02.28
In the midst of the worst real estate crisis in the history of real estate crisis’s, my mother sold her house. She will soon be able to split the last asset her and my step father held jointly, give him his half and move on with her life.
Now, some people may be saddened byt he idea that the house they grew up in has been sold. Not I. Personally, I cant think of a single happy memory in that house. I hated it. The worst years of my life were spent there,(and yes, the years I spent married to my ex wife were not as bad). The worst of my teen years, the ones where I was most frequently bullied and picked on were spent there. My highschool years were spent there. My early 20s till I moved out. They all happened in that house.
But can I really blame the house? Not really. But that doesnt change the human impulse to do so. We associate the place with the pain because sometimes its easier than to blame the individuals involved, particularly if some of them are still a part of your life.
Thinking about it now, there were not only bad things that happened there. Because of the houses proximity to a certain ‘transformational’ figure, my life changed course. I was introduced to the only outlet that got me through all those dark years – music. The only good memories I have of those years were because I had that light to follow.
But the negatives did certainly outweigh the goods. I can think of a good day I had in highschool. Both at home and in school itself I was in constant hell. Constantly tortured by my classmates for being things I was not, while at home I was pressured because I was not achieving what I could. They all fit together though. By my senior year, all I wanted was out. I didnt really care about what GPA I had when did. Its not like they gave time off for good behavior. If they had, I would have graduated after sophomore year, with the only double diget GPA in history..
But this was the source of all the conflict. The torture in the hallways translated to poor performance in the classroom which brought it all home. I didnt have friends, and it felt like my family was giving up on me being anything other than an underachiever. My sister and I, 7 years apart, had almost nothing in common in those years. Though I feel that my failures may have resulted in her being put under even greater pressure (both from my parents and herself) to ‘not be like her brother’.
After highschool, I tried community college. I was so tired of school, though, that I really didnt want anything to do with it. I wanted to work. I wanted to make some money so I could get out of that house, get out of that town, and perhaps set myself on course for some kind of living. I never finished at ECC, and I still regret that. Its still a source of great feelings of failure in my life. Maybe someday Ill finish. I doubt it.
But back to the house. So now that I think this through, I guess I cannot blame the house. The disfunction of my family and my own social issues made that place into my personal embodiement of ‘the dark place’. But it will be gone, soon. I hope the next family is able to actually feel it to be a home, the way I never did. Maybe now we can lift the curse.
