Childhood games

I’m convinced I wasn’t a normal child. I’ve been watching my students at recess for six months now. I didn’t really do any of the things they do. Then again, I certainly didn’t have a normal childhood.

One of the “games” I played constantly was having a funeral. And I’m not talking about a funeral for someone else. I’m talking about my funeral. I don’t see how people used to argue that young children could not be suicidal. They argued that young children can’t understand the finality of death. I certainly did.

This “game” of mine started when I was five or so. At least those are the earliest memories I have of it. I can place the time because of the surroundings I can see in my mind’s eye. The green carpet. The little desk and bench in my room. The net full of stuffed animals hanging from the ceiling.

I would put my doll, “W”, on the bench that went with my desk and place it in the middle of the room. I would line up all my stuffed animals and they would mourn. But they weren’t mourning “W”. “W” was actually me.  I was pretending that I was having my own funeral.

I don’t remember how long I played this game.  But it was quite a while.  Nobody ever saw me.  They left me alone to amuse myself.

For some reason this bothers me a lot.  I don’t know why.  It’s such a poignant reminder of how sad I was as a child.

8 thoughts on “Childhood games

  1. kprsjohn says:

    to us that little girl, you, was saying maybe if i was dead people would miss me, or care that i was gone, because they sure don’t care now or they would let these things happen to me. we say that because we think someone inside us felt the same way.



  2. miquiecrew says:

    it makes me so sad, but i hope you know that you are in our thoughts … and you are not alone. we played weird games growing up too.

  3. That is sad. I’m sorry. Goodness. The way you wrote this I could see little you with the dolls mourning your loss. That’s so sad, another example of how devastating abuse can be. We don’t have to fully understand an experience (abuse) to be devastated by it.


  4. Thanks to all of you. Sorry I have been so quiet. I’m struggling right now. Bouncing back and forth between OCD crap and depression and flashbacks and hypervigilance and a mixture of all of the above.

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