No Breakfast First?

Chapter 3 No Breakfast First? It's 1985, in gorgeous surf city California, and I'm four years old. There's a party at our condo tonight. I hear mom and dad talking about it. At the moment, I was playing with Skeletor and Grayskull Castle. Skeletor had, of course, captured Gem (rockstar Barbie), and now Shera and Night Rider were coming to the rescue. I had a very active imagination, and an ability to block out everything around me, which is what I was doing right now, because I could hear a fight begin down stairs. It's not like that was unusual. They were always fighting and it was always ugly. So I just disappeared for a bit into the world where the worse thing I had to face was Skeletor and his diabolical slime machine. I knew that after a while, mom would be running to me for comfort; there was no avoiding that. But I could avoid this. So into the land of Skeletor I disappeared for an hour or so. And before long, as I predicted, I heard sobs and footsteps headed in my direction and then, from the other end of the house, the front door slammed shut. I quickly tucked Skeletor into my pocket. He would have to get me through this one. Mom sobbed and squeezed me tight until I thought I would suffocate. I found a happy place in my head. I usually found something comforting to say at the end of it. That was my strength, I guess. I was gifted with compassion, empathy and discernment very young. I had a spiritual awareness that both enabled me and frightened me. I was still way too young to understand and use it properly. But I did my best with mom and she needed me. She carried a lot of hurt both from her past growing up and from her marriage with dad, and she depended on me emotionally. It was a lot of pressure for a four year old. But my mom is a very special and dear woman and I love her deeply. I would do anything for her; to relieve her pain. It's complicated. When she felt better; I was exhausted. The next thing I remember that day (and I am pretty sure it was the same day) was the party. I was very shy at first meeting, however, once I got to know you, I was very, very goofy. Yes, goofy. I remember this party in particular for several reasons. First, because I was allowed to wear my favorite sweater. I was such a tiny little thing at this time, that I was wearing it like a dress. My recent bout with pnemonia had made all my shirts and sweaters into dresses. This was one of my favorites; with big bright shapes on it. If I remember correctly, it even had shoulder pads. This was the 80's and icons like Madonna, Joan Jett, and believe it or not Twisted Sister were who I looked to for my fashion sense. Secondly, I remember the drugs. Parents don't expect children so young to remember things that they try so hard to keep hidden; things that they think they have “under control.” They weren't addicts, after all. But, as I mentioned before, I was a very spiritually aaware and discrening child. I remember things I think most would not. There was cocaine and pot that night at least. I saw joints, bongs, crack pipes and alcohol. From what I now know, there was more than likely meth as well. I remember my mom drinking, but I know for sure my dad was involved in everything. I could tell at a very young age when he was high. I could read his eyes and behaviour easily. I was afraid of him this way; of his friends. He would never hurt me, but he was unstable and tempermental, when he was usually calm and docile. Thirdly, I remember that Chris was there. You don't know who Chris is yet. She was a friend of my parent's that I really disliked, so I was less than pleased to see her there. Her daughter Sarah was not there, however, which did please me. Chris, of course was plastered and high and making an idiot of herself as usual. I believe I was the only child there, which is what led me to come out of my shell a bit. I remember that I jumped up on the coffee table and was dancing to some song. I think it was Kiss “Rock N Roll All Night.” Once I broke out of my shell, I was the life of the party. Mom had to drag me up the stairs one by one to bed. I did not want to go to. Not just because I felt like I was being a brat kid (although I admit to being fully capable of that as an adult), but because I felt as if I needed to somehow protect my mom or stop something from happening, and yet I had no idea how. But, my dad had the ping pong paddle in hand now as a spanking threat. He had not yeat used it, and I didn't want him to. So I wriggled out of mom's grasp and ran off to bed like a good girl. In bed I pulled my Rainbow Bright quilt grams had made me up over my head and and tried to disappear again. The next morning I was off to pre-school. I ran to say good bye to my hippie aunt and uncle who lived with us at the time. They were sitting in their room around a bong; eyes as big as saucers. I was four years old, and I remember thinking, “no breakfast first?”