I wanted to write up a backstory to attach to my "introduction". It would help to know an outline of my past and present, and maybe help me to pick pieces apart little by little to help figure things out and ask questions. It's really important to me that it's realized this blog/journal is in no way intended to expose or hurt anyone. It's simply the truth of my life and how I've viewed it. I know that one day my family will see this. I want them to someday, I think. It's so hard to say with the relationships we have currently. With the things this will dig up and the hurt it will surely bring. But hopefully in that, there will be healing, too.
I was born in the Texas panhandle to an eighteen year old single mother. She had a boyfriend who she met working in my grandad's bar, who would remain the man I consider my dad, until I was in middle school. My biological father signed over his rights to me, and I recently got in touch with him a couple of years ago. I learned that I also have a half sister. We don't look anything alike.
While I can't remember, I've heard stories that I hope to learn more about when I'm ready, about my grandmother kidnapping me, and my 'dad' beating up on my mom all the time and one specific instance of him threatening to kill us. I do remember their daily shouting matches, my mom taking off in depressions and my dad's drug dealer's house where I would play outside alone because he was busy inside.
I lived with my great grandmother (gram) in a trailer in small town BFE until I was eight. We moved into this big crazy city with my mom and dad when they bought a house here. My dad was in and out of jail and eventually went to prison and my gram was diagnosed with breast cancer that she'd waited too long to tell anyone about and get help for.
My mom got a new boyfriend who moved in with us and eventually my gram passed one day while I was in middle school. As vicious as everyone claimed she was, I felt that no one ever loved me as much as she did, and a part of me died along with her. My mother refused to let me talk to anyone when I asked her for therapy, for many issues. Eventually her boyfriend proposed to her and she said no and he eventually died of cirrhosis of the liver. She moved on to a meth addict who showed up at our house one day with a gun that had a rag through the trigger. To be fair, she didn't know he was a meth addict at the time.
I moved out of the house a week or so after graduation and into my current husband's duplex. We bought a house together three months later. We had known each other for four months. My mom eventually married, something she had stood adamantly against for, maybe ever. I became pregnant and my boyfriend and I married. My mom refused to come to the wedding and still claims that's it's because she knew our marriage would never work. She doesn't like my husband, and holds grudges for, probably ever. Really, who could blame her? All the shit he's done to me, I currently hate him a little, too. And if a man was treating my daughter this way, I wouldn't be his biggest fan either.
Flash forward to 2016, our baby boy is born and my husband cheats on me, for the second time, in August. While none of this is detailed and barely scratches the surface, I hope to touch on each story and memory that arises little by little. Some are too painful at this time, for me to open up about, but I'll get there hopefully. I'm sure this whole blog is going to turn into one jumbled mess, kind of the way my head always is, but I'm going to try my best not to care or let it keep me from being 100% real.
