This a particular post that I was debating on whether or not I would do. I feel the need to do it to give a bit more of my history. It will really kind of shed some light on where I’m coming from on certain things. So here goes! A little nervous about sharing this much about me.
I was born in Dallas, Texas though I wasn’t raised there. Before I turned one, my mom and dad decided to go with my grandparents back to Missouri (this is where my mom is originally from).
Not long after they split. I later found out my mom left my dad for my younger brother’s dad.
Let me tell you a bit about my dad. He is 14 years older than my mother. He is quite a bit of traveler. He likes to call himself an old hippie but he is very republican. He is a musician by profession. Even at 61 he is still performing. He used to be a bit of a bigger deal in his younger days, he’s even performed with Willie Nelson. Now he just does gigs at bars (he does he paid pretty well, he is very professional) and teaches kids how to play instruments. He is a singer and mostly plays bass, though he can do guitar. One of my fondest memories as a kid was when I would wake up to hearing him practice in another room. He is an amazing singer and I’m really proud of him. He is a bit of a complicated creature. He has tried hard with me (I’m the baby of his kids). When I was teenager he would lecture me about the way I dress. I would typically only wear black concert t-shirts for heavy metals bands, jeans, and converses. He told me the way I dress will only attract dead beats with no job. It was kind of a situation of “dad, I’m 14, you don’t want me with a guy that has a job because he is probably quite a bit older than me”. He also lectured me about burping in public. Said it wasn’t lady like. Yea, I’m still not very lady like. Now that I’m older, he tries his best to not lecture me. He did give me a little crap about my tattoo (oh dad you are in for a ride now that I make good money and can afford more) and about me smoking. I figured that would be that case, but he is my dad.
Now, getting back on track.
My little brother’s dad is where I picked up my taste in music (meaning mostly heavy metal) and a lot of my goofiness from, not mention my temper. He is no longer my step dad but he still a part of my life and despite everything, I still love him. He is the one that raised me after all.
When I was growing up, he had a big problem with gambling and (something I found out when I got older) meth. He was almost bipolar. He would go from happy-go-lucky goof ball to a walking monster. I distinctly remember what happened. I was playing and he was at the computer online gambling. I wasn’t being careful and I accidently hit him. He grabbed the 2×4 that was in the room because of some fixing up they were trying to do. I tried to hide behind my mother, and she wouldn’t protect me. My mother and I were the ones that bore the grunt of his temper.
The only safe haven I had from this, was going to visit my father. He still lived in Texas at the time, but he would come up to Missouri to either come get me and bring me back to Texas for a week or just stay in the state with me for a week. When we stayed in state, we would stay with his sister. At the time my family still had a music store (music is a big part of my father’s side of my family)so he would work there while he was in state. It would be late nights he would be working, so I would just stay at my aunts with my two cousins. My male cousin took advantage of this. I didn’t know at the time what was being done to me, only now as an adult can I tell you. My male cousin, every time we were alone, would molest me. I knew enough to tell him to stop, but he would always just say he wasn’t doing anything. It escalated the last time I stayed the night there. I was staying in the guest room, and he was out on a date that night. I thought I was safe. He was still gone when I went to sleep. I woke up, and had no idea where I was. I had never been in his room before. I had only opened my eyes, and then closed them again, trying my best to seem like I was still asleep. After he was done he left the room. When he came back I pretended I had just woken up. He told me I was crying in my sleep so he brought me in there with him. He let me go back into my own room. I never reported him. I didn’t even know what he had done to me at the time. When I got older, and realized what had actually happened, I didn’t know what to do about it. I thought it was far too late. Now that I know what I should have done, he is dead. He was shot in the back by his probation officer. Some justice was done about the emotional scarring I now carry with me.
All the while, I had barely any friends in school. I got made of often for being as poor as we were. There were several times growing up that we were afraid we were going to lose our home. We had to choose between eating and paying the bills. All the money that was saved up for my sister and me for college was taken to make sure we had a home to grow up in. My mother picked up drinking, and ended up just drinking all the time.
My mom and my little brother’s dad got into a big argument and he ran to his sister’s house. This was finally the push my mom needed. She told him to not come back. They got a divorce when I was about 11.
Not long after my mother got reconnected with a man she was friends with in high school. She already knew his whole family. Thus brought in step-dad number 2.
Everything was fine at first. Nice guy and we all go along. Everything changed after they got married. He would spend more and more time working outside and not really associating with any of us. Then he started talking down to my mom, then my sister, then me, then my younger brother. It got worse and worse. When anyone else was around or we were at church, he was nice helpful happy-go-lucky guy. He even acted that way with his family. But as soon as it was only us, he started in again. Finally, I snapped. I was the only one that stood up to him, and we would go head to head. He hated me, and I hated him. He didn’t like me because I wasn’t what he thought a girl should be. I didn’t like him because the way he treated my family.
My mom ended up getting into an accident at work.
My mom has worked in factories for as long as I can remember, and has had only one hand since before I was born. She had lost her fingers to a machine in a factory. Now, her only good hand was broken, but from a machine in a factory. I took over in the home. I was the one that did all the cleaning and cooking. Despite all that step-dad 2 called me a lazy fat ass behind my back. The only problem was I was really close to his family. They all love me, and even to this day still consider me a part of their family.
They split right before my 16th birthday, so I didn’t get to spend that one with people I had grown close to. I didn’t get to celebrate many birthdays growing up. Usually only the big ones. Other than that, my present was my birthday cake and that was it. I was actually the only one that had to miss out on birthdays, but that is the joy of being the middle child.
About a year after, my mom got with step-dad number 3, my current step dad. We have our issues, but all around we get along and he is a great guy. He and R had a lot of issues for a while but honestly it was mostly her being super dramatic. Now we are all close again. He helped me get the job I have now and my car (meaning he cosigned for it, it was only my money going into it). I’m grateful for him.
Not long after my mom and my little brother’s dad split he finally got clean. He was very apologetic for what he did, and to this day he cries when he thinks about it. This is the reason why we are close now. I can’t hold his transgressions against him when he has worked so hard to get from that low point. And not all the times were bad.
So there you have it. I’m both strong and fragile because of my past. I have confidence and daddy issues. I have a hard time feeling comfortable around men. I didn’t come out unscathed by any means, but it is what made me who I am now. It is all behind me, but still a part of me. I’ve gotten a lot better than I used to be. A couple years ago whenever a man would touch me I would freeze up. I’ve gotten over that now. It’s all a work in progress. Freya and Thor are working to heal these scars and Skadi is trying to make me stronger, but it will take time.
Just one more point.
See all the shit I’ve been through and I still don’t hate men. Hmmm.
Sorry, I know this post is kind of sporadic and all over the place. With this kind of thing I have a lot of issues organizing my thoughts.