I have weird thoughts about my childhood.

I can only remember two events before the age of 11.

The first, I got caught playing doctor with a boy on the picnic table in the back yard of our house when I was 5 or 6. The second event, I was dancing ballet all by myself in my room listening to a song called Unchained Melody.

Oh, my love, my darling
I’ve hungered for your touch
A long, lonely time
Time goes by so slowly
And time can do so much
Are you still mine?
I need your love
I need your love
God speed your love to me

I remember playing that song over and over again. I think I was 8. How could I have understood a longing for love at that age?

I can’t stand the smell of beer. I don’t know why. I’ve never even had a sip. Sometimes I think I’m in denial over events in my childhood.

I had an Uncle who loved to have me sit on his lap (my sister told me this—I don’t remember). He was in the Navy. I do remember a corkboard of ribbons— hatbands, with the names of the ships he worked on, hanging like streamers on my bedroom wall. He gave them to me. I felt special.

The family used to whisper things about him. When I was an adult, his wife died and he re-married—his childhood sweetheart. She had two daughters. The marriage only lasted two years. My sister thinks he sexually molested her teenage daughters.

Sometimes I wonder if I was sexually abused in my early years and I’ve blocked the memories.

I’ve lived a long relatively happy life and if I was sexually molested, I don’t need to know.

 

 

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