Math Is Hard - Part 2

Math is Hard
Part 2

This is part 2 of a three part series.  Please read PART 1 first.

Once my parents found out, a school meeting was called and everyone was angry with each other.  I don't recall too much of it but the thing I do remember is in the middle of the semester, being told that I would be put back in Kindergarten so hopefully I could catch up.  It was a sinking feeling and one that I had no choice because the adults knew what was best.  No one really cared about the reason for my struggle with math.  I'm sure they all thought they were doing the right thing, but in all honesty, it did very little to address the problem.

So, when Christmas break was over, I went back to school.  This time though, instead of being with my friends and classmates, I was put back into Kindergarten with other children I barely knew.  I felt out of place.  I didn't really fit in and no one seemed to really care.  After all, you were just supposed to suck it up and move on in life.  I don't remember having many friends that year and it wasn't long before we moved to a new school in the fall.


No one ever asked the right questions or addressed what as behind my struggle with math.  They just thought I did not learn all that I needed to learn.  My little mind would freeze up because of other things that happened to me.  In those days, I nowhere to turn and there were few that I could talk to that I trusted. We were taught in dramatic ways that you did not dare share your problems or the family problems with anyone outside the family.  There was no way for the teachers or school administrators to fully understand what was going on.  If they suspected anything, they kept silent.  My bets are that we were such good actors and we feared for our lives, that we never showed the slightest hint of the trauma we were going through.  My math struggle and loneliness was most likely the only clue.

You see, it was during that time that I remember the first time I was raped.  Instead of being a normal kid that played with their toys and had fun, my body was trying to deal with being raped by someone that supposedly cared for me.  Instead of being healthy and full of energy, I had discovered how to escape my body, only to wake up drenched in blood on the floor.  No one truly seemed to care or if they did, they were too afraid of my monster, a.ka. the sperm donor in my life.  When an infection set in, I was taken to a nurse friend of my mom's to get antibiotic shots at her house.  I remember having to go in and pull my pants down so she could give me a shot and how humiliated I felt.  I didn't trust any adults at that time.  I struggled with a high fever and was extremely sick, but there was no way they could take me to the doctor or the hospital because someone might just have found out what truly happened.

After I recovered, I remember so many other things that happened.  My dad was out of work, struggling to make much money and so food was very scarce.  We lived on government hand outs of dried eggs, powdered milk, cheese and peanut butter.  My little tummy went hungry so many days and even though I was tired of eating the same thing over and over, it was that or having nothing to eat.  When other kids complained about the school lunches, my mind was far off in another world trying to survive.

It was during this time that I was basically tortured physically by kids at school, my older brother and I was left to be a loner, afraid of everything in the world and my own shadow.  There were not safe places to go, only places to hide from.  There were not safe people in my life, only people to avoid.


(continued on Part 3 - Math Is Hard - posted on  Jan 9, 2012)


Related Blog Posts:
1)  Math Is Hard - Part 1 (Posted 1/7/12)
2)  Math is Hard - Part 2  (Posted 1/8/12)
3)  Math is Hard - Part 3  (Posted 1/9/12)

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