Things I Used to Do That My Parents Never Knew¶
Sometime between the ages of 7-10, my mom started working the 2-10pm shift. During the week I didn’t get to see her very often and sometimes not at all. My bedtime was at 9pm or so, though I considered that a soft cap (I never really could sleep well and I still struggle). But I still had to at least act like I was asleep. So, I’d cover myself completely with a blanket and pretend to fall asleep on the living room floor. And I would just lie there, sometimes for hours, and wait to at least hear her voice before I went to sleep. Other times I would pretend to wake up so I could talk with her. Maybe she caught me a few times or suspected I was awake. But I doubt she ever knew I did it pretty much every night she worked because I missed her.
When I was quite small I had the ability to go into imaginary worlds. The context of the real world would slip away and my own fantasy would replace it completely. I didn’t do this out of a fear of the real world or a need to escape from anything but rather I simply found that I could conjure more interesting and exciting experiences than I could otherwise have. I would pilot an airplane from my swing, construct zeppelins in my bedroom, and invent perpetual motion machines in my workshop (constructing an engine piston out of bouncy-ball material doesn’t make a perpetual motion machine in the real world but in MINE it sure did). While I’m sure my parents were aware I was playing and imagining things I don’t believe they knew how much I resented them for perpetually tethering me to the real world. Kind gestures like bringing me a sandwich or simply being informed it was time to come indoors and get ready for bed all felt identical to me. I didn’t have the context or nuance to differentiate them but rather I saw them all as intrusions. I deeply wanted to be left alone. Worse, it was tricky work to put my mind into a place where fantasy became a realized experience and interruption would always require me to go through the same challenging process to get back to where I was. I hid my resentment for these “intrusions” for reasons I have long since forgotten, and hopefully as a child I was successful in doing so.