I can't count how many times from the age of 5 until I was 10 that I was reminded by mother that I should have been aborted. I still to this day feel she was right.
I tried many things to be accepted by my parents. I was just not the "perfect" child they had in mind. They were drug addicts, smoked and drank daily. My father was extremely abusive toward my mother. Although no women deserve to be abused, my mother brought a lot of it upon herself, sometimes throwing things at my father and egging him on until he finally hit her or chucked something at her head.
I have two brothers. Both younger than me and both the apples of my parents eyes. They could do no wrong. My youngest brother, the baby, was my baby. I took care of him, watched him when he was just a baby even though I was only 6 when he was born.
I remember my mother making me take him when he was about 2 yrs old in his stroller to my play dates. I would walk him down the long road, pushing him and talking to him like he was my child. He was in a way my pride and joy. At night, if he had a nightmare, it was my bed he ran to. Yep, he was my buddy.
When I was just 10 yrs old, I was left to watch both my brothers aged 4 and 8 and my parents friends 2 children. I remember having to make dinner and when I was done I could not find my 8 yr old brother. He was no where to be found in the house and I could not leave the other 3 alone as they were young. My parents happened to stop home in between bar hopping shortly after my brother disappeared. Of course when I told them they flipped on me and blamed me. A few minutes later he was found across the street at a friends house.
That evening would be my last i that household. My mother packed my stuff in trash bag. I clearly remember the slew of profanities that came out of her mouth with many choice words that she called me. I became immune to those words and they did not sting much anymore. I remember my brothers crying, and my dad just sitting there allowing my mom to talk to me that way and pack my stuff.
It was December, and the snow was falling pretty hard. We lived in Philly and my grandparents in Jersey. We had to cross the Walt Whitman bridge in the snow storm. My mother, still drunk drove me the half hours from her house to my grandparents arriving at almost 10pm. My grandparents go to bed early so I knew they were sleeping and may not even hear the door. My mother threw me and my stuff out of the car and not waiting to make sure I got in safely, took off. My aunt and her boyfriend happened to be downstairs watching a movie and let me in.
I was home, to be spoiled and loved for eternity. Sounds like a happy ending right? Well for me it was not good enough. I stole from my grandparents and aunt, started smoking cigarettes and experimenting with sex. I was only about 12 when started making friends in school. I was the odd one. I hated showering or wearing clothes that were "cool". I lived in an area where the people had money, so kids wore designer clothing and had there hair and nails done daily. I was not and still am not into my looks. I did not care about my weight which ballooned into obesity after I hit 13. Food was my best friend.
As I got older, I hurt even more from the rejection of my parents. I did move back and forth from my grandparents to my parents year after year. When I was 16 my parents split up for the umpteenth time and my mom and me and my little brother took off to Florida to live with my aunt. I hated it there, my mother was so fake acting like she was a perfect "Christian" and then getting drunk and doing drugs behind every ones backs. I ended up moving back to Philly with my dad and middle brother.
Year after year I would go back and forth, searching for something ot fill the void in my heart and getting hurt day after day. My grandparents finally had enough and allowed me to go to foster care. It was there that my mental illnesses came out at first I do believe. I was put on so many medications and taken from placement to placement. I ran away a lot and got in trouble. The search for acceptance never ending.
Finally at age 18 after I aged out of the system my grandparents took me back. I finished high school a year later.
No comments:
Post a Comment