It's Me Again...

Duh, who else did you think it was going to be? It is MY blog! And with saying that, I wanted you guys to know that other then a handful of friends and hubby, no one else knows that I have a blog. Especially not my family. Why you may ask? One of the reasons I started to blog was because I wanted to regale my readers with life stories - my life stories. But you know what, I wanted to be able to also tell you guys some of the deep dark "secrets" in my family as well. The skeletons in my closet. And I certainly did NOT want my family to read this. Everyone has their own opinions and well you know what, I am the one that the majority of the crap happened to and you know what, I know what went on. Also, some feelings may get hurt and certain members if the family would probably never speak to me again so, this blog would never be mentioned to them. Anyway, I woke up this morning and the first things going through my head as I showered was what I was going to post about today. All of the things that I have done or that have happened to me in the past is what made me who I am today. And of course, these are things I want you guys to know. Like a little peep hole into my soul. But this peep hole needs a warning label above it because some of the things I may share, well they're not all going to be rays of sunshine and it may contain stuff that you don't want to hear - but just bare with me folks. People that I have shared some stories with have often told me I should write a book about my life. I'm thinking no, but hey this is close enough.

So back to the shower, I thought of a few memories that I wanted to share but how to choose one to start off? But then it hit me, why not just start at the beginning - when it all started. So here goes, memory number 1.

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Obviously this is not the first thing that I remember from my childhood, but it is sort of the beginning of my "troubled" childhood. My mom was a young mother. She was 19 when she had me and she had married my dad who was a bit older then her. My father was a truck driver and a bit of a partier and my mother just wasn't happy in the marriage. He was a good man but my mothers dreams were always bigger than reality so she filed for a divorce. She then moved into the garage apartment at her parents house. Being a young mother, she preferred to live her life like she was not a parent so I spent a lot of time with my grandparents when I was young. They became my rocks. I called them Mama and Poppa and they were the ones that made the sun rise and set for me. My mother was not a "bad" mom, she just wasn't technically ready. Before I was quite two my mother started dating a guy named Billy. My mother and he moved in together and I of course with them. I have heard the stories from him and other family members how I did not like him and called him "the man" and if I had the slightest scratch or bruise I told my grandparents always that 'the man" did it. This was not true, this was just a almost 2 year old not wanting to share her mommy. They got married and he became my step dad and a few years down the road my brother and sister were born. Life was great. I still remember some of our times together as a family and I was a very happy little girl. During this time my grandparents got a divorce. I didn't technically understand all of it, really just the fact that Poppa now had his own house and Momma had hers. I still visited them very often and usually spent the weekends at one of their homes. When I was just about 7, my parents got a divorce. My mom took off to GA and had nothing to do with us. My dad (step dad) had custody of us kids. Again, life was great. My dad was a wonderful single father and we couldn't have been happier. When I was 8 years old, my grandmother died suddenly of an aneurysm. My heart was broken. To me, it was like losing my mother. My mom came in from GA for the funeral and I don't remember much of it besides my dad taking me to Dairy Queen after the service because I was devastated and could not stop crying. I was having an emotional break down at the age of 8. Before I tell you what happened next I have to explain something to you. My mother I have a love/hate relationship for to this day. She is a very selfish person and to this day her number one priority is herself. She is just one of those people who should have never had kids. She is a beautiful lady on the outside but an ugly/broken person on the inside. She was never happy with anything and seemed to take great pleasure in hurting other people, and she still does. I have come to grips as an adult that my mother will never be an emotionally healthy person.

She had asked some things of my dad the day of the funeral, from what has been told to me later in life - money. My dad told her could not help her and so did the rest of the family. She had pretty much burned all of the bridges here in Texas. Out of spite, she took me away from my dad and family to GA with her. On the same day as my grandmother's funeral. How could she do this you may ask? Technically, my step dad (whom I have always referred to as my dad) had never legally adopted me so he felt like he could not stand in her way. She tore me away from the only home I had ever known (Texas) and the people that truly loved and cared for me all because she wanted to hurt my dad.

I figure this is enough for today hmm? You probably all are thinking this girls family is way screwed, but wait, it gets better.