The Middle Years

Entering into the middle years my memories begin to appear, but still, they remain hazy in terms of an accurate timeline or specific deadlines. Pictured to the right I had just begun first grade, I was always small for my age until I hit 16 years old. Since I was homeschooled I didn't experience any external struggles because of my size. I had already learned how to read 2.5yrs earlier so when I entered first grade I was already reading second-grade level material. This advancement allowed me to have a good grasp on academics early on. While I was learning at a good pace, being homeschooled restricted my autonomy development.

When it came to my parents, they began to struggle a substantial amount in both emotional and financial ways. We were a lower-class family living in a one-bedroom trailer. My mother was still struggling with her post-partum depression as well as other medical issues we weren't aware of due to not having access to health care. My father's job didn't provide insurance so we couldn't afford to go to doctors for check-ups. With my mother struggling with a hormonal imbalance and my father working dusk to dawn tensions were always high. Arguments were frequent and sometimes ended with my mother leaving the house for what seemed like forever (one maybe two days). I believe this had an impact on how I viewed emotional expression. I became a quiet child and it was very rare for me to share what or how I was feeling. I believe this had been because I saw what expressing feelings was met with; yelling and leaving.

Because of the many struggles my mother was going through, my father continued to take us to work with him. At first, my sister and I would just be there, then as we got older and more competant we began to work. By the time I reached age 10, I was completing electrical work on job sites and completing invoicing for customers. This resulted in a good 95% of my time being spent with my dad and sister. I never personally enjoyed working with my father; he owned an irrigation business and so everything was outside. Doing hard labor out in 95-degree weather was never fun for a small child. Although, I remember waking up every morning early so I can finish school and go to work with my dad. I feel like I did this because when I wouldn't struggle or complain about waking up too early it would be met with less arguing between my parents. I feel like these were my attempts at being industrious, so as to avoid emotional turmoil in the household.