If it never happened

Sometimes I look at my past and compare it to the future in a way that I can look for the things to change. It’s similar to when I can’t remember something and I stop trying, to prevent my brain from creating memories that never actually happened.

Because of this, sometimes I want to live vicariously through Ruby — to have her childhood memories. It’s not a jealousy thing; I just wish that I could have lived a much better life sometimes.

Of course, if I had, then I would probably had wondered what could have happened. Would I have the ability to fathom what many people going through what I went through do? Would I be able to understand why they stay and “take it”, as some people call it?

And maybe I wouldn’t have had five siblings who I love oh, so dearly, even though I think that one most certainly despises me.

But sometimes I have that craving — or maybe it’s a lust — to change certain memories into some happier ones. That way, I would have grown up with a childhood full of a manipulative stepfather who abused me and a gullible mother who neglected me and, quite literally, put up with everything even when she knew it was wrong (yet claimed it was okay)[1. It’s complicated. I don’t know how to explain it. Any psychologists out there?], yet I wouldn’t remember it.

And sometimes, I just really want to do this. I want to do this so that I won’t be stuck in limbo trying and crying to get out.

Other times, however, I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to have went through all of that and come out all fine and dandy because I truly believe that it was all legal. As great as living a cookie-cutter lifestyle is for some, I’m honestly thankful that I have this different understanding of the world. Or maybe I’m actually thankful that I know that I can go through hell and back and come back alive. Or maybe it’s the fact that I lived through that and gained a purpose for my life just from that.

Because if I had turned out to live in such a way that I sought their parenting style to be right, I would have been an unfortunate addition to the statistic of abuse victims who go on to abuse their own kids. And that isn’t what I want. I refuse to allow anyone else to make me believe that what happened to me, my siblings and other kids in the world is humane.

Sometimes I just wish I could be a baby again because I feel like I was cheated/scammed in this one.

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Comments on this post

If the world were perfect, everyone would have a good childhood AND understand that abuse is not okay. But the world’s not perfect, and you were indeed unlucky. But, I am happy to say that in my social circles, most people understand that the sort of things that your stepdad and mom dad are very not okay. If you had a good childhood without abuse and grew up in the cultures that I grew up with, you’d probably come out thinking that abuse wasn’t okay, but have a different purpose in life, which is actually perfectly fine.

I know that you probably won’t be happy to hear this, but my guess is that most psychologists would say that your mom had something clinically wrong with her. What she did carries about the same amount of common sense and logic as the people who are absolutely convinced that they have cancer and won’t be happy until an idiot doctor tells them that they have cancer. But, I’m no psychologist and might be very wrong.