The debate on smacking is an interesting one in as much as there are not many fence-sitters on this subject: people either have no problem with it at all, saying “I was smacked as a child and it didn’t do me any harm” while others are vehemently against violence of any sort against children. Just using the word “violence” evokes very strong feelings in many who hit their children because they don’t consider smacking a child to be violence. The “no hitting” camp generally believe that we hit our children out of instantaneous anger, frustration, and basically because we don’t know what else to do.
I still remember the day I met you. I was the bratty little sister of one of your friends. You were playing basketball at the fair grounds.My brother was so mad that mom made him bring me along. As I sit there watching you guys play while pretending to read my book, one of the two I brought with me. I finally started to get into one of them when you came up to me. Taking a seat next to me.“What are you reading?” taking a drink from your water bottle.I had no idea what to say, it was the first time you never talked to me. I just kept my head down. I didn’t even look up when you placed your thumb on the page I was reading to mark my place as you turned to read the title.“Out Stealing Horses,” you flipped the book back to the page I was on. “Sounds interesting.”We sat there for what seemed like forever. I wished that you would just leave, being around you made my head spin. The way you smelled made it so hard to catch my breath. I was so happy when my brother called you to come finish the game. You stood and winked as you ran off to rejoin the game. I knew that whatever just happened, was well I don’t know if you started hanging out with my brother more or I started noticing you more, but it was like every where I went you were there.My mind kept going to you sitting there in class, I would day dream about you. Thinking if you were thinking about me too. The age difference didn’t bother me at all. But back then I didn’t know you lied about that too.There were a lot of lies told. I still don’t know what I was to you. I think that is what bothers me the most. Was I just another mark? A score to settle with my foster family for not keeping you? There are so many questions I have and no one will give me the answers. That's another thing that bothers me, they say that they want to protect me from what is going to happen now. That I should not have to relive the nightmare. That’s not the case, every time I close my eyes I see you. I see all the good things that has happened between us. Even though there were more bad times than good, it's the good times that stay with me. It’s at night that the bad memories come.It has been six years since it has ended, and now I sit here wondering what is going on. From the next room, the only good thing that has happened between us is playing tea party with her stuffed animals. I know she hears me cry at night. She asks me why I am sad. I can’t tell her its because of you. She doesn’t know about you. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. It’s still to fresh in my mind to relive.But maybe it is time. To reach out to you at least. Maybe it will help me get over you and move on so I can start living again.
Growing up in a dysfunctional household puts you at a risk for not having a very close relationship with siblings. It is shown that many siblings that come from abusive and dysfunctional homes do not have good relationships as adults and continue the abuse they were subjected to as kids through adulthood. Sisters and brothers are often made to compete for love and attention in a dysfunctional house as well as many are turned against each other by the narcissistic or abusive parent. Some of these children actually take on the role of the abuser in their adult life. These siblings are not in any way what a bond between siblings should be. They do not want the best for you and will do such horrendous things to damage you, they can and will try to destroy every asset of your life.
Toddlerhood is my favourite stage so far. Seriously, terrible twos, threenager – why does the world take such a negative view of this vibrant time in a baby’s life? When I thought about it, I quickly realized that to be fair, most stages of childhood and adolescence are judged harshly and labelled negatively. Poor teens certainly don’t escape the judgement levelled their way.
Growing up in the 90s was a fun time! I miss the good old days of playing with the infamous Skip-It toy and eating Sodalicious fruit snacks—boy… those were the days! I grew up in a simpler time, where we had dial-up internet instead of Wifi, and VHSs instead of DVDs.