It's been a couple of months since my last installment of the "My Story" series. Most of the series so far has consisted of introductions to members of my family. This post will resume the sharing of my story. If you have not yet read the previous installments of "My Story," I have included links to them at the end of this post.
As I mentioned earlier in this series, my earliest memories begin around the time I was two years old, which also coincides with the birth of my brother Matt.
My dad has told the story of the day my brother was born. While my mom was in the hospital, and he was at home with me, I made a mess by dumping a ten pound container of sugar all over the kitchen floor. I actually remember this, though it wasn't until much later in life that I made the connection that this was the same day that my brother was born.
Being so close in age, Matt and I were pretty close growing up. We often shared a bedroom and we did a lot of stuff together. And as is often the case with little brothers, he was also good at annoying me (though just as often unintentionally as not), most often wanting to do things with me that I either wanted to do by myself or with my own friends. Though we had many of the same problems that most brothers do, overall we did get along pretty well.
My best friends during my childhood were also my closest neighbors. There was Jaron, who lived across the street from me and was born eight days after me. And there was Evan, who lived next door, and was about six months younger than me. I saw more of Jaron as we were in the same grade in school, though as we got older, our interests diverged. Evan and I tended to have more common interests growing up, and so we would often play together when we were younger, though we were a grade apart in school.
I was very sensitive as a child. I both have been told this by my parents and I have memories of it as well. It would take very little to get me upset over something, usually resulting in me crying. When this happened in public, there were times I got teased or laughed at. I believe that this played a role in shaping my interactions with others when I got older. To avoid negative reactions from others, I often remained quiet, withdrawn and closed off, as a defense against letting others get close enough to me emotionally to hurt me. I would often open up more as I got to know someone better, but early on, I would usually be very shy and introverted.
As I mentioned before, when I was younger my mom taught pre-school in our home. I attended it for two years before I started kindergarten. Being the teacher's son, I think I often got away with more than I should have. I recall at times claiming I felt "tired" as an excuse to go to my room and play.
I also recall experiencing separation anxiety from my mom when I first started kindergarten. I'm sure I wasn't the only five-year-old to experience this, but I can recall not wanting my mom to leave me with strangers I didn't know. Though I was able to adapt pretty quickly, it has left me with a clear memory of my first day of kindergarten. This is one of the first memories I have of the social anxiety that has endured with me into adulthood.
I was also a quick learner. I learned to read rather quickly (having a mother that was also a teacher, and had materials for young children definitely helped). I believe that it was during my first couple of years of elementary school that I developed the love of reading and learning.
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My Story -Part 1
My Story -Part 2
My Story -Part 3
Though I have only gotten up to about age six, due to time and space constraints, this seems to be a good place to stop. I plan on continuing with another segment of this series in my next blog post in two weeks.
As always, feel free to leave comments or to ask questions, whether directly on my blog, on the Facebook link, or by sending me a private message.