The way your parents raise you defines you, which doesn’t have to mean that they were good people at all. Sometimes just the opposite is true. Often bad parents churn out the best adults.
Take me, for instance. My dad was an alcoholic who left when I and my two sisters were very young. My mother went on to marry another alcoholic who was extremely abusive towards all of us. He threatened to shoot us, and hung one of my sisters up in a closet. My mother finally left him, and just when we thought we were safe, she decided to date guys my age and do drugs. OK, they were a few years older, but very few.
(Above picture is of me, my sisters and mom when we were young. I’m the girl in front in the blue and white.)
Mom allowed said boyfriends to abuse us, as well. Since she was doped up most of the time, she didn’t stop them. They spent the night in the living room, where I also slept. Things happened that I’ve never told anyone about. I don’t understand how any mother could subject her daughter to that, but mine did.
I finally left when I turned 18. I went far away. I met back up with my long-lost dad who claimed to want to be there for me. When I did need anything, though, it was more like, “Sorry, I’m the one who needs help, you should be helping me.” I was pretty much used to not asking for things, though, so it was cool.
As I got older, I realized that my parents’ parenting style was not normal. I vowed to do all I could to be there for my own kids. I don’t have much to do with my mom and dad anymore, and when I tell them why, my parents have the nerve to blame me.
Gotta love parents who take no responsibility for all the bad things that happened to you because of things that they did. How could I, as a child, have been responsible? I made the decision to leave my family when I turned 18. This was held against me. My mother told me to never ask for anything if I went, and to this day, I never did.
Fortunately, my actions changed her, too. She stopped her drugging and drinking and became one of those people who complained about others that do. She became Super Grandma to my other siblings’ kids because they were raised around her. She never had much to do with mine, because she didn’t get to know them. Which she and my siblings never let me forget because it was all my fault for leaving.
I actually meant for this blog post to be about a totally different thing, but there you have it. I’ve finally let it out.