By Dorothy Preston
I never thought my life was abnormal as a kid. Even after my father abandoned all seven of us kids along with my mother. I just continued to live in my fantasy-land in my giant Playhouse where I grew up in Springfield, Massachusetts. All the houses in my neighborhood were large, so I took it for granted, and didn’t think much of it.
It wasn’t until I was 10 years old when my sister told me Mom was a drunk, that I began to wake up. We’d been renting out rooms for years, but it never seemed odd up to that point. That was when the shenanigans started and my view of Mom was tarnished. She had always been a beautiful starlet in my child’s-eye. That was when I began to feel shame along with anger toward my father for leaving us and contributing to the transformation of my beautiful mother. I fought shame, guilt, and anger for what seemed like an eternity. Even now, as an adult woman, I have pangs that make me shiver and cringe.
I wrote Getting Off the Radiator with the thought of sharing my troubled childhood. It wasn’t easy sharing so many personal, raw, and embarrassing memories, but it is my hope that just maybe it could help even one person that could relate to my story.
So many young people have little to no self-esteem for one reason or another. I think it helps to get the word out to anyone that suffered growing up in a dysfunctional home, and to let them know they are not alone. Too many of us have grown up with some form of abuse in the home, and I think that is so sad.
As a child, I found solace from attending Adult Children of Alcoholics meetings. As an adult, I defied my Catholic upbringing and sought spirituality in various forms including joining a Shaman Apprentice group, joining Self Realization Fellowship, meditating, or Yoga. All of them helped contribute to who I am today.
I can only speak to my own experience and the fact that my mother was so dependent on my father that it drove her to extremes. That really rubbed off on me as a child and I thought the only thing that could make me happy was a man, and therefore, became obsessed with men myself. I was completely man-driven and thought men were the only thing that could make me “whole and complete.” It took many years and many tears to finally realize that true happiness can only come from within.
I like to think our lives are all just a story–and what a ride mine has been!