The Minefield of Life

As I was growing up, my self esteem basically sucked. I was nonathletic, skinny, had large front teeth, "bug eyes", and no confidence. I also had a bully for a big brother and an enabler of same for a sister, both older than me (and, therefore, bigger). My natural fear of others was strongly reinforced by those closest to me, the ones I had to deal with daily.

My stature as a skinny, short for my age, kid guaranteed I would be picked last most times when sides were chosen. It also lowered me in the estimation of others, like coaches. I recall once in junior high when I caught a fly ball deep in center field and "Coach" (one of the three Phys. Ed teachers) ran out on the field to "congratulate" me. He was shocked that I caught it... and hung on to it, though I had done so as often as most others.

I smoked then, having started when I was 12, and my brother would push me down and take my cigarettes away. Not because he didn't want me to smoke but because they would be "free" for him and his friends to smoke. He did this until I turned fifteen and started to fight back effectively.

I do not look back on my childhood with any kind of wistfulness. It was a terrible time for me. A bit like walking through a minefield blindfolded. I had no idea where I was going, why I was going through it, or if I would survive. But I did. Survive, that is. And I picked up some skills along the way.

We are, after all, shaped by our experiences growing up.