If it never happened
Sometimes I look at my past and compare it to the future in a way that I can look for the things to change. It’s similar to when I can’t remember something and I stop trying, to prevent my brain from creating memories that never actually happened.
Because of this, sometimes I want to live vicariously through Ruby — to have her childhood memories. It’s not a jealousy thing; I just wish that I could have lived a much better life sometimes.
Of course, if I had, then I would probably had wondered what could have happened. Would I have the ability to fathom what many people going through what I went through do? Would I be able to understand why they stay and “take it”, as some people call it?
And maybe I wouldn’t have had five siblings who I love oh, so dearly, even though I think that one most certainly despises me.
But sometimes I have that craving — or maybe it’s a lust — to change certain memories into some happier ones. That way, I would have grown up with a childhood full of a manipulative stepfather who abused me and a gullible mother who neglected me and, quite literally, put up with everything even when she knew it was wrong (yet claimed it was okay)1, yet I wouldn’t remember it.
And sometimes, I just really want to do this. I want to do this so that I won’t be stuck in limbo trying and crying to get out.
Other times, however, I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to have went through all of that and come out all fine and dandy because I truly believe that it was all legal. As great as living a cookie-cutter lifestyle is for some, I’m honestly thankful that I have this different understanding of the world. Or maybe I’m actually thankful that I know that I can go through hell and back and come back alive. Or maybe it’s the fact that I lived through that and gained a purpose for my life just from that.
Because if I had turned out to live in such a way that I sought their parenting style to be right, I would have been an unfortunate addition to the statistic of abuse victims who go on to abuse their own kids. And that isn’t what I want. I refuse to allow anyone else to make me believe that what happened to me, my siblings and other kids in the world is humane.
Sometimes I just wish I could be a baby again because I feel like I was cheated/scammed in this one.
- It’s complicated. I don’t know how to explain it. Any psychologists out there? ↩