The Truth, The ScapeGoat, and I

I suppose in my life I began to see the truth very early on. As young as maybe four or five.

You see, being told you are not wanted and treated so at an early age I believe makes you the young analyst of the family. But not for some. Sadly many others go downhill, get involved with the wrong crowd, or maybe do not realise that this is not all there is to life. Maybe they cannot read, and that limits your way out of an unusual childhood.

Tiggy, that is me, and I call myself that as that is the name grandmother called me as she hugged me. I was hers, and hers alone. And I loved her dearly. And Tiggy, again, that's me, spent most of my time with this Liberty print lover, my dearest granny, as a very young girl. Lots of cuddles and knitted toys, poems, and fun. Granny was deeply spiritual, a follower of Mary Baker Eddy, and she made sure I understood whom to center myself on. And indeed that is the source in my life, of the strength within me.

I was not told of her death in hospital, it was kept from me. I knew she was ill and had been to visit her. But my, the pain of losing the only person you ever felt you belonged to and finding out when a neighbor accidentally blurted it out, broke my heart at such a young age.  The overwhelming feeling of dread of being alone with all these arguing, spiteful people. The fights, the abuse, being slapped if I said a word out of turn, sticking up for myself, the truth. The lack of attention from parents meant there was a constant battle for any love that might be available. Narcisstic games played out so well it was like living in The Globe Theatre in the middle of a highly fused performance at times... 

But my darling grandmother had planned something, someone, to look out for me.

One day whilst walking down the hedged lane where I grew up, an elderly lady said hello through a hedge row. This lady, Mrs Hilsdon, was to become one of the rocks of my childhood. The other great support was, without them knowing, The Dahls. In later years Mrs Hilsdon went on to tell me that my grandmother had visited her while she could still walk and then sent her a note, saying that when the time came would she step in and make sure I was ok. So granny could see, as I could see, like Johnathan Livingstone Seagull, that all was not well below.

Presently I am writing a book about my upbringing. It is sad, it is happy, it is hopeful, and more... But most of all it serves a purpose. We cover a lot of ground within my pages and if you are a publisher or agent I would love to hear from you. When you long to help others, and there are so many others, the passion to write is never-ending. Blessings.x

All content: S. Vukomanovic/S.Lawrence 2024 ©

Images: https://unsplash.com/@azevdoluana