RemembeRED . . . I Miss My Childhood

I miss my childhood or what I thought it was. By blocking out the bad stuff, I was able to convince myself that my family was the superior version. I KNEW my parents were right about everything, and anything I didn’t understand would all be clear when I was OLDER. I was content to believe that my parents had everything under control. We didn’t really argue in our house. We all did what Daddy said. We put on our happy faces and went to church and school and had people over for dinner and felt superior to them. I just wasn’t sure why.

As I grew older maintaining this charade became harder and harder. It’s really difficult to believe your life is superior to others’ lives when you feel like such a fraud. By denying the abuse that was ongoing in my childhood, my growth was stunted. It wasn’t until years later when it all came bubbling up to the surface that I began to understand the fractured reality of my childhood.

I miss my childhood. I miss thinking everything was okay. I want to remember the good times because there must have been some, but all those years of repressing having made it hard to see any good.

I miss what could have been my childhood.

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