My very first memory I have is sitting in a cot. It is white and it has those funny looking soft animals on the inside. I always thought they looked weird and outdated. I am looking from inside my eyes and there are big bright green apple cupboard doors on the wall.
This is like a photo memory. A second of time. I only have a few memories from before we lived in the country. Mum and Dad got their house built when I was about 6.
I don’t remember going to kindergarten at all, not a single memory. I have three memories of living in Mum and Dad’s first house. I don’t know how old I was.
I was sitting in front of the big black and white tv watching Humphrey B Bear and Mum was standing behind me in her dressing gown doing the ironing. That is like a third person snapshot.
The other memory is of my brother pushing me into the bathwater because we were arguing about something and I had this horrible scratchy nightie on that I hated.
Oh I do also remember I had a balloon and my brother convinced me to let it go and he would get it back for me. We shared a room and slept in bunk beds. His was up the top and mine was down the bottom. Of course he would not get the balloon back down for me and I was so upset. He would do things like that all the time but that is for another day to write about.
I might as well fill you in.
As brothers go up until I was 8 from the few memories I have he was an ok brother. Once he was ten he forgot about me and made other friends. I do know that when I was 4 he was my hero. My big brother, I thought the world of him back then. As he got older he would constantly tease and torment me. I’m not sure if he knew what a big impact that behavior had on me. How tortured it made me feel, or how upset it made me. I refused to cry in front of anyone back then. He delighted in getting me so frustrated I would try and attack him but being bigger and older he easily held me off. Are all brothers like this? Do they all go through a stage of tormenting their siblings?
The second house we lived in was a rental, Mum and Dad were in the process of building a house for us.
This house seemed to be filled with light for me. I don’t know why but I always thought of it as the sunny house. It seems to glow with happiness when I remember it. I only have one memory of living in this house. I went outside to get the milk for Mum. I was so excited and I remember the bottles were very big and hard to hold in my arms and as I got back to the door and I tried to open it the bottles slipped from my arms and smashed on the verandah. Oh I was so devastated, I cried my eyes out I was so disappointed and ashamed that I had broken the bottles. To me it felt like the world was ending and I remember Mum coming out and picking me up and carrying me back inside.
I have another memory and I don’t remember which house it was in but it was in an old fashioned kitchen and it was sunny outside. I was sitting on the floor with my legs straight out like a little kid sits and there was an open drawer above me and I had a large sharp knife in my left hand and there were little cuts on my knees. It is like a photo image and I can see myself from behind. I have always thought this a very strange memory as I had no idea what I was doing for many years but I will come back to that at another time as well.
So this kitchen I found out later was in the fibro house, my insiders called ‘the dark house’. This was where in the above memory I was trying to cut my hand off. Where most of the abuse happened. Mainly at night but also during the day. As you can tell before my insiders came out the above memory is the only one I had of living here. I remember I shared a room with my brother and we had white lace curtains in our room. My bed was closest to the door.
The second rental house that we lived in when I was little was a fibro house. It had no garden and no fences it just sat on a small block of land with large pine trees behind it all in a row. Huge trees they were. For many years I did not know why but I only remembered this house from a snapshot memory of it like a photo.
My memories really begin in the main house. My parents bought 7 acres off my paternal grandfather out the back of Rosebud on the Mornington Peninsula in Victoria, Australia. The suburb was called Rye. It was mainly just empty acres of land with farms and bushland. It had a very long driveway from the road and my parents built the house on a hill overlooking the property. They did a lot of the inside work, flooring, kitchen, Dad built a bar and Mum did all the curtains, painting, wallpaper and carpet in the bedrooms. A friend of theirs was a bricklayer and he did a lot of the work.
We lived in this house from when I was 6 to when I was 17. I remember Mum and Dad’s bedroom was down one end of the house and our bedrooms were down the other. Im sure that also was deliberate. Having 4 children all from the age of 12 to 6 can get noisy I guess.
We were good kids from what I can remember. My siblings had the normal fights and arguments I guess. My two older sisters were closer in age than my brother and I. They had shared a room until this house and my brother and I shared a room as well. The dynamics changed once we moved into this house as my brother got his own room and I shared with my sisters in one big room. I hated it. It was a big oblong room and I had the middle part and my sisters had each end. I hated how open it was. It had large built in wardrobes and I remember one time hiding in my section as I was scared. I had no idea what of.