Yesterday was hard for me writing about that time, but it was also very cleansing for me. And I am glad that I wrote about it. I don't know if I have really told anyone about that night. That night was never spoken about in our house again. A lot of things were not spoken about in our house. My mother was born and raised Catholic. So I was never given the "TALK". I remember the time when, as my mother put it, I became a young woman. I was 11, and had bad stomach pains. I went to the bathroom and well you know what happened, I remember screaming to my mom "I'm dying, Mommy, I'm dying" She came in and looked and said take a bath and here and threw me a contraption and said put this on and stop whining....WOW!!! But that was the way my mom handled stuff like that which was the only way she knew how cause that is what my grandmother said to her.
My mom was not the type that you could go to and talk about Boys, or sex. Mom told me that I was not allowed to date until I was 18! Can you imagine. Now I didn't grow up in the 50's hell I was born in 59, so I grew up in the 60's and 70's...well actually I am still growing up...hahaha. But in all seriousness I am talking about being 16 and not allowed to date.
The year was 1975 and we went to PEI for Summer Vacation. I was excited cause we were staying with my Aunt Betty and uncle Hank and their family and my cousin Nancy is their daughter. ( Nancy and I are more like sisters than cousins). I remember this summer so well cause I picked out the new car that Mom and Dad bought just before we went on vacation. It was a 1974 Dodge Dart sport and it was cream in color. It was an awesome car I loved it. Anyway I digress. I guess this was my summer of freedom and well thought that this freedom I had found was amazing. Freedom was something I didn't have with my mom. You see I was under her thumb. I had to be in the house by no later than 7 pm even on weekends. I was not allowed to hang out with boys, and I literally had scream and yell and cry just to go to the ball park with friends on a Saturday or Sunday. Ya my mom was pretty strict. If it hadn't been for dad I think I would have just died. My dad would fight for me all the time. Anyways as I was saying about my summer of freedom.
That summer I had so much fun. Now 2 wks is not a long time to a 16 year old to spend time with her favorite cousin. So between myself and my cousin and aunt and uncle (dads brother) we convinced my parents to let me stay for the rest of the summer. Mom was dead set against this. I can remember her standing in my Aunts kitchen saying" There is no way in hell she is staying down here to run the roads and stay out till all hours of the night" Well my Aunt and Uncle assured mom that that wouldn't happen as my cousins (Nancy had 3 brothers still at home) all had curfews. So mother buckled in and finally said yes. So mom and dad went home and I got to stay behind until the long weekend in September! I was one happy 16 yr old girl!!!!
Now my cousin and I were not bad, we were never brought home by the cops, we were just mischievous. Remember when I said that my aunt assured my mom that we wouldn't be out till all hours of the night cause the kids had curfews. Wellllllllllllllllll...there might have been one or maybe 2 nights or so that we kind of came in late. Now my aunt and uncle would go to bed but wouldn't really sleep until all the kids were in the house. I remember one night I think it might have been around 1 or 2 am and Nancy and I were coming and trying not to wake them up, but there was one spot in the kitchen floor that squeeked and that's all it took and my uncle hank yelled "you girls get to bed and get to sleep now!!!" . Uncle Hank has been gone now for almost 34 yrs now and I can still hear him say that to me I miss him so much! That summer was a summer of firsts for me. My first boyfriend, (thanks to my cousin), my first time for using a fake ID, first taste of Captain Morgan, my first drunk, and my first ever and worst hangover!!! It was the first time that I actually felt what it was like to have someone trust me and let me be a teenager. Oh believe me my cousin and I got in shit from her parents for the stunts we pulled but they forgave us and warned me especially that if I did something like that again uncle would put me on a plane back to Ottawa so fast my head would spin. But he never did but it was the threat that scared me. I actually didn't want to go home and had asked if i could stay with them and go to school in PEI but Mom and dad said no. I often wonder how my life would have turned out if I had stayed. But I think we all have those "what if" moments.
But all good things must come to an end and I was rounded up by my dads youngest brother and he drove me home to Ottawa. And I thought my freedom I had gained in PEI would follow me home but alas it did not so I was back under my moms thumb. Don't get me wrong I loved my mom and still do and miss her more and more everyday, but I didn't like her for quite a few years.
Well I guess this is all for now. As I have chores to do and in the back of my mind I can hear my mom saying with a smile on her face "Come on lazy bones you got chores to do"
So until next time folks!
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
My last year at home
Now as I said in my last blog I had no siblings growing up and well my mother and I had a very tumultuous relationship. My dad was the best. I can only remember 2 times that my dad hit me. Once was when I was about 8 and I ran away to my then best friends house Karen why I am not sure. But when Mom and Dad found me I was in big shit. Dad actually brought out the strap man oh man it hurt. The second time was when I was 16 I was in grade 11. It was September I remember the month cause it was initiation week at my high school. My dads best friend of many years Ill call him Uncle P's daughter started Grade 9 at my school. Well at my school if you were caught talking to a Grade 9'er during initiation week and you were in grade 11 or 12 you would have been called to Kangaroo Court. Well I didn't want to end up in Kangaroo Court. There was no way in hell I was going to speak to her at all. I guess she got mad and she saw me smoking ( which I was not allowed to do) and went home and told her parents that I was smoking and I wouldn't talk to her at school. Well you can guess what happened next right. Well man did I ever get beat. And i mean beaten. Between my mom and dad they hit me pretty damn good. I had bruises on my face and patches of hair missing. I can remember my Mom standing there and yelling at dad to smack my face. I had never seen my dad or my mom so mean and hateful. My mom kept yelling at me and yanking my head back. I can't remember how long this "beating" went on but it felt like forever. I remember it was still fairly light out when I went to bed that night. I was so sore. This happened on a weekend so by the time Monday rolled around I was not as bruised and I wanted to stay home but my mom made me go to school, so I did. I didn't usually go in the main doors of the school but that day I did just so I could walk by the office so someone could see what I looked like. One of the guidance counselors saw me and pulled me into his office. I told him what happened and he wanted to call Children's Aid I said don't cause I deserved it. And plus I didn't say it to him but I was afraid that I would end up getting beaten again if he did do that.
After that epsiode my relationship with my mother deteriorated even more. As for my dad I could tell he was so full of remorse and he made up for it by sticking by my side even more when it came to me wanting to go to dances or go out with my friends. He went head to head with mom on numerous occasions. I did forgive my dad but never forgot what he did to me. But it took me years to forgive my mother and have never forgotten that day. My mom was not a very nuturing mother. I know she loved me in her own way but we didn't have that warm fuzzy mother daughter relationship at all.
Now you are probably wondering how I felt towards the girl that caused this beating well I never spoke to her at school. There were times I wanted to give her a taste of what I had endured. I never did. And it is only since Facebook came along that I reconnected with her . Even with that I am still holding some resentment towards her. I don't think she realizes what she caused.
I didn't realize how cleansing this could be but reading back over what I have put down here the tears flowed I think this is the first time I have cried over this incident since the night it happened.
After that epsiode my relationship with my mother deteriorated even more. As for my dad I could tell he was so full of remorse and he made up for it by sticking by my side even more when it came to me wanting to go to dances or go out with my friends. He went head to head with mom on numerous occasions. I did forgive my dad but never forgot what he did to me. But it took me years to forgive my mother and have never forgotten that day. My mom was not a very nuturing mother. I know she loved me in her own way but we didn't have that warm fuzzy mother daughter relationship at all.
Now you are probably wondering how I felt towards the girl that caused this beating well I never spoke to her at school. There were times I wanted to give her a taste of what I had endured. I never did. And it is only since Facebook came along that I reconnected with her . Even with that I am still holding some resentment towards her. I don't think she realizes what she caused.
I didn't realize how cleansing this could be but reading back over what I have put down here the tears flowed I think this is the first time I have cried over this incident since the night it happened.
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
My childhood
A person might say that I am a drama queen, or I want to have a pity party for one, but believe me this is not the case. First let me fill you in a little bit.
I was born in 1959 to Margaret and Raymond N. 2 yrs 1 month 1 wk later my brother was born. Unfortunately my baby brother passed on August 10, 1961 at the tender age of 6wks. So there is the first loss I suffered. I don't really remember him but growing up I knew about him and always felt a part of me was missing. My childhood was kind of messed up. My mother left my father when I was 2 and half yrs old and dropped me off with my Grandparents (her parents) in Revelstoke BC. I lived with them for about 4 yrs seeing my Mom only when she had time off from work. I think was about 4 when she came up to see ( Mom was living and working in Vancouver BC) one weekend and brought a man with her. Well that man turned out to be Joe G and my future step-dad. Well the only dad I really knew growing up. I went to live with them after graduating from Kindergarten. My grandparents soon followed and moved to Vancouver, which was great in my eyes. As I was the only grandchild and the apple of my grandparents eyes. Needless to say I still basically lived with my grandparents as the only time I was with my Mom and Dad was during the school week. Then the year I was 7 my granddad passed away. My world was shaken completely apart. At 7 I thought who am I going to eat my Rice Krispies with before bed time. Who is gonna tuck me in on the weekends? My grandmother was so sad as was my mom and dad. It's funny one of the things that stick out in my mind is this. My granddad died October 26th and when Halloween came around that year I didn't want to go cause Granddad always took me out, but my Uncle (mom's younger brother) insisted I go and he take me. Well I cried every step of the way but that was the best Halloween ever as every door we knocked on they would ask my uncle why I was crying and he would tell them that we had just buried my granddad , well they felt sorry for me and man oh man I cleaned up in the candy department....hahaha
Funny how out of such a sad time there is a funny memory that makes me smile everytime I think about it.
My memories are not all sad I have many memories that are funny and happy. My Dad (step-dad) was an amazing man. He worked hard and drank hard. I was the boy he always wanted. He taught me how to fish, took me camping and it was rough camping back then. We would watch Saturday night Hockey together and root for our team the Toronto Maple Leafs. I had my first taste of beer with him. My mom was great. She taught me how to cook, and bake. When I was little she would dress up the same and have our hair cut the same. She instilled in me that I should be proud of my heritage even though when she told me this I wasn't really sure about where I belonged at all. My relationship with my Mom is for another day.
As I got older I realized that my Mom and Dad were very hard workers and they did their best to make sure that I had clothes on my back and a roof over our heads and food on the table. Our house was always full of friends and family. My grandmother remarried to a wonderful man and his daughter married my moms other brother. I had gained an aunt. Moms youngest brother joined the US army and served in Vietnam and came home when I was about 12.
When I was 13 moved to Ottawa, Ont so that my dad could be closer to his birth place PEI. (Ill leave that for another time). This was about the time that my Mom and I had that relationship that most mother and daughters have for the next few years. She couldn't handle me being a teenager and I couldn't handle her telling me what to do. Meanwhile Dad would just say "Now Marge, Just leave her be for now . Ill talk to her". Which was fine with me cause I usually got what I wanted from dad. I remember the time that we took mom fishing out at the cottage in Kars and she caught a fish and had to get me to take it off the hook for her. Or the time that dad said " Cindy bait your mothers hook for her please".
Then all hell broke loose and I rebelled and left home to strike out on my own at 17. I knew it all then or so i thought. I didn't know until years later that i had broken Dad's heart when I left. More on that some other day.
So that is my first 17 years.
Getting close to supper time so Ill sign off for now.
Until next time!
I was born in 1959 to Margaret and Raymond N. 2 yrs 1 month 1 wk later my brother was born. Unfortunately my baby brother passed on August 10, 1961 at the tender age of 6wks. So there is the first loss I suffered. I don't really remember him but growing up I knew about him and always felt a part of me was missing. My childhood was kind of messed up. My mother left my father when I was 2 and half yrs old and dropped me off with my Grandparents (her parents) in Revelstoke BC. I lived with them for about 4 yrs seeing my Mom only when she had time off from work. I think was about 4 when she came up to see ( Mom was living and working in Vancouver BC) one weekend and brought a man with her. Well that man turned out to be Joe G and my future step-dad. Well the only dad I really knew growing up. I went to live with them after graduating from Kindergarten. My grandparents soon followed and moved to Vancouver, which was great in my eyes. As I was the only grandchild and the apple of my grandparents eyes. Needless to say I still basically lived with my grandparents as the only time I was with my Mom and Dad was during the school week. Then the year I was 7 my granddad passed away. My world was shaken completely apart. At 7 I thought who am I going to eat my Rice Krispies with before bed time. Who is gonna tuck me in on the weekends? My grandmother was so sad as was my mom and dad. It's funny one of the things that stick out in my mind is this. My granddad died October 26th and when Halloween came around that year I didn't want to go cause Granddad always took me out, but my Uncle (mom's younger brother) insisted I go and he take me. Well I cried every step of the way but that was the best Halloween ever as every door we knocked on they would ask my uncle why I was crying and he would tell them that we had just buried my granddad , well they felt sorry for me and man oh man I cleaned up in the candy department....hahaha
Funny how out of such a sad time there is a funny memory that makes me smile everytime I think about it.
My memories are not all sad I have many memories that are funny and happy. My Dad (step-dad) was an amazing man. He worked hard and drank hard. I was the boy he always wanted. He taught me how to fish, took me camping and it was rough camping back then. We would watch Saturday night Hockey together and root for our team the Toronto Maple Leafs. I had my first taste of beer with him. My mom was great. She taught me how to cook, and bake. When I was little she would dress up the same and have our hair cut the same. She instilled in me that I should be proud of my heritage even though when she told me this I wasn't really sure about where I belonged at all. My relationship with my Mom is for another day.
As I got older I realized that my Mom and Dad were very hard workers and they did their best to make sure that I had clothes on my back and a roof over our heads and food on the table. Our house was always full of friends and family. My grandmother remarried to a wonderful man and his daughter married my moms other brother. I had gained an aunt. Moms youngest brother joined the US army and served in Vietnam and came home when I was about 12.
When I was 13 moved to Ottawa, Ont so that my dad could be closer to his birth place PEI. (Ill leave that for another time). This was about the time that my Mom and I had that relationship that most mother and daughters have for the next few years. She couldn't handle me being a teenager and I couldn't handle her telling me what to do. Meanwhile Dad would just say "Now Marge, Just leave her be for now . Ill talk to her". Which was fine with me cause I usually got what I wanted from dad. I remember the time that we took mom fishing out at the cottage in Kars and she caught a fish and had to get me to take it off the hook for her. Or the time that dad said " Cindy bait your mothers hook for her please".
Then all hell broke loose and I rebelled and left home to strike out on my own at 17. I knew it all then or so i thought. I didn't know until years later that i had broken Dad's heart when I left. More on that some other day.
So that is my first 17 years.
Getting close to supper time so Ill sign off for now.
Until next time!
Forgotten Blog
Wow I had forgotten all about this Blog account until today that is. So now I guess I have an outlet to vent, ramble and say anything I want! This is great ..I think..haha.
You see my daughter started writing a blog and I saw how it helped her to voice her sadness of losing her older sister and grandmother. I then thought maybe I should do the same as I have not really dealt with the loss of my oldest daughter or my mother. I am not sure how this works so bare with me as I embark on this journey of rage, sadness, disappointment and loss, and walks down memory lane.
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