Having two kids, along with one in the oven, I get reminded here and there of what I lacked growing up. I’m not talking about vacations or material things. I’m talking about the shit that really matters. Like the feelings of love, acceptance, and safety.
As I write more, I reflect more on pieces of my childhood. To help me understand what happened, to relate to my parents, and to ultimately move on.
For the time in my life that I lived with my parents, I was surrounded by abuse.
Broken by Mom
My mom suffered from bipolar disorder and was also verbally and physically abusive. She would pull my hair when I didn’t listen to her. Because, duh, I was a kid and didn’t want to. But, her verbal abuse was by far worse. She used to accuse me of sleeping with my father.
I honestly don’t know yet what this level of crazy ass, mind vomit did to my brain. Had to have some serious impact, right? I do have a name for my inner voice so maybe that’s one thing. And, in researching for this post, I came across this article. I have about 76% of these issues so maybe I should seek some form of therapy outside this blog:).
Back then, it just hurt to hear her say that to me. More than anything, I got defensive. I tried my hardest to convince her that I wasn’t doing anything. Because I wasn’t.
Oh what the fuck. That is just pure insanity. Maybe that’s why I spent a good part of my life trying to convince people how good I am? Maybe that’s why I am a prude? According to that article, yes and yes.
Adult me now knows that this was her disease talking. I know she wasn’t equipped to handle me. She honestly should have never had children. I don’t know if birth control was big back then or if she wasn’t allowed to use it because my mom’s side of the family was religious. Who knows. I do think someone should have slapped some sense, and a condom, into both my parents.
But…here I am.
Broken by Dad
On the other end, my dad was physically abusive and an alcoholic. I do remember times when he was playful with me and my brother. But mostly, I remember two things.
1) Night after night of him sitting in a kitchen chair in the middle of the living room floor, listening to Hall & Oates as he drank himself to oblivion.
Or…
2) Him beating us. With cutting boards, extension cords, or his favorite, the belt. He would walk up the steps, snapping his belt together to make a cracking noise, as a warning that he was on his way to whip me and my brother with it.
A man of drama…I can appreciate that.
He did hit us often. Probably because we were being fucking assholes like all kids are. Now, I see that he just wasn’t able to handle kids. And to top it off, he married my mother.
I sympathize. This had to fucking suck. I drink wine to soothe my nerves when Scarlett tests me with her strong will, when Gianna is in full on bitch mode, or when Vince is a super big dick. I can’t imagine dealing with my mother, me, and my brother (who is schizophrenic).
Well I Kinda Sucked and They Couldn’t Deal
I wasn’t an easy child. I wanted what I wanted and didn’t ask permission. You couldn’t tell me not to do something. I needed to find out the consequences myself. Just like Scarlett is now. You can warn about the dangers or outcomes of doing something…but if we want to do it, we are going to do it.
My will has always been strong I guess. As a parent, that’s not easy to deal with. Trust me.
When I was a baby, my parents apparently tied me down to my crib because I kept getting up and they wanted to sleep. We’ve all been there, right? I don’t know what methods they tried before resorting to tying me down but shit…that would work huh? I mean, that’s horrible OF COURSE, but effective.
I totally understand how someone with a few screws loose could shake their baby out of frustration or be pushed to do horrible things. I’ve had those moments being a mother. Those moments where these little fuckers just push and push and you are ready to snap. Ready to do whatever to make it all stop.
BUT THEN I DON’T. Because I love them with my entire being and never want them to be in pain. I am strong enough and have the mental capacity to stop and never take that next step.
I stop because I have all my screws. But for the people that don’t, I get it. It’s a hard fucking thing to raise kids. It tests you constantly. I just happened to test two people that weren’t strong enough to handle it and that’s why my childhood was what it was.
Deciding to Shine
Does all this hurt? It used to. My heart used to clench up when I would think about them. It used to be that I would have an immediate reaction to the noise of a belt. The buckle clinking. The way the strap would sound. It felt like my heart curling into a ball to protect itself from the blows. But, Scarlett walked in the other day with Vince‘s belt in her hand and I waited for that feeling…it didn’t come.
I was neutral. In that moment I realized that piece of me had been released at last. And it’s a great fucking feeling. I think my spirituality helps.
Looking back used to make me angry. It used to make me sad for my childhood and wonder what would have been if I had different parents. Or stronger parents that were able to handle the messy bundle that was, and is, me. But, just like glow sticks, some of us need to be broken before we can shine.
Now, I look at what’s right in front of me. I made this life. I said fuck you to my environment and I refused to accept what life gave me out of the box.
Because I’m a pain in the ass who doesn’t listen.
Without my childhood, I wouldn’t be me. I wouldn’t have this innate desire to give my kids what I didn’t have. So, when I look back now, it’s with a level of gratitude. Because all that didn’t break me. It made me stronger. It made me shine.
I can’t be upset about the past when I have a beautiful future ahead with my crazy ass family that tries every damn day to push me over my limit. Good news is, they haven’t done it yet.
I love you great read strong woman you are!!!
Being a parent is one of the hardest jobs ever but the most rewarding. Trust me, all parents make mistakes, we all have, DON’T let anyone tell you differently. I used to say that I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. Well, here I am and I still dont know lol!!! Although I have worn many hats in my life and still do, there just aren’t as many and I’m loving it. I do realize that my purpose in life was and is my family. Ok, I know I don’t always have a cooked dinner… Read more »
Krissy I know what you went through. I am sorry for that. I remember one time I was baby sitting you and your brother. Your parents went out. You were crying in your crib. I went up to check on you. You had a belt strapped around you and it was digging into you tiny body. I couldn’t get off. That’s when Andy told me that they your parents strap you to the bed. Bc you kept getting out. I immediately called my mom. She and my dad came up. They got off you it was on very tight. Well,… Read more »
Krissy, I don’t read all of your blog but this one caught my eye as I thumbed my way through facebook. I am sure my brother Vince has told you many stories of our messed up childhood. If not ask him sometime. It hit me hard at the age of 40. I wrote my Mom a 7 page letter asking her why she left us in that unsafe environment. At that point I realized what we missed out on as children. I did make sure my children grew up in a stronger more stable environment. As well as making sure… Read more »
[…] her, I realized she was my family. I could create anything around her. She would have all the love I never had from my parents. I would raise her to be strong and funny. I would give her all of me because she gave my life so […]
[…] I love the hell out of mine now, regardless. I’ve talked about why…mainly because of my own childhood and not having solid parents. And also not wanting to procreate because I had a horrible self […]
[…] feel needed and maybe that’s a product of my childhood. The need to feel wanted and needed? Since I felt so unwanted then? So unwanted and too much to handle that my own parents signed away their rights to me when I was […]
[…] Not getting into specifics because I’ve hashed out that part of my life in other posts (see here), but in my past, conflict meant pain. So I think my brain taught me to avoid arguments when […]
[…] I don’t know if it’s a common thing or not but when I was little, I used to lay in bed at night and think about dying. The idea of death terrified me. I’d like to think this is normal, but I’m not sure. I wasn’t exactly a normal kid. […]