Being imaginative or creative in any way was a 'no no' in that family, and I perceived it as another wrong about me. When I painted pictures in primary school and the teachers told me to take them home to show my family I thought, "Why should I subject myself to that ridicule? What were those teachers thinking?" High school was no different. When I was told to hold up my paintings in class I died a thousands deaths of embarrassment. All art found a bin before entering that house.

When Lassie dog on telly got lost, tears gave away my weakness. I was stared at by my family like some freak of a sorts. Ma told me to go and have a shower after our family dog was run over. She said it would make me feel better. My tears were muffled by the sound of running water, and I did feel a little better.

I felt for my brother when he was terrified of the wardrobe boogie man. His nightmare resulted in him crying out for mum and sleep walking to get away from the man with the gun. And I didn’t mind going on a diet when ever big sis wanted to. She was concerned about her weight so all us gals ate were diet biscuits and low calorie stuff which I cant come at eating today.

English teachers were more into a comma,,,,,,,, and CAPITAL letters than content. At times I found arithmetic difficult in primary school too. I was an average student with a need to conquer and perform as well as the rest. I cheated arithmetic in forth year elementary class, because I wanted to know what it felt like to be brainy. I sat with the 'elite' for two days before Mr Rogers caught me out.

It seems my family convinced me all that was good about me was wrong, and all that was bad about them was normal.


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