Neglected Child

Hum I have been thinking about this post for a while. It is far from my cheery positive posts but it is part of who I am today. We all have our own load of events in our suitcases so I am just opening a few pages from my Richard's book to all of you.

I was born in 1960. in Montmorency Québec. This is a small neighborhood most know for the fall. A railroad crossed the town and I live on one side. I can't tell if I was on the right side of the track or not as there was no right side! 

I used to walk there by myself and I was not even 5 years old

We lived in the middle home on the right unit of the last floor

 I have 3 brothers, one younger and two older. What is interesting, we are all 6 years apart!

I didn't know what my situation was until my adult life but I was a neglected child.

Across own home was the school. Back then, we didn't need to go to kindergarten as we were so more smarter than the kids today LOL 

It's no more a school, it has been convert to appartment

 I was so looking forward to starting school. My best buddy Michel who was younger by few months and I were both in the courtyard on the first day hoping to be in the same class. The school principal called the names and the child had to go to their teacher. Michel name was call. My name was never call...

I asked why and was told that my parent didn't register me. I had to go back home and get my mother to do so. I didn't start school that day, nor the next, I started a week after everyone else because I was “forgotten”.

Before Christmas, I was shipped to a school in Tadoussac, to this day I still not sure why. In early spring, I was bought back to my school in Montmorency but that didn't last long.

I was playing with Michel and I looked and people were removing furniture from my home. At the end of the day, we had moved to Beauport (about 5 miles), I had to changed school again. My father and my oldest brother didn't get the change of address notification... it seems!

For as long I can remember, no one ever got up with me in the morning. My mom and her boyfriend would sleep and get up in the afternoon. So I was cooking my own breakfast and lunch.

I don't know how often at night I would get awake from those 2 drunks fighting. I wished someone would have call child service.

I started working when I was 11, I was a caddy at the golf course. I also got a newspaper run, sold chips and peanut at the colisée, watch windows at the driving. Any thing I could do to earn some money, I was available. I remembered I was about 8 years old and had a little bit of money in the bank as I was collecting empty bottles. I need running shoes and my mom asked me to lend her my fund and she will pay me back... I'm still waiting, with the interest rate, it should be a great amount! Starting at 11, I was buying my own cloths and paying my own expenses. I never got one of those thing, you know a-l-l-o-w-a-n-c-e... I guess because of this, I'm really independent.

I was really bad at school. I didn't had a learning problem, I had an attendance problem. No one seems to care if I went or not so I didn't. So at 17, I didn't even passed all my course in grade 8 and decided that I was going no where so I joined a new family... the Canadian Armed Forces.

Moving forward to 1995... my mom never called, never send a Christmas card, I didn't care until I had my daughters. I was neglected but I didn't want the same thing to happen to my own child. Nothing change but I was giving them my love. One day the phone ring, it was my mom, she called because she wanted to borrow money. Still I send her enought to filled up her fridge but I thought that I would have a talk with her when I went back home. I tryied to talk to her and she told me that it was the past and she didn't want to talk about that. That was enough for me, I had enough of that one way relationship, so I stopped calling or going to visit her.

It has been over 20 years since I have no contact with my family. In the back of my mind, the whole time I blamed myself and as I was getting ready to write this post, I realized ONE thing, my mom never call either! So maybe I'm not that bad a son afterall.

After my father and mom split, I seen him 3 times. He was not part of my life too. My fondest memory of him: He showed me how to pee standing up, that's it, no words of wisdom nothing else, he showed me how to pee... what would I have if I had been a girl?

That's it maybe next time I'm going to talk about sexuality... it's a lot more up-beat! hahahaha