Childhood pt 1

I don't really know how to start this discussion about dysfunctional families without giving you a little back story of where I came from first. First and foremost there is no need to be sorry for the way that I was raised. I came out on the other side of things and you can to. I am who I am because of my experiences and I would never change that.

I was born in March of 1985 my parents were seemingly happy to the outside world. I believe at this time they were still happily married. My mom was a waitress who quit her job to be a stay at home mom. My father worked and was part owner of his parents western store. I have such great and fond memories of that time. My brother came almost 2 years later and then my sister 2 years after that. By the time my sister arrived I know for sure that I knew my parents were unhappily married. Once I hit the age of school and started going over to friends houses and staying the night and seeing how their parents interacted with each other. I knew mine were destined for divorce at some point. I remember telling my best friend in kindergarten that when my parents get divorced I wanted to live with my dad. Lots of things were happening behind closed doors that now I can look back on and see I was being raised by a narcissistic mother. It took them till I was 12 or 13 to finally separate, divorce and then individually ruin their own lives and hurt everyone that loved them. There is a lot to unpack in this paragraph and I will try and break it down below.

Lets start with the only man I have ever called dad. I sometimes will refer to him as my bio-dad but he was in my life till 2005, I was about 20. He was the only biological child of his mother and father. My grandma and grandpa, but he did have 2 half siblings. 1 half sibling I have zero recollection of, he passed away from a “drug” overdose. I put that in parentheses because he may have been purposefully given rat poison in his drugs to kill him. He was a heroin user and the family story is that he pissed off his drug dealer. So both of his half siblings came from his father so my grandmother did not care for them as they both were troubled and on drugs. My fathers “half” sister. I am putting parentheses here because years later when my grandfather was on his death bed he had a confession to make. That confession was that he wasn’t the bio dad of the daughter but when he was leaving her mom she didn’t want her as she had come from an affair. So my grandfather just always raised her as his own. This “half” sister was a drunk and used drugs she would come in and out of our lives. Mainly because she would get “clean” my dad would give her another chance and she would drop her kids off with him and leave and go party for weeks. Then he would cut her out for awhile again and not let her come around us to then her weaseling her way back in. The last time I can remember her being around when I was a kid she was drunk and my dad was at work, she had promised she wouldn’t drink, and I had to call him at work and tell him his sister shoved her daughters head through the glass window, (luckily old single pane windows and she was fine,) I remember looking at my cousins, her children and saying “we have to take her alcohol away.” I remember seeing the fear in their eyes of what would happen if we did so we hid in my room and I got the alcohol and we locked ourselves in my room. She banged and pleaded at the door and then finally gave up and passed out. The next time she came around was for my high school graduation and she got my mom high in the driveway. After that I haven’t actually seen her in person since. I did try and stay in sort of touch with her through Facebook but mainly because she had contact with my bio-dad and she was his next of kin. Good thing I did too because when he did pass she reached out and my sister and I pooled some money together and took care of what needed so he could be buried peacefully. I had to block her on social media shortly after because she started commenting on all my stuff that I was keeping her brother from her. Even though she knew we buried him next to his parents. Onto his parents, my grandparents they passed away when I was about 9, they were fun grandparents I have fond memories of them, my grandma passed away first she was what my grandpa and dad thought a recovering gambler. She was apparently going to gamblers anonymous  meetings and they both thought she was doing better. Well guess where she was going? She wasn’t attending meetings she was going out and had gambled most of the stores and buildings they owned away. At one point they owned about a block of downtown and a hotel. After her passing you could see the financial stress that this caused to my parents. His father passed away less then a year later. Both had been smokers and died from lung related illnesses. Both of my parents for sure dabbled in smoking weed and maybe partaking every once in awhile in other illicit drugs at parties and with friends. It became something that was easy for them to lean on. They both started becoming even more unhappy and on top of that using meth. I was about 9 when all this started and it escalated till I was 13 or so when my dad finally moved out and my mom moved her drug dealer (now bf) in. I think I may have lived there for another month before my mom physically abused me, threw me outside in the winter and locked the door. I never really lived with her again after that except for a short amount of time a few years later it lasted a week before the boyfriend came and got in my face that last time I let loose, in fact I think each of my siblings and I have a different story of how we beat him up, at some point in our teens. Mine with a phone, I think one of them with a golf club and then maybe someone shot him with a BB gun. Boy did I get guilted by family for not staying to protect my siblings. This is something that I am still trying to figure out why this responsibility was put on me and not the adults? The adults always were worried about getting my parents clean and help. But we were left to fin for ourselves sometimes waking up without electricity or food, running out of gas on the way to school or to the gas station. I can’t tell you how many times they ran out of money to get us to after school activities and I was helping push the truck in my ballet stuff to the gas station. 

The abuse with my mother started long before she finally got physical. The only time she showed me any affection was when other people were around. We liked to play Tetris together. But thats about it as far as good memories go. I don't know if she was ever truly happy with me it seems like there are pictures of when I was under the age of 2 where she looks like she is genuinely happy and nurturing towards me. But also she is a narcissist so its hard to know if this was all for show for the camera. Definitely you can see a change in her in the pictures before drugs where ever involved. My mom locked herself in her room and in the garage to get away from the kids or she was outside in the yard. She didn’t give us chores or anything and just really wanted us away from her the less she had to deal with us the better. I know this is the 80s and 90s so this was kind of typical in some sense. Heres the thing we were nosy kids and in that garage there was a window but so high up that you couldn’t just get to it. Outside all the time though my siblings and I were determined to find out what they were hiding from us. Well they were out there smoking cigarettes and totally ashamed of the fact. What?!?! You are going to neglect your children for nicotine? I don't understand lying to kids they will always figure out whats going on and then feel betrayed. If they ask, answer honestly, also we wouldn’t have cared if you were smoking as long as you were present. This sense of shame is something that I don't understand. I kind of wonder if it was just how they were raised. My mom was raised mormon and my dad presbyterian. Forced to go to church and then feel guilty for having a good time put this intense and deep shame in them. Family that put them down and told them how they weren’t good enough. Also there is something to say about raising “golden” children that can do no wrong. My mom was her dads favorite and my dad was his mothers. They were raised to do good by the name and do not mess up. I think we all mess up its what we do with it. 

I think thats where I will end it today as it is a little difficult to type this all out and really have to find the words for it. The main take away I would like to end this post with is the fact that if you aren’t living your true self in front of your children and you don't make them feel like they are doing a great job wherever they are at. That you are slowly putting a wedge in your relationships.