As I sit here listening to the ticking of the clock I contemplate all the changes in my life. It all started when I was born,,I came along the last of 6 kids and changed my sister’s life. She wanted a baby brother and she named me Jimmy. When she found out I was a girl she said “take that one back to the hospital, and bring me a Jimmy.” Out of the mouth of a precocious 4 year old this sounds hilarious. Time went on and I had more changes to deal with. I was 4 now and my parents were separating. I wonder what I could do to fix things so things wouldn’t change, and why did my Dad have to leave. So I lived with my Mom and my sister during the week and had visitations with my Dad and step family on the weekends. At first it was too much change to deal with and I acted out and rebelled. Change meant adapting, change meant frustration and tears, change meant anxiety. We took many family vacations over the spring and summers. I travelled a lot of amazing places in the United States, seen a lot of wonderful things, and met some very special people. I’m Canadian so that’s par for the course, we’re a friendly bunch. I’ve never adapted well to change, it’s just so hard for me to except the sands of time carrying on, and everything changing. Elementary school was a big change for me. In Kindergarten I had to leave my Mom’s side and that was difficult. We had carved out a routine while my sister was away at school. It was only a half day so we would still had our lunch and tea parties in the afternoon. We would go for walks, sit in the field read books, or go cloud watching. I’d throw the ball for my dog Bo, as I watched him run for hours. He’d collapse in my arms and is hug him so tight.
Life was great, I entered Grade 1 and I stayed in school full time. I had made friends so I didn’t mind this change as much. I missed my Mom but I knew I would see her after school and the little girl she was babysitting. We became the best of friends and she was like my little sister. I felt grown up and important, since I rode the bus to and from school with my sister. And I learned how to read, and I loved my teacher. She made books come alive like my Mom did. With her expressions and her tone of voice when reading. I then discovered I could do that, by making the words in my mind create a story in my head. I felt incredible and invincible and I actually liked this change when the print became powerful. I entered Grade 2 and things really changed not for the better, but for the worst. My teacher was tall, loud, mean, and scary. She bullied and ridiculed me on a daily basis. She was very strict, and we had alphabetical attendance taken every morning. No talking, no laughing, just listening. Well I was chatty so I got stuck in the back of the class by her desk so I’d be quiet. I’d talk and she’d hit me on the head with her pencil. I sucked in math and she’d read out everyone’s math score alphabetically at the the of the day. Everyone that is but me, I’d hear mine last 2/20 she’d boom out the score. I’d lay my head on my desk and cry just like clockwork. Then the bell would ring and I’d be on my way home. Back to my safe place my Mom and my books. When a story, a nice cup of tea and a treat would take me away from the pain and onto my next adventure. I started math tutoring with 3 other boys from my class where I was teased and bullied. I had enough so I started fighting back. Being bullied every day I began to get very angry and very vocal. That teacher hit me, pushed me, yelled at me too many times and I took action. The next thing she knew she was in the principal’s office with my parents and my principal. She was there begging for her job while my Dad was raging over her and making her cry. He never wanted to see me hurting , and my Momma bear would do the hurting to defend her cub. The next few years were a blur as I grew up and my social skills increased, and my reading and writing skills grew stronger. I had to face another teacher who was a bully. A lot of time I would ignore her and retreat into the world I could create with my pen. I was a modern day hero writing adventures for my characters taking them on journeys I wished I could take. Over the years in school friends were made and lost, boys were discovered, young love blossomed, and hearts were broken. So much change as I grew from a young anxious child to a tough talking adolescent. No one got me hurt me anymore or I’d do the worst back. I got to Grade 8 when I was bullied again. I retreated into my books and writing as a means to escape. I wanted to become a writer and my Mom supported and encouraged me on this endeavor. With a lot of change, I left that school and those memories behind. With some bumps in the road, more changes of being the new kid, I made it through high school. I was proud to hold my diploma and go to college. After that experience I took a long distance writing course until I ran out of money. So I had to get out in the real world, find a job, and a place to live. Although this change from a cushy cared for life happened, a brave independent one took it’s place. I met and fell in love with my husband, had our precious sons and we built a life together. He likes change, he believes it keeps things new and exciting. I still don’t adapt as well to it, but I don’t fear it as much as I did in the past. In the nearly 9 years of our marriage we’ve moved 4 times for his career. And here I am, yet again the new kid on the block. But there’s also a change in me, I’m an adult and I’m brave and courageous. And I now see my daily life as an adventure instead of a challenge I must conquer. I’m becoming stronger, perusing my love of writing again, and becoming like my characters I wrote about so long ago. And I really love this change, this new me, I’m discovering in life and in print. Thank you for supporting me on this amazing journey. Cheers and hugs to all of you brave souls that are following along. ?
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