Traumatizing Events That Shaped My Life: Vol. 2
It’s time for another installment of things that screwed me up in my adult life.
Wooden Shoes and Wooden Hearts
My Dad died a day before my sixth birthday. Don’t feel bad for me though, I have some fond memories of the times we spent together. I used to lay with him and watch the Home Shopping Network where he would call up and buy things for my mom, and he used to read Sesame Street books to me. This one time he spanked me because I wouldn’t listen to my mother, after he hugged me and said he loved me. Plus my mom was very successful in playing the mother/father role while I was growing up.
My mom thought it would be best to try to get my mind off of his death. The best thing she could come up with is taking a five week trip to Holland to see her side of the family. I mean how could bringing a six year old to a foreign country where she barely knew anyone and knew none of the language be traumatizing?
Four words: My demon seed cousin.
Have you ever been abused by a kid two years younger than you and no one did anything about it because the kid had open heart surgery when he was an infant and is some medical marvel? No? I did. Off the top of my head here are a few of the things he would do to me, he would steal my Ninja Turtles (yes I had Ninja Turtles) and then throw them at me, very violently I might add. He pushed me in a lake (good thing my mom had already given me swimming lessons at the Y). And I’m not 100 percent sure, but I think he used to curse at me in Dutch. Every night before dinner we would wrestle. The first week or two it was playful but all of a sudden he became vicious, there was biting, scratching and punching...and me, in the fetal position, screaming for my mom.
I also got lost at a fair; my cousin literally lured me into the woods and ran away. I wasn't so much scared that I would have to live in the woods for the rest of my life, but more so scared that I was going to have to live in Holland for the rest of my life.
The only highlights of that whole trip for me were a trip to a Cheese Factory, which did change my life for the better. The 'Bold and the Beautiful' the only thing I could watch and understand on TV. And the fact that the video store had the English VHS version of ‘Home Alone.’ Other than that, the trip was a major bust. In hindsight, if I had known that weed was more than just for whacking I may have had a more enjoyable time.
Every once in a while till this day my mom says to me "Maybe we should have packed up and moved to Holland after Dad died." I cringe at this and let her know that "I would have emancipated myself from you before you had a chance to get me on that plane."
Update: I haven’t spoken to my cousin since that fateful trip, but my mother gives me updates when she talks to her sister. It turns out that he turned into a very nice young man.
It was summer of 2002. I had another opportunity to try the Europe thing again. I had taken a class trip with some of my fellow French and Spanish classmates, who also happened to be some very good friends of mine; to, you guessed it…France and Spain. It was a two week trip traveling to places like Paris, Barcelona, Toledo, Madrid etc. I had the time of my life, minus the throwing up in my sleep, my roommate being roofied at a Discoteca in Barcelona, and getting burned in the face with a cigarette, not by a French or Spanish person, but a douchebag who was on the trip with us. Although, said douchebag did in fact prove, after years of speculation, that under my cappuccino skin, there was in fact white skin.
My friends and I wanted to make this trip memorable, the best way we could envision. So what better way to do so, than to all get piercings together? We had stopped off on the island of Mallorca and thought there couldn’t be a better time. Beautiful island, people and weather. Most of my friends wanted to get another hole in their ear, or the classic belly button piercing. I, being scared of things touching my ear and not secure enough to get my belly pierced because I was still carrying around some of my baby fat in that region (till this day I still am, seems my childhood just doesn’t want to leave me), decided to be different and get my tongue pierced. Sidenote: at the time being the naïve, sheltered suburban kid I was, I was unaware of the connotation a tongue piercing carried. I went through with it. The piercing lady told me it would get swollen and be painful. I didn’t believe her until I tried to eat a piece of honeydew during dinner and then a couple hours later when my tongue was so swollen I could barely swallow. The next day we had made our trek to Barcelona. Our chaperones had gotten word what went down and insinuated that they would be making calls home to our parents to let them know what had happened. I, knowing my mom, thought it’d be best if she heard it from me, not them.
There I stood, nighttime, on a random street in Barcelona, I whipped out my calling card, picked up the payphone and dialed. My friends, also knowing my mom decided to stand around me to get a show. I don’t remember the conversation verbatim, but here is a gist of how it went. My mom has a thick Dutch accent, imagine it.
Me: Hi Mom.
Mom: Hi honey. How are you?
Me: Good, soo I have to tell you something…
Mom: What…
Me: I got my tongue pierced.
Mom: What?!
Me: My tongue. I got it pierced.
Mom: You. Are. Kidding.
Me: No, they said they were going to call the parents, so I thought it would be best you hear it from me instead.
Mom: I cannot believe you did this. After everything I do for you?! You wouldn’t be on this trip if it wasn’t for me!! Your father is probably rolling around in his grave.
Me: (timidly) I know.
Mom: This is unbelievable. I’m so disappointed.
Me: Well, Lee got her belly button pierced, and Heather got her nose pierced.
Sidenote: Heather also got roofied the next night
Mom: I don’t care, I am not their mother!
Me: (timidly) I know.
Mom: You are such a disappointment to me right now.
Me: (timidly) I know.
Mom: You are never going to get into college.
Me: (timidly) I know.
Silence
Me: Hello?
Me: (to the growing audience of my classmates and friends) She hung up.
That’s a piece of how I remembered the conversation going. My mom is long winded so it was much longer, but I gave you the meat of it.
A couple things before I wrap up:
-Our chaperones never called our parents, they set me up
-I did eventually end up getting into college, and I completed all five years.
-I am still a disappointment though. My credit score can vouch for this one.
Wooden Shoes and Wooden Hearts
My Dad died a day before my sixth birthday. Don’t feel bad for me though, I have some fond memories of the times we spent together. I used to lay with him and watch the Home Shopping Network where he would call up and buy things for my mom, and he used to read Sesame Street books to me. This one time he spanked me because I wouldn’t listen to my mother, after he hugged me and said he loved me. Plus my mom was very successful in playing the mother/father role while I was growing up.
My mom thought it would be best to try to get my mind off of his death. The best thing she could come up with is taking a five week trip to Holland to see her side of the family. I mean how could bringing a six year old to a foreign country where she barely knew anyone and knew none of the language be traumatizing?
Four words: My demon seed cousin.
Have you ever been abused by a kid two years younger than you and no one did anything about it because the kid had open heart surgery when he was an infant and is some medical marvel? No? I did. Off the top of my head here are a few of the things he would do to me, he would steal my Ninja Turtles (yes I had Ninja Turtles) and then throw them at me, very violently I might add. He pushed me in a lake (good thing my mom had already given me swimming lessons at the Y). And I’m not 100 percent sure, but I think he used to curse at me in Dutch. Every night before dinner we would wrestle. The first week or two it was playful but all of a sudden he became vicious, there was biting, scratching and punching...and me, in the fetal position, screaming for my mom.
I also got lost at a fair; my cousin literally lured me into the woods and ran away. I wasn't so much scared that I would have to live in the woods for the rest of my life, but more so scared that I was going to have to live in Holland for the rest of my life.
The only highlights of that whole trip for me were a trip to a Cheese Factory, which did change my life for the better. The 'Bold and the Beautiful' the only thing I could watch and understand on TV. And the fact that the video store had the English VHS version of ‘Home Alone.’ Other than that, the trip was a major bust. In hindsight, if I had known that weed was more than just for whacking I may have had a more enjoyable time.
Every once in a while till this day my mom says to me "Maybe we should have packed up and moved to Holland after Dad died." I cringe at this and let her know that "I would have emancipated myself from you before you had a chance to get me on that plane."
Update: I haven’t spoken to my cousin since that fateful trip, but my mother gives me updates when she talks to her sister. It turns out that he turned into a very nice young man.
Disappointing from Overseas
My friends and I wanted to make this trip memorable, the best way we could envision. So what better way to do so, than to all get piercings together? We had stopped off on the island of Mallorca and thought there couldn’t be a better time. Beautiful island, people and weather. Most of my friends wanted to get another hole in their ear, or the classic belly button piercing. I, being scared of things touching my ear and not secure enough to get my belly pierced because I was still carrying around some of my baby fat in that region (till this day I still am, seems my childhood just doesn’t want to leave me), decided to be different and get my tongue pierced. Sidenote: at the time being the naïve, sheltered suburban kid I was, I was unaware of the connotation a tongue piercing carried. I went through with it. The piercing lady told me it would get swollen and be painful. I didn’t believe her until I tried to eat a piece of honeydew during dinner and then a couple hours later when my tongue was so swollen I could barely swallow. The next day we had made our trek to Barcelona. Our chaperones had gotten word what went down and insinuated that they would be making calls home to our parents to let them know what had happened. I, knowing my mom, thought it’d be best if she heard it from me, not them.
There I stood, nighttime, on a random street in Barcelona, I whipped out my calling card, picked up the payphone and dialed. My friends, also knowing my mom decided to stand around me to get a show. I don’t remember the conversation verbatim, but here is a gist of how it went. My mom has a thick Dutch accent, imagine it.
Me: Hi Mom.
Mom: Hi honey. How are you?
Me: Good, soo I have to tell you something…
Mom: What…
Me: I got my tongue pierced.
Mom: What?!
Me: My tongue. I got it pierced.
Mom: You. Are. Kidding.
Me: No, they said they were going to call the parents, so I thought it would be best you hear it from me instead.
Mom: I cannot believe you did this. After everything I do for you?! You wouldn’t be on this trip if it wasn’t for me!! Your father is probably rolling around in his grave.
Me: (timidly) I know.
Mom: This is unbelievable. I’m so disappointed.
Me: Well, Lee got her belly button pierced, and Heather got her nose pierced.
Sidenote: Heather also got roofied the next night
Mom: I don’t care, I am not their mother!
Me: (timidly) I know.
Mom: You are such a disappointment to me right now.
Me: (timidly) I know.
Mom: You are never going to get into college.
Me: (timidly) I know.
Silence
Me: Hello?
Me: (to the growing audience of my classmates and friends) She hung up.
That’s a piece of how I remembered the conversation going. My mom is long winded so it was much longer, but I gave you the meat of it.
A couple things before I wrap up:
-Our chaperones never called our parents, they set me up
-I did eventually end up getting into college, and I completed all five years.
-I am still a disappointment though. My credit score can vouch for this one.
The Heater Room
One of my best friend's brothers had a party one night my freshman year... Nope. Nope. Still not ready.
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