I was working on a timeline to put my thoughts in order so I am not consistently jumping around.  I used the year 2000 as my starting point because that was when I had graduated high school.  I am horrible with dates so in working backwards from my graduation, I got to the school year from 1989 to 1990 and paused.  It looked funny and then I realized why.

My mother Kim told me that I had tested out of kindergarten and went into the first grade instead.  Kids are generally supposed to start kindergarten at five years old.  I went into first grade at six years, I had this thought at the back of my head that I needed to call my mother and check my facts.  It was literally like something popped in my head.  It was like a bubble had been encasing this memory and while I was looking at how old I was in the first grade, the bubble burst.  It was like finding a box in the attic you haven’t seen in twenty years.  You no longer remember what’s in it.  When you take the lid off of the box, the light bulb goes off and you suddenly remember.

I have been suppressing several memories, I can’t remember what happened but they just aren’t there.  It’s like the slate has been wiped and the space where the memory goes is just a black hole.

I rode a roller coaster once that was called ‘The Flashback.‘  The ride held true to the definition.  Flashback is defined as the recurrent and abnormally vivid recollection of a traumatic experience.  The bubble that burst last night surrounded such a traumatic experience.

I was five years old and it was during the time frame that my mother and I lived with her parents.  She was still courting with Jack A.

I was sitting at the table in the dining room but I was supposed to be upstairs.  I heard yelling in the kitchen.  It was my mother and her dad (my grandpa).  With the flashback, I heard the whole conversation like I was there in that moment again.

My Grandpa:

You’re never at home to take care of her.  She was supposed to start school and you couldn’t even do that.  You’re gone all of the time.  Your daughter doesn’t even want to hug you when you’re home.

Then my mother said to him:

I never wanted the kid and you made me have her, so whose fault is that?

Then the memory stops.  I have a similar memory.  I was sixteen and my mother and step-father were sitting at the dining table and my mother said:

I never should have had her.

I got on the bus for school the next morning and I cried when I told my best friend Patience what I had heard.  She let me cry on her shoulder.  I was repressing the memory of my mother and grandfather fighting.  I knew we (my mother and I) moved into the apartment with Jack A. shortly there after.

My mother told me that I was so smart that I tested out of kindergarten and was able to start first grade instead.  Which means I should have started first grade at five years old.  But I started first grade at six.  My mother lied to me and now I know she never wanted me.

In the “My Mother – Follow Up to My Journal and Step-Father” post, I wrote a letter to my mother and in her response she said:

As far as an abortion goes, that would have been a sin.  I guess you really want me to go to hell.

Somewhere deep down, I knew my grandfather made my mom keep me… and now I know why.  She never wanted me and now she resents me.  The more I share of my history, I am understanding it more and more.  The anger and the hurt build with the more I understand.  When this memory hit me last night, I cried and cried and I almost hyperventilated.  This was like I experienced it all over again as opposed to it just being a memory.  I wasn’t wanted.  There were times that I laid in bed, in the dark, hoping to not wake up the next morning because I felt unwanted.

I now know why I wasn’t important enough for my mother to rescue.  She never wanted me.  She resented me even being born and I was an inconvenience.  When I said I was moving out, she showed no reluctance in letting me go.  The day that I moved out, she went as far as getting rid of my pets.  She didn’t even give me an opportunity to try to take them with me.

Now that I have this memory, it’s not as easy to stuff it back into oblivion where it came from.  I am going to have to heal from this memory.

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