Does anyone else find it weird that the memories that we remember most are dark memories? As I sit here and decide what to write about, I search for happy memories from my childhood. I know that there are some, but the darkness swallows them up.
The day I truly realized that my Homelife wasn't like others was when I went to a sleepover at one of the Jen's houses. I had a core group of friends for most of my school years and two of them were named Jen. We lived in a townhouse development and we would all hang out together. Most of the neighbors looked at us like we were deviants but that was much later.
This sleepover was when we were in grade school. For whatever reason, we were all sitting around in a semi-circle and we started talking. Or maybe I remember it was a semi-circle because they all crowded around. I started to share stories and the looks of horror on the other girls faces was something that I had never seen. I was telling the stories like I was sharing a trip to the mall. "Oh, you know.... I get yelled at for hours." or "Yea, one time this babysitter took us on a joyride with her friends and scared the life out of me." That's a story for another time. There were stories I shared with them that I don't even know that I will ever be able to share on a social platform.
Anyway, as I shared, they reassured me that my home life was in fact, not normal. They listened, like really listened to me. For the first time in my life, I was truly being heard by someone who wasn't experiencing it with me. They don't realize the impact that had on my life. If they are reading this now, you know who you are and I say thank you from the bottom of my heart.
One of the best memories I have during the moments that I spent with that group was a feeling of being truly accepted. I had so much fun hanging out with them for hours, all of us sitting around a green electrical box. Those ladies, and the deviant boys (you know who you are) were my saviors, other than my siblings, during that horrible time. It was my escape. A time when I could be surrounded by kindness and belonging.
My hope in this.... try and remember the good times. That box of memories in our heads deserve to have some sunshine. Take a moment every now and again and remember them. Those people loved you. They were there for you. I know mine were and they were angels to me.
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