Childhood Review: Abridged in Eye of a Hurricane

Part of the journey to open me up as one other person recommended was to do a childhood review, keeping these 3 questions in mind:
Was I accepted?
What was expected of me?
What behaviors + emotions were judged by my parents?
I have to contemplate these as they are to “show me my gifts”… which I’m having a harder and harder time noticing, as I got another rejection letter for another job. I’m willing to give it a try, but we will see.
On a side note: I listened to a podcast yesterday about some guy that did ayahuasca. I’ve done it once but hearing him explain that he needed to do it multiple times had brought me some comfort in knowing I’m not the only one that needs to do it again.... It’s odd, really. Anyway…
Let’s get moving.

Was I accepted?
This is really hard for me to tell as I only have vague memories about my childhood in the first place. I remember things being alright for the first few years. We lived out in the middle of nowhere where I would pick these kinds of flowers every summer/spring? I can’t remember. But they looked like blue and white oyster shells. I would pick them and give them to my mother. I don’t remember if she ever put them into a vase or anything, but I do remember doing that from time to time. But as far as feeling accepted, nothing really sticks out in my mind. I remember being alone most of the time at school. Despite having an older brother, I remember being alone when I was in preschool. I would often play by myself. I couldn’t tell you why. In fact, I remember thinking when I was 5 that I really don’t belong in this crowd. But when I found a friend in a young boy, things were peachy. We would play every day on the playground at school. I probably would have considered him my best friend at some point. But I remember one day when he was taken out of the classroom and he never came back. I thought for the first few days that maybe he was sick, but maybe he would be back. But time continued on without him.
A group of girls had somehow taken a liking to me and welcomed me at some point. I remember not really liking playing with them much, but I didn’t really have anyone else. I wanted to play Dinosaurs, but the girls always wanted to play Horses. I knew that I was outnumbered so I played along. I didn’t really like it much.
I remember in first grade was when I made a new friend who was new to the school. Everyone wanted to be her friend, but somehow we got along really well. We then became best friends. However, here’s something I’m not proud of. I did have another friend that I called my “secret friend” on account of nobody really liked her. I thought she was great, and I didn’t really get why people didn’t like her. I hung out with her all the time when no one was looking because I didn’t want to be outcasted. In my 7/8 year old mind, I understood ostracism. I should have stood up for her and not keep her in secret, but I can’t change the past. But no one knew about this as we didn’t really associate during the school day. It was like I was leading a double life… at 7/8 years old. I understood what it meant not to be accepted, but I didn’t want her to feel alone. But my own herd mentality overtook whatever I thought was right. I couldn’t tell my mother about this. I didn’t think she would get it. I didn’t think anyone would get what I was doing and why. I knew that I shouldn’t keep her as a secret. Yet I kept doing it anyway.
I can’t remember what year she left. Maybe it was that summer after 1st grade. I’d have to check the yearbooks. But I don’t remember her much after I made friends with the new girl. Maybe that’s why she left. She knew I wouldn’t sacrifice myself for her. And she was right.
But New Girl and I would be best friends for years… until middle school, where she completely forgot I existed. It was like over the summer, she got amnesia and forgot everything in the past 5 years of friendship. I felt quite abandoned when I went to say hi to her after not hearing from her all summer and she didn’t even acknowledge my existence.
My tale springs further into a spiraling depression that I still deal with today. So, the short answer to that question is no. I don’t feel like I was accepted except for that period of time between 7-12 years old from that one girl I befriended in the 1st grade. Yet I don’t remember 2nd grade to save my life. I hid much from my family and still do today. Old habits die hard.

What was expected of me?
I honestly don’t think anything was expected of me. The only thing my parents had voiced that they wanted through my childhood was to get good grades. Which I started to falter at when 3rd grade rolled around. My brother would get top marks every semester. I wouldn’t. I was a B average student back then, but my brother was always at the top. I remember my mother opening our report cards at the same time and expressing an exuberance about my brother’s grades but not so much mine. I understood it and then began to notice that he was consistently getting better marks than I did just about every time for every subject. I started to compare myself then, wondering if I was smart in anything. Then I failed my first test. I was a weeping mess for about half the day, wherein the teacher had to tell me to leave the classroom because I just wouldn’t stop. I was terrified at having to show that to my parents. I knew there really wasn’t coming any back from this. I labeled myself as stupid and kept trying to move on. This was in 4th grade. I was probably 9 years old. And I still remember it to this day how my parents reacted. They asked how this happened. Why didn’t I study? I don’t think they went so far as to directly compare me to my brother, but it was likely implied. I can’t remember if they grounded me or what after that, but I remember that experience being painful.
So what was expected of me? Get good grades and get married. To a man. Have kids. I think that was about it. Maybe they saw my lack of potential when I was young, so they didn’t think much of it to even encourage me to do anything. Well, here I sit, at 33 years old. Not married. Childless (thank the GODS). And having a shitty job and having a shitty time trying to find another one.

What behaviors and emotions were judged by my parents?
Crying. Sadness. Anything to do with it where unless someone was dead, tears weren’t merited. I’ve only ever seen my father cry twice in my entire life. My mom, about the same. I remember having my heart torn to shreds, I was crying in the closet because I didn’t want anyone to hear me. My mom, unfortunately, did. She tried to feign nurturing, but really just came out as a “Don’t cry. Everything’s fine.” Everything was not fine. It hasn’t been for a very long time. Even up to today.
I couldn’t get angry at them because I knew it would bite me in the ass later. And my instinct, whenever they got mad at me, was to retreat. Hide. Go someplace else. I didn’t want to be around it, yet I adopted the very angry monster within myself that wants to attack everyone around me whenever I feel it raise its ugly head. I feel like I have some Jekyll/Hyde thing going on with this right now, and I feel Hyde becoming more and more present in my own psyche. It wants to attack everyone. I can only deter it for so long.

Ye gods help me.