Mom

There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t think about mom. I was a very sensitive child and school was a form of punishment ; leaving her every morning to go face the cold unaccepting structure of doom where kids who asked questions go to be punished……never got easier. I realize now that as a child I was sad to leave my mother because she was very fragile and I wanted to be with her; I could feel her pain and loneliness and so wanted to help her . I was always afraid she would leave me and I needed her to survive living in our home and school; I hated school. I realize now that school is a child’s first real independence and I couldn’t separate myself from her and socializing with kids my own age didn’t come naturally to me; I never had a friend until grade five. I was always behind the other kids and failed two grades ; I never caught up. I so wanted to be successful; every year at the beginning of the school year I believed would be better than the last. For someone with no success story ;I was very positive in that I believed things would get better. I would often look at the really successful kids who did well on all the tests and took dance classes and wish I was them. Invitations to birthday parties, good parent teacher meetings that ended in McDonald’s or ice cream ; I always felt it was my fault. I wasn’t smart enough; I was lazy I had done this to myself ; I deserved to have no friends. I was disorganized.It was my desk the teacher would dump out in the middle of class; the bad example. Even now if I have to clean out a cupboard ; I don’t know how to organize it…….this information is unaccessible to me. The teacher would come over and it would be a morning of humiliation and shaming; good times! My desk would stay this way for minimal time; I didn’t know how to keep up with this arrangement; it felt foreign to me. The books in my desk which were a memoir of my acquired knowledge ;I was told were such a poor example of work; not worthy of the paper they were on. Maybe besides not understanding how to organize my books ; I started to lose the desire to try; it wasn’t getting me anywhere. School was not a good place for me ; home was not a good place for me ; I started to daydream about who I wanted to be. 

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