6. Being Young

When you are young, you are in your forming years. You are forming and your parents are forming who you will grow up to be, but that is not all. Your path to who you'll become is formed of many components. Your parents, your friends, your teachers and mentors, your passions and joys and much more.

So there is no ONE blame or reason for what you become, other than yourself and the decision you take along the way.

I was brought up by my mother, and my maternal grand-parents. No father in sight.

It was mom and I against the world. No men to create shade on our trajectory. We would laugh together, sing to Celine Dion in the car together, Watch Passe-Partout together, she would bring me everywhere. It was perfection. Love at its best.

Life cannot stay like that forever and I understand it now, today.

My mom had lots of friends. Not the best ones, some might say... They had lots of parties. Friends with bad habits, friends in prison, violent friends and some better ones.

My mom took me to see her friends and some AA meetings. I would serve the coffee for the guests and some of her friends. But all and all, we were one together and I felt safe.

We were happy together. I didn't care about the rest, I was simply happy to be her daughter. Just as a child should be.

But the welcoming of a new member of the family soon came to create a shade on our journey. A new men, a new baby, a new era. A shady era. One that was crowded by drugs, shouting, rough housing, violence, verbal abuse, physical abuse and psychological abuse.

This time was dark. My mom became distant, she wanted to create a happy family. She was trying hard to make it work with her new boyfriend. He wasn't nice. She was pushed down the stairs, whilst 8 months pregnant, he used to hit her and me, pushed her, screamed at her and me, he took me around to his friends house to buy drugs and use drugs. He took me on a boat, where the son of his friends wanted to touch me and make me touch him... All revolting and hurtful situations. I was only between the ages of 3 and 5.

A time where he would abuse drugs so much, that he would get into fights for them. Coming back home with a bloodied shirt, a bruised face. Humiliating me in front of others, for simple things, like finding things on the ground. Shouting at me for existing and being around in his relationship. Throwing things at me because I made too much noise. Slapping me, because I woke up too early. My mom was trying to protect me. He was manipulative.

Then came my little brother. He was cute. I was happy to have a sibling. Except I lost a little more space... Less quality time with my mom. We weren't just the 2 of us anymore.

This man created a stressful and unhappy living situation for a 5 year old. I was pushed aside, slapped for being jealous of my new brother. I had to care for him, more than a 5 year old should, because he couldn't take good care of us and my mom had to take more care of him, whilst protecting us. I would and We would leave the house in the middle of the night to take refuge at my grand-parents house. Leave the instability that he created.

I even remember there was so much screaming, that I once picked all the neighbours tulips, without asking, to put a balm in their argument. Get them to stop screaming at each other.

Of course I then had to apologize to the neighbour I had done this too. LOL

At 6 months of age, my brother lost his father, and I was freed of this monster. He dies of a drug overdose. It was sad. My mom was blamed for his death, even if she had nothing to do with this. The only fault she had, was not being able to leave him in time. So much sadness came from this era. But so much relief came from him dying. The relief of never experiencing his revolting manners, intruding personality and careless self.

We were free to live and start a new chapter. 1 mother, 2 kids agains the world. I loved my mom and I loved my brother. He was so small. So defenceless.

We were starting anew, with a few scars from the last 18-24 months. Scars that stayed with me for a long time. He ruined many years o my life, but today we are healing, 30 years later.

One day at a time it happened. Forgiveness. I simply need to live in the present moment and lead my life with love. Love for myself and care of others. Live and let live. To be or not to be, as my grand-mother used to say. I choose... To Be!

This time felt dark for many years, but with almost 40 years since, all these deeply set wounds are healing, through therapy, self care and self love. Learning that I am not what happened to me all those years ago and that I deserve to love myself. Learn to accept what happened, and that they were only there to build me to a strong and loving woman.

It's a choice we make in life to take our history and past and turn it into what we want to turn it into. Only you can make that decision. And only you will live with the consequences of those actions. So make them worth while, because you're worth it!