This is my story. I am not old and perhaps if I was you would relate more. You is whoever might read this. No I am still young and I am fit and I do not have many setbacks in life. Except my past and that I have parents who loved me but also did not like me. It was mother who said you can love your children but you don’t have to like them. That and many other things have been said that sent pain, sharp black ripples into my heart. And I never had anything to do with it all, and so I held it. I have heard that parents do bad things because they are hurting. So then it gets passed onto the child. The child must process the pain of their ancestors or carry it with them for their children to process.
When I was ten I remember I liked to take my money that I got from chores and buy candy. I lived just two blocks from my local market. The SuperJet Grocery Store. I walked down and I stood and looked at all the chocolate bars. I stood there for a minute or more thinking which one would be best. I remember when they shot from 40 cents to 50 and then the cruelest of jokes was a few weeks later when it went up to 51.
On my way to school I would go in and get myself a chocolate, or donut, or cherry pie and eat as I walked. I was in middle school then and I was also sometimes dieting instead. Some days I would eat mainly fruit and vegetables and try to stay away from anything fattening. Other times I indulged like these days.
My mother noticed as she’d crudely remark, “Do you wear baggy clothes because you are trying to grow into them?”
Never answered her except a weak rebuttal, “No I’m not.”
Other times she’d call me a pig. I could let the names roll off me though. The thing is this type of poison can’t hurt if you don’t let it reach the heart. Just nod and agree and then go on. Sometimes she’d get past my defenses. But mostly I didn’t trust her enough to get past the gates.
But that was a long time ago. Funny how time makes things seem easier then they were.