( Just a note: I want to make it clear that I’m not writing these out for pity, or some lame crap like that. This is stuff that goes through my mind a lot, and needs a way to escape, so I can lay it to rest. It is part of my life, and though some of it may not be the best, I accept it for what it is. Though I do not let it hold me back, or dwell on it….the thoughts of my life find there way into my mind ….often on those sleepless nights. Now onward.)
My last post covered what I knew of my dads life before me. If you’ve been following along then you already know what the first 3 years of my life looked liked. (You can catch up here Part 1
& Part 2
) Now lets get on with life after the split.
My dads missing in action, and I’m too young to know if he exists. Before the age of 5 my life is pretty blank, I figure I must have just blacked a lot out. It seems like everyone around me can remember back to as young as 2 or 3, I certainly cannot. In this time after my parents split, my mother soon found herself with the stepdouche. (This is the nicest name I have, so it’s what we’ll go with. Oh, stepdouche is also the guy my mom worked with at IGA, refer to part 1 for a look on that.)
Now, I was just a small, fatherless child. To a toddler with no father figure, every man who spends anytime with you, is daddy. I remember a few things, like going fishing, or him not getting mad when I broke his mirror. Other then that, the next year, or so of life is pretty blank. I hear that I attended a lot of parties (apparently I was the center of the party, cause toddlers are always the stars in a room full of drunk people….I can only imagine how many bars I went to as a young child.)
I also spent a lot of time with my granddaddy in the restaurant, where I spent most of my time sitting in the bar eating the cherries. Other then that, I don’t know much. Just random stories of me running around naked, and the antics I’d pull. For instance, my mother often found me in the fridge eating jelly. She still can’t figure out how I always managed to get the jar open. I also liked to play hide-n-seek, this fun game lead to my mothers – almost – heart attack. We were suppose to be napping, but I had other plans. She dozed off, and I hid. She woke to find no child, and went in a panic. Apparently, I had even opened the front door (you must mislead the seeker if you want a really good game of hide-n-seek.) I sat watching as my mother ran about the house checking everywhere for me.
I watched as she ran out the door, she screamed, and searched with all her might. I hear she was moments from calling the police when I popped up. I don’t imagine this was something I ever done again, knowing my mom….my ass was feeling the heat that night. At least I found out I was a really awesome hider. Haha.
Anyhow, my moms with stepdouche, and we have just moved into stepdouche’s old family home. It was a mold filled, air/heatless, falling apart, piece of crap. However, it was free, so it was right for our family. We moved there, right before, or right after my sister was born. Around the time of my sisters birth, and moving into this house, is when my memories start to become more steady. Once I started elementary school, my memory has begun to hold things once again. This is when I first remember meeting my asshat (dad for those who aren’t caught up.) I remember not wanting to go with him. Crying to my mother, and feeling so lonely inside.
I couldn’t understand why my mother was sending me away with this man. Not only this man, but the crackwhore too, like I was just begin handed over to another family. Part of me feared never coming back to my mother, this was a fear I’d come to have often. I did of course survive, and return home to my mother – but life from here on out, would never be the same.
I now had….a dad (asshat! Sorry can’t help myself.) but wait, not only one dad….no I supposedly had two now. A real one, and the other, but wait – now I also had two moms. My real one, and the crackwhore, yay me…..not. All the memories of my dad at this age are pretty crappy. They’re flashes of yelling, and my own sobs. Unless my dad took me to the families homes, it was hell, I was always in trouble for something. It wasn’t quite as bad if the crackwhore was away, but it was always worse with her around. She hated me from the start, and didn’t want my dad to have anything to do with my mom or myself. This became even worse when crackwhore spit out her baby, she didn’t want any attention taken from her child……even though it wasn’t my dads kid. She was just awesome like that….not.
Other minor things I know:
1. I didn’t go to preschool, I was too smart, and already ahead.
2. I was in the hospital when my sister was born, I remember sitting with a bunch of nurses, and coloring as I waited for my aunt to pick me up.
3. I spent a good bit of time at my aunts house. It was the only home I truly felt comfortable in, the place where it felt like a real family lived.
4. When kindergarten time came, I was ready and loved school. There was none of that “no mommy, I don’t want to.” I was ready to leave my home life and have a little fun. I personally feel like I was already trying to escape at this young age.
5. My dad let me fall down a set of steps in a walker.
6. My dad let me wonder into the road where I was almost hit by car. I instead fell over and got a rock lodged in my forehead.
7. I never say a picture of my parents together, until my dad died.
As far as one to five goes, I think this pretty much covers it. I was little, I blacked out a lot, I was lost already, and stuck in the middle of a mess. I remember feeling sad, scared,, and alone. I’m sure I had plenty of fun times, but I don’t remember those either, I guess they weren’t fun enough to remember. I’m working on the years to come, but for now, ill leave you with this….it’s not much, but it was a small part of my life.
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