This is the story of my life. Why???? Because it might help me and others to overcome their trauma and find the strength to persevere. Sometimes writing things down helps to let them go and banish them from my life and thoughts, because even at 69 some memories are still affecting my life. This is my way of getting them off my chest and hopefully out of my mind.
Lets start at the beginning. I can not promise that it will all follow in the correct order, it will be written just as I remember when I remember.
Born as the second eldest in 1956 into a family of 7 children, my childhood was great the first few years. Not perfect, but then, whose is…. My Father being British and my Mother German we moved a lot from one country to the other never really settling so my roots are divided between the 2 counties, each which I would call my home even now. Do I consider myself either of those? Hmm, I suppose I consider myself half German and half British even thou I was born in Germany but have a British Passport.
My relationship with my parents was complicated as you will discover during my posts. My Father was a womanizer who went so far as to bring one of his girlfriends to our home whilst my mother was in Hospital. (But more later) My mother always working, cleaning or sewing which left her no time for nurturing us children.
Anyhow, my first traumatic experiences that I can remember was when I was about 5 years old. We lived next door to a small farm where I spent almost all of my time, helping where I could, cutting up newspaper into squares for toilet paper threading it onto some string and loving spending time the animals that lived on the farm. (I even got to ride a pig once which proceeded to throw me off into the pig shit) One day we were out hay making and I was promised a Speck sandwich when we were finished (a special treat for me as we did not often have Speck). Of course I was excited and looked forward to my reward. Once finished, I innocently asked if I could now have my sandwich when my father who overheard my request stormed over and slapped me across the face that my ears rang, yelling that I was embarrassing him and never to beg again. ( I learned very early on not to ask for help or to call in any favors.) I think those early years were the best of my life, the Farmers treating my like their daughter and when my parents decided to move back to the UK the wanted to adopt me. I cried crocodile tears when my parents refused.
In the Uk we lived first in a converted Train carriage (divided into 3 parts, 1 bedroom for us 3 Girls and one Kitchen with an open fire place where my mother would cook, and my parents room) again near a farm and we children spent days out and about climbing trees and standing in warm cow pats (someone had told me it would help me to grow and I believed them). We were mischievious like many children and one day we decided to tie our youngest sister upside down to the bed post of the stock bed. Now, it seem like something fun to do and we thought so at the time, but….. we had tied her hands and feet and made her jump over the narrow bridge which led to the carriage which in hind site was dangerous. We got a good pasting from our father when he found out. Life was good and we loved the simplicity until we moved into a lovely terraced house which had a fantastic attic where we would store apples and other things. I went to school but do not remember much about it except that one birthday a boy in my class presented me with some lovely red mittens for my birthday. (He had stolen them from his sister)
My siblings came one after the other and I remember having to spend much of my time baby sitting them. (Fun fact…. one day I caught my younger sister sat in the yard, chubby hands holding some worms, stuffing them into her mouth) Of course I kept quiet about it not wanting to be punished for not noticing sooner.
Unfortunately we once again moved and this time back to Germany. This is where the real trauma of my life began.
More to follow soon. 🙂
