Chapter 1. what makes us remember or better yet unable to forget?

Childhood seems like forever ago, but forever is actually hoping that every day you wake up and all of the sadness, disappointment and judgement ends. Not just from the loss of my children, but a lifetime of compensating and hiding, in fear of what other people thought of me. One thing that loss has taught me is that all of the life events that happened prior to becoming a mother were trivial even though at times they almost broke me. Being an empath, and someone who remembers things that trigger my anxiety are still evident today. Memories are what we all strive to make happen, we cherish and boast about all of the beautiful moments, but we look down upon the ones who can't "get over" the bad. Some even say "that was yesterday" or "you need to stop living in the past" like it is as easy as changing a channel. My memories of my past are riddled with actual memories as young as 3 years old. My mom played softball when my dad was stationed at Minot Air Force Base in North Dakota. During one of her games, my older brothers were tasked to keeping an eye on me, a task that proved later in life, they had no control, I had a mind of my own. Not knowing any better, because, well I was only 3, apparently, I wanted to be where the action was, and I walked around the fence inside the catcher's backstop and oh boy did mom freaked out. Not at me, although I got a scolding, but being a mom, I realize later in life, it was a panic reaction. Now those boys, on the other hand probably got more than a scolding for not watching their baby sister, and likely a wait until your father gets home warning. I lived, without being hit by a ball or flying bat, but I also remember what could have been. In Minot, we lived on the corner lot of what I believe was a Cul de sac, there was a family that lived on the same side of the street as us, but at the beginning of the curve of Cul de sac. I remember being at their house to play with kids my age, I was under 5. We were in the garage, there were older kids there and they had an ice cream bucket or some type of bucket with a cover on it. They asked me if I wanted some candy, and of course I was young and trusting and said yes. I remember putting my hand in the bucket, it had tiny little white balls, which reminded me of the toy vacuum cleaner I got for a gift one year, it came with little Styrofoam balls you could pick up with the vacuum. Of course, I was apprehensive, why would I eat Styrofoam, but I was assured it was ok, it was special candy; well, it was not candy, it was what I came to believe was probably fertilizer. I remember spitting it out and running home crying, thinking why would they trick me like that? I can't say for sure what happened after that, but I'm pretty sure one of the boys caught wind and took care of it, my reward for the softball incident? Some of the last memories I have of our time in Minot, before we moved to Minnesota, I remember, being coaxed, by one of my gatekeepers, to jump the curb with my banana bike, did not go over well and still have the scar on my knee and vividly recall mom putting Mercurochrome on it (yes I googled the spelling) and blowing on it to make it feel better, it stung like hell, but it worked! I also had some sort of chronic eye infection where I would wake up in the middle of the night and could not open my eyes to see. There were times when I would call out for mom and if it took her too long to bring me a warm washcloth, I would blindly make my way to her, probably my impatience or anxiety kicking in, or my independent nature, regardless, the eye infections resolved over time, but my impatience, anxiety and independent nature stuck with me. The last memory was my tap dance recital, I think it was shortly before we moved, there are pictures in my yellow leotard with the look of (I hate my life or my mom at the time) on my face likely because mom made me get up there and I really wanted to crawl in a hole, shyness and insecurity drove that situation, but it was easier to be pissed than to admit I was scared. I would later grow to be thankful she pushed me and that she had thick skin to handle my tantrums, and other times regretful she didn't push even harder. We all have things that are engrained in us forever, when you are able to retain memories at a young age, it can be a blessing or a curse, depending on circumstance, lessons learned and a guiding light to help you understand. Needless to say, I never ate weird candy again, per se', (wink) but it is for certain that the foundation for the life path I was going down and the lessons I would learn along the way were already in motion, but it would take many years and many harder lessons before I fully understood where the road would lead. Looking back now, the me I am today, those kids would have wished they never opened that bucket, I would have walked behind that fence, looked at mom and said I got this, and I would have got back on that bike and jumped that curb again until I got it right. As for tap dancing, there is another chapter for that one. Maybe retaining these memories under the age of 5 were also a preface to the foundation I would build for myself as the years progressed, the building blocks I never knew existed. These are the first recollection of Internal Carrion I have that I carry with me, not to dwell on the bad, but account for what would help me get through future events. The feelings of those moments are very real, make me feel anxious, and although there is acceptance, it still prompts me to ask myself if I could have done better. Maybe not doing your best and the consequence sticking with you for many years creates the building blocks to do better, or embrace the opportunity to make better choices? It would be interesting to see how far back others remember, were they teaching moments, did you learn from them or are they just memories?

Love Lives On

Joan Marie