Disclaimer: Proper punctuation is not my strong point.
Don’t know where to start….so I am just going to type and see what happens. The church I go to always talks about being authentic so this will be my attempt to be that with no holding back. You know like therapy but cheaper. My life has always been pretty difficult from as long as I can remember. Some people just get those kind of lives. I am the lucky one. I am not sad really. Actually it is our life experiences that make us who we are. All I can do is learn from them and try and raise my kids the best way I can.
As far back as I can remember I always felt like I was a pain in the ass to my parents. Not that I was a bad kid, just they really didn’t invest much time in my life. My Mom got married to my Dad at 16. Had my brother at 17 “The Apple of My Mom’s Eye” , Me at 18 , I must of reminded her too much of herself because I am pretty sure she didn’t like me much. My sister “The Golden Child” (I do love you Jen) was born 7 yrs after me. Anyway, there was so much turmoil when I was growing up. You know the stuff no one ever talked about in the 60′s and 70′s. My Dad beat my mother on many occasions. I can remember one occasion very vividly. I was about 9. My Mom was wearing gray flannel pajamas and my dad chased her into my brother’s room. Well my dad hit her so hard she was knocked out, not breathing. My Uncle who lived across the street, back then in New Jersey all the family lived on the same street. Anyway, he heard the commotion or my uncle down stairs called him, I don’t know. He came running up the stairs into our house and ended up doing CPR on my Mom. My dad already high tailed his ass out of there. Watching someone try and bring your Mom back to life at 9yrs old is some pretty scary shit. Thankfully my Uncle Tommy was successful. So crap like this happened often. My parents constantly fighting verbally,physically etc. My dad drank too much back then as well. My dad came from a very strong Italian family so these things never happened. You know what I mean??? Dysfunctional to say the least. My parents finally got divorced. Praise God!
My Mom’s anger got much worse after that. I was apparently the brunt of all her anger. Not the other 2 they were Golden. I would get yelled at constantly, be made fun of, told I was good for nothing etc. My Dad would make fun of me pretty regularly as well You get the point. I was treated like a piece of shit. Different family members will defend my Dad and claim this never happened. (You know the Italian unspoken word). My Aunt Karen, my Mom’s youngest sister, would come and get me as often as possible. She knew what was going on and how I was treated. I would go with her to my Nana’s house where I wasn’t treated like a pain in the ass. I actually mattered there. Papa was always happy to see me. We would take the bus to his store and visit him while he worked.
Don’t get me wrong I have some great memories of my childhood. It wasn’t all bad. I just happened to be disliked by my parents. Going to the lake with my Grandma and Grandpa are my fondest memories. I loved that lake! Catching lightening bugs, swimming out to the big raft ( I was always to small) My Aunt Louise would swim with me out there. Schucking corn for our big family dinners. Simple things but they are etched in my memory forever.
So life went on after the divorce. I saw my dad every other weekend. My little sister didn’t have to go. She was my Mom’s pawn in the get even with Dad game. He had met a much younger woman who later became my EVIL stepmother. I was always afraid I would wake up one night and she would be standing over me with a pillow or something.
Years went by and when I turned 15 my mother had enough of me and shipped me to my Dad’s 1300 miles away. Things were okay for a bit. My Dad found Jesus and was a “changed man”. (Not that i am dissing Jesus because I found him too). I was still ridiculed by him and my Stepmom clearly did not want a teenager around. By the time I moved in with them they had 1 child together. I adored my little sister . A couple yrs later my little brother was born. He was pretty awesome too. I stayed there for a couple yrs and ended up moving back to my Mom’s because I was trouble. I skipped school a bunch. I didn’t do drugs or anything. Just didn’t like school. Let’s face it I didn’t get much positive reinforcement from anyone.
I was just good for nothing in their eyes. I moved out of my mom’s house when I was 18. My own studio apartment for $230/month. It was mine! I would love to say that was the end of my turmoil but that isn’t the case!
Anyway, the point of this blog is to be authentic. So, I am just getting it out there. I have so much pent up feelings that letting them out to the world is how I choose to do it. Not looking for people to feel bad for me I am just not remaining silent anymore. I look at it as one step closer to healing. I will write about the next chapter in my life some other time. A little hint…I married a guy just like my Dad.