The memories I have of my life as a child are mostly painful because of the sad events and times that characterized my childhood. Growing up, my parents had a toxic relationship charged with domestic violence perpetrated on my mother by my father. His abusive nature became more pronounced every time he would drink. It is mostly this violent nature of my father that brought the greatest sadness in my childhood. This happened because of the unrest he used to cause as well as the sadness he caused my mother. As a result of this, I remember harboring negative emotions during most of my childhood such as fear, anxiety, and despair. In brief, the poor relationship between my parents accounted for a large part of my sadness during my childhood which led to the bad memories of the time that I have to this day.
Body
The first memory I have of my childhood is that of lacking some of the cool things that my childhood friends had. Things such as toys, cool clothes, and shoes were alien to me. I can remember seeing my friends from the neighborhood riding their bicycles and thinking to myself why I do not have one. Every time I asked my mum if she could buy me anything, I saw my friend having and wished I had it too, she would promise to buy it for me at a later time but never did. It was not until I started having a vague idea of the family, I was born into that I began understanding why my mum could not afford somethings for me. At about five years of age, I realized that my father was irresponsible and did not help my mother to take care of the family. I remember realizing that most of the things that we had were bought by my mum. At this point, I became more observant of what was going on in the family. Among other things, I realized that my mother was taking care of us by herself while my father spent most of his time and money drinking. During my first year in school, he began being verbally abusive to my mum.
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After some time, he began being physically abusive, a development which I remember made my mum sad and miserable. To this day, I still remember the first day I saw him beat my mom. That day, he came home around midnight and started verbally abusing my mother before he entered the house. My mother got up to open the door for him as she did, he started asking if there was food. My mother explained to him that we had slept hungry. He began accusing her of lying to him, saying that we had eaten and decided not to spare him anything for him. I remember my mother trying to tell him that his accusations were not true when he slapped her before she could finish her sentence. I was scared for my mother a great deal because I had never seen my father being physically abusive to her. From that day onwards, he would abuse her at the slightest confrontation.
While the domestic abuse situation was worsening at home, my school life was also proving problematic. I had issues understanding and learning most of the things at school. I remember one of my teachers at the time singling me out and focusing on teaching me at a slower pace than the rest of the students. My slow learning tendency brought more miseries in my childhood. Some students used to mock me for my inability to understand as fast as they did, an experience that caused me much discomfort. Eventually, when I was in fifth grade, I was put in special classes because of my disability to learn how to read and write as fast as my classmates. In seventh grade, it was finally discovered that I had a specific learning disability and was diagnosed with dyslexia. I can recall my mother being sad about it and confused as to what should be done. However, my teacher at the time calmed her down and told her that the disorder is not severe and can be overcome with special teaching that focuses on enabling a dyslexic child to decode messages more effectively hence improving their ability to read.
The diagnosis was one of the few positive moments in my childhood because it pinpointed my problem and I can recall improving because the teachers knew how to deal with my situation better. However, the situation at home was getting worse, my father`s abusive habit was worsening negatively affected us all. At times, my mother would cry while alone, something that I discovered one day when I came home early. That day, she explained to me that it was her way of releasing the mental pressure that she lived under. Her words really hurt me and I remember starting to resent my father because of how much she made my mother bear in silence just to appear strong for my siblings and I. In addition to the stress he caused my mother, my father began doing hard drugs and worse still, in front of us. He did not seem to care if he was exposing me to substances that could potentially ruin my life if he were to influence me into following his footsteps. At times, when she was around, my mother would tell me to leave the house the minute she saw my dad doing drugs in our presence. At some point, I recall understanding why she used to cry while alone. Feeling compelled to be there for my mother and help her navigate the difficult position she was in. I began learning house chores that kids my age considered the responsibility of their parents or guardians. I started babysitting my siblings at the age of nine to save my mother the money of hiring a house help. Whenever my mother left for work, I assumed her responsibility and did everything to my siblings that I saw my mother do.
The first days were hectic because, while I saw my mother babysit, I had never tried it in practice. I have vivid memories of forgetting to feed my baby brother while tending to my younger sister only to remember I am supposed to feed him hours later. The babysitting part ruined my childhood because I can remember turning down offers to play with my age mates so I can make sure that my siblings were safe and well fed. For all the stress, it caused me, I was always willing to do it because I knew it took some pressure off my mum and made her life slightly easier. At the age of nine, I had already learned to cook for the family and could prepare meals in the absence of my mother. The process of learning how to cook was not fun or even interesting. Since I had to learn by myself, I endured a few burns and made some undercooked meals that no one in the family liked but had to eat since, in most cases, I was the only option they had.
The most impacting event in my childhood life came at age eleven. My mum, tired of my father`s physical and verbal abuse, decided that it was time she should leave him and start a new life with me and my siblings. During that time, I remember thinking that the problems were over and that we were going to have a nice and peaceful life with just my siblings and my mother. This encouraging dream did not come to fruition. Instead, life deteriorated and my childhood became even more stressful than ever before. It all began on the first Friday of January. While my father was at work, my mother took the opportunity to pack all our belongings because he knew my father would never let her leave. We dressed in a hurry and, for the first time, I left the house I was born in never to return. Although at that very moment it did not strike me as a life-changing event, I remember viewing it as such a few years later.
Our first stop was at my aunt`s place. We stayed there and for the first few days, I had a difficult time adapting to the new lifestyle. No sooner had I began adjusting to the new place and life than my grandmother was added into our daily life. With her came chaos. She always insisted on having everything done her way and never stopped to consider anyone`s point of view. She never cared about my mother or my aunt’s thoughts. She viewed herself as the sole decision-maker of every single decision that had to be made for, she believed, her age made her automatically wiser than us all. After some time, my mother grew tired of my grandmother`s bossy ways and tantrums and decided to save up and buy her apartment. Having saved enough money, my mother moved us into our new apartment. The day we moved into our new apartment was the day I thought that we had finally turned a corner, that all the miseries in our lives were over and we were in for a better life moving forward. Like many times before, I was disappointed again. Everything fell apart when due to financial difficulties, we lost the apartment and became homeless.
Never before had I been scared for my future as I was the first day we were evicted. Scary images of me, my mother and my siblings living under bridges, tents, and trailer parks crossed my mind a thousand times. I recall imagining us turning into beggars in the streets to feed ourselves. Thankfully, most of these thoughts did not materialize. Despite losing our apartment, my mother continued working had and provided us with food and other basic needs. Although life was difficult as we moved from shelter to shelter, on the whole, I remember acknowledging we were better than most homeless people. We had food to eat and could change clothes frequently enough to avoid looking like homeless people.
Conclusion
In short, my childhood was not what most children would consider normal. The events that transpired in my life as described pushed me into adulthood earlier than I expected. Instead of spending time with my friends, I was forced to develop a sense of duty and responsibility to make the situation better. In light of all this, my childhood can be best summarized as a stressful period of my life. However, looking back, it is the rough time I had back then that molded me into the responsible individual I am today. I learned from an early age that bad choices have bad consequences and resolved not to make the mistakes I witnessed my father make.
