My family is something that I do not talk about often. I am not ashamed of them or anything that they have done, nor do I not talk about them because I want to guard them, but I just do not feel obliged to openly discuss them. I suppose I appear very guarded about my life, but when prompted I will tell anything anyone wishes to hear. I am like the treasure chest that is sitting in the room that no one will open because they don't have the key, but little do they realize that the chest is already unlocked.
They key to my openness is prompt.
I have an older brother and an older sister. My sister is twelve years older than myself and my brother is likewise ten. I have not had much of a relationship with my brother throughout the history of my life. There are only two periods in which I have actually lived with him. The first was up until I was eight, and I moved in with my Mother's new husband, and he moved elsewhere. And the next time he moved in with my mother and I when I was sixteen.
I remember only very little of my early childhood with him, but most of the memories are not very good. I remember cigarette butts being put into my coke bottle when I wasn't looking. Having me try chewing tobacco when I was six. Both times made me throw up profusely. I have hence to try tobacco again, so maybe that was a good thing.
I do know that I never hated or even remotely disliked my brother. The only distinct memories I have now are very bad ones, but I know that I loved being around him as a child. My memory now shouldn't cloud the fact that I do have a distinct impression of likeness for him. Contradictary as it may seem from my few memories. I remember how I loved to be around my sister and brother and their friends and how I generally didn't like children my own age. My mother remembers this being a problem when I was going through early development. I do remember day care and always going about my business alone because I found the children around me rather boring.
I was rather atypical child. When at daycare I preferred to be left alone so that I could go about my own business. I enjoyed reading in isolation, doing workbooks, and building things. I would take all of the items that the daycare had, and assemble large castles and the like. I remember the teachers always talking about me and my peculiar ways.
The daycare supervisors were never troubled by my anti-social behavior. They knew I wasn't anti-social because I was afraid, but because I had very little in common with the rest of the children. I wasn't angry or irritated with anyone. I just preferred own agenda, and the rest seemed rather childish to me. They knew I was different.
I was the kid who didn't like Sesame Street, and Mr. Rogers, and all PBS kid shows because I didn't like how they talked down to me. Even very early I was able to discern how the manner in which adults talk to children to me seemed condescending. I felt like they were treating me like I was unintelligent and couldn't understand what they were talking about. I still firmly believe that if you want your children to grow up, treat them like adults, not children.
The company I enjoyed was that of my siblings.
When I moved out I never saw my brother much. Contining theme.
Then when I was sixteen my mother informed me that my brother and his girlfriend, were going to stay with us for awhile. I hadn' t ever really known my brother so I was optimistic about living with him. He lived here for about four months and he moved back to Oregon. The time he spent here was and has been the only opportunity to get to know him.
I found out a lot about his history and some of his adventures. He has always been the kid who was in the wrong crowd, but not the kid who led the pack, but rather followed it. He did just about every drug imaginable and moved around collecting odd jobs to support his lifestyle.
Nothing has changed with him since then.
He has gotten into some trouble as of late, which I have no details. He is a vagabond for life, who when faced in the quiet solitude of his own thinking, will always make the best choice, but when surrounded by defective thinkers will make the wrong choice.
My brother and I share the same true blood, but we couldn't be the more opposite.
I hope that while he sits in isolation removed fromm all of his outside distractions he will stand back up on his own two feet, while all eyes are upon him, and take the first step towards redemption by his own volition.
They key to my openness is prompt.
I have an older brother and an older sister. My sister is twelve years older than myself and my brother is likewise ten. I have not had much of a relationship with my brother throughout the history of my life. There are only two periods in which I have actually lived with him. The first was up until I was eight, and I moved in with my Mother's new husband, and he moved elsewhere. And the next time he moved in with my mother and I when I was sixteen.
I remember only very little of my early childhood with him, but most of the memories are not very good. I remember cigarette butts being put into my coke bottle when I wasn't looking. Having me try chewing tobacco when I was six. Both times made me throw up profusely. I have hence to try tobacco again, so maybe that was a good thing.
I do know that I never hated or even remotely disliked my brother. The only distinct memories I have now are very bad ones, but I know that I loved being around him as a child. My memory now shouldn't cloud the fact that I do have a distinct impression of likeness for him. Contradictary as it may seem from my few memories. I remember how I loved to be around my sister and brother and their friends and how I generally didn't like children my own age. My mother remembers this being a problem when I was going through early development. I do remember day care and always going about my business alone because I found the children around me rather boring.
I was rather atypical child. When at daycare I preferred to be left alone so that I could go about my own business. I enjoyed reading in isolation, doing workbooks, and building things. I would take all of the items that the daycare had, and assemble large castles and the like. I remember the teachers always talking about me and my peculiar ways.
The daycare supervisors were never troubled by my anti-social behavior. They knew I wasn't anti-social because I was afraid, but because I had very little in common with the rest of the children. I wasn't angry or irritated with anyone. I just preferred own agenda, and the rest seemed rather childish to me. They knew I was different.
I was the kid who didn't like Sesame Street, and Mr. Rogers, and all PBS kid shows because I didn't like how they talked down to me. Even very early I was able to discern how the manner in which adults talk to children to me seemed condescending. I felt like they were treating me like I was unintelligent and couldn't understand what they were talking about. I still firmly believe that if you want your children to grow up, treat them like adults, not children.
The company I enjoyed was that of my siblings.
When I moved out I never saw my brother much. Contining theme.
Then when I was sixteen my mother informed me that my brother and his girlfriend, were going to stay with us for awhile. I hadn' t ever really known my brother so I was optimistic about living with him. He lived here for about four months and he moved back to Oregon. The time he spent here was and has been the only opportunity to get to know him.
I found out a lot about his history and some of his adventures. He has always been the kid who was in the wrong crowd, but not the kid who led the pack, but rather followed it. He did just about every drug imaginable and moved around collecting odd jobs to support his lifestyle.
Nothing has changed with him since then.
He has gotten into some trouble as of late, which I have no details. He is a vagabond for life, who when faced in the quiet solitude of his own thinking, will always make the best choice, but when surrounded by defective thinkers will make the wrong choice.
My brother and I share the same true blood, but we couldn't be the more opposite.
I hope that while he sits in isolation removed fromm all of his outside distractions he will stand back up on his own two feet, while all eyes are upon him, and take the first step towards redemption by his own volition.
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