Gotta start somewhere

And away we go...
I have been waiting for some inspiration to hit me. That sudden realization that "yes...this is it... this is what I am going to write about." But that inspiration never came. It never hit me. It may never hit me. So I just came to the conclusion that I just have to jump in and try to swim. So ....here I go.

I grew up, the youngest of 4 kids. I was the youngest by almost 10 years. I think I grew up more as an only child. I had siblings. I knew that they were there. We were so far apart in years that I felt as if we didn't have much in common.... maybe our only connection was our parents and home. I didn't feel as though I was missing out because I never knew the connection that can come from having a close relationship with a sister or brother. Luckily, I now know that close relationship with each of them.

What I did have though, was parents who yelled. Our parents yelled a lot. I remember their fights, mom mostly doing the yelling and dad slamming doors. Me...just wanting to hide and stay hidden. Dr. Phil often says that parents who fight in front of their kids, change who their kids are. I must agree. I grew up very insecure, with little confidence. My sisters and brother said that mom and dad's yelling was a lot worse earlier in their marriage. I don't know if it was or wasn't. But I do know that at least they had each other during the fights. I was left by myself.

One lasting thing I do remember, that I think is a direct result of the fighting, is that I was well into my college years before I realized that I could have my own opinion.... mine and only mine. I didn't have to agree with the folks. I didn't have to agree with anyone. If I thought a certain way about a certain thing....that was ok. It was ok for me to have my own opinion. Taking until my early 20's to realize that can't be normal. I was afraid to state my opinion because I was afraid to be wrong. I was afraid to be thought of as dumb or too bold or not nice. What if someone didn't like my thoughts and confronted me.

Slowly, I have gotten past that. It's amazing what time and life experiences can do. Do I look back with regrets or resentment? No. I do know that my parents loved me. I know that they did the best that they could. I also know that I'm a big girl now and accountable for my actions. I try to live with no regrets.