Ever since I can remember from my earliest memories I have always loved writing stories and reading. They were ways to escape my reality. Like I stated briefly in my intro blog I grew up in a not so amazing environment. Starting school was very easy for me I was a fast learner and was advancing quickly. Before I finished kindergarten the school offered me to skip first grade and advance to second grade. My mother chose to let me go into the first grade because she would of rather me be the smartest child in first grade instead of the dumbest child in second grade. I was so upset that day because I felt like achieved something and I was special and I felt like she took that from me. My brother was born that year and I loved him so much but my mom totally neglected me because she had resentment against me, this is when things started to go downhill quickly.
My education started to take a nosedive because my home life was very stressful and I would come to school so exhausted because I would stay up half the night. Either worrying about my parents and home life or my night terrors that would make me never want to go back to sleep. The school started to say that I could not read and that I was no longer comprehending the content that they were teaching. At one point I tried to brag to my dad about my good grades that quarter and he told me I was not smart and the only reason I passed is because I had a pretty smile. All of the verbal and physical abuse that was directed my way is still being completely denied from both my mother and father alike.
My home life was quickly falling apart my parents were fighting every day. We never had food in the house, I was never given baths I had to do it myself and my clothes were always filthy and usually wreaked of cat urine. My saving grace was that the kids at the elementary school I spent the most time at the kids never judged me and played with me regardless. That never lasted long since I was moved around so much that I never stayed in once place for too long. Once I was shot down and my self-esteem was in the bucket I stopped doing things I loved to do and was clinically diagnosed with major depression at the age of 8 (according to my medical records). I could not longer be a kid my parents relied on me to be their emotional support and I could no longer be a normal child.
Once I was taken away from my parents for good I would randomly get these poems or writings of feelings I would feel and need to immediately write it down so it was never forgotten. To this day I still have all of them but they are extremely amateur work and you can very much tell I was full of hormones and just wanted to be loved. Like I mentioned before my nana tried her best but I literally felt like I will never amount to anything so why even try. I started smoking cigarettes and smoking marijuana at an extremely young age, and also put myself into some scary situations. Needless to say, my talent and passion for writing went by the wayside for a very long time. I never thought I was that great but I love writing and expressing my feelings to get the release of emotions that have been pent up for far too long.
It wasn’t until recent when I found myself more lost than I have in a very long time and needed to focus on me and what are my passions in life. I needed some encouragement from my better half to go for it, and here I am doing the one thing I love to do while expressing my past pains and enjoying it very much. I have thought for most of my life that no one would be interested in what I have to bring to the table but honestly, this is doing wonders for my heart and is a way to let go of the things that have hurt me and my self-esteem. Expressing myself and making myself vulnerable and sharing my story with complete strangers is allowing myself to heal. Finding your passion will be a vital key to your happiness.
Write again soon!