My Name is Matilda, The Tilly Rivers Story
Copyright, Tilly Rivers, 2010
Entry # 5
Country Girl |City Girl
I grew in rural Bruce County. Tilly of the Bruce, I was recently dubbed by a friend. At one point in my life, saying I was a country girl was followed with a shudder of horror. Ironic really how your life comes full circle, and while you think you are changing and growing, you seem to come back to your roots.
Change is good, growth is natural, that is not what I mean, I mean where once you thought something was a horrible mess, when you go back in a different time- you, if you are lucky, see it differently. You know, like when you were a kid you hated vegetable X- but now as an adult- it's not so bad.
I went to the same public school with for the most part the same class mates, from kindergarten to grade eight. I both loved and hated school. I loved that I was smart, I hated that my fellow students, and yes even some of the teachers were mean to me. I was the outsider, the poor kid. We weren't farmers, we just lived in the country, all my neighbours that were farmers went to the catholic school, I went to the public school. Not that-that mattered, as we never associated with the neighbours.
My friends were also the outsiders, the cast off freaks that were either in the special learning class, or even poorer then we were, which would of been a shock to anyone.
Do not get me wrong, both of my parents worked, and worked hard. My Dad worked at the same factory for 20 years before it closed the doors one day and he found himself looking for another job. I was about four when that happened and he went to work for a construction company.
And in the seventies construction workers were not making the big bucks, with a union back up, at least not where my father worked. Remember we lived in a town that had a population of 25. ~smiles~ okay, maybe a little bit bigger, but it was not large, it was a small...what is the word, certainly not town, even smaller than a village...and correction, we lived outside of the, oh hell, lets say town. The true population could not of been more than 250 people.
The town was called Carlsrhue. It was an odd location, the address was rural route number for Hanover, while we lived in Bruce County smack dab between Walkerton and Mildmay.
My Mom picked up odd jobs where ever she could- from a bakery to a maid-another tsk-tsk mark for me at school, most of the country moms did not work outside of the farm...unless it was to be a teacher, or a career..see where I am going with this? I just didn't fit in- town kid- nope- rich farm kid-nope- catholic or go to church- nope.
And here is where I should tell you that both of my parents loved the Christian God very much, they read their bible, prayed, and believed, had faith. So, yeah, Mom more so than Dad, Dad walked a fine line between Christian and what he knew he felt within him. The reason that they did not go to church was that they were not married, but living together, at least until 1964, after living together for almost twenty years, they married.
They kept that little living together secret to themselves for many-many years. We were adults before that secret surfaced. But that is another story.
I had- according to the judgement throwers- way too many siblings--like there was such a thing as birth control-and it was okay for the Catholics to have 50 kids- that was cool, but us- no-no- hypercritical mother fuckers. My father worked construction, and my mother took on less than glamourous jobs. We lived in a closed minded judgemental area, with little to no jobs.
I did not fit in even more. I was always too tall for my body, or so I thought growing up all arms and legs and awkward. No gracefulness at all, I would trip and fall, walk into things. At the time I had no idea I had an issue with depth perception, I was just the geeky--poor--too tall-- blonde- kid that tripped over things.
So did I have boyfriends? Are you kidding me?! You did not have boyfriends unless you wanted teased and tortured, and come on, the meter marked Tilly Torture in school was already at the red zone, of course then it was “Mickie Rivers”
A miracle happened that changed my life. My Dad was offered a job in the city. Okay, so it was a city to me, Orangeville. And the miracle part? He took it! My Mom thought I would be upset leaving the only house I knew, grew up in- that I would miss my school friends- I WASN'T! I was overjoyed. I hated my first year of high school at WDSS, as much as my years at public school, I could not wait to get the fuck out of there!
Another miracle happened that year too, I grew into my arms and legs that summer. I will never forget the first day of school in Orangeville, walking down the hallway- It was the same me, yet everyone, especially the boys, noticed me.
I was five feet nine and half inches tall, I was skinny--fit I guess is the word, I had killer curves, and great boobs. I was no longer the awkward geeky kid- I was a knock out!
While I loved it, my Dad was not at all thrilled, but then again, we all know how Dads protect their baby girls.
I had one shiny spot growing up, her name was Wanda. My Dad and her step-Dad were best friends, but Wanda's family moved around a lot, and I did not get to see her as often as I wished I could, and not as often as I needed, but the times when we were together were the best.
We would pretend-everything--from dressing our Barbie dolls up and pretend to be the next great fashion designers- and models- to singing into the handle of a hair brush, and being the next best singers with adoring fans.
For the record- I can't sing. Truly- ear plugs are required, but Wanda could, she had a sweet voice.
The first time I was drunk was with Wanda. The first time I was at a bar (under age) was with Wanda, the first time I went to an “R” rated movie (under age) was with Wanda. She was my beacon, and I love her.
Over the years due to family dynamics and religious rifts, we have grown apart, but one day, I am taking her to karaoke and we will be singers again- and we will drink vodka and orange juice- as that was what we drank when we were 13 (still living in the country at that time) and got sloshed out of our heads. This is one item on my bucket list that I have not completed yet.
Over the years, my life took many twists and turns, and I moved to a bigger city- and a bigger one, loving them, and every sight, smell, and adventure they offered- I discovered I was a city girl. But not before I went though a lot of heart ache and abuse, because first I had to survive my marriage, and I almost didn't, as I tried to commit suicide.
Looking back I realize now that two things happened in my past that created the attraction to my x-husband, which happened shortly after moving to Orangeville.
Not sure if I mentioned that I met him when I was fifteen, and he was twenty-one- yeah alarm bells should of went off- and if they did I did not get the message--- and by the time I was sixteen I had a baby and was married, but we will get into that later.
The two things were- 1- I had no self esteem, after being beat down as a girl, feeling like the ugly duckling for so long, to have an older- and what I thought was a much cooler guy paying attention to me was awesome. BIG mistake. -2-I lived a very sheltered life at home as well, my parents and siblings never talked to me about sex, or where babies came from- fuck, when I had my first period I was to embarrassed to even tell anyone- and no one, not my sisters, or my mom told me what to do, I had to learn it on my own and from a friend.
As I am writing this, I realize that I am skimming the surface, but there was nothing surface like at that time of my life. It was a horrible experience, I had no one to talk to about it. My sisters were so much older than I was, they were doing there own thing with lives of their own, making babies and families of there own. My brothers were, well, boys and we just never talked about that sort of stuff. I couldn't go to my Mom, she thought everything was okay, and I would not of hurt her for the world, and while I could of talked it over with my Dad, I didn't because I knew within me that it would hurt his pride, that he would take it as a mark against him, and I would of rather died than hurt him.
I learned as a child that I was the protector, and I swallowed all and anything handed to me for the greater good of others. It was wrong, but I did what I did and I am not beating myself up about it, I just wanted my family to be happy, protected and loved, and so I pretended school was fine- I pretended I was fine- and when I married- I pretended that was fine as well.
All of us have memories of a bully- or not fitting in- of kids being cruel, it happens today, but that was not the worse part for me, it was some of the teachers. Teachers not only educate, they shape you. And for some of them to be mean, even cruel- is an evil act. What could a child possible do to anyone to deserve evil? Shame on you- shame on for your cruel, lying mouths!
Everything was used for me, hand-me-downs and last in line. I hated that the most. Cast offs. I did not know what new was, let alone a brand name or a label. I remember when I was about eight...like a scene in a movie...I was happy, I had a new dress, it was frilly and pink- and me- (I still love being a girl- and am a true girlie/girl)-I went to the washroom- and two grade eight girls came in. They did not know I was in the washroom stall, and one of them was telling the other that the dress I had on use to be her little sisters.
I am not sure where I got the courage to come out of the bathroom stall and face those two girls- I just stood there, and they did have the good grace to look embarrassed. That night I went home, took off that dress and tore it to shreds. I made a vow to myself right then and there, that somehow, someway, I would be different. I would not be poor, I would not go without, and I would never-ever feel like I felt that day again.
And didn't I just make that happen! Of course I walked straight into the arms of a wolf in sheeps clothing first. I thought school was hell? It was nothing compared to my marriage.
Marriage. Husband. Even now the words bring a ball of bile to the base of my throat. Terms that should be regarding love, endearment and respect, not a nightmare that would put the best Hollywood writers to shame.
The words meant falsehood, pain and self stupidity. They meant brain washing and anger and rape. They mean humiliation, hurt and a starving soul. They meant darkness, alone and escape.
All I wanted was escape.
To be continued in Entry # 6
