If I recall back to all my early childhood memories, it seems as though I am viewing them as an outside observer. I don’t remember them through my perspective really but through the perspective of someone observing, which I find really odd.
The earliest one that I can remember; I was probably around 2. I was eating a mango and sitting in front of my mother as she braided my hair. A cartoon was on the air, I know it must have been Nickelodeon. After some time, my Dad came in with a kid tea set for me and I got very excited. After this point I don’t remember much else.
I do remember so many things though. My memory is so strange, that sometimes I will pretend to not remember as to not creep people out. I remember my mother’s eye color, the day my sister was born, eating lunch with my mom on the stair steps, and so much more. I also remember the day she died and her funeral. I was confused that day. I didn’t understand grief. I was downstairs in my house when my aunt held me. She was breaking the news to my Dad and he was on the floor crying and banging around, and I was just so confused. I remember the funeral, my god mother was holding me on her lap and we watched and watched the casket. I remember going to her grave maybe a year later to put flowers there for her, roses. From then on, I was confused and anxious about everything. I was scared someone else would disappear and never come back. I was scared because I didn’t understand the strong emotions that went on around me, things that were just too complex for me to breakdown and understand.
And yet going through all my memories, I remember them as if I was on the outside. I could see what I felt, what I was wearing, and what was going on. Sometimes, I go through my memories to see what went wrong. Where did I go wrong? Where was it in my childhood that my mind became tarnished? I do remember that sometimes my environment was volatile. As in, I never knew if I did something wrong and if I would get spanked for it or if my Dad would suddenly go off into a yelling fit or if my aunt would suddenly give me the cold shoulder. All of these left me incredibly anxious, and confused. I remember some time that my father was just yelling at the top of his lungs at my grandma over something. If there’s anything anyone should know about me, is that I hate loud sudden things. I immediately started crying and ran to my room and hid. My Dad found me and asked me why I was crying. But..I remember lying and saying nothing. I didn’t feel safe to open up my emotions. It hit me at that tender age that, I didn’t feel safe or secure. Can you imagine being 4 years old and feeling like that?
Sometimes, I still feel that way. Sometimes, I still feel like an observer looking out at myself.