midwestphc.org

Okay…so where to begin.  I’m not sure I’ve had enough wine to begin this trip into the past.  But alas, here we go.

Ah, my childhood.  It started off typical…bouncy blonde curls, jumping in puddles, teasing my brother, sneaking cookies…all the usual.  Around the age of 5 or 6 I started to realize that my family was a little bit different.  Not quite so typical.

My parents have chosen to be part of a church called the Pilgrim Holiness Church which is part of the Conservative Holiness Movement.  Hmmm, how to describe that without rambling for hours?  I’ll leave the doctrine part out, you can read that part for yourself.  Other than believing in “entire sanctification” it’s very similar to most evangelical faiths.

What set me apart as a child was the church’s decision to separate themselves from the world, mostly by appearance.  This meant: no TV, no makeup, no jewelry (not even wedding bands), no movies, no bowling (because they serve beer there), no pants (for girls only), no cutting of hair (for girls only), just to name a few of the “rules”.  Luckily, my parents were not as strict as some, which meant that I was allowed to wear short sleeves and go swimming in knee length shorts and a baggy t-shirt.  Some families/congregations chose to take the rules further by not allowing the internet, card games (even Uno), and extreme dating rules like no kissing before marriage.

As a young child this didn’t bother me too greatly (other than missed cartoons and not being able to play inside my bff’s house as I might get a glimpse of “the world”).   I understood I was “different”, but I wasn’t fully certain why or how. As I hit the awkward pre-teen years my discomfort with realizing how unique my life was only enhanced by my shyness.

My most cherished girlhood wish was to go to school with my cousin at a “real” school.  I was desperate to be a “normal” girl, even if only for a few days.  My school was K-12, total enrollment of 50+ students at its peak.  It was basically homeschooling in a more formal setting.  Even the curriculum was suitable for homeschooling.

Needless to say, the restrictions on my outward appearance, on what I could experience in life, who my friends were, my schooling, my literature, etc., still makes a strong impact on my life today.  I didn’t grow up listening to New Kids on the Block, crimping my hair, or running next door to my friends’ house to giggle about some boy, which of course, makes my life experiences vastly different from most.  I didn’t watch iconic movies as kid, and often miss friends’ references to them now.  I went to college, chose English as my major, and had never read Poe.

Whenever I make a new friend, my childhood is a topic that comes up pretty quickly.  All it takes is one little comment, i.e. “I never watched Fraggle Rock growing up.  We didn’t have a TV.”, and the questions begin.  Now, I don’t mind questions. As you can well imagine, I’ve been asked questions my entire life.  Having hair long enough to sit on tends to spark some curiosity.

I suppose I’m not sure how to wrap up this post.  Usually around this time, the shock begins to wear off, the questions begin to slow down, and I sit silently watching the other person absorb.  And invariably the comment comes spilling out, “But you are so NORMAL.”

I guess maybe some girlhood dreams do come true.

My family is…unique.  And not in the way that would be fodder for a hilarious sitcom.  *sigh*  I know I will have to eventually broach this topic here, just in case someone (other than LB) ever finds me hidden here in the internets.  But I’m not up for the whole enchilada today.  I was sick this weekend and laid on the couch with a fever yesterday and watched way too much TV.  (So go easy on me and don’t judge.)

So as I’m in my sick, staring at the TV hazily, avoiding thinking about the impending Holiday, I receive this text from my sister, Bubbles.  (Yes, she hates the nickname, but it stays.  I’m an evil Big Sister like that, just ask Mr. Beans, my brother.)

Preface:  My sister is 21.  She came to visit me for the first time ever. I haven’t lived at home in 10 years.  She wore pants, makeup, danced with boys, and consumed a few adult beverages.  My parents are extremely religious and are certain I’ve coerced her to participate in said debauchery.  Long story short, the crown of Black Sheep remains firmly in my possession.

Bubbles:  Well, I cant wait 4 u to come but expect passive [aggressive] anger from mom and dad.  and whatever u do dont say anything about my weekend there or about coming 2 visit u again.  (My sister is one of those annoying texters…or maybe I am who writes full sentences, words and uses punctuation.)

V:  Bubbles, do you think I’m an armature at this? haha

Bubbles:  no just making sure cause dad is sure u going 2 say I need 2 come 4 new years or something.  they just fucking piss me off. (excuse the language)

V:  Oh the things they come up with.  I’m not nearly as sneaky, devious or evil as they give me credit for

Bubbles:  I dont know I dont even know what 2 think about them anymore.  no matter how many times I tell them i was the one that wanted 2 get tipsy they want me to say u made me.

V:  Eh, it’s my role in the family.  I don’t know if they can see it differently.  Don’t stress about it or let it get to you.  Their issues is with me and I’ll run back out the door in a little over 24 hours with minimal damage.

At which point, my cold-addled brain decides to bring to light the fact that I can’t remember the last time my parents said anything positive to or about me.

I wonder if I can sneak one of these into my family’s teetotaling Thanksgiving extravaganza.