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Childhood Amnesia

 

 

 

My parents had a very abusive relationship with one another both verbally and physically.  I don’t blame them particularly, neither one of them were raised in a great home, and they just didn’t know how to break the cycle.   I was born in the late 70’s, self-help for men and women was not as prevalent then.  I have a couple of good memories but mostly bad memories.  I did enjoy being raised in the country though, after chores we were able to leave for the day on our bikes and go exploring returning for dinner {when we didn’t have school}.  This was a much-welcomed reprieve from being in the house where you never knew what was going to happen.  I was able to get lost in my thoughts and dreams.  Most of the time I was with my older brother; we would visit the neighbor kids, swim in the pond, go fishing, climb trees, all the stuff you can think of being out in the country.  The most enjoyable part was laughing and feeling free – no worries of the unknown that came as soon as you walked back in the house.  The house that seemed to be covered by a dark shadow.

 

My Dad traveled a lot for work, and that was nice; when he was gone there wasn’t any way they could fight.  The downside to that was that we never really got to know him.  My mom was the stay at home mom who cooked and cleaned and kept things together on the home front while my dad went to work and made the income.  They were both active disciplinarians, but we knew what the phrase, “wait until you dad gets home” meant.  We were in big trouble, and the belt was coming out.  Compared to their fighting that wasn’t so bad, and neither was getting my mouth soaped out with lava soap if I said a wrong word or didn’t tell the truth. 

 

The bad parts were the yelling, the physical altercations, not knowing if it was going to be peaceful at the house or if things would be thrown into a fit of rage.  As you can imagine being a witness to this behavior growing up was not an excellent example of what a relationship should look like.  The fact that adults knew what was going on and didn’t help fueled my distrust in people, the fact that my dad’s parents witnessed some of the fightings including my mom being drug across the floor by her hair only to hear, “divorce doesn’t happen in the church.”  All of this, even what little I consciously remember, put me on a misguided path of that I would need a lot of healing from. 

 

More to come later….healed by Grace.

 

Nicole

 

 

 

 

 

 

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