TRIGGER WARNING - SENSITIVE TOPIC

I haven't truly been able to discuss the shi**y things that have happened in my childhood with anyone, because it seems to always make everyone uncomfortable, and they never know what to say. Which, I can't really blame them, it just makes me feel even more alone. So, without further ado, here are some of the events that took place during my childhood, in hopes that just maybe someone else out there understands what I've gone through.

One of the earliest memories I have- I'm not sure I'd say it's my first, but I don't seem to remember anything before this- my mom driving me over to my step-dads house to meet him. We'll call him Mike, because I will never call that man a father. I think I was 3? That's what my mother told me at one point. I'm almost too scared to try and remember more than I do, that I might've suppressed things and not others. All I have from age 3 to age 5/6 of my home life, are the few scattered memories of my grandparents.

All of which were pleasant memories, my grandparents were my rocks. My grandpa more so than my grandma. My grandmother had been hooked on prescription pain killers for as long as I could remember, so I wouldn't say she was 100% present either. She never would've allowed the things that my mother allowed, though, or done the things that she had done. Everything seemed fine, up until I moved out of my grandparents into an apartment my parents had found.

I was 6 when we lived in those apartments. That was the first time I remember him coming into my room. Im not sure if my mother always knew, or if somehow he convinced her it was okay? But eventually, she was in on it too.

Around the age of 7 or 8- again everything is so fuzzy, I don't know what exact age I was in any of this- they started smoking marrijuana with me. Before long, I was smoking every day after school, a lot. I thought it was fine, and that it was cool. I didn't realize I was forced into an addiction I still have to deal with today. Oh, also my mother was an abusive alcoholic to Mike and for some reason I felt obligated to make sure she didn't kill him?

Oh, also my mother was a methhead for who knows how long during all of that? I started to find meth pips around, so what I would do is wrap them up in toilet paper and then smash them with a hammer. I'd leave them right where I found them! I think it's hilarious now, but I think I just wanted a non-drug addicted mother at the time. To each their own!

I didn't leave until I was 14. My aunt lived right next door, I could've litterally ran next door and been free of all that shit. And I hate myself every day because I never did.

I haven't talked to my mother in about 4 or 5 years now, and I don't really care for that to change. I have her number blocked, but I know she still calls. She's still with him, they live in some small town in New York with his family. Because instead of staying close to her child, she thought it would be a better idea to move halfway across the country.

She called me a couple weeks ago and left a message that his dad is dying and that they wanted to pay for me to come visit them.

She has never once said sorry, or anything close to it. And I'm pretty sure she's still on meth.

I don't really know the point of this post. I guess I just needed to get all this sh*t out for once. I feel a bit better now. Maybe I should write a book or something :p

Thanks for listening :)