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Letting me know in our WorldPulse World/Chap I, A quiet & melancholy childhood

Born and raised in a family of high social class, my engineer father, my mother notary, eldest daughter of 3 children. Both very active workers and concerned with their social and economic success. Never had time for anything, they were always busy so things were done with military-style regimen .
My mother is and was a difficult person . All time spoke ill of her family, how unhappy was small because her father treated them like men, made them clean your car, put them to clean partridges while returning from hunting.
She complained that despite having lived in a large mansion in her neighborhood only suffered financial penalties because his father was unfaithful to his mother and loves to spent money he had with his secretary.
She spoke disparagingly of his mother saying he had been a woman suffered and failed because there were able to study and endured abuse for not being able to wean.
She did not talk worth she spoke condescendingly. The only thing her father recognized good man of low social class, coal carter and who became President of the Stock Exchange of Buenos Aires in the 50 studies was without just that encouraged and supported the college career of his 3 daughters at a time when very few women were studying .

I was an obedient Girl like my brothers who did everything in case I watching my parents with pride and admiration, very good student, introverted and not give problems for the strong characters of my parents.

They were returning home when they were furious always tired of so many responsibilities , dinners were in large table in silence anyone ever wondered how did it go in today?

If at night in our room laughing my father came and beat us to shut up because they wanted to silence us and they were tired of listening .

The punishments were common unconscionable ; misbehave or not suited to work because they were very tired .

My father came to hang my favorite dog bit a newly purchased because armchair had rages somewhat pointless. At home nothing was missing material without excesses but at heart you felt a certain sadness .
Nothing is with love it was made by obligation. He had to sacrifice all that was the method.

At age 6 my mother quarreled with his family for a papers theme and my brothers and I were without grandparents and uncles who were our only family in Buenos Aires. My mother decided to cut the link with all of them and therefore we.

My father was from another province and had almost no family in Buenos Aires except a lonely guy I saw from time to time .

My mother always busy in our care delegated maids who were authorized to punish us they did not behave .
Went with my brothers to a religious school , I was with my brothers to a religious school , a convent school and if we behaved badly they threatened hitting pupils with or lead to a Reformatory.

I was in fifth grade when I learned that my Grandmother had committed Suicide under a train one day before the birthday of my grandfather. I could not see for four years and suddenly I find that I could see it anymore .

For months I believed saw her in the street when traveling by bus to go to school .

In my neighborhood we know as the daughter of the notary, a stigma that I carried for years. My mother held the dominant fundamental role in the family. She thought she was perfect, speeches marked us a lot in our behaviors.

My father at that time was a man from a small town , quiet and conservative who had been forced to make the military school away from his family from 13 to 18 , that impact him for life in the sense that there had to fend for himself . My mother always told us what had to suffer learning to peel apples with two books under his arms, sew your clothes or do training and guard for years.
My father was an absent man who had agreed to delegate parenting his wife an immature, egocentric and hostile woman. My mother said she could do anything , unless he earned it and was a little left , boasted of having made pregnant by married me because He was so slow She could never marry. She decided everything and nobody could contradict.

She mocked domestic workers who worked in bed in our house giving them Nicknames with disparagement and laughing at their faults.

A few years after my grandfather died intership in a nursing home .
Never in all these years my mother remembered the day of the death of both parents. Not a prayer, or a flower. My mother and sisters cremated my grandfathers, threw their ashes along the river, fulfilling their last wishes that way and it was like the dust of the two memory left.

Rebuilding stories with our generation is valuable. The only predecessor who could learn a little more was my paternal grandfather whom I saw once a year when we were on holiday, a time that was beautiful . My paternal grandmother died a few months before I was born so I could not know but according to my mother who never knew love because she was forced to marry at age 15 with my immigrant grandfather who was twice her age.

As a child I loved reading , writing and dance.
I read dozens of books and was a writing workshop classes .
A book like Little Women could last me 2 nights , was a book worm and in my spare time I composed poems .

After my grandmother died just turned my focus to the studio, my teachers supported me a lot with it and this was my way of thanking them .
In my house did not seem too , study and get me good grades was my duty after all were not for that we needed anything , the study was our obligation .

I loved studying , I was easy but our life was very monotonous we found ourselves at home. We were not allowed out to play in the street as the other children in our block well because we were girls, we could not look novels on TV because this things were for adults. My parents made no social life or visiting friends because they were so tired though we had always done, done done but always doing something.

It was so I went to tennis, gymnastics , English courses , swimming, writing workshop , etc, etc.
Never motivated us to choose something sent us to study different things because they were the way my parents to keep us active and occupy all the time.

Until age 12 my life was spent in a kind of melancholy which did not need anything, but apparently we had it was something important missing... Love, Affection and Communication.


Jennifer Faith's picture

Someone cares

Dear CaroCimador,

Thank you for sharing your childhood memories - painful as they were. I just wanted you to know that you are not alone and I am sorry that you experienced pain, abuse and a lack of love as a child. I think unfortunately this is common in our world, but that fact doesn't make it any less painful. I believe in a God of love and I believe his heart was breaking for you when you were being hurt as a child. I believe that when you cried he cried too. He loves you very much and to him you are the most amazing woman in the world. You are beautiful, intelligent and gifted. He sees it and I hope that you can see it as well. I wish you all the best in your life. Someone once said that we have two chances at childhood. One that is given to us and the one that we give to our children. Here's to both of us doing things differently with our own children.

God Bless,

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