Abusive Father And Alcoholic MotherMy parents are not perfect. Their own childhood's were so different and whatever they found in one another for a minute made them stronger. They were married seven years before deciding to have me. She was 25 and he was 29. I was born and the three of us became the "picture perfect" family. 22 months later my younger sister was born. We lived in Connecticut, my father was an engineer at Pratt and Whitney, my mother a stay at home mom. Now that I am in my twenties and with a child of my own I think to myself how young they were. Young and unsure, just like me now. My father moved us to Arizona in 1995 so we could be closer to our grandparents who had retired there. I was six. I recall a lot of it. Moving into the new home, seeing my grandparents more regularly, my parents marriage falling apart because of another woman.
I remember chasing my father down the steps, out the door and into the small road by our house as he slammed the door and left my mother forever. I stood in the middle of the street yelling, "daddy come back, you didn't say goodbye." As he got into her car and they drove away. I remember my mom losing so much weight, she got down to 80 lbs at 5'1", because of the stress of the divorce and being left all alone with two little girls by the only person she ever felt she could trust.
Her own alcoholic father accidentally killed her own mother when my mother was nine. Eventually that same man, my grandfather, fell asleep with a lit cigarette and burned down their whole home. She went into foster care, separated from her younger mentally ill brother who was put in a different group home. She suffered endless sexual abuse in each home they put her into.
My father was the middle child. With two older sisters this made him the oldest boy of two younger brothers. They were raised in privilege by two devoutly Catholic parents.
My father was spoiled and as he grew up demanded what he thought he "deserved".
As fate would have it they met. My dad this "really cool rockstar" of a popular local area band and my mother an eighteen year old out to see a "awesome band" with a friend.
With the differences in these two I and my sister were raised in a very conflicting way. My mom was the saint. She filled our childhood with all the beautiful toys and clothes and happiness she never had in her own childhood. Anything we wanted we got. We had no rules to follow no chores to do no expectations on us other than to be happy. My father's household was radically different. The woman my father remarried had three children two older than me and one younger. Which made me the middle of five, a familiar place for my father... I think this is part of the reason I received the worst brunt of his anger and aggression. Him and his new wife were verbally, physically and mentally cruel to us. I had an endless amount of chores and expectations. Yet, I only was accustomed to this on Wednesdays and every other weekend. However, the psychological effects stayed with me throughout the week regardless.
I grew closer and further from each of them with each new age and my own life experiences. Sometimes dad was the hero and sometimes it was mom. In the end I moved out on my own at 18 and since I have formed new relationships with each of them. Accompanied by their own share of problems of course. In the end though, they are my parents. I love them dearly, with no conditions. They are who they are. I am who I am because of that. I may not always be happy when my dad reminds me of all the things I am not and all I will never be. Or when I have to drive around town looking for my mother who "ran away" from home at midnight because her memories are chasing her. In the end I love them. I love them more than I can fathom. They are wonderful parents who have done all they knew how to do for me and my sister.
To my reader: Thank you for taking the time to give this a glance. I understand it is wordy and not refined. That's what happens when you write from your soul. May I however, beg one favor from you. If you do read this one story of mine and it's the only one you ever read, please leave me a comment. I am not looking for anything in particular. Just give me your final thought, even if it is just one simple word. Thank you again!
anotherinnocent 22-25, F 10 Responses 2 Mar 13, 2011