The Girl With The Past

My Childhood.

Everyone has a point in their life they don't want to remember. You can deny that and say "I love every part of my life" but you know you are lying to yourself. The part of my life I don't want to remember is my childhood. Most of you are probably thinking "why would you not want to remember your childhood when that is what makes you, well you." And you know what, you are 100% right. That is why I dread it.

Your childhood is the time of your life you learn things about yourself. You learn your first words, you learn how to walk, you learn the basic life needs. And that is okay. But if you really think about it, your childhood defines who you become as a person. Cliche I know. But at the end of the day, you realize what you are. Some people have good childhoods full of happy memories and good times. Some people have bad childhoods with terrible memories they never want to remember again. And then there are the special select who have what people call the best of both worlds. I would say I had the best of both worlds, but not for a good reason.

There is something I don't like to talk about. My life. If I don't talk about my life, I feel as if it would never happen. I could go my entire life not talking about my past and it would never affect me. But sometimes, the backstory of a person really makes you understand them.

You can ask most people and they will tell you I am the most outgoing person you will ever meet. And sometimes I wish that were true. As a kid, I want to say I didn't have it "rough" but I had days where it was pretty bad. At the age of 3 I was left me with my mom and my siblings due to certain circumstances. All I remember of my dad is that he was always in and out of jail, he was always drinking and smoking and he all out was a terrible dad. I have heard things from my siblings, and well let me just say he wasn't the best. One of the main memories I have of my dad is getting stitches. Cool, right? One of the first memories that come straight to my head is me getting hurt. I will forever remember this day, even if everyone tells me that I was too young to remember. I have a scar on my foot that reminds me of how it happened.

There is this thing about me a lot of people know, I love to be barefoot. You probably think this has nothing to do with anything but I promise. It is relevant. When I was 2 I was always running around causing trouble. I was always getting into stuff that I shouldn't have, but what 2 year old doesn't? I remember it like it just happened. I was always warned to put shoes on because I could get stung by a bee or I could step on something. Bees were not my main concern considering I was 2 years old. I just wanted to play with my ball.

This ball was something my dad gave me so I automatically loved it. I wanted to play with it every chance I got. Because by heart, I am a daddy's girl and I always will be. No matter what the situation is from my past, I will always love my dad. The ball was a present to me for one of my birthdays and I never gave it up. I was running toward the ball when I felt a sharp pain in my foot. I immediately started to scream and cry. My mom came running out trying to figure out what was wrong, and well I was 2 so it isn't like I can just explain what happened. I remember my mom telling me it was going to be okay and that I will get better soon.

My mom put me in the car and we drove to the hospital. My favorite place to go. To this day, I have had the same doctor my entire life so it was nothing new to go see her considering my heart conditions. To me, I just thought it was going to be another check up. But it turns out, it was something I had no clue of what was happening. My mom gave me a doodle pro, you know the thing that is magnetic and you draw on and think it is the coolest thing ever, yeah that was my toy. I was screaming my head off at the time and all my mom was telling me was to draw on my doodle pro.

She thought it would distract me from the constant irritation at my foot. Turns out, I had a piece of glass in my foot. Me being young, it is a little bit of a big deal. I had to get 9 stitches in my foot that day. I felt every single one of them go in my foot and let me tell you that feeling is not pleasant. To this day, I hate feet and I think this experience traumatized me to cause that. I do not like people near my feet, I do not like to touch feet and I especially do not like people touching my feet where my scar is.

Another memory I have is him throwing me in a pool when I couldn't swim when he was drunk off his ass. Him and his friends thought it was funny to try and teach me how to swim. Well little did you know, I almost drowned. Again, my mother had to save the day and rescue me. Sometimes, you have to have someone help you when you fall.. Even if that person isn't who everyone thinks. My dad was back at it drinking and smoking and I knew one day it would get the best of him. We all did.