Of Scary Monsters and Childhood Traumas

Alright, to be fair this wasn’t exactly my first traumatic memory that i remember. The very first was when i was about three, my parents had been invited to their friends’ wedding (don’t ask me how i remember this from such a young age, it’s trauma alright) and somehow the wedding reception was at night. Being a kid i knew very well that these suckers would want to leave me behind so that i don’t give them trouble there, so i kept a keen eye on both of them the entire afternoon. Finally, at sundown, we started preparing to leave, well they did actually. I don’t know how i had gotten distracted and lost sight of the mission ( well I was three and I could have been playing with my toys or something). Anywho, I walked back into the living room and everybody was dressed, even my older brother! The brotherman was even wearing this cute little tux, and I knew they wanted to pull a fast one on me. Like all kids i pulled the best weapon in my arsenal, i started crying and sulking, but then they played me with the “well go and get your shoes and let’s go”, line. I took the bait and when i rushed back into the living room all that was left was the maid! Hello abandonnement issues lol

Photo by Ba Phi on Pexels.com


But this is not the story that i want to talk about today. Today i want to talk about how i was bullied in my first year of primary school. My dad had always believed in my abilities, i don’t know if it was because i started crawling earlier than other kids or what. One day, when i was four, i walked into the living room to find my parents in the middle of a heated exchange. ” He’s way too young, he wouldn’t manage” my mother cried out, ” No! he’ll totally be fine, he can handle it”, my father bellowed back. As soon as i walked into the room, my father then said, “Bon, let’s just ask him instead” (well he didn’t actually say “bon”, he doesn’t know any french, but still i’d like to think he did). ” Tadie, do you want to go to pre-school next year or go straight to grade one?”, my mother then asked. “Grade one!!” i cried out, I’m not sure i fully understood what my choice implied,( besides, i don’t think i missed out on much, singing carols and nursery rhymes for a whole year, yeah miss me with that). So we immediately went to work and my mom started teaching me to read and write. I was quite a fast learner and after a while she was also convinced i could handle grade one next year.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

The only problem that was left was convincing the grade one teachers to take me in. They were really wary of taking in young students ( or kids who were too young to be able to touch the ear on the opposite side of their heads with the other hand, or so the legend goes). Luckily enough, we went to Warren Park 2 primary school, and a certain old woman who taught one of the grade one classes said she was willing to take me in, but on probation, if i failed the first time it would show i wasn’t ready and i’d be sent home. Surely enough, i didn’t dissapoint and daddy’s golden boy passed the first term with flying colours. I didn’t have that many friends in class then, and then a certain kid named Samuel befriended me, what a guy i thought, what an asshole he turned out to be! He seemed to be very kind to me and was always ready to assist me with a pen, pencil or rubber when i needed one. But all his favours came at a cost, apparently i had suddenly become his blesser and i had to share my lunch and lunchmoney with him because somehow i owed him.

For a while i was okay with the arrangement but things started to go north when i refused with my lunch money the other day. There simply wasn’t enough for the both of us and that’s when the bully antics started showing. He started pushing me against the wall and holding me by the collar ( i would have probably taken him, but he had the pyschological advantage, so i succumbed). From that day onwards for a few weeks i’d surrender my lunch money and do without it, and it was really weighing me down. I had to walk him home after school to his house before i went my own way and it was getting me in trouble for being late. When you are being bullied it feels like your’e stuck in this bubble with just you and your bully and no-one to help you. How did this finally end? You might ask, well it wasn’t certainly due to my bravery. In the morning one day, i suggested to my mom that she topped my lunch money a bit for the sake of Samuel. My mother then pressed me more about the issue and that’s when she found out that her little baby boy was being bullied. My dad was absolutely livid and he escorted me to the headmaster’s office the next day. Oh, how the headmaster stammered trying to explain how this had happened under his nose.

Samuel was called to the principal’s office and was heavily reprimanded. He wasn’t to associate with me anymore and if ever he threatened me again he would be expelled. Finally, it felt like a dark cloud had been lifted, and my school days were bright and sunny again. The hertbreaking part was that my older brother studied with me at the same school but i still never had the guts to tell him what was going on. Trust me, i do get people who are stuck in abusive relationships and with manipulative people, how hard it can be to break away. You should always remeber that you’re not alone and that your friends and family are more than capable of helping you out. This was a really tough piece for me to write because i had to revist some of my worst memories, and it’s weird how i remember it all like it was yesterday. I don’t beat myself about it, i was a kid and i didn’t know better, but i’ll be damned if i let anybody else make me feel like that ever again in my life. Feel free to like and comment and subscribe to my email updates to stay tuned with the latest. This was your grandm’a favourite blogger and until next time.Peace out.

2 thoughts on “Of Scary Monsters and Childhood Traumas

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s