In an earlier post I made a promise. I’ll try to make it short. This is a hard write. You’ve no idea how many times now I’ve deleted multiple paragraphs. Ok, ok, let’s get to it already. I don’t like breaking promises.
I am recovering.
I tried to think of a way to describe myself in one sentence and after multiple attempts that was all I could come up with. I am recovering.
I’m recovering from a childhood of neglect, a mother who suffered from mental illness (untreated), a father who suffered from his perceptions of the roles of motherhood and fatherhood, a family who suffered from not knowing what to do other than ignore it all. It resulted in a childhood of not only physical neglect, but education neglect, emotional neglect and damage that could possibly be forever.
Do you know what children do to a neglected child? They sure don’t show empathy or sympathy. School was a nightmare. At least it was a nightmare when I was there. Sixth grade I missed three months straight.
Why am I writing this? I don’t want sympathy now. I don’t need it. It took me awhile as an adult but I’m beginning to deal with the damage caused by my childhood. So, why am I writing this?
I want to reach out to other people like myself, I think. I want people to know that your past matters, it does help make you who you are today, but it does not need to define you unless you allow that.
As a 21-year-old first time mom I had the spelling ability of a 3rd grader. I typed around 15 wpm. I was an avid reader but my dream had always been to write the stories. I had no idea what the word “plot” meant. I didn’t know when to begin a paragraph, or that punctuation stayed inside the quotes. The basic writing skills most students learn by 4th grade were skills I wasn’t at school to learn.
This combined with other emotional issues was something I felt I couldn’t get over but I also couldn’t give up my passion. I wanted to write stories. I verbalized the stories when I wasn’t able to write.
I read once, “What is your first thought when you wake up? That is what you are meant to be.” I thought about stories. Characters. Scenes. Plots. Beginnings. Endings. Middles. Conflicts. Resolutions.
I was meant to be a writer.
I asked friends for help. I started finding everything I could on the technical end of writing. I taught myself and continue to teach myself. I’ve shared this with people and had a few people that didn’t believe me. I simply do not speak or write like someone who had as little education was I did. Funny what a little self-motivation can do for a person, huh?
I dropped out of school in the beginning of 10th grade.
You, you person maybe reading this and doubting yourself right now, please believe me that you can do it. Take your dream and make it work. Don’t expect your dream to drop into your lap. Don’t let problems stand in your way. Everyone has problems.