d watch PBS (KET) when I got home from school. Back then we only had about 4 channels and that was the only thing with any sort of kids programming on it. So I’d watch Sesame Street. Then 3-2-1 Contact. But after those shows went off KET (Kentucky Educational Television) took sort of a darker turn for kids. Shows like NOVA and other bizarre news stories would be highlighted and for some reason…just the aura of that programming would terrify me. I was only in second grade after all.
I’d come home and have to fend for myself. Find myself something to eat. Nothing we ate back then was nutritious. Two slices of white bread, some fake peanut butter and marshmallow cream along with some hydrogenated oily potato chips and that was dinner for the evening. Or maybe a can of potted meat with Zesta Crakers or Vienna (Pronounced vie-ee-knee in Kentucky) Sausages out of the can would help fill hunger pangs.
Evenings after my parents got home was usually spent dealing with hearing them bicker about every little thing….they indeed hated each other and I was the reason they were “staying together”.
My parents took a lot of their frustrations out with one another and themselves out on me. At the time I wasn’t really aware of what was going on. I wasn’t matter enough to process what they were doing to my fragile and youthful psych. What they did and said to me would have longterm effects on my self worth and self esteem. It would linger long into adulthood and probably reared it’s ugly head the loudest in my adolescent years….the most crucial yet awkward time on one’s life.
I feel these early struggles only compounded what would come to fruition in my mind. I certainly don’t feel as though it caused anything, but it certainly had a huge effect on how I would be able to deal with things to come.
So I thank you mom and dad for beating me down mentally and emotionally. I know you didn’t mean it and I even think you may have a lot of guilt looking back…maybe you don’t but I just get the feeling that you do knowing what you know now. I know you aren’t perfect and neither am I. I constantly make parenting mistakes and immediately regret things I say and do with my child. I can only learn from my own mistakes and do everything in my power to not make the same mistakes I feel like my parents made with me.