Like most personal blogs, this is a blog about my life. It's not about pictures of my dinner or vacation bragging and stuff. It's about coming to grips with all that happened, making peace with the past and with myself, and figuring out what life was trying to teach me.
On the surface, my childhood was pretty normal: middle-class family, three kids, a dog, some cats, two parents who stayed married.
Under the surface there was stuff happening. Moving too many times. Parental fights. Pathological sibling stuff. High, very high, way too high expectations.
And always, underneath it all, the ongoing message that I wasn't quite what my family had ordered. And so the title of this blog.
See, I was supposed to be The Girl TM. All pink and pretty. Button nose and saddle shoes. Sugar and spice and everything nice. Cute and sweet. Ruffles and curls. Mommy's mini-me.
What I turned out to be was noisy, messy, and anxious. I liked blue and disliked pink. I had sensory issues. I was emotionally needy. I woke up at night vibrating with anxiety. None of that was okay with anyone else in the house.
What's more, I wasn't even that keen on being a girl. Dolls seemed pointless, but trucks out in the sandbox and piles of stuffed animals were great. I wanted a chemistry set. I was given a tea set. And hoo, boy, none of that was okay with my mother.
The message came through in oh, so many ways: I was not the little dream girl she wished for and, after producing two boys, felt entitled to have. And that was never, never okay.
For readers who need trigger warnings, I promise there won't be too many big traumas, just lots of little ones. And what do I hope to achieve with this? Mostly, on a personal level, to understand what happened and how it shaped me. But if there's anyone else out there who feels a little bit validated, who thinks, "Yeah, that happened to me, and everyone acted like it was normal but now I get that it's not and that my feelings were real and I get to feel them," then yay, something good has come out of this.
Also, this is my blog and I get to set the rules about comments. Spam and hate will be deleted and the authors blocked without comment or warning. Yes, everyone has freedom of expression. Just not on my blog. Anyone can have their own blog and say what they want.
2 comments:
I'm really happy you are doing this. It feels like the right time. In the last year I have begun to realize that although I love all of my lunatic friends, I don't really know them very well, or at least what makes you you. So I am glad you are letting me get to know you. Thank you.
I'm with Laura. I know we know a lot about each other, spent our formative HS years around each other, chilled at each others' houses now and again, saw each other's art, then mostly went our separate ways for a great number of years ...
... then came back together. I feel like we're all comparing notes.
These entries have the same sort of tone that my diary missives to myself have. I love them just the same way. There's a great honesty here and the most honest thing is sharing them where we all can see. I value that.
I also love, love, LOVE the illustrations. Primitive, childlike, but rich in color and emotion. They pack a punch.
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