They were trying to parent differently… better than what they had had.
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And from where I sit today, my parents were successful, and I was damned lucky.
Lucky that; despite the fact that every day for most of my preteen and teenaged life, I was being systematically abused, conditioned by my older brother to see myself in a way that was far from true. As fat and stupid. A stupid pig… Despite all that, I also know that my parents loved me the whole time. That they cared about me and provided me with as healthy and stable an environment as they could. With many tools I used to thrive and find happiness as I went out into the world later in life.
I still struggle with the effects of the abuse my brother inflicted on me. Some of it will never go away. But I have found happiness, and I no longer blame myself for the abuse I saw around me and did nothing to stop. Whether at home, at school, or on the bus… it wasn’t my fault.
The bus…
Oh there is more to tell about that. Let’s get back on the bus.
When last we were on that hellish ride, Keith had just saved me from the inevitable targeting of my “new meat” vulnerable self, by one of the King’s Park bullies.
This then put me in position to again be a witness to the psychological torture of yet another kid. It was similar to what Gertrude had to endure in school at the hands of her brother and then by Ricky Speck in homeroom at the brand new and modern John Adams Jr. High School. And just as I did nothing to help Gertrude, I also did nothing (and thus felt responsible for many years) when I started seeing another poor kid endure psychological torture by his brother on the bus.
See… despite my wonderful parents (and as the incomparable Frank Zappa once said…) “The Torture never stops”
Indeed it will always have to be…
To be continued…
