Thoughts.com Blogs - In the beginning.....

My birth in itself was a mistake. Yes I know God knew me before conception, I know everyone has a purpose but still I feel it was a mistake. How could a loving and merciful God grant my parents a child....ok, really a bad joke, he gave them three children.

My father had a bad childhood himself. He was raised by his grandmother until he was 17. When she passed he came to live again with his mom and dad. By that time his mother had grown great resentment towards him and treated him with a distand heart. Knowing he did not fit in with his family(two brothers who were treated so well compared to him) he enlisted and was shipped to Vietnam. There in a brothel he saw a beautiful woman. Yes my mother. A poor village girl forced to sell her body so that her family could have money for food and shelter. He fell in love, of course I think he fell in lust. He used to pay her brother (pimp) so he could spend time with her. He promised her he would take her to the USA and give her a better life. That he would send money home to her family. That he'd love her and take care of her.

He married her. Brought her to the USA and fulfilled his promise. Poor guy. Little did he know (maybe he did) that he married a crazy woman. His love...oh let me tell you what she did. All I can remember....she'd beat him, humilate him, leave him at home and go dancing all hours of the night, take all his money even when she didn't work and spend it however she wanted. Never told him she loved him. She did however make sure he was fed, his house was clean, and his kids clean. I remember she used to cut our nails so short that we'd bleed. That all three of us girls would sleep in the same bed just to feel safe because they'd be fighting. Seeing him in his white t-shirt held against the wall as she held a butcher knife to his throat. Sucking my thumb and knotting my hair just to calm myself. Finally after 6 years of enjoying their constant Jerry Springer show, she left us. Drove off in her lover's mustang. My father was devastated. He truly loved her. When she left and moved in with my future step-dad she lived literally four blocks from us. It made it terribly hard for him to recover. Poor lost soul put aluminum foil on his windows and trash bags. Stayed in his room all hours. At six years of age I was forced to become something I wasn't supposed to....a mother. My two year old sister had no one to really care for her so I stepped in as best I could. My older sister was 10 but she enjoyed so freely her independence from parental supervision that she went wild. Had friends over, went out when she wanted, drank, whatever she wished. I used to make my dad's dinner, lay it outside his door, knock. He'd open it pull the plate in, eat, and later put the plate outside his door.

The house was disgusting, kids unkept....our hair a mess, clothes a mess, fighting all the time. I used to fight with my older sister just to get food to feed my younger sister. One day she scratched me and gave me a nosebleed over a piece of chicken. She was a bully. She used to put us in the dryer and turn it on....we at first found it to be fun but that didn't last long. My father grew more and more secluded. Didn't care about us. Became abusive. We used to have to do laundry at all hours of the night and if we fell asleep while folding we'd get a spanking. So we'd talk to keep each other awake. Well one night we were so nosey that he put duct tape around our mouths and head...yes all the way around including our hair. Even though it was sick we were young and really didn't know any better. Found it sometimes amusing as crazy as that sounds. He used to hit us with extension cords, coat hangers, 2x4s, whatever he could get. This went on for years. One time I stole something from a store and they said why and I said I want my dad to spend more time with me, they told him that and he was embarrassed. He brought me home and bent me over a chair and said I'll show you spend more time with me and gave me a good beaten with a small wood pole (like what you use to make a good kite). Looking at his mother and all his problems I understand why he is so messed up but now I'm damaged. We'll talk more about him later....

Now on to my mother.