My Story 3: Wandering the Neighborhood

This post is going to focus a lot on being neglected by my mother. Here is a picture of us together when I was very young. She made the matching outfits.

Me and my mother.

I spent a good portion of my life in denial. How do I know this? Because for a long time I thought nothing of what I had been through as a child.

For example, who finds it "normal" that they were left to do whatever they wanted to do at the age of 2 or 3 years old? Not only did it take years for me to realize that this was not healthy, but it wasn't until the age of 40 years old that I realized I was severely neglected, both physically and emotionally.

As a toddler I remember leaving the apartment by myself. The memories are choppy, but I'll do my best to write them down cohesively.

I often played out on the playground in front of our building unattended.  This was quite normal. I think mom would be out there sometimes. Either way, I was quite content to be out there on my own playing with the other kids.

I remember stepping onto a huge piece of glass with the heel of my foot one time. Not having shoes on was the norm. I didn't cry. It didn't even hurt that much. Was mom there outside with me at the time? I don't remember. I do know that I was able to go to her to mend my foot.

Perhaps my mother assumed that I always stayed at the playground but eventually I started wandering around the apartment complex on my own. One might wonder where my father was. Well, this was all happening while he was at work so I don't think he really knew what was going on.

I often hung out with the bigger kids as they wandered and played around the neighborhood. I barely knew who these kids were, but being so young, I automatically felt a connection with other kids. One time I walked around the whole neighborhood with a group of young teenagers. I didn't even know who they were but I followed them around! Eventually I did go back home on my own accord.

Anyone could have done anything with me at that age. I could have been scooped up by a kidnapper and nobody would have known.

Me at the age of 2 or 3, running in the yard at Grandma's house.

One time a man approached me. I assumed him to be some kind of maintenance worker. He took me into something that looked like a shed, some kind of supply structure. I remember not being sure whether to trust this, but I went in with him anyway. He seemed to make some kind of phone call from the structure. Or maybe he was on a walkie talkie. I really can't remember. In fact, I don't even know if I'm remembering this right! After a few minutes I left the structure. I have no idea what happened next. Maybe I went back home.

I remember walking down the sidewalk one day and seeing a piece of soft pretzel on the sidewalk. It was the perfect sized piece for a toddler. :) I crouched down and peered at it. It sure looked good! I watched as a single ant climbed into one of the nooks of the pretzel. It did not come back out. I picked the pretzel up to investigate and could not figure out where that ant went. Giving up on finding the ant, I took a bite of the pretzel. Yum. lol

This story is a bit lighter, but another time, I decided to go to the pool by myself. Unlike the other times, this time my father was home. I took my shirt off so that I only had my shorts on. I decided that these were my "trunks" just like daddy wore. I also thought that "trunks" were the same thing as a pool pass, since my father would always say, "I need to get the pass" before putting his swimming trunks on. But I never saw him carrying a card around, just him in his trunks. Hence the confusion. So, here I was, all ready to go to the pool with my trunks/pass. I ran with excitement all the way to the pool, never stopping the entire way, and jumped straight into the water when I got there. The lifeguard said something about me not being allowed to be there. And I responded, "It's okay. I've got my pass on!" Haha :) Soon after dad came to get me and we went home much to my disappointment.

I remember mom had the window to our apartment open one time. I was looking out of this window and noticed a lady from another building sitting on the ledge of her window. This looked like fun so I decided to do it too. We lived on the second floor by the way. Somehow I managed to get myself on the ledge of the window, perhaps by climbing on top of a chair. There was no screen, just the opening to the outside world. I balanced myself and sat myself down. I was there for a moment and suddenly I heard my mother gasp as she swooped me off of the ledge.

When I was a bit older, I decided that I wanted to take my infant brother to the playground. I had to have been close to 4 years old at this time. I picked up my brother, a few months old at the time, and somehow carried him down the stairwell!  I took him outdoors, placed him on a swing, and started pushing him. I was only there for a few moments before mom was right down there with us, taking us back inside.

I guess not all of my stories are so bleak. And my experiences of wandering the neighborhood alone weren't so bad. However, it's an indication of what was going on more deeply under the surface. 

Here is a picture my mother took of me at 9 months old:

Me at 9 months.

 My mother gave me this picture a long time ago. I can't find the picture at the time of this writing, but on the back my mother wrote something that goes like this:

You are nine months old in this picture. I made the hat and sweater. Sorry but I fell asleep and left you outside! The paper boy woke me up. It was raining a little bit and you weren't even crying.

 I showed this picture to the shaman one day during a healing session. He looked at it and shook his head with disgust. He then shoved the picture in my face and said, "What would you tell a client if they showed you a picture of themselves like this?" I think he was trying to drive the point home how neglected I was.

Eventually a cop picked me up on the street one day. Just three or four years old and I had my first run in with the law. ;) My aunt tells me that this was the final straw and that my parents were kicked out of the apartment complex because mom wouldn't watch me properly. My "hijinks" of escaping the confines of our apartment to explore the outside world would soon come to an end.

At about age 4 or so, my brother and I ended up moving to Grandma and Grandad's house for a while. Here, we were watched over and received good care for the next couple of years. I thank god for the nurturing love of my grandma. Without her I wouldn't know what it would be like to receive any type of motherly love.

Read more about my life story here.