The girl that was me

My parents gave me a good start in life, and I was a hard-working, clean, ambitious little girl. I did my piano practice, went to church twice on Sundays and did my best in pretty much everything I tried. There were no ugly violent outbursts in my home, no desertions, we were not itinerant - staying in the same town for my whole childhood. My parents loved and were faithful to each other. I had my fair share of teenaged angst, but life was safe, life was secure and predictable. I had reliable friends who I still keep in touch with to this day, although they are far away. I could talk to my mother, who would sit me down for long girly chats over a cup of tea after school. My father's high expectations of me, a burden at the time, probably projected me into the enviable position I am in my career today. So how did I become this confused, disenfranchised, co-dependant jelly? Perhaps because this gentle upbringing did nothing to prepare me for the seamier side of life into which I (and regretably my beautiful son) have now plunged? Fifteen years of marriage served only to freeze me in my schoolgirl innocence, and I emerge a sort of post marital rip-van-winkle, ill equipped to deal with the harsh realities of the world. I treasure that girl, and I don't want to let her down.

Photo courtesy of belfast high school