Part 9

After Larry's funeral life supposedly went back to normal.  I mean what is normal right? I came home, went back to school, got a job, and finally was able to graduate high school 2 years later.  I wasn't excited, I had to wear a dress and a pearl necklace.  I don't like dresses or jewelry for that matter.  My dad, brother Scott, his two daughters, my Aunt Beth, Trish and my brothers friend all came for me.  That did make me feel good.  After it was all said and done, my dad walked up to me and for the first time in my entire life he told me, " I am proud of you."
I went back to my home and they all headed to their homes. I later attended college, yeah I graduated but that was all that happened with that.  I decided I needed change, so I packed my belongings and got an apartment with a dear friend of mine.  Haha funny thing we get along great, but living together I am surprised we both came out alive.  We are still great friends to this day and have been for almost 27 years.  We had a lot of good times in that apartment and some dandy fights.  Our lease was up and we both moved back home.  I didn't want to stay with Trish so I packed my bags and moved in with my dad.
It wasn't the most joyful reunion.  I was excited.  This way I get to know him better I looked up to him my entire life even though he wasn't around.  But YAY! I get to be with my dad.  I know right, pathetic especially when you are 23.
We butted heads right off the bat.  He would come home drunk and start in on me for any little thing he could find.  I woke up one morning, cleaned the house and went to work that afternoon.  I got off early and came home to find that he had a bowl of cereal and there was a dirty spoon and bowl in the sink.  I didn't think anything of it.  He came home about an hour later and was drunk, started to yell at me telling me what a dirty slob I was, selfish little bitch who only wanted his money and how I would never have anything.  There was more but you get the idea.  I snapped and told him all I wanted was for him to be a part of my life and he can't even be a father.  He threw me out of his house and I went to stay with Scott.  Scott didn't want me there so after two days he made my dad apologize and I went back.
I lived there for two years and there wasn't a day that went by that he didn't tell me what a horrible person I was, how selfish I was, what a bitch I was and how fat and unattractive I was.
I finally met a boy who said my dad was wrong and we packed our bags and moved back down south.  Trish didn't live far away and shortly after we moved down here, she passed away in her sleep from heart failure.
That boy whom I later married said to me how he couldn't believe how mean Trish and my dad were to me and he swore he would never be mean to me....(he never witnessed the physical abuse) Sadly enough I believed his lie....

More ramblings...

Where do I begin...  You see I didn't know my family very well and for some reason I have this strong urge to learn all that I can learn about them.  But when I find out more information, it depresses me.  It explains a lot as well, but still depressing.  I know my mission in this life is to stop the cycles of abuse, addiction and depression.  I know I was chosen to be the fighter.  But life gets a lil complicated and a lil exhausting at times.
I had an uncle who passed away before I was even a mere thought.  He was killed in an accident when he was either 15 or 16. Back in those days funerals were held at the home of the families.  My grandmother who was divorced from my biological grandfather held the funeral at her home.  My biological grandfather was a drunk and very abusive as well, showed up to the house as they were having his sons funeral.  He looked at his other son and said, "Who's the boy in the box"?  He didn't even recognize nor know that his own son had died.  It's sad that a drug, (in his case alcohol) could consume your life to a point where you don't recognize your own children.  Which brings me to a conclusion that my family was dysfunctional before any of my dads siblings were even thought of.  So this long line that I am supposed to mend, is this the reason I chose not to have children.  Is this the reason my mother died?  Is this the reason I was sent to live with an abusive step parent? Was the abuse in this life of mine set up so I wouldn't become an addict?
I did start drinking at a young age.  I did smoke marijuana for quite some time.  I became quite the lush in my teenage years and into my early 20's.  When the last of my family died, which was my dad I drank almost every day, until one day I woke up in a bed of vomit and told myself I will not live that life.  It consumes you, a temporary escape, but not a permanent one.
Both my parents drank, all 3 of my brothers drank, all three liked their cocaine.  I liked my beer, vodka and marijuana.  Now I like an occasional drink, my Chapstick and caffeine.  I think by learning about my family makes me realize my life wasn't so bad, but at the same time it saddens me to know that kind of ignorance really existed, not to mention in my very own home.  I guess I am going to share my journey and hope the followers of this blog doesn't get bored.  Maybe my experiences can open your eyes to your own lil world or to the world of someone you cannot figure out.  Maybe to that someone who just needs a simple hello and a smile.  This blog isn't going to be all about my family.........I have amazing friends who I consider more my family than my bloodline.....I am grateful for them and also for the family (in the bloodline) I am getting to know....