A Bit of History

This may be a cry for help, you may need a hanky or a fire-extinguisher. But it's ALL TRUE! I was born into a homeless couples life, just after the 2nd World war. My Mother was the child of a single Mum, who put her in a foster family. Dad too, has had major loss in his life including the death of his mum at the age of three. His father and stepmother divorced during the war. He married after the war, lost their home through lack of correct paperwork and misinformation, and we lived in hostels until I was about four. By then I had two younger sisters. I have early memories of police visits. Mum wanted protection from Dads angry violence. It appears that they had a major problem when it came to discussing their differing views. They sent us kids to an Evangelical Church Sunday school around 1960. After going themselves for a few years they were introduced to the deeper truths of Pentecostal teaching and changed churches. No other boys my age attended regularly, so I have clear memories of lonely depressing Sundays, which included two church services and, frequently, an afternoon of boredom and/or migrain headaches. Around this time I was pulled out of the Evangelical youth club and the Boy Scouts due to 'religious principles'. I became more isolated socially. At 12 years old my Mum gave birth to my brother. By the age of 19, after several late-nights-out Dad told me to leave home. I found a large bedsit with a college friend and passed my 3-year Telecom-Technician apprenticeship. Some hippy neighbours offered friendship and cannibis. When longterm girlfriend, Linda told me that I was to become a father, I was stunned by the looming spectre of RESPONSIBILITY. I decided that using LSD may help me understand Life and my problems, rather than speaking openly to my parents. I went on to explore Zen Buddism and Yoga-phylosophy. I married my pregnant girlfriend of two years. After about a year she left me, due to my LSD-induced gibberings. I didn't seem to be getting very far with my quest for wisdom but, after about 4 months of homelessness and unemployment I found work, a home, friends and contentment in a hippy squatters community. After almost two years, as the squat was about to be closed down, an old friend unexpectly turned up and encouraged me to get back to my parents family and sort myself out. I, strangely, expected a happy reunion with my family. My sister and brother-in-law kindly let me stay with them until I got on my feet. Dad and Mum were living apart, we still didn't talk in any depth. I was received into my sister's Congregational Church. I wasn't connecting with my sisters or other people in church and I knew that drugs weren't the root cause of my problems, but the Church Pastor advised me to go to a Christian Rehab. I endured it for a few months and left. For a few months I shared a bedsit with my pre-occupied-with-evangelism-Dad until I got fedup of being treated like a servant. My Mum's independant lifestyle told me how much she too was enjoying her freedom from Dad's nagging control. I remember my younger brother, who lived with Mum, putting the phone on the floor and yawning as Dad continued to ramble for another five or ten minutes. Mark would pick up the phone to check, say "Yes" or something appropiate and put the phone back down on the carpet. Relating on issues beyond small-talk, in church and family, has been treacherous. Instant angry arguments being the reward for expressing a different view. Intelligent discussions have been virtually unknown. Love and encouragement is timid and distant. Fear, suppressed anger and self-righteousness seems to be among the predominant emotions with a fragile veneer of joy, peace and pleasantness. I have learned that nobody can easily learn or grow in such an enviroment. So I seek wisdom and understanding outside of my christian family roots.
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© DavesMadWorld