I came into this world on a cold winter day in 1983, from what I've been told the first thing my mother had to say was "If it's a girl I don't want it." She was 18 and my father was 28. It wasn't exactly a match made in Heaven. Mom had had another baby two years earlier, a boy, which she gave up for adoption. My father also had a son from a previous relationship that he had next to nothing to do with. I think my mother was trying to escape her old life and looking for her happily ever after. She picked the wrong man for that.
It wasn't long before my mother had to go to work as a dancer since my father wasn't exactly keen on the idea of working. Unfortunitly, he wasn't very useful when it came to caring for me either. Most of the time I was left in the care of my 11 year old aunt. Luckily for me she was wise beyond her years. Without her I don't know what would have become of me.
I don't have too many memories of my parents when I was little. When I wasn't with my aunt I was bounced around between other family members. Stability wasn't something I was familar with. I remember calling my aunt Mommy instead of calling my mother that.
Eventually when I was 8 I went to live with my dad's brother and his wife. We didn't exactly get along. My uncle had the habit of talking bad about my parents and even though most of it was probably true, I still defended them. During this time my mother, who had given birth to another boy, barely had anything to do with me and my father moved to Arizona with his girlfriend. The month after I turned 11 I flew out there to live with them, thus beginning another chapter of my life.
At first everything was great. I was thrilled to finally be living with my father. It wasn't long though till his girlfriend became very cruel to me. She slept all day when she was suposed to be caring for me, yelled at me, told me I was going to turn out just like my mother. And my dad never defended me. It didn't take long before I despised her. Unfortunitly, being so far away from my family, she was the only mother figure I had. So despite my hatred for her I also loved her and wanted her love in return. Eventually right before I started the 6th grade they finally split up.
It seems like it didn't take too long before he started a relationship with another woman who later became my stepmother. She had a young son who was 5 years old. I adored them both. It was the family I had always wanted. We had actual homecooked meals together sitting at the table like a family should. She would fix my hair and help me with my homework, all the things I had been yearning for a mother to do. And my new brother was a joy. I didn't even mind when he wanted to hang out with me and my friends. He was a great kid. Eventualy my "parents" had a baby together, the most beautiful little girl I had ever seen. She was such a good, easy baby. Other than the normal teenage problems, life seemed to be wonderful. Until the day came that my father changed all that.
To be continued...