My life is my message …..Part one, the early years.

Life-StoryLet me tell you a little about myself, My name is Roseanne Elaine Rivers, I was born on the 19 March 1983, in Brighton.
Didn’t have the best start to life, I came I think about 2 months early and weighed 4.1. Gee I would have been big if I had come on time. My mum Jane was very sick with eclampsia. She started fitting and the first thing she remembers is that I was 2/3 months old before she saw me. So my first few month of my life, were spent in hospital.
Never mind, I can’t remember it of course, and mum was soon on her feet again.
My mum was a single mum and I believe did wonders on her own until she met John Rivers.

They got married when I was about 2 I think, and I took his name. John later adopted me, when my sister Jane, was born.

One of my first memories was going on holiday too Tunisia, I remember riding a camel, lol.

Also remember that I use to sit at my mums piano and bang the hell out the keys, I remember it being a joy, not that my mum or John thought so.

I also remember my very own first money box or should I say piggy bank. I must have been about 3 if not younger, and I wanted to get my money out, couldn’t do it, so what was the best way, I smashed it. Then cried a lot.

What I thought I would do with the money when out I don’t know.
I went to St Joseph’s play school, I can’t really remember much about this time apart from dressing up, I use to love to dress up.

I then went onto St Joseph,catholic school, Brighton.
My baby sister had been born and I had been shipped off to a place where they wanted me to sit still and learn, don’t get me wrong, I wanted to learn, I just was a lot slower than the other children and got a hard time because they thought I was being naughty, that wasn’t the case at all, I just couldn’t take in the information they were teaching.

Of course this lead to an unsettled home life, Dad (John) would get so mad at me, and I would be punished, he just thought that I was playing up, to be a headache to him and my mum. They had their hands full with my sister, who was a very sick baby. In and out of hospital and wrapped in cotton wool. Of course I did not understand at the time, how sick she was, all I knew was she cried a lot and smelt rather funny.

Jane’s health became, the one factor in our lives, that always came first, of course now, I can see that it had to be like that, and as my daughter has the same problems that Jane did, I fully understand now, how hard it must have been for them, but I want them to know, that I wasn’t playing up, I was just struggling with learning.
I remember the summer holiday spent at Butlins, at least two weeks there a year, and if not there we would go to some caravan site and stay on site for the whole time we were there.
I remember visits too London and the odd trip to Spain as we grow up, but mainly playing in the paddling pool in the back garden, all the kids from the street would come over and the mums drank tea and we would splash away. Looking back they were some good times.

We spent a lot of time on the beach, playing in the stones, me, I just sat and watched the waves, I felt at home sat by the old pier, just staring out to sea. Thinking of what was beyond the mass amount of water.
So on to school life again.
Well they were some unhappy times, I just couldn’t keep up with the other children, I was told I was thick 24/7.

I wasn’t I just couldn’t see the words that were on the paper, the way you all see them. They were back to front and all over the place. I couldn’t master breaking down words to try to read, how can you do this, when the letter are messed up?
Ok so I was dumped in special needs for English, kinda cool really as we had one to ones and got more help than what we would have got in a full class.

All the way through school, I was bullied for being thick, nice hey!
I guess back then, schools just didn’t pick up on these things.
The teachers told me daily that I would never amount to anything and at home I was told I was worthless and would never be good enough.

Woooow it’s no wondered, I have no faith in myself.
Maybe these things scar you, deeper than you know.
I found a love for sport, I was good at that, I mean really good. I gave all my spare time to running, hockey, tennis and getting fit, it was a release if anything.
My love was for track, my god the freedom for running against the clock, the air in my lung, the pleasure of doing something I loved, I just can’t explain it to you. It was my passion. I so must find time and the energy to get back into it.
That open road ahead of you, you can lose all your troubles and just set yourself free.

So school was a huge pain in my butt, and the last few years I just didn’t bother even going, what was the point, I wasn’t learning anything, I wasn’t getting any where, the only good things were my mates.
Boy didn’t we have fun, hanging in the park, drinking mix up drinks, that we had all stole from home, getting totally wasted, and acting like we had no cares in the world, well we didn’t.

Looking back life was pretty damn great, what I would give to turn back time and do it all again. Maybe not the school part, it was hard and kinda mess’s with you.
I was just 15 when I met Rob, hmmm little did I know, that he would become my husband, god help me. Time with friends got harder, and home life was unbearable. I wanted away out so when he asked the question I said yes, boy wasn’t I a total idiot for answering that question with yes.
We got married very very young and brought our first home.

(See pics).
Life got worse from here on out………

Married life and work blog will be with you soon, keep checking back guys.

dining room front room

 

kitchenbed roomgarden

Advertisements

One response to “My life is my message …..Part one, the early years.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s