This was my first shot at freedom from my abusive mother, that is since I ran away from home at 20 months old.
The only bad thing about it is that my little brother, just 3-1/2 years old, was now all alone at home with my mom. I knew our mother didn’t want either one of us, and with me heading off to my first day of kindergarten Larry was now without any protection from her. He didn’t know what I did, in fact, he didn’t even know that Spirit Guides and Angels existed.
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It turned out that school was boring for me and I didn’t fit in. So far, I didn’t fit in anywhere.
This realization just made for a stronger connection to my Guides. Even though no one expressed or demonstrated anything close to what I was always experiencing, I knew nothing was wrong with me. However, I did realize that talking about any of this was not an option. I never told anyone about my experiences with my Spirit Guides and Angels; it would have exposed me to a societal type of torment, ridicule, and punishment.
After adjusting to kindergarten, I did okay at school, that is until the bullying started in the first grade. That really got my attention and launched my fighting career. I could not stand by and watch a kid get picked on or beat up by a bully. In hindsight, I now understand why I reacted that way having been bullied relentlessly by my mother. That explains why I had such a strong compassion for the victims of those schoolyard bullies.
I was a strong athlete, just another place for me to vent my frustrations, and I had a lot of them. I found myself in a dysfunctional family and then a mindless society, both using fear tactics to control their victims.
So far, I discovered that I was really good at fighting bullies, excelled in sports, had great support and guidance from my Spirit Guide Angels, and knew who I was.
Living in a neighborhood dominated by African American kids was a perfect fit for me.
They could handle the truth, fought the bullies, were athletes, and felt like I did. Those kids became my friends of choice. By the way, knowing yourself lets you be who you are and although that’s a benefit, there were also consequences. It was 1958, and because of my choices, I was scorned by most of the non-African American kids, the teachers, and especially my mom who was also a bigot. They all called me stupid, saying, I didn’t get it. They were right, I didn’t get it, thank god I didn’t get it. They had already set themselves up for a lifetime of having to unlearn all the wrong things later on.
So much for finding my place in the world. None of this fazed me because even though my life was not the norm I knew I was authentic. I liked myself and my choices. Most of all, I loved my best-kept secret, my real friends, my Spirit Guides and Angels.