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First chapter of a larger story of Childhood Trauma and Struggles with Mental health. |
What I can see from here. By April R. I used to wonder why God woke me up before 5 AM, but over time I suspect it was to give me time and space to tell this story. Write it down. “Time is a- wasting” as Grandma Mary might say, from her corner chair. So here it is family. A story, my little limb on this family tree. The Epicenter. WBL, Minnesota 1. 1972 My father works a lot of hours, he’s a railroad maintenance worker for the NP and is called out to fix broken signals and rails at all hours of the day or night. We’re used to him running off often and usually at the worst times. It was the cost of this new assignment he had gotten here in White Bear Lake, so he usually didn't mind too much. I think it was his escape from stuff at home. It was not good. Not good at all. We are a family of 5, Mom, Dad, Doug, Keith and I. I’m Ellen. I just turned 12 and we live in a split level yellow house on Eighth Street, just a block or so away from Mom’s work and Keiths School - Lincoln Elementary. Keith is my little brother he is 9. I have a brother Doug, graduated and gone to the Navy since June. Mom and Dad keep his room just the same though Mom sews in there sometimes. Mom often “forgets” that Doug is gone and puts a place setting down for him when she sets the table… and its been 5 months. I usually put up the plate and silverware and don’t dare say a thing while I fix dinner. Mom is watching her programs. Dad comes home just after 5. I just put the plate away quietly as I efficiently made dinner. I let out a well-timed sigh, as I released the steam of a kettle so it was not overheard. Mom doesn’t like having her “forgetting” pointed out. Real consequences. She is quietly hanging out on the couch like a cat waiting for something to react to. Nope, not today. I have plans to ride bikes right after dinner, lets get this show on the road. Table is set, food is ready, I was a pretty good cook for middle school. I had made a hot dish from the recipe Mom left out with the lb of ground beef that was thawed when I came home. I knew the routine. Chop -Brown- Assemble Bake. I understand the assignment. Mom had pretty much quit making dinner since I was in 6th grade. I would come home and on the chalk board would be written “Ellen, make dinner, stuff on counter.” Mom might be sleeping on the sofa, or in her room but I knew dinner had better be on the table at 5:30 or there would be a problem. A huge problem. I sometimes would stress at school about home and stress about school while at home. There is no peace in this house unless she is sleeping or.. you know… away. So at least I could cook, and it wouldn’t be burned as in the last months Mom had tried to make it. She got a new Rx. Little pills in an amber botte, like all the others. Sometimes, she would take too many pills and fall asleep for hours at a time. I loved those pills. They gave me the only quiet and peace I knew. If she was sleeping, there would be no violence. Keith is a puny kid with blue eyes, transparent eyelids and thick hair and eyebrows. He spends a lot of time reading about outer space and setting up little army men all over the house. I dont get it, but he is really smart and I spend a lot of time protecting him from domestic fallout. His room is next to mine and when things get started upstairs, he comes in and join me on my twin bed with our backs to the wall and we listen to them fight late into the night in our own silence. We have been doing this as long as I can remember. |