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Why does it feel actively transgressive to speak of my childhood as something important, formative, something with people in it whose presence I miss as an adult, something that promised things that circumstances meant never happened?
Why do my traumas from that age feel like things that it's okay to have still mattering to me, resonating with me, but loves and friendships and triumphs of that age are things that I can only speak of with a sense that I ought to feel shame that I have not outgrown them?
Why do I feel the urge to reclaim my childhood, hold it close to me and tell the nay-sayers that it matters, when I can think of few cases of me being directly told that I cherished its jewels too much or that it is not worthy of consideration?
Why do I feel that the things called the "formative years" in some rhetorical treatments of childhood are only things I can be formed by if they were pain? Why is the joyfulness (and the sadness of loss of potential joys) something that I feel self-conscious about remembering?
Is it just me? Or am I responding to something geniunely fucked up in the world around me?
Do I transgress? Fine. Then I transgress.
Mine.
Why do my traumas from that age feel like things that it's okay to have still mattering to me, resonating with me, but loves and friendships and triumphs of that age are things that I can only speak of with a sense that I ought to feel shame that I have not outgrown them?
Why do I feel the urge to reclaim my childhood, hold it close to me and tell the nay-sayers that it matters, when I can think of few cases of me being directly told that I cherished its jewels too much or that it is not worthy of consideration?
Why do I feel that the things called the "formative years" in some rhetorical treatments of childhood are only things I can be formed by if they were pain? Why is the joyfulness (and the sadness of loss of potential joys) something that I feel self-conscious about remembering?
Is it just me? Or am I responding to something geniunely fucked up in the world around me?
Do I transgress? Fine. Then I transgress.
Mine.
