Certainly this is a topic that we are all faced to confront in early adulthood. I’ve found that as I grow and progress in life, the way in which I view the world is constantly changing. There are still areas I continue to struggle in. I am the furthest thing from perfect, and I’m gracefully making mistakes along the way. This blog post is meant to focus on the moments of growth and the times in which I was forced to grow. The goal is that you the reader, who may have experienced some of the same things can have something to relate to and maybe use my experience in your own growth process. I know how cliche’ that sounds. This will be broken into two parts as it is far to much for just one blog. I will focus on the back story in part one and in part two I will focus on the aftermath and lead you into the present. Meet Blissfulblu…
Part one : Childhood-Teen Years |Dysfunction, Drug Use, Alcoholism,Violence, and Emotional and Sexual Abuse & Instability..
Disclaimer!! Before I begin , by no means is this section of my life to place blame. These are just some experiences that helped to shape who I’ve developed into. In this section I will be talking a lot of my parents. Both who loved me dearly and provided all they could. We all know there is no handbook on raising children. You make mistakes. Doesn’t make you a bad parent. It just makes you human and flawed. (So for any young parents its ok! LOL, don’t be so hard on yourself).
My childhood was everything but ordinary. My parents had me later in life. They were 37 & 38 when I was born. My oldest sister is 19 years older then me. And I’m told I was a huge surprise. As a small child I remember being happy. Our lives seemed somewhat normal and unlike many of my peers I had both parents in the home. My mom worked full time for the government and my dad never worked. I spent most of my time with him as a result. While I always felt sad that I never had that quality time with my mom I understood that someone had to pay the bills. My dad was what you could call a street person/ gangster/ hustler/ many things. He struggled with drug abuse and alcoholism all of my life and his honestly. As he got older things for him got out of control. The drugs were a constant. My mom did all she could to keep it away from me, but as his addiction progressed he began to allow things that I believe he wouldn’t have otherwise. During this period in my life I struggled with finding my place. My mom was consumed with work and trying to keep a stable home and my dad was too consumed in alcohol and drama to focus on the needs of a prepubescent girl. The two of them fighting like cats and dogs along the way.
My grades suffered in school. I acted out a lot, you know attention seeking. I always felt unimportant and while my parents lived their lives I had fallen somewhere into the shadows. I think it was around this time I started to struggle with depression. At 11 years old, I attempted suicide for the first time. My parents where both mortified by this but after a week or two their routines continued. Soon after that I was sent away to live with a relative. My parents felt it best considering the environment at home. My mom had run out of options she felt and this was what was best.
It was best for a while. Until one night I awoke to a trusted male family member in my bedroom removing my blankets and under clothes. While this is so such a sensitive topic I wont give details but you get my drift. Of course after telling my mom I went back’t home and while things hadn’t improved there it was still the safest place. I needed to get professional help. I didn’t.. We will touch on this again later.
During this time my dad had been diagnosed with cirrhosis of the liver. He was told that his liver was completely destroyed from the alcoholism and he was told he needed to be sober for at least 1 year in order to be eligible for a liver transplant. Fat chance right.
I remember the first time he threw up blood. How afraid my mother was. She wanted him to get well. She of course like everyone encouraged him to change, get sober and live. But this was not what he wanted. My dad was the sort of person who lived by their own rules, and even though he knew he was dying it didn’t detour him.
At around age 15, my childhood home was battle rammed by the police for drugs. My dad had so much traffic that eventually a nuisance problem was cited by the city and my mom was forced to sale the house or lose it to the state. The house was sold and my mom left my dad. She was done. She had lost everything. We went to live with my aunt and my dad went to live with my uncle his brother. His health deteriorated rapidly and my mom took him back and by the time I was 16 my dad was dead.
I was crushed. I was lost. Looking back it didn’t even seem real. My life spiraled out of control. Soon after I met a guy that I was working with at a telemarketing company. He was about 8 years older then me. Still being very naive and immature I was infatuated with the idea that this older guy was interested in me. Things between us progressed very quickly and within two months of knowing him I became pregnant with my first child.
To be continued…
Part two: The uphill after becoming a mother. Battling depression, and healing from old wounds.
Thanks for reading.
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