Who am I?

Who am I?

I often ask myself that question every day. I like to think I can relate to a lot of people, but since I have become a private person over the years, my story has been a closed book.

I do not remember much of my childhood. I wish I knew why. My parents divorced when I was 2 and my mom raised me and my 4 older brothers by herself. So, I did miss a lot of the conflict that many children go through when parents are divorcing. Although, we did not have the nicest of anything,

my mom provided in an admirable way. We lived in the same house, always had food, played sports, had the best birthday parties, and always, always had presents under the Christmas tree.

Yet, I still do not remember much of my childhood. The age gap between my brothers and myself is pretty significant. My youngest brother is 6 years older than me and my oldest brother is 14 years older than me, and the other two fill in the gaps. They grew up a lot faster than me (reasonably so), and maybe I was trying to keep up? My mom worked full-time and often tried to work overtime on the weekends (when we did not have extra curricular activities going on). So I do not remember spending much quality time with her growing up. Being a mom of 3 and working full time as well, I can definitely understand. I love my brothers, however I always felt so disconnected from them. Growing up, they were going through such different phases in life, and I was home watching Spongebob.

I wish I remembered my childhood. I was my moms youngest and only daughter, pride and joy, to say the least. I feel like she would have bronzed me and put me on display, if it was up to her. I could not do much as a child, go to friends houses, sleepover’s, birthday parties, etc. Maybe that is why I do not have defined moments that stick out to me. Saturday mornings consisted of cartoons, grocery shopping with my mom, more TV, and just hanging around the house. Vacations were non-existent. But if I was a single mother of 5, I am not sure how much of a vacation I could provide. I get it, I do.

My Dad was not involved in my childhood. I vaguely remember “visits” with him. It would be at an apartment where he was living at the time. Or at my grandparents house. And it only happened a handful of times. It did not involve much interaction with him and did not last more than a couple of hours. I do not feel like he tried to raise me at all. Birthday presents were picked out by my brothers and my dad would sign his name. My parents did not see much of each other but I do know they did argue a lot. Needless to say it was close to impossible trying to get these two in the same room, for any event.

Maybe I tried to forget my childhood? Does anyone else not remember their childhood?

field sport ball game
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s