To my belovedchild,without youthere wouldbenome. Iloveyou endlessly.
To my father andmysisterSandra, Iloveyou andmissyou every day.
Elin,Ariolaand Jasko, your friendshipand kindness meansthe worldtome.
Annie Törnroos
GROWING ALONG THE WAY
©2025Annie Törnroos
Illustration: Annie Törnroos. Image from www.pexels.com
Korrekturläsning:Annie Törnroos
Förlag: BoD ·Books on Demand, Östermalmstorg 1, 114 42 Stockholm, Sverige,bod@bod.se
Tryck:Libri Plureos GmbH, Friedensallee 273, 22763 Hamburg, Tyskland
ISBN:978-91-8080-902-3
Healingalsomeans taking alook at theroleyou play in your ownsuffering
- JayShetty -
“Life falls apart, not becausethe Lord is punishingus forsomething we didordidn’tdo. Life falls apart becauseitneeds to break. Life fallsapartbecause the foundationwas unstableinthe beginning.”
- Iyanla Vanzant
This story, my story, involvesother people. Butthose “other people” don’t really have much to do with my story. They were there, of course.Theyinfluenced things andpeople. However, this storyisbased upon my view of what occurred,and someone’s story can neverbethe same fortwo people, even if they witness thesameevent.Thisisbecause we allinterpret the worldout of our ownthoughts, beliefs,values, and emotions. Even when severalpeopleshare acommonevent,the interpretation of this eventwillbedifferent for
everyone. This means, that just becausesomepeople arementionedinthisbook, this story, doesn’t mean that they sharemypoint of view.Itdoesn’t mean that they personallyhaveanything to do with what Iwill sharewith you. They have theirown memories and interpretationofwhathappened, andit’stheir fully right to have that,asI have mine.Thisstory is not meanttobetaken as an absolute fact,where allpeople mentionedagree on thesamestory or remember things theway Irememberthem. Northattheyviewthingsthe wayI do or feel thesameI felt at thetime. This storyisfrommypoint of view,myperspective andhow Irememberthings,how Ifeltabout what happened. Thereare no right or wrong, good, or bad when it comestoour memories.It’sjustmemories, events anddecisions that haddifferent consequences.I wrotethisstory to sharehow,despite yearsoftrauma, dysfunction andhurt, one is stillabletocreatea good lifeand make betterchoices. Onecan stillfindcomfort andsupportwithin oneself,stepoutside thecomfortzone andcreatea more stable base forthe next generation.
Therewas atime whereI wore the“victim-label”.I had avictim-mentality whereeverythingjustseemingly happenedtome, fornoreason, just likethe societyhad taught.That; if someone offends you in anyway, you’re avictim andthere’s absolutely nothingyou can do about it. It’s not your fault, it’snot your responsibilityand it’s not your issueinany shapeor form,thereforyou can’t do anything about it, andyou can’t change anything. However, throughout theyears I’ve learnt that I’ma co-creator to everything that happens in my adultlife.
As achild,I wasa victim.I hadnopower or influence to change my upbring. Therewerenoroom formeto change or do somethingabout my life. Theadults in my lifehad theresponsibilityand thedutytohelpmebut they failed in theirparentalmission to do so.Asan adult, however,I do have power andinfluence.There is room formetomakechanges andtodosomething about whatever feelswrong or feelschange worthy in my life.I have full responsibility foreverythingand everyoneI allowintomylife, how my lifeisand how it unfolds.All relationships Ihavehad,all experiences,
allsituations andcircumstances aresomething Icocreatedthrough bothconscious andunconscious choices.These choiceswerebased on what Ihad learnedsofar in my life andmythen-knowledge about theworld,the society, andpeople.
Before we go deeper into my story, Iwouldliketo inform you dear reader,thatfromveryyoung ageI’ve hada strong andclose relationshiptonatureand the All, that I’ve chosetocallthe Creator. This Creatoris, accordingtome, both female andmale, anddiffera lot fromthe “traditional” view of the Creator. My own spiritual belief wasa very important component in my childhood, andisstill today, very important to me.My relationshipwith theCreator is betweenmeand the Creator,aswellasmythoughtsand ideasregarding spiritual andextradimensionalthoughts. Youasa reader have no obligations to have acertain spiritual or religious beliefnor anythoughtsorconceptions of spirituality,religion, or extradimensionalunderstanding to read this book. Idoask however,thatyou do not mock,hate, or make funofmypersonalconceptions of thesebeliefs,but acceptand respectthatthisishow I
seethe world. It might not be in alignmentwith your personalbeliefs,and that is okay. It doesn’t have to be.
Youcan be aconservative Christian, aHindu, a Muslim, or aSatanistand stillread this book from your ownpoint of view andspiritual beliefs.
My thought regardingthisbook, like many other people’sstories,isthatsomeone might find comfort andsupportbymyexperiencesand words. So,let’s start, shallwe?
CHAPTERONE
Notesfromtherapy:
I’m about seven yearsold and sittingonthe kitchen floor with my then five-year-oldbaby brotherArnie.We arebuildingwith woodenbricks. We aresitting in a corner,right next to thedoor to Arnie’sroom and he is constantly destroying what I’m building. He throws the bricks around as I’mbuildingwiththem, and Iget annoyed.I tell himtostopseveral times, but he just keepsgoing. Finally,I just hithim on thearm.
At that exact moment when Ihit my brother, our father comesintothe kitchenfromthe halland sees me hit Arnie. He quickly walksuptousand shoutsatmethat I’m not allowedtohit my brother. He stands leaning over me and shoutsinmyface. I’m very scared,but I don’tdaretoshow it.WhenI don’tanswerback, my father starts kicking me instead. He kicksmethree or four timesinthe waistand then stomps on my legs.
It really hurts alot,but Ijuststare at himand refuse to sayanythingortoshow how much it really hurts or how sadI am inside.
Ourmothersits in thelivingroom next to thekitchen and watchesTV. Iwant hertocomeand help me,but shedoesn’t.She neverdoes. Ifeel very abandoned and unwanted.Our father stomps at me afew more times and says,“now youmight have learnedthe lessonto not to hityour brother!”and just walksaway. Istay quiet and just focusmygazestraight ahead. Arnieis quiet too. When our father has left thekitchen, Arnie starts playingagain. Ijustwant to getout of there, but Ican’t, my legs and my waist hurts toomuch. Istruggle to holdbackthe tearsand pinchmyselfhardinthe hands to avoidthinkingorfeelinganything.
Thenextday at school,I have hardtimewalking and payingattentioninclass,becauseithurts so much.The school nurse calls me in and talkstome. Sheasks about thepainand thebruisingonmyleg.I lie,saying that Ifellwith thebikethe day before.She seems hesitant,soI add that shecan talk to my sister whois in twogradesabovemeand that shecouldalsoask my best friend Emma,who is in thesameclass as me.The school nurse seemstobecontentwith my explanation
and Ifeel bothsatisfied with having“saved” the situation, and afraid of beingcaught lying.
Just readingthe abovememory, as well as the upcomingones, couldmakeone jump to theconclusion that my parentsare evil or so-calledmonsters.But they arenot evil, nor aretheymonsters.Terriblerolemodels-yes.But not evil.However,theywereand are extremelyhurtpeople. Hurt by family,hurtbysociety. Andweaschildrenwereborninall that pain.And this is one of severalexamplesofhow living in ahousehold filledwith pain andhurtlookedlike.
Ourhomewas emotionallycold, violentattimes, lonely -always. Iwas bornasthe second child in a siblinggroup of atotal of sevenchildren. From what I have been told,I wasnever comfortedasaninfant, exceptbymyfatherwhenherealizedthatI had probablybeencryingfor averylong time.Maybe that's whyI wouldratherpreferhim than my mother during my childhood andmywholelife, really.Mymother believedchildrenshould"airtheir lungs"and not be "rewarded" by beingliftedifcrying, no matter how smallthe child was, so shesimplyignored me until I
fell silent.I'veseenher do thesamewith my younger siblings,which increases thelikelihood that shedid the same with me.Her wayoftreatinguschildrenwas neverloving or caring, but empty, distant, and dismissive.She nevergaveone comfort, support,or help.
As asmall child,I wasangryand frustratedabout this andmanyother things.I didn’tunderstand what Ihad done wrong to be so rejected by herall thetime.During my early adultyears,I wasveryangry at her specifically,which is inevitable when growingupwith emotionalneglect,especially if it is an adultofthe same sexasoneself whorejectsone.Ifyou have struggled to be seen andconfirmed in your existence, andhaveonlybeen dismissed, you will be angryatthat person. Iwasn’taware of the dynamicsbackthen, Ijust walked around andwas offendedand angryather,at my grandmotherand at my bigsisterJasmine,all female role models whocouldonlyteach me anger, hatred,rejection, andabuse.
Nowasanadult, Irealizethatmymotherwas andis likeachild herself, with achild's reasoning, achild's
attitude anda child's self-preoccupation andattention seeking. Shealwayscompetedfor attentionand doesso to some extent even today. Shehas not been an adult parent to me or my siblings,but asmall,lostgirlinan adultwoman's body. During allthese years, shehas acted basedonthe smallchild shewas thefirst time she felt abandoned,alone andasanoutsider.
To understand my parents' behaviorsbetter, Ineededto do adeep dive into theimmediatefamilybecause Ido not thinkthatbehaviors onlyappear in an individual. Most peopleare not bornevilorwakes up oneday and thinks that they shouldneglect andabusetheir children. My thought is that thereare underlyingbehaviors that arehereditary in away.The behavior hasemerged through an eventorsituation at one point,and as long as that eventormaybe severalevents, arenot noticed andtreated,theywillremaininthe family andaffect future generations.These behaviorscan be seen as lingering diseases that areinscribed in one's DNA. Just as you have apredisposition forsomephysical issues,I believe that you canhaveapredispositionfor
