A Moment That Changed My Life!

I was very quiet and introspective from as early as I can remember, because my father made it very clear that he didn’t want girls (who would only amount to nothing), while boys did the trick for him, and he suited action to the words, too. It meant that for me and my sister, we might as well not have been there. He left our mother soon after we were born, starving us of love, affection and care. He barely wanted to give anything towards our upkeep after he left home, and I often wondered how our mother coped with us during those harsh times of few jobs and no welfare.

Basic things for school and life were denied us, which meant we experienced a level of poverty that was both excruciating and unbelievable, often having nothing to eat many days. This knowledge that I was subconsciously rejected did little good for my self-esteem, and though I was a phenomenal reader, from four years old, my actual achievement and motivation during early childhood were very low. However, what my father lacked in acceptance, value, and love, my mother made up for in abundance.

As a child I was short, thin and frail, as I was finicky with food, having a passion for eating mainly milk and eggs. That was great for protein, but not much fat. Hence I was a target for bullies, which was rife between 8 and 12 years old. Being rather meek, and almost apologising for my existence, bullying me became an enjoyable pastime for the bored ones who found fault with my clothes, my looks, and my manner. Nothing about me was appealing to them, and I must be punished for it. To please my mother, and because I loved school, I kept quiet about the intimidation and soldiered on, hoping things would be better. But the viciousness got so bad, my older sister had to come to my primary school on one occasion to sort out a ring leader, because the teachers expected us to deal with such issues ourselves.

From that moment, bullies left me alone, somewhat, though by then, it had become pretty traumatic. Their actions had prevented me from enjoying my school days, and even attending some lessons. I just wanted to escape from it all; to run away and hide, what I regarded as, my ‘ugly’ self, in order to spare the pain of the daily attacks. But, paradoxically, school was my one oasis of feeling ‘normal’ - feeling that I belonged somewhere, apart from my home, so I suffered in silence. Not that it did me much good, as I achieved little; but I was repeatedly told how ‘bright’ I was by teachers, and how I should put in ‘more effort’.

Plagued by Asthma

Not surprisingly, with this constant stress, I was very sickly too, particularly with asthma, and nosebleeds which occurred mainly when I was asleep, and became very debilitating for me. Asthma dogged me for many years, as I was always wheezing, coughing and allergic to things. Sometimes the coughing was quite distressing, making it difficult to even breathe. To make matters worse, I had been sexually abused by a stepfather for two years, and subjected to physical abuse by my Mom when she was in terrible moods, or we caught her on the wrong day. So I was getting it from all sides, and with no one to confide in. I think, up until I was about 11 years old, I simply coasted along, feeling unwanted, isolated, and full of emotional and physical pain that haunted my waking moment.

Then one day I was in my usual seat at the back of the classroom at primary school daydreaming, staring out of the window, wishing I was somewhere else, to escape from my searing life of perceived rejection, when something familiar disturbed my thoughts. It was a story I had written (for my English class) about a girl having an exciting dream she thought was real, until she woke up to hear “the pattering of the rain on the window pane”, the only words I remember from the story.

I realised, with both excitement and swelling pride, that the teacher was actually reading MY essay! It was the first time in my life I had been praised publicly for something I had done, a tremendous feeling of worth, value and talent. It had a dramatic effect on both my behaviour and that of the bullies around me. From then on, they were more conciliatory, wanting me to help with their work, while that simple appreciation motivated my efforts, raised my achievements, and influenced me getting a scholarship to a convent grammar school a year later. It also cemented my love of the printed word and gave me a new optimism and zest for life, helping me to rise above my drab existence.

As well as being a prolific writer, author and publisher, thanks to that teacher's simple praise and appreciation of my effort, I went on to become an English teacher myself for a while, making a point of reading out students’ essays to ensure they are recognised. The rest, as they say, is history.

These days I am far more extroverted and more self-loving, with an enduring sense of purpose, a deep understanding of the pain of others, and a keen desire to empathise and help where I can. I believe I'm a beautiful achiever, and I immensely enjoy my positive mindset and approach; one that I like to share with others. Years ago I forgave the bullies and stepfather too, which freed me from their lives. The past now seems like another world entirely. In fact, if my younger self met my older self today, the two would barely recognise each other!

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