The Playground
It has been an emotional day today. I have been "triggered" by a great deal going on in the news and within myself. I realized it wouldn't matter if I turned off my phone, or news alerts, the nightmares would still be there. I have memories surfacing and pieces of my complicated puzzle coming together. Do I feel like there is anyone who would understand? No. Why? Because I have been in therapy since I was 18 and the system is flawed. Therapists, I am sorry to say, are a joke, much like our healthcare system and majority of the doctors. I am my own therapist for these reasons and work hard to reconcile my past on my own terms. I have a great deal of beef regarding this, but I will save that rant for another day. Today, I am focusing on my feelings and memories.
I love this time of year, fall. I was going over various projects I would like to work on and thought about the space I was in emotionally. I clung onto moments that were serene because there was so much chaos around me. I remember very little of first and second grade because of the trauma in my life. I hold the good memories close to my heart. I have never researched the events that took place during that time. I lived them, forgot them and only wanted to carry the good memories with me. Today the anger of "normal" overcame me, having not ever felt like I got to experience that. When I asked questions about the past I didn't remember I was repeatedly told, "There is nothing but pain there for you and it is best you don't remember." I'm remembering. And I am understanding why the good moments I clung to were so important for me.
The most peaceful and happiest time of my childhood was when I lived with my Grandma Gracie. I came to live with her late summer into fall probably in the year of 1980, the best my fragmented memories can serve me. I remember her sunflowers and garden. I remember Charlie Brown and The Great Pumpkin. I also remember starting a new school. I wouldn't be at the school long but I remember when I left Grandma Gracie to go back with my mother, there was a want for something "normal." We now lived on the other side of town and I had my own room. My brother is in juvie because of all the events that had proceeded this time. I was in a new house, at a new school and on a new playground.
I remember the specific moment of feeling like, "I will never be like them" at that time. It was almost Thanksgiving when I arrived at this new school. In the classroom we were making construction paper turkeys from our handprints. We were learning about Pilgrims and Columbus. All lies, much like everything else around me, but I didn't know better at the time. I was happy to be there. I was happy to be creating. Recess came and we all went outside. At a new school, I had no friends. I sat under a big Oak tree and watched the other kids play on the swings and monkey bars. I felt safety around the trees and this one almost seemed to have hugged me as I watched the other kids play.
The air was damp and the leaves that had fallen on the ground were large and colorful. I remember holding one up to the sky to take my attention off of the playground I didn't feel part of. I remember a breeze whipping up other golden and red leaves. I watched them swirl around and I leaned against the sturdiness of the tree, sitting on the exposed roots. I knew in that moment that I would never be like "them." This would be a theme that would repeat throughout my life. That was the first moment my core being knew it though. The tree seemed to whisper to me, "It's okay, I will be your friend. You can spend time with me." The same way the giant sunflowers at Grandma Gracies would seem to hold me. It is terribly sad and beautiful all at the same time. That moment would be imprinted onto my soul. I knew as long as I had nature, I would never be alone.
I began to think about that moment today as the same time of year is approaching. Leaves are falling, but not from the cool falls I knew as a child. The leaves are dropping from the heat and dryness. My ferns need water while the temperature is climbing into the high 80s. I have been sewing fall clothing, wondering if it would be cool enough to even wear them. This is my favorite time of year and I love fall clothing the most, because of the colors. I am reminded of the bright colors of the leaves all around me that day and the smell of damp leaves in the air. I remember not feeling like I would ever belong or be loved like the others I saw playing on the playground. Recess was over and the rest of the day was learning.
On the walk home from school, I got lost and took a wrong direction. I just kept walking and everything was all unfamiliar. I still remember the look of shock on the familiar face that came running towards me, Uncle Joe. He ran up to me and just then, he saw my mother running towards us, frantic. I remember in that moment thinking, "Someone does love me." The thought of being that young and feeling this brings up a hot burning lump in my throat as hot tears stream down my face typing this. The unfortunate truth is that I have never felt loved or accepted by people around me, let alone the other kids happily playing at recess with their classmates and friends. But, I hold dear the love I felt from nature and joy the colorful leaves gave me. I want that moment to inspire me to create something beautiful. I want to thank the tree and leaves for being there for me.
