During my Preschool and Elementary School years, I grew up in a lower income neighborhood in a small city. The neighborhood was full of children and we played outside endlessly. For all of us, the environment outside of our houses was preferable to that within. We all had difficult home lives, although I don't ever remember thinking at the time that our situations were good or bad- they just were. We all had a definition of normal life that was slightly different than our neighbor's, but overall the same.
My parents' marriage was a trainwreck caused by the conception of my twin sister and me- the result of a drunken one night stand between two teenagers. As a result, my father chose a profession that caused him to be away from home all week. My mother, who blamed my sister and me for her tortured existence, spent evenings after work drinking and using prescription drugs. We quickly learned to be neither seen nor heard.
Our next door neighbors were four girls whose father was a pastor of a church. Their father would easily fly into rages and beat the girls and their mother. He was calm on the outside, but stormy within. These girls also sought refuge outside of their home.
Across the street lived a boy and girl who attended parochial school. Their father was an alcoholic who would sometimes leave the privacy of their home to inflict chaos on the neighborhood. Next door to them, lived two boys much younger than most of us whose father was incarcerated. Their mother walked through life as if in a dream. Her young sons were very much an afterthought. Children in the neighborhood would smuggle crackers out of their houses on the days that the young boys' mother hadn't thought of making dinner for them.
Further down the block lived a very skinny, tall girl whose best friend was her mangy cat. Her mother had a series of boyfriends who moved in and out of her life. Her mother often wasn't home. The most constant person in her life was her grandmother who spent her days watching television in a dark living room while hooked up to an oxygen tank. This child's main function was seen as helping her grandmother by performing household chores and making meals.
Each of us had a different way to gauge normalcy in our lives. We never lamented our situations. We worked within them. We had no expectation that things should be different or that anyone else's situation was much better until later in life. Children are masters at adaptation. They learn how to survive in less than optimum situations. Growing up, I never thought that my situation was better or worse than the situations of my peers. It was different in some ways, but also the same. We all had parents who were not up to the task of parenting whether this derived from resentment, apathy, stress, chemical dependency or a poor example passed down from their parents.
My parents' marriage was a trainwreck caused by the conception of my twin sister and me- the result of a drunken one night stand between two teenagers. As a result, my father chose a profession that caused him to be away from home all week. My mother, who blamed my sister and me for her tortured existence, spent evenings after work drinking and using prescription drugs. We quickly learned to be neither seen nor heard.
Our next door neighbors were four girls whose father was a pastor of a church. Their father would easily fly into rages and beat the girls and their mother. He was calm on the outside, but stormy within. These girls also sought refuge outside of their home.
Across the street lived a boy and girl who attended parochial school. Their father was an alcoholic who would sometimes leave the privacy of their home to inflict chaos on the neighborhood. Next door to them, lived two boys much younger than most of us whose father was incarcerated. Their mother walked through life as if in a dream. Her young sons were very much an afterthought. Children in the neighborhood would smuggle crackers out of their houses on the days that the young boys' mother hadn't thought of making dinner for them.
Further down the block lived a very skinny, tall girl whose best friend was her mangy cat. Her mother had a series of boyfriends who moved in and out of her life. Her mother often wasn't home. The most constant person in her life was her grandmother who spent her days watching television in a dark living room while hooked up to an oxygen tank. This child's main function was seen as helping her grandmother by performing household chores and making meals.
Each of us had a different way to gauge normalcy in our lives. We never lamented our situations. We worked within them. We had no expectation that things should be different or that anyone else's situation was much better until later in life. Children are masters at adaptation. They learn how to survive in less than optimum situations. Growing up, I never thought that my situation was better or worse than the situations of my peers. It was different in some ways, but also the same. We all had parents who were not up to the task of parenting whether this derived from resentment, apathy, stress, chemical dependency or a poor example passed down from their parents.
