A Writer's Childhood

Since my husband has gotten back into writing, he has inspired in me an old story that I have been contemplating writing. Yes, I write. I haven't done much if any since our daughter was born almost two years ago but I still have this idea for a story that I've had for many years.

Anyone who knows me personally knows that my mother is schizophrenic. Needless to say, this created a dramatic childhood to say the least.

I have two writing paths that I could go down.

The first path would be a focus on the 16 months that I lived in Fremont, California when I was 8-9 years old where I was a newly immigrated Canadian white kid trying to fit into the drama of a neighborhood of mixed race families and the torment that ensued when my mother went off her meds. It would be from a child's perspective geared toward the young reader set. I thought this would be a good area to write for considering the subject matter. I can bet there are probably a few kids out there who would end up relating to some of the humiliating events I experienced.

The second path would be a larger focus. Written for the older teen or adult reader in which the story spans my entire childhood including the time in Fremont, because trust me - there were plenty of awful moments on that roller coaster ride of mental illness. Including, but not exclusive to, the time my parents separated (the best time of my childhood) when I was about 13 or 14 and my mother was living with my Granny in Victoria, B.C. with my sister. Why my dad let my sister live with a mentally ill mother, I'll never know and since my father has passed away I will never get the answer anyway. One peaceful & happy evening my dad received a phone call from my uncle on my mom's side of the family informing him of my mother's arrest and charge of attempted murder and that he needed to come and get my sister right away (the worst time of my childhood).

Intrigued yet?

Anyway, this is the story idea that has been floating around in my head for years. I am not so self-absorbed that I think that my life is so interesting and that everyone will want to read about my life. My intention is to process through my childhood and make some sense of it, if any, and with the hope that it would help others out there who may have or are going through a similar experience.

I have come across a lot of reading material on adult children of alcoholics which were especially popular in the late 80's & early 90's but not much if anything at all on children of mentally ill parents. It's a topic that I think has been ignored for far too long.

Have you seen the price of gas?

I don't usually like ranting about this kind of thing because honestly, I think we are the most spoilt nation on the planet but I am really getting fed up with the price of gas. Regular, the cheapest option, is now almost $4/gallon. The $200 a month that is coming out of my children's mouths is going into the oil company's record profits. This is wrong - plain and simple.

Do we not have a conscience anymore? It seems as though the divide is growing and our children are the ones who suffer it. The rich seem to be so checked-out living in their cushy plastic bubble that they can't truly see how us ordinary folk struggle just to get by.

I don't need a 5 bedroom house looking over the Puget Sound (though it would be nice), a simple 2 bedroom cottage would suffice. I don't need a slick sports car or a super SUV, just feeling like I can actually afford the scheduled maintenance on the used car I do have would suffice. Why shouldn't I be able to feed my family fresh organic food so we can be healthy instead of the cheap prepackaged meals that are full of hydrogenated oils, fructose corn syrup and enriched flour that make our kids obese.

I thought our government was supposed to speak for the people but I guess I am wrong. Let's hope that we make the right choice in November and begin to see a real change for the better.