It’s been a long time since I checked in here; someone new is following, for which I thank you! I can’t really say why I haven’t put anything new up here in such a long time. I write stuff and forget about it. But then I have the fun of coming back here and seeing what I left, and seeing some of the other members stuff as well.
I started writing an autobiography a few months ago. That is slow going, as I digress and elaborate on things, as if I was writing poetry. I have covered the first 6 or seven years, for the most part.
My childhood was pretty weird because I had only one sane parent; the other one needed help and would not, could not ever do that. My father wanted to bring my brother to a shrink when he was about 10 and mother said, “That is just outlandish.” That was one of her favorite words. Outlandish.
Now, that might have made sense back in the border regions or Norway/Sweden, when her ancestors were working the land and going to intermittent war. Border Vikings is you call those guys. They got in the fight for whichever side they thought was going to win, that side would be the one that offered the best pay or reward of land. Wearing the wrong clothes could mean the difference between life and death for the men; enslavement for women and children. I learned early on that that our family was not a safe place to grow up in; hiding became both a game and a necessity.
Hiding in all senses of the word was the thing; never show vulnerability or uncertainty. Both were likely to lead to an extra ration of shit from one or more other family members. I did not stay with them any longer than I had to and moved far away after a few years. There were a bunch of people that I did not want to see or hear from once I was gone. Leaving has always been my way instead of fighting or struggling. It took me about a year away until I started to get a sense of who I could be.
This will be added to my other autobiographical writings.
Thanks for taking the time to read.