Sunday, October 31, 2010
Laying in bed last night I got to thinking about the time I spent in this house. I've always been a bit envious of those whose family still resides in the house in which they grew up and whose family is still intact, for lack of better words. (Remember, my brain is functioning on a very low level at this point.) They have so many stories to share and a place that they've always called home. I hadn't ever realized that I have that, as well. Sure, I moved around a lot growing up (9 elementary schools, 1 junior high and 3 high schools, to give you an idea) but once my Mom married my step-Dad she stayed put and even though this place never really felt like my home while I was here, it turns out that it is. It has been for the last 24 years.
The room in the front of the house, the one that used to be mine, was the room where I figured out how to deal with my increasing feelings of loneliness. I was a loner my senior year in high school. It was the third high school I had attended and since most of the kids there came from affluent families and spent most of their lives growing up in that school district, there turned out to be many 'clicks'. Clicks that I would never be a part of.
Needless to say, I spent hours in my room with my headphones on listening to music and drawing or writing. The world that I created in my head was perfect and in that world I was as cool as Elvis Presley, John Schneider or any other 80's 'hunk'.
Sitting there at my corner desk with my headphones blasting rock'n'roll or country music, I made plans to buy an old Chevy Luv truck and cherry it out, complete with etched glass and chrome rims. She was going to be painteda metallic Midnight Blue, too. I spent hours looking through truck magazines. She'd be lowered in the front and raised in the back with sweet, fat racing tires on the back. Never mind the fact that their engines were wee and racing was not their strong point. She was still going to turn heads.
These were my days while I lived here. Get up, go to school, go to softball practice then go home, close my bedroom door on the real world and climb back into mine. It was all about coping and finding my way. The world and my future held so many possibilities. I knew I could do anything. I also knew I would have to do it on my own. This place, my childhood and my high school days gave me my strength to get through the rest of it.
My parents may not have been the best parents but they did the best they could with what they had. While there were things that I wish I hadn't ever had to fight through, I am glad that I did. Every single one of those things have made me who I am today. A strong, caring, loving, loyal, compassionate and passionate person with a good heart and a playful spirit.
That's pretty fucking rad, if you ask me.