The Pretender

My sister, Debbie, posted this a while back on her blog.  These are her words about our experience growing up in a children's home.

We had food, a roof over our head and a bed to sleep in, the things that would keep a child’s body safe.

The ones that could have been our examples went in their room each night and shut their door. They closed up their hearts and left us to cling to each other.

We were wounded and broken. We were not shown our individual value.

All of us had dreams, some were grand but most were simple.

It was our spirits that begged for attention. We knew they never expected us to succeed.

We were all scattered at different times to different places. It has been amazing when we find each other again. There is a joy that we feel to know that another of us made it out.

We all have heard the same response when people hear our story. “You seem so normal to have had such a horrible childhood.” But we are not normal.

We just became very good at hiding our pain. No matter how hard we try to cover up where we came from it cannot be changed. We were the unwanted. No matter what we succeed at we never believe we are good enough. How can we be? We were the thrown away trash.

The strong personalities and the stubborn will are the tools we used to pull us up so we could show everyone that we do have value. It started as a front to show the world. It becomes a wall that we make everyone face, even the ones we love.

Debbie hit the nail on the head.  Sometimes I feel like a survivor of some sort of tragedy.  I can only imagine a small piece of what others feel who also go without food and shelter.  At least we had that. 

But don't all kids deserve just that little bit more?  Don't they deserve to be held accountable for their choices, and be asked to rise to a certain level of behavior and achievement?  Would it be so hard to listen to what they say?  I feel like the bar was set really low for us.  So when someone gets to know me and they notice that I can hold down a job they are amazed. 

What might have happened if someone had cared just a little more?  Asked me how my day was? Quizzed me on my times tables for math?  Heck, maybe even gave me a hug?  Maybe I wouldn't think that I have to solve all my problems myself, alone, without even God to count on.  Maybe I would be able to do mental math instead of counting on my fingers (sneakily).  Maybe my physical personal space would not have to be quite so big. 

Am I stronger?  I don't know.  Probably not.  I am just a really good pretender.