New Song

My Childhood Days

CHAPTER ONE

DO I REALLY EXIST?

The idea I had of myself was so maimed that I often wondered if I really existed.

I always had the idea that I should not be taken seriously, and felt guilty towards people who trusted me. I could never persevere in anything. I did not know if I could believe in myself, let alone my ideas and living them out. The slightest opposition in life made me so insecure that I would rather flee. As a result, I had these negative thoughts that when I would die one day, there would be nothing that I have done to be remembered by. Everyone will know that I was a fake.

Since my earliest childhood days I wanted to vanish. Like vanishing into thin air. Sometimes I also wished to die, but most of the time I just wanted to disappear.

No matter what I thought, I always felt that I didn't know what I was supposed to be. My thoughts were so bizarre; I can't even try to put them into words. These thoughts always made me feel out of place with others.

My dad was one of four boys. I assumed that he wanted a daughter when he got married. His first two children were sons. My two brothers. Three years after my second brother my father had his girl! My older sister. When my mother fell pregnant with me, after a long awaited first daughter, I again assumed that it was too much for my dad. I arrived when my first-born brother was six and my sister was one year and eight months old. My dad adored my sister and I always thought that he felt that she would feel forsaken if he would share his love for her, with me. On the other hand my mum was happy with two boys and then two girls. She started to fuss over me in the same way I thought my dad only fussed over my sister. When I was almost seven years old, my little sister was born. This time I thought my dad was overjoyed, as she was not part of the "crèche" of four. He could just enjoy her on her own. In fact we all loved her very much.

My situation in the family was such that I was the middle child between two girls who were adored by my dad. I always had the impression that I irritated my dad and that I could do nothing to gain his love. I once heard him making a remark saying that he just loved having girls. I can still remember my confusion. I wondered if it could be that he knew something about me that I would never know. Something like that I am not really a girl!

I often thought that I should be more like my dad. I was sure he would love me if I was more like him, but it did not work. There was forever this feeling that I could do nothing to make my dad love me in the same way that he loved my sisters. He wanted daughters, but he did not want me.

This was my irrational way of thinking.

The day I dared to speak out was like any other day. Even though my dad never gave me hidings, he often looked at me in disapproval. My mum sometimes spanked me and afterwards it gave me a sense of belonging rather✔ than resentment. But with my dad it was different. I misinterpreted looks and way of authoritive talking. It made me feel that he did not like me. I felt as if I was not the kind of person that he would like to be associated with. I was not really scared of him; it was more a feeling that I was of no value.

I never spoke out about my feelings of being excluded from my dad's love, until one night...

I was 14 years old. My mum and us kids were busy with supper when my dad came back from work. He kissed my mum and made lovingly brrr sounds in every child's neckline with them wriggling and laughing.

When he came to me I said: "Don't do that to me." "Why not?" he asked, "You can do it to the others, but not to me". I simply said.

To this day I can remember the hurt look on his face. It was the first time that I saw him so vulnerable. I could not forget it. It took all my bravado away, but I could not get myself to say "I'm sorry". Somehow I felt he deserved to be hurt, but at the same time I felt very guilty. But there was something in me that made me feel good about myself being able to speak out against my dad.

What I did not foresee however, was that my dad would suddenly die of a heart attack only a few weeks after this incident.

The thought that maybe I broke his heart that night, would not leave me. As a result I decided that he did not really die. I decided that he was only somewhere in hiding and that he would come back to me one day (only to me). He would then tell me that he actually loved me and that he missed me so much that he had to come back. Then I would tell him how sorry I was for the night at the supper table and all my problems would be over...

The expectation of my dad coming back to me killed all my pain and filled all my void's. I did not want a boyfriend because I waited for my dad. If anything would go wrong in my life, I talked to my dad about it and then felt much better. If I felt rejected or misunderstood, I comforted myself with the assurance that my dad would come back and fix it. I "had" my dad for the first time in my life. I needed nobody!

Through my high school years I actively waited for my dad. I expected him around every corner and "knew" it was he every time the telephone rang. I did not know that I was robbing myself, but at the same time this "game" helped me to cope with a self-inflicted guilt that was way too big to handle.

With all this emotional stress I put myself through, throughout my childhood days as well as other incidents I locked away, I somehow passed my last year of school without having failed once in the duration of my whole school going years.+

Today I realise that it was a total miracle when I consider all mixed up emotions and wrong perceptions I had.