the happy cactus

Growing up in a blended family was tough and had numerous challenges. Although there were so many bad times, they were peppered with good times; choosing to remember the positive moments is how my brain is wired. When I stop and think about how diverse my brothers were and the step sisters, it makes me smile. Our blended family was referred to as The Brady Bunch and I resonated deeply with Alice the housekeeper because I was in the middle. Not old enough to be in the older kids and yet not young enough to fall into the younger kids category. Hence I clung onto Alice because I did not clearly fit into the round peg round hole idea. I was a square peg that liked bikes, outdoors, dirt, boisterous wrestling and this was not considered ladylike. I loved pretty dresses but would forget to change out of them before we would ride our bikes through muddy water and over homemade jumps. Oops.

I loved my Amelia Jane doll, my barbies, and my brothers Tonka trucks. I remember for one birthday I received a girly bike and I was so embarrassed because it wasn’t a BMX bike like my brothers. I pretended to love it however I secretly loathed it and would hide it behind bushes near the oval before I walked into school. I dare not show my friends in fear of ridicule. Looking back though, my friends would have loved it.

When dad remarried, I went from only girl to three more. I knew I was not like them on so many levels. Pretty, long hair, fancy clothes and shoes and always clean from being girly girls. And then there was me. Always sporting scabby knees, scraped elbows, unkempt hair and a sheen of dirt or dust. I worked so hard for them to accept me, to love me, to see me as their new little sister. My exterior was hard to love apparently and I strove every single moment of every single day for their love and acceptance. I just wanted them to like me. I just wanted to be accepted. I pampered them with adoration, kindness, and doted on their every whim and request. After many months of new family life, I was unsure of where I stood and if they actually liked me. ‘Treat them mean, keep them keen’ was their unsung motto and I wanted so desperately for them to like me that I put up with so much shite. My square peg personality traits were not measuring up to their round peg round hole expectations. A deep sense of displacement encompassed me and I found I was continually striving to fit in, always doubting myself, always unsure. My adolescence was not formed on solid stable ground but one of uncertainty and unsureness, resonating loudly on a molecular level.

The older I become, the more prevalent the understanding of what I went through and just how much it has formed me today. Sure, each family has their problems, issues and uniqueness that stems from individuals being raised in close proximity with other individuals. Not a day goes by where I don’t think about how life would have been different if my darling mother didn’t die. Would I have still morphed into a people pleaser? Would I been desperate for people to like me? Would I have had confidence in my youth rather than it forming in my late 30’s? Would this bone-deep sense of dislodgment have taken root? I wish I could go back to little nine year old me and tell her you were enough. You were loveable. You were not the problem. You were and still are a beautiful square peg.

Analysing my childhood experiences and really breaking them down piece by piece is hard. To view my blended family through adult eyes and recognising all the dysfunctional aspects has been hard. Admitting out loud that my childhood was not an easy childhood is even harder. For so long I have minimised my experiences and made allowances and conjured up excuses for certain behaviours. It is what it is. We cannot change what was, we can only change what is. Viewing the blended family with compassion, kindness and understanding is what helps me process and get through. I am not condoning how I was treated, instead I am choosing to feel the emotions when they arise then allow forgiveness to cover me.

It is, after all, about inner healing and the ability to move on successfully without any pieces of bitterness taking root.

Also, I managed to track down my actual bike from an old friend and it still has my name written on it in the same permanent marker my dad used all those years ago.