Cobwebs

I want to write an entry about how tired I am, and how cobwebby my brain is, but it would be a string of complaints with a few repitions thrown in for good measure, so I won't. Instead - I'll wander down memory lane....


I was 3. Or 4. Somewhere around that age, and I was going to pre-school while I stayed with my grandmoter so my mother could attend school. I was the only child there who could read, and thus I was assigned to help other kids learn how to read - or at least learn the alphabet. I was helping this one young boy, and rather than practice his letters he wanted to puff up his cheeks with air. I got SOOO frustrated with him that I did the simultaneous slap on both sides of his face to force the air out of his mouth. I was horrified/ashamed, the teacher was outraged, and the poor little boy was in tears. I was stood in the corner for what seemed like forever, but instead of treating it like a punishment I pretended I was at the movies. I was always a defiant little cuss. The only other thing I remember from that school was falling in the parking lot while I was waiting for my grandmother and skinning my knee.
That's the earliest memory that I have that I am certain that I actually remember. All of the earlier memories I've been told about enough to not be sure if I actually remember it, or if I simply think I do.
From there - the next thing I remember for sure was meeting my stepfather-to-be for the first time. He was fabulous with children, and I fell for him right away. We played with a teddy bear and a plastic fishbowl - turning him into an astronaut for me to play with. I was obsessed with constellations and stars at that point, and didn't know that my eyes would prevent me from ever setting eyes on true space. I was 5 then.
After that - the memories come thicker and closer together. I couldn't tell you however, where we lived or what I did during most of the years I was say - 7 to 11 . I remember where we lived part of the while I was 8 - we were back in my mom's hometown, and living in the house of my dead great-grandfather. I remember where we lived at and what we were doing when I was 13 mainly because that was the year I developed in 6 months. I can remember everything after 14 - not only because it's MUCH more recent, but also because I started school then.
I treasure the few memories that I have, because I can't remember much of my childhood. One of the downsides to being homeschooled is that there is no set schedule to fit my memeories too. I had no summer vacations, no rememberance of a certain grade I was in when something happened to link to. I have flashes of high points and low points and the rest fades away into a blur. My mother and I were talking a few days ago, and she mentioned some places that we had livd that I have TOTALLY no recollection of - and I would have been 10ish while we lived there, which is more than old enough to remember. Most times though, I'm glad that parts of it are a blur. Some of the parts I remember - mainly from the years I was 13/14 - were utterly miserable. Eh. I've grown past most of it, though sometimes I wonder if I should get a therapist just to spew & spill to and help me clean out some of my cobwebs. Actually - it's more that I want someone with authority to reassure me that I'm 'okay' in most ways...with no more quirks or inner issues than most people have.
I know I'm quirky - I just want to be confirmed as being acceptably quirky.