Growing Pains
Do you ever wonder what life would be like if you didn't exist? It seems like a senseless question, but have you ever pondered the thought? I have. When I was in middle school and I was having trouble adjusting to a new school I began to think of such a thing, but school wasn't the only reason. I had done six years of private school with the same 39 other kids. Uniforms, the guilt of Catholicism wrapped around my conscience. Sitting in class next to some kids who seemed like the spawn of Satan which you couldn't turn your back to. Being taught to be honest and good while so many were acting out evil incarnate and teachers were mishandling kids in their anger ( I was tossed across a floor once by a teacher for fighting before class once ). Being taught by hypocritical nuns who would sooner crucify you than tell you they loved you was an eye opener.... and a reason to rebel and not take them or school very seriously.
Although I paint a grim picture, it was an inglorious comfort I had grown to embrace. I went from this comfortable environment to finding myself surrounded by hundreds of kids and no one outwardly trying to be a saint. Not that the kids were worse, but things were different and it was difficult coming out of a shell so to speak. It took maybe two weeks to stop standing up when I was called upon to answer a question... the training was well ingrained. I had been kicked out of private school. My sixth grade teacher, a nun, had arranged a meeting with the priest to deal with my behavior 'problem.' The priest, my mom and myself sat in a small room near his residence adjacent to the 'church' cathedral building. This man recommended my mom send me to military school due to my misbehavior, which consisted of making the class laugh and being a clown in general whenever the timing was right ( it's all about timing being funny ). I wasn't the guy bullying others, or molesting the girls, or cursing or anything outlandishly criminal. I was just undermining the 'authority' of a hypocritical young nun fresh out of the nunnery who may have realized she had made a huge mistake putting on those dreary threads... and she was most likely taking that clash of conscience out on me.
With the priest's recommendation, I figured God had kicked me out of his church due to my misbehavior since this was one of his representatives and the one directly over me and in between me and the Lord... so I was done going to church. From that moment forward I refused to go to church with my mom and sisters. I figured I must be so bad to have such a saintly person, dressed in flowing robes, recommend the stockade for the likes of me... so why try for redemption among these people who couldn't wait to get rid of me.
At that same time of the school change, I found my parents at the onset of a divorce, although the relationship had been dead for years. The only 'family time' was experienced with my mom, two sisters and grandparents and the extended family of aunts, uncles and cousins absent my dad. The only time with dad was me and dad... mostly riding on the back of his motorcycle to a nearby municipal airport where I'd watch him work on his dream: a plane he was building by hand and from scratch. There I'd often come across his girlfriend, and she'd show up like nothing was out of the ordinary. I remember feeling a deep emptiness inside my gut when she'd show up, like a vacuum had been turned on and my intestines were infinitely vanishing inwardly. I would burn with so much anger I couldn't see straight. I would ask him who this gal was just showing up and being all bubbly around him and he would just call her by her name and not go further into it ( acting dumb ). Out of love and respect for my dad I would try to keep my emotions out of my words, but I couldn't help it. When I would try, nothing but tears would come out. Looking back now, this was all a bit much for someone who was very naive and saw life through a prism of ideals ( I grew up watching teevee with every show having a happy ending, a heartfelt lesson and all things always being reconciled... so naturally my conditioning was set to "ideal" ).
I recall going through a time of sadness and wondered what life would be like if I didn't exist. Perhaps the realization that my dad didn't love my mom anymore was hitting home, for I couldn't realize how anyone couldn't love my mom, after all she's been doing everything for me and my two sisters. She'd buy us clothes, take us out to dinner, take us on vacations, to the movies, to amusement parks, etc.. She had bore children to my dad and kept an immaculate house in order. How could he not love her? I remember finally asking him one day after his girlfriend left our presence at the airport. I started streaming tears before I blurted out "why don't you love mom?" I guess my honesty and question touched him, for he started crying too.... and his answer was "she doesn't cook for me." I didn't understand until some time later that he was still an emotional child himself, maybe stuck with the experience of an upbringing which wasn't the best. Some of the tales I've heard was that his upbringing wasn't ideal, he also having a dad around but a dad being absent from anything relational. It seemed my dad had somewhat repeated his dismal upbringing with his family; my mom, sisters and me. I remember asking if he's asked my mom to cook for him and I just remember another ridiculous reason which led me to realize even at that young age that their love was something that expired long ago and it was something I couldn't understand. Perhaps he felt rejected by my mother's family, who knows. We have yet to discuss such things in depth for my dad just isn't the kind of guy to talk about such things. But I did put my foot down then. Once I caught wind of what my dad was doing, I told my mom she was never to sleep in the same bed with him... and that was settled. She ceased sleeping in their bed. I don't recall hearing from him as to the change, but never a challenge was raised to this change I decreed.
All this was too much for an eighth grader to process... I couldn't wrap my head around pre-algebra and I started having these weird episodes in class where time seemed to speed up during an exam... I couldn't focus on the work but only the strange words the math teacher was using. Every time he'd say "integer" and "Pythagorean theorem" I was baffled and wondered what in the world am I being taught and why doesn't this sink in like the rest of school does. The clock on the wall seemed to be ticking at a normal pace, but my senses were all telling me time was racing and I was like an animal in the headlights; frozen.
I began looking at myself as a possible problem. I remember imagining if I didn't exist ( but existing some how, just not living on the planet ) from far and away looking at earth. I remember visualizing the earth above me and to one side while I was simply observing somewhere out in space. I would look to see how my older siblings were getting along without me pestering them, how maybe my dad still loved my mom for some reason in my absence.
I recall after sharing with my mom about time speeding up in math class and expressing how I wanted to hurt myself, my mom informing my dad that I was thinking of doing something to myself. I remember him coming into my room and having a talk with me ( perhaps the first time we had a heart to heart father to son talk ). It was such an awkward moment. Here he is trying to reason with me that hurting myself wouldn't be good... and it seemed like he was apt to punish or hurt me himself if I proceeded in any way to do something to myself. It was quite strange and like a major effort on his part. Some time later my mom had made an appointment with a head shrink. She informed my dad about it and said it was for me, not for their marriage. He met us there. We were sitting for maybe a few minutes when the psyche began to ask my dad direct questions when my dad suddenly sprang up out of his chair and said something to the effect that nothing was wrong and that he was leaving.. and asked if I was coming. Loving my dad and yearning for his approval and time, I left with him and left my mom there with the psyche.
At the end of my eighth grade middle school year, I left with him again when he had a job offer in a city three states away. He was telling me about the offer one day and was sharing with me his plans to move away. He wasn't inviting anymore than he was simply notifying me of what was about to happen. I immediately asked if I could come with him. I thought for sure this was the chance I would have with my dad; we'd go fishing together, we'd fly his plane together, we'd do all things we weren't doing because maybe him having an entire family was too much... or maybe Los Angeles was too much... but that too was a dream. Although he immediately said yes I could come with him, I didn't realize what the real plan was until much later. He was really getting away with his new wife and starting over. I also didn't consider that I was also abandoning my mother and sisters, just like my dad was abandoning them. I also had no idea the affect my dad's absence or me leaving had on my mom until years later. I was so selfish and self involved... following my dad's lead that these considerations never crossed my mind at the time. I was also looking forward to the move also for I figured it was a time for me to make a new start... having been challenged but overcoming the change from one school of values for another.
The thought of me not existing had left, for I was on a path to realize the Me I had yet to discover. The time away from my entire family seemed like the removal of a comfort zone I needed in order to get a taste of the real world... as if I wasn't already exposed to some growing pains from a broken home. But this experience began to shed the naivete in me and began to solidify the adult world as only hard lessons could. I grew up quite a lot living with my dad... and began to taste what looking after myself was like for I had a lot of that to do. I also learned a bit about my dad ( which is what I desired for so many years )... and that experience taught me Today to be gracious, forgiving and loving above all things... for we are all works in progress and no one has yet to arrive.
Although I paint a grim picture, it was an inglorious comfort I had grown to embrace. I went from this comfortable environment to finding myself surrounded by hundreds of kids and no one outwardly trying to be a saint. Not that the kids were worse, but things were different and it was difficult coming out of a shell so to speak. It took maybe two weeks to stop standing up when I was called upon to answer a question... the training was well ingrained. I had been kicked out of private school. My sixth grade teacher, a nun, had arranged a meeting with the priest to deal with my behavior 'problem.' The priest, my mom and myself sat in a small room near his residence adjacent to the 'church' cathedral building. This man recommended my mom send me to military school due to my misbehavior, which consisted of making the class laugh and being a clown in general whenever the timing was right ( it's all about timing being funny ). I wasn't the guy bullying others, or molesting the girls, or cursing or anything outlandishly criminal. I was just undermining the 'authority' of a hypocritical young nun fresh out of the nunnery who may have realized she had made a huge mistake putting on those dreary threads... and she was most likely taking that clash of conscience out on me.
With the priest's recommendation, I figured God had kicked me out of his church due to my misbehavior since this was one of his representatives and the one directly over me and in between me and the Lord... so I was done going to church. From that moment forward I refused to go to church with my mom and sisters. I figured I must be so bad to have such a saintly person, dressed in flowing robes, recommend the stockade for the likes of me... so why try for redemption among these people who couldn't wait to get rid of me.
At that same time of the school change, I found my parents at the onset of a divorce, although the relationship had been dead for years. The only 'family time' was experienced with my mom, two sisters and grandparents and the extended family of aunts, uncles and cousins absent my dad. The only time with dad was me and dad... mostly riding on the back of his motorcycle to a nearby municipal airport where I'd watch him work on his dream: a plane he was building by hand and from scratch. There I'd often come across his girlfriend, and she'd show up like nothing was out of the ordinary. I remember feeling a deep emptiness inside my gut when she'd show up, like a vacuum had been turned on and my intestines were infinitely vanishing inwardly. I would burn with so much anger I couldn't see straight. I would ask him who this gal was just showing up and being all bubbly around him and he would just call her by her name and not go further into it ( acting dumb ). Out of love and respect for my dad I would try to keep my emotions out of my words, but I couldn't help it. When I would try, nothing but tears would come out. Looking back now, this was all a bit much for someone who was very naive and saw life through a prism of ideals ( I grew up watching teevee with every show having a happy ending, a heartfelt lesson and all things always being reconciled... so naturally my conditioning was set to "ideal" ).
I recall going through a time of sadness and wondered what life would be like if I didn't exist. Perhaps the realization that my dad didn't love my mom anymore was hitting home, for I couldn't realize how anyone couldn't love my mom, after all she's been doing everything for me and my two sisters. She'd buy us clothes, take us out to dinner, take us on vacations, to the movies, to amusement parks, etc.. She had bore children to my dad and kept an immaculate house in order. How could he not love her? I remember finally asking him one day after his girlfriend left our presence at the airport. I started streaming tears before I blurted out "why don't you love mom?" I guess my honesty and question touched him, for he started crying too.... and his answer was "she doesn't cook for me." I didn't understand until some time later that he was still an emotional child himself, maybe stuck with the experience of an upbringing which wasn't the best. Some of the tales I've heard was that his upbringing wasn't ideal, he also having a dad around but a dad being absent from anything relational. It seemed my dad had somewhat repeated his dismal upbringing with his family; my mom, sisters and me. I remember asking if he's asked my mom to cook for him and I just remember another ridiculous reason which led me to realize even at that young age that their love was something that expired long ago and it was something I couldn't understand. Perhaps he felt rejected by my mother's family, who knows. We have yet to discuss such things in depth for my dad just isn't the kind of guy to talk about such things. But I did put my foot down then. Once I caught wind of what my dad was doing, I told my mom she was never to sleep in the same bed with him... and that was settled. She ceased sleeping in their bed. I don't recall hearing from him as to the change, but never a challenge was raised to this change I decreed.
All this was too much for an eighth grader to process... I couldn't wrap my head around pre-algebra and I started having these weird episodes in class where time seemed to speed up during an exam... I couldn't focus on the work but only the strange words the math teacher was using. Every time he'd say "integer" and "Pythagorean theorem" I was baffled and wondered what in the world am I being taught and why doesn't this sink in like the rest of school does. The clock on the wall seemed to be ticking at a normal pace, but my senses were all telling me time was racing and I was like an animal in the headlights; frozen.
I began looking at myself as a possible problem. I remember imagining if I didn't exist ( but existing some how, just not living on the planet ) from far and away looking at earth. I remember visualizing the earth above me and to one side while I was simply observing somewhere out in space. I would look to see how my older siblings were getting along without me pestering them, how maybe my dad still loved my mom for some reason in my absence.
I recall after sharing with my mom about time speeding up in math class and expressing how I wanted to hurt myself, my mom informing my dad that I was thinking of doing something to myself. I remember him coming into my room and having a talk with me ( perhaps the first time we had a heart to heart father to son talk ). It was such an awkward moment. Here he is trying to reason with me that hurting myself wouldn't be good... and it seemed like he was apt to punish or hurt me himself if I proceeded in any way to do something to myself. It was quite strange and like a major effort on his part. Some time later my mom had made an appointment with a head shrink. She informed my dad about it and said it was for me, not for their marriage. He met us there. We were sitting for maybe a few minutes when the psyche began to ask my dad direct questions when my dad suddenly sprang up out of his chair and said something to the effect that nothing was wrong and that he was leaving.. and asked if I was coming. Loving my dad and yearning for his approval and time, I left with him and left my mom there with the psyche.
At the end of my eighth grade middle school year, I left with him again when he had a job offer in a city three states away. He was telling me about the offer one day and was sharing with me his plans to move away. He wasn't inviting anymore than he was simply notifying me of what was about to happen. I immediately asked if I could come with him. I thought for sure this was the chance I would have with my dad; we'd go fishing together, we'd fly his plane together, we'd do all things we weren't doing because maybe him having an entire family was too much... or maybe Los Angeles was too much... but that too was a dream. Although he immediately said yes I could come with him, I didn't realize what the real plan was until much later. He was really getting away with his new wife and starting over. I also didn't consider that I was also abandoning my mother and sisters, just like my dad was abandoning them. I also had no idea the affect my dad's absence or me leaving had on my mom until years later. I was so selfish and self involved... following my dad's lead that these considerations never crossed my mind at the time. I was also looking forward to the move also for I figured it was a time for me to make a new start... having been challenged but overcoming the change from one school of values for another.
The thought of me not existing had left, for I was on a path to realize the Me I had yet to discover. The time away from my entire family seemed like the removal of a comfort zone I needed in order to get a taste of the real world... as if I wasn't already exposed to some growing pains from a broken home. But this experience began to shed the naivete in me and began to solidify the adult world as only hard lessons could. I grew up quite a lot living with my dad... and began to taste what looking after myself was like for I had a lot of that to do. I also learned a bit about my dad ( which is what I desired for so many years )... and that experience taught me Today to be gracious, forgiving and loving above all things... for we are all works in progress and no one has yet to arrive.
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