The continuation of the harrowing story of my childhood as an unwanted child.
My classroom was a piece of my old classmates classroom that I had when I went in Torpa school. They had ended up in the middle of the high school building while I ended up in literally in a corner of the oblong building. To get to the old class, I had to go halfway in the long corridor and then turn to the right. It happened that I did so sometimes.
On one occasion, I met Christian, it was the guy that I happened into a fight with the school shooting, several years earlier. I do not remember what we talked about but it was amicably. Mains we talked there among the crowds of the other students at recess at the benches, school lockers and jackets will suddenly a girl came up to me and says:
"Have not you any shower at home so you can wash your greasy hair?"
I was shocked and did not know what to say, and was just quiet. Christian did not know what he would say when he tried to grin apologetically off. Since the girl agreed. I did not know who she was, but it was very painful to me.
It hurt me because I was tormented by my fat and greasy hair. The remedy for it, I knew I should shower more or at least wash it more often, but I was not there for my foster mother. As soon as I wanted to take a shower or wash my hair so I did not get it. I suffered at home because I could not take a shower and I was tormented at school because I had to walk around with my greasy hair. I was troubled and felt bad for it and became even more uncertain and depressed in my already low self-esteem.
Perhaps it was my foster mother opsykologiska behavior of her poor background. She had learned to save on everything. This poverty thinking would go with her for many years, even when she was well off financially. She allowed himself did not have anything, but went about in worn and old clothes. She had more than afford to buy something new and fresh, but she never did.
Or was her behavior that she was afraid of my foster father. I do not know, but she had for many years been considerably subdued by him. She would sometimes say unflattering things about her husband to us children when he did not hear.
When I think about it, he never such things about her, but on the other hand, he said in general never nothing. Without saying a word, he could go away somewhere with his car. My foster mother never knew where he was or did. If that she complained to us children, but never said it directly to him. I never saw them arguing, but this behavior was a major annoyance. Communication between them was completely dead, and it was this that I grew up with. You never talked to each other.
My foster father smoked a pipe, which he had done from the age of fourteen, but he had no problem with booze. It was vodka and other liquor bottles on a shelf in the pantry, but he never drank himself out of them, but only once in it were guests at home that he offered little schnapps.
But now back to my greasy hair. I was haunted by this but did not know how to solve it. At that time the boys a little longer hair, which I had. I wanted the hair over my ears so that they would not be visible. I had more than once been bullied for having large and protruding ears as my "comrades" were slapped on them from behind with their fingers so they were clearly red. But because my hair was so greasy and fat so it was not pretty, but hung lank and ugly down and around the ears. Oh what I was tormented by my lank hair!
When it became colder towards the fall edge began a German siblings in school. A boy and girl. They step on the bus at a stop for me. They had a little different clothes than us Swedes as I noticed them. The girl had long, fine braids, and the boy had shorts even though the weather was getting colder. But even they wanted to sit together boy with lank greasy hair in the school bus. I remember that the seats next to me was vacant but they sat in the back of the bus. I thought it was because I was teased so they would not come in the team with mih and themselves be bullied.
When I finished the sixth grade, I had lousy ratings. I never managed to perform well in Torpa school because I was so cowed and bullied. My confidence was not only held down to the shoes, but there was not. Because of that I could get away from my bullies, I was put in a different class in high school where they read a little more leisurely pace. Then it went very well for me. I got on very well in the class and it was none of my classmates who bullied me. All were friends, even if they are not socialized with some or got to know them.
We also had some immigrants in the class which was not so common at the time. One of Lebanon, which was two years older than the rest of us, one from Turkey and one from Greece. There was never any problem with them and they teased nor anyone.
As I would later end in high school in 9th grade, I was the best in class and had 4.7 on average. At that time they had a five-point scale in school. One was the worst, while fifth place was the best.
Although there was not one in my class who bullied me so there were students from other classes who did it. Stefan, a long rickety blond boy, had taken on the task to bully me. He could shout taunts at me so all students around could hear it. It was humiliating and embarrassing. I do not know why he did so. It was just so. It was my lot and I presented myself in it. I had from the first moment grown up in it so I did not know anything else.
After I had finished high school, he was able to continue and bully me as soon as he saw me anywhere. I never understood why he behaved so.
I have in my life had a poor sense of direction. At one point after a sports day organized by the school so I did not find the way back to the school where the bus would go.
When I wandered on the road I met some students from my school who was walking. I decided to ask them for directions. They must have noticed how lost and unsure I looked. Almost immediately they began to tease and bully me because I could not be the way. They called me "limp" which they also came to call me in the future of the school.
But they pointed anyway out the right rktingen that I would go to get to school. I could not understand why they would pick on me because I did not find. I knew them hardly.
This serial is my life story from childhood onwards. I tell naked and candidly. A lot I have never told you about earlier. Some names in the story are fictitious.
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Jag känner igen mig i att vara som en "magnet" och känner hur ondskan manifesteras i olika helt okända människor och liksom automatiskt pendlar in och "ser" sårbara mig.
18 Om världen hatar eder, så betänken att hon har hatat mig förr än eder. 19 Voren I av världen, så älskade ju världen vad henne tillhörde; men eftersom I icke ären av världen, utan av mig haven blivit utvalda och tagna ut ur världen, därför hatar världen eder. 20 Kommen ihåg det ord som jag sade till eder: ’Tjänaren är icke förmer än sin herre.’ Hava de förföljt mig, så skola de ock förfölja eder; hava de hållit mitt ord, så skola de ock hålla edert. 21 Men allt detta skola de göra mot eder för mitt namns skull, eftersom de icke känna honom som har sänt mig. 22 Hade jag icke kommit och talat till dem, så skulle de icke hava haft synd; men nu hava de ingen ursäkt för sin synd. 23 Den som hatar mig, han hatar ock min Fader. 24 Hade jag icke bland dem gjort sådana gärningar, som ingen annan har gjort, så skulle de icke hava haft synd; men nu hava de sett dem, och hava likväl hatat både mig och min Fader. 25 Men det ordet skulle ju fullbordas, som är skrivet i deras lag: ’De hava hatat mig utan sak.’
26 Dock, när Hjälparen kommer, som jag skall sända eder ifrån Fadern, sanningens Ande, som utgår ifrån Fadern, då skall han vittna om mig. 27 Också I kunnen vittna, eftersom I haven varit med mig från begynnelsen.”
Det tidigare bibelstycket ger i alla fall mig svaret på varför "de" ser oss som byte.
Ty den kamp vi hava att utkämpa är en kamp icke mot kött och blod, utan mot furstar och väldigheter och världshärskare, som råda här i mörkret, mot ondskans andemakter i himlarymderna.
Första gången du skriver måste ditt namn och mejl godkännas.
Din kommentar kan deletas om den inte passar in på Apg29 vilket sidans grundare har ensam rätt att besluta om och som inte kan ifrågasättas. Exempelvis blir trollande, hat, förlöjligande, villoläror, pseudodebatt och olagligheter deletade och skribenten kan bli satt i modereringskön. Hittar du kommentarer som inte passar in – kontakta då Apg29.
"Så älskade Gud världen att han utgav sin enfödde Son [Jesus], för att var och en som tror på honom inte ska gå förlorad utan ha evigt liv." - Joh 3:16
"Men så många som tog emot
honom [Jesus], åt dem gav han rätt att bli
Guds barn, åt dem som tror på hans
namn." - Joh 1:12
"Om du därför med din mun bekänner att Jesus är Herren och i ditt hjärta tror att Gud har uppväckt honom från de döda, skall du bli frälst." - Rom 10:9
Vill du bli frälst och få alla dina synder förlåtna? Be den här bönen:
- Jesus, jag tar emot dig nu och bekänner dig som Herren.
Jag tror att Gud har uppväckt dig från de döda.
Tack att jag nu är frälst.
Tack att du har förlåtit mig och
tack att jag nu är ett Guds barn.
Denna bloggsajt är skapad och drivs av evangelisten Christer Åberg, 55 år gammal. Christer Åberg blev frälst då han tog emot Jesus som sin Herre för 35 år sedan. Bloggsajten Apg29 har funnits på nätet sedan 2001, alltså 18 år i
år. Christer Åberg är en änkeman sedan 2008. Han har en dotter på 13 år, Desiré, som brukar kallas för "Dessan", och en son i himlen, Joel,
som skulle ha varit 11 år om han hade levt idag. Allt detta finns att läsa om i boken Den längsta natten. Christer Åberg drivs av att förkunna om Jesus och hur man blir frälst. Det är därför som denna bloggsajt finns till.
Varsågod! Du får kopiera mina artiklar och publicera på din egen blogg eller hemsida om du länkar till sidan du har hämtat det!
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