Ipso Facto

My earliest memories were not that of my mother and father. But a brown rabbit with a missing eye, A dog named Muffin, and my grandmother. We all used to call her grandma Kading, Because she wasn't my father's real mom, she was actually his great aunt.I always remember waking up in the morning with her and listening to records and having tea and orange chocolate cookies. She was frail, but she was there more for me than my own mother. I remember waking up one morning, I may have been about 4 years old and that was the day that my life as a 4 year old crashed to the ground. She had been sick for a while and I didn't know. One morning I Tried to wake her up. She was not moving and I placed my head on her chest and she wasn't breathing and her heartbeat was gone. I remember screaming and calling from my father, after being told to go outside I hid in a tree that was out in the front yard. Going back and remembering my grandmother, she was there when I used to fall in the cactus that surrounded the front yard. She would pick out the prickly parts and give me a big hug to tell me I'd be alright. The fond memories I have of her, I carry with me every day because I didn't know that I would lose the only person that actually loved me in my life for the first time.

My mother, the saint she wasn't, always left me with my big sister Michelle. So she could party around town while my father was working his ass off to support his family. My sister was the average teenage kid, I think the second most important person in my life to my grandmother. I remember a story being told to me about how my mother sold his trucking company behind his back. My Uncle Bobby told me that, in the same conversation he also told me about my mother's sleeping with him as well as My Uncle George, also my father's brother. I guess my dad got sick and tired of it, being made a full love around town. Other things happen when my uncle George but I'd rather not discuss that in this paper, dark secrets that I have no business telling. But I will say one thing, she wasn't the only one molested by someone in her family. Shortly after my father had sold the home that my grandfather had built with the help of his friends and family, that was being foreclosed on because my mother had no idea how to pay the bills. Any money she ever got from my father she would spend on herself, and that would not be the only time. If I can recall correctly, My father tried to make it easier on his kids by taking them on “Vacation”, While they were waiting for the closing of the condo In Lakewood. Around that same time my mother and father became estranged, and that was around the time that my father decided it was time to call it quits with my mother because of her antics. Which I don't blame him for doing at this point in my life. Because I'm older and now understand why he did what he did. He was made a fool of by my mother, Sandra. In his mind, A divorce was the best thing So that he could be happy.

Not long after the separation, my father ended up falling for Shirley. Shirley Johnson, was the mother of Michael Johnson and Margie Howard. Apparently,because both my brother and Margie went to school together my mother was friends with Shirley. Something to do with how my brother got mad at her and broke her glasses. After my father's divorce from my mother, we were living in Lakewood in a condo that was being sold after a year. While living there, my mother's alcoholism and pill use was at its maximum. We ended up moving to a house on Miller Road,in the same town. She would go out on Friday nights and end up with a stranger in her bed Saturday morning. My sister Michelle was always there for me. She was the one that made sure that I ate, Went to school. And again at that point my sister was the most important person in my life. Sandra would always end up at a bar every weekend where some relationships never made it past the parking lot. She was completely out of control. The drugs became what she was. She started ignoring her responsibilities as a mother towards my sister and myself. To the point when it was time for us to go to school, after living in a trailer park because my mother was at her lowest. She didn't want to give up her life for her children. She didn't wanna change her ways So the only other option was to give myself and my sister to my father.

In 1989, That is when my life was turned upside down. My self- esteem started going in the hole. At this point I feel like I was suffocating. My mother had moved to Florida, Because she chose a man over her own family. For a whole year she stopped talking to us because we would have been cramping her style.I've always been estranged from my brother, maybe because my father didn't want me to end up like him. My brother never grew up. Even to this day he is still a teenager stuck in a grown man's body. He used to get away with so much crap, growing up. My brother would screw up his school and my father would punish him. My mother as always would allow him to do whatever he wanted to do. Because she didn't want to be his mother she wanted to be his best friend. I don't think he actually knew what it was like to grow up. Today he's got one child, a daughter, Gabriella. I wish I could see her, see her grow up But with all the bad blood between me and her father.I can only watch her grow up on Facebook. The drama between my brother and myself started when he found out I was pregnant with his best friend's child. My only child Alex, Who is now 19 years old.

When my sister and I moved in with our father and step monster Shirley. They didn't have much money And my father was the only one that was working. We couldn't stay in the same trailer park, because school was on its way. My step monster, Found a very cheap place for us to live in Manchester, New Jersey. I can remember when we first moved there it was 450 a month. Which by today's standards is probably the rent of a closet. It used to be the old barracks of Lakehurst Naval Base. Back in the 40s, It was used to house soldiers That were being trained for World War 2. After its decommission, It was sold and converted into apartments. We lived in a two bedroom, I shared one of the rooms with my sister Michelle for 7 years. We were still seeing our mom every weekend when she was living in Toms River. I never wanted to go back to my dad’s after visits. I wanted to stay with my mom and she'd always tell me that I couldn't. I think after the brainwashing of what Shirley would tell my sister about my mom and about how bad my mother was and didn't care because if she did she would have given up drugs and taken care of her kids.My sister had gotten very angry with my mother. And I think my sister regrets that phone call because that was the last time my mother ever talked to her.

Before she decided to move to Florida our mother. In a final stitch effort, I contacted my dad, stating that she wanted to take us to Florida with her after she realized that drug running was not her forte. She had moved the floor with a guy named John, who was wanted by the police and federal marshals for running drugs from Orlando to New York. I think because of all the crap that me and my sister had been through, our father put a restraining order on her so she couldn't take us even out of school. It was September 21st 1991, I was outside playing in the yard when my father received a call from my brother who was on the run from the law again. That my mother had died, and that we should come to Florida for a memorial service. But by the time we got there my mother was already cremated, never being able to say goodbye for the last time. I didn't want to believe that my mother died. That's why later on in life I finally face reality when I talk to her boyfriend Gary at the time. And he confirmed that she did die in 1991 and how she died. He gave me details of her last moments, and how once you arrived at the hospital she was alive. He told me that morning of September 15th she was making him a cup of coffee, with a cigarette in her mouth.That she was having a headache, and all of a sudden she started having a seizure and she fell to the floor with her eyes rolling in the back of her head. This was recently, he had told me after I tracked him down after 30 years. Gary told me that he remembers it like it was yesterday. He also told me that he was going to marry my mom, because my mother had been clean for 6 months prior to her demise. He also told me the story about how he met my mother. How they were In Baldwin Park, she was walking her roommate's dog. My mom was trying to get back on her own feet, at that time he didn't know that we existed. She always told them that she had a son. There was a drug addict and she was trying to get away from him, because he was dragging her down. And when we showed up in Florida, he was shocked to find out that we existed.

Oddly enough he knew who I was before he even told him, when I showed up at his home. He looked at me and told me that I looked just like my mom. For so many years, I had looked for the answers that I got from him. My mother was clean and sober and had no drugs in her system when she died. She was trying to get away from my brother but my brother kept coming to her asking her for money for drugs. So the stories that my brother would tell me about how he's responsible for our mother's death because he did drugs the night before turned out to be bullshit.

Ironically enough after my mother's death my stepmonster Shirley, started to act differently toward my sister and myself. I was 10 when my mom died.Immediately after a return from Florida, Shirley started to have resentment towards me. Because she knew she couldn't return me to my mother if she ever got sick of me. That is when my life started to go down the shitter. Always being placed on the back burner for the next 5 years of my life. Later finding out that my mother did have a pension, and that the years of me being picked on in school for wearing hand me downs and velcro shoes In reality shouldn't have happened. The vindictiveness of Shirley, didn't stop at getting my ass whooped every day by her. It started when she killed my hamster Popeye. The only connection I had with my mother and my past. She was trying to mold me into what she thought was good for me. But she didn't know that later on I'd be bitter and hate people, especially her.

I can barely remember my younger years. I sat back and observed how Margie, my step sister, was always number one and when it came to my dad and my stepmother. Somehow her and her three children became the center of my father's life. I remember the morning when my sister turned 18 I helped her move out, Because she didn't want to be there anymore because she wasn't happy. Now that I'm older I understand a teenage angst, of wanting to move away from your parents because my son did the same thing to me. When my sister turned eighteen, I was one year away from being a teenager. That day was especially hard for me because it was the first day I didn't have my sister with me. I was grilled and asked multiple times where she went then if I didn't answer right away I would get slapped in the face. That was when it became extremely hard for me from that point on. I started to immerse myself in school, and in middle school I realized that. I wasn't as stupid as I was told. I was always told that I would never make anything on myself, then I would be just like my mother a whore. Because that was the only thing she was good at. Being constantly told that my mother only knew how to spread her legs for every Tom, Dick and Harry that came along.

In the dysfunctional situation that I grew up in. I'm surprised I made it out alive. I always recall my sister saying that every time I took off from home, they would call her asking if she heard from me. I didn't know where my sister was. I didn't even have her phone number, I wasn't even allowed to call her. That's the one thing that my sister didn't know. I think it's because Shirley didn't want my sister to know the hell I was going through. Later on in life my sister found out because I told her. There were times when I would get in trouble not because the school called. It was because my step cousins went to the same school and they would tell their mothers if I said something out of turn to them or their friends that offended them. I would get home, and the minute I walked in the door Shirley would start whooping my ass. I didn't know why I didn't do anything wrong at school. Then I would be forced to stand staring at a post between a living room and the dining room. Whenever my father would call, he would never tell him that she corrected me. So when my dad came home I would get beat by him as well. physically I was being torn down, and my only escape was school work.

I was never praised, when I got my first honor roll. I was mentally beat down and told that I cheated. I started having angry issues at school Because my step cousins would start rumors about me and tell them that I'm wearing their clothes that they had on the year before. If you were to ask me, I would never go back to high school again. I would never want to go back and live my life again If it were the same way. I've always watched my father take my step monster's side, Maybe it was because he didn't want to piss her off. I think the first time I stood up for myself was when we lived in Torry Avenue. I was in Manchester Middle School, where I started to take true interest in education because that was the one thing that couldn't be taken from me. I was sharing my room with Margie's daughter Sklyer and we also had a crib in our room with Rachel in it. I really had no privacy, coming into my own years of growing. My step sister lived in the attic with her husband where they would drink and smoke pot.

It was like Shirley was allowing her daughter to do whatever she wanted, but still acting like a Black Kettle talking about my mother. I remember the day I stood up for myself, asking her why she was always talking shit about my mom, and how I was gonna end up like her. I knew she hung resentment over my head my whole life. She thought she got my father by himself, where he would work and support her and her daughter. That was confirmed on her deathbed in 2006. That day we had a heated argument outside on the front porch, my father was in the house reading his Readers Digest. I thought he would have had my back, But he just stood there. as my step monster said, ‘ if you feel froggy jump’. all the pent up anger I had inside my body, I did take a swing. Out of nowhere my step sister came and punched me square in the jaw, her saying, ‘ Don't Don't talk to my mother like that.’ The one person that I thought had my back stood there and watched it all happen. This man stood there laughing at me, But he was supposed to be my father.

At that point in my life, I realized I had no one but myself. I felt alone. I felt ashamed I didn't want to live anymore. And that I was only 13. I truly had no one, No one gave a shit no one cared. I was considered to be an unruly child because I stood up for myself. So for the next couple years I sat back and observed that my life was truly unfair. That I was a problem for everyone. I had no normal childhood, because my childhood was given away to Shirley's grandchildren. They lived the life I should have had. I was always second rate. Apparently I never earned my grades they were given to me, I cheated and I was useless. I played soccer from 3rd grade through 9th grade on school teams. It brought me the only joy I had. I was talented, as far as the coaches felt. I never had a person cheer me on from the stands. The only encouragement that I ever got was from my teammates. But as you know, because I was low on the totem pole and a geek, in the mid 1990s no one wanted to be friends with a geek. They would only talk to me on the field and ignore me in class. So I took what I could get. Sister was 21 when she had my nephew Tyler, that may have been the first time I saw my sister since she moved out At 18. No I stand corrected, She needed a place to stay for awhile so she did come back and we roommate it again this time on bunk beds. I barely ever saw her, but she was there. and while she was there that's when a lot of the abuse stopped. My assumption is that Shirley didn't want Michelle to see me being abused. And then yet again it was the saddest day when she left again.

When we moved to South Toms River, I changed schools. I thought I never had to look at these people ever again. I thought the pressure of me being picked on and being made fun of without the window. But, little did I know that that was far fetched. See at the high school I went to you could leave the school campus and go to lunch in downtown Toms River. I was told by my step monster I could never do that but I didn't anyway. Maybe if I listen to her, I would not have become the laughingstock of Toms River High School South. When I first got there no one knew who I was, I changed my whole personality to try to fit in that didn't do any good. I was still the geek honor roll student, and I was trying to get on their soccer team. Soccer was my favorite sport, to look at me now you'd never know that I mastered the bicycle kick. So anyway, I went downtown to have lunch with a friend that I made in school. it was this place called Bagel Boys, How I remember that name I'll tell you. I was in Bagel Boys, That day when my first high school crush ever tapped me on the shoulder. He went to Manchester High School, where was the year prior to moving. I was surprised to see him there. I asked him if he went to our school In South Toms River. When he told me no that he was there because he found out where I moved. A little voice in my head was telling me oh my god, here we go again. Surprisingly, I guess out of feeling sorry for me he hugged me in front of everyone.

I was caught off guard by his generosity, until Justin started laughing at me. That day I felt two inches tall. As loudly as he could he was telling everybody how I had a crush on him, and then he opened the floodgates to my past. He continued on by saying how I was a laughingstock of Manchester High School, and that my nickname was Missy Pissy. Looking back at my teenage years, they can be cruel and unusual. I never really fit in to any click, until I started smoking pot. The first time I smoked a cigarette I think it was about 9. When my father found out he made me sit there and smoke a whole pack of Pall Mall non filters. I started smoking again when I was in high school. I would take my lunch money and have my friend who was already out of high school buy me cigarettes at the corner store. Since I had no privacy at home I had to have him hold on to him for me. He was actually the first person ever to show me what marijuana was. The first time I ever smoked pot, I ended up passing out on the football field at South Toms River High School, I thought I found my out. A way out of my own mind, where no one could ever be a downer to me again. My life was becoming more of a trial every day.

I was a freshman and a brand new school, I learned the benefits of marijuana, and I was still an honor student. Even though, everyday I was no longer being physically broken down. I was being mentally broken down constantly. I think the reason why I was no longer being physically beat, was because I was getting older and stronger. I spent the first three years of my life living with my father being mentally and physically abused, and the next two years being mentally broken down. Even though I was doing things I wasn't supposed to do as a teenager, or at least they didn't know I was doing. I still was not allowed to go anywhere. I had to go to school and come home. If I wasn't at home I was at school. I remember the only family that I only knew was my uncle Bobby and my cousin Bonnie because they would come and visit.The family that I hated the most was my stepmother's family. Yet there was one person, Linda.Linda Hammond, she's seen what I was going through. Coming up with a bright idea of having me join a bowling league. She figured it would help me with some issues I may be dealing with. But it just made my situation worse, mum was never the word no matter where I was.

My step sister thought she was helping me, I hadn't come to her house to get away from my step monster. After about three times in her house I realized the only reason why I was there was to clean it. She was a very dirty and lazy person. I would end up going to her house and washing walls of dishes And cleaning up after her children when I was only fourteen. Not knowing that I needed to grow up fast enough, I never had a childhood or teenage years. Like most kids being carefree, I became the maid in both my step sisters and stepmasters houses. so would you say that I would Cinderella, maybe. Difference was I was one step sister short. you know what a step brother, Mike. Yes, the same name as my father, and my estranged brother. He was in the military, he went to Korea and was there for two years. I think he did his military term before his mother married my father. Margie just turned eighteen when they got married and Skyler was only a year old. The only thing I remember about my step brother was that he lived in a van. He was a free soul and sometimes slept on the couch. His best friend Dale had a brother named Shawn. Ironically enough the father of both my niece and nephew.

Shawn and my sister met when she was in middle school. I remember the first time I saw Shawn I was playing with my Barbie house on Miller Rd. It was one of the times my mother left me with my sister. Anyway, that's a story for another time. I remember when I went to spend the weekend with my Step brother when he was staying with Dale And his wife Dawn in Jackson. It was the first and last time I was there. It felt strange to me, that he was trying to tickle me and touch me inappropriately at the age of 14. I was trying to tell my father about what happened, he stood behind my stepmother. Their excuse was that he was just trying to get to know me better. Looking back at it when you're trying to get to know somebody better you don't do that to a teenager unless you're looking for something different. The only person who knows the whole story is my husband. Things in my mind weren't adding up, how I was the maid and all of a sudden a play thing for my stepbrother. I was tired of feeling as though I was being used as a dirty rag.Thinking that the one person that was supposed to stand behind me didn't do that.

Premeditating on my getaway, instead of going to school that first time. Somehow, I guess my anger was so much, and my urging to get away was so high. I walked from the school to the Point Pleasant Train Station. I had saved lunch money for over two weeks. As I walked I kept thinking what I was going to do. I kept thinking about what had happened to me, what could happen to me if I stayed. I was 15 ½, when I first ran away from home. I lost all faith in who I was And didn't give a shit anymore. What were they going to do, miss their maid? I think reading May have been my downfall at that time. Being immersed in a book about worlds that were better than what I was living in, helped me make that decision of leaving. That there had to be something better out there. I was growing in my own skin, but was afraid to live my life because I always had to make other people happy. If I didn't do what they wanted me to do I would be physically and emotionally beat down.That was my motive of leaving a bad world to go into my own. As my legs burned, and my muscles ached I made it to the train station and was in New York City by the time I would have been coming home from school. At 15 1/2 New York is a strange place,especially when you're there by yourself. My first night of being there, I walked around looking at the lights and absorbing Times Square. It was a new world to me, and I wanted to take it and leave my old life behind. I never thought about going back home, it was the first time that I didn't feel scared to be myself. I felt like I was released from a prison that had no bars. For the first time in my life, I didn't have someone telling me I couldn't be what I wanted to be. I had control over what I did, no longer feeling like a prisoner in their world.

I met a few people along the way, that like me were left to scrounge for themselves. I thought that I was the only one in the world that felt trapped in their own mind. I never wanted to go back, because I finally felt freedom. I never sold drugs or myself to survive. Believe it or not I was still a virgin. I had no interest in relationships cause every single relationship I had was fake. Back home in my father's house, I never had anybody stand up behind me and support me. All I wanted to do was get away, and all my stepmother wanted was me to be back there so she can continue her crusade of making me feel like garbage. Escaping the torment, and the hatefulness that I faced because I was my mothers child. When my stepmother told me that my mother did not want me because she didn't want to raise her third child. She apparently talked my mother into keeping me, Because of the turbulent relationship my mother and father were having and that I would be the one to keep them together. Realizing that years later she would be my father's wife. So I guess her plan backfired in her own face.

Don't get me wrong I'm grateful that I'm here, I'm actually ashamed to say that I'm grateful for what I went through. But it still haunts me,it makes me sad when I think about it. When it makes me sadder, I think about the relationship I could have had with my father. When it became too late. He really never knew, until my sister and myself told him what I had gone through. My step monster did nothing but lied to my father, and I waited until she died to tell him. I was 24 when I had my son, and Shirley had died a year later. I was waiting for the day that she would die, But it came a little too late. See when I finally tried to build a relationship with my father it was after I had gotten arrested and served time in juvenile detention. I was clean and sober from drugs and alcohol by that time And I wanted to let my father know what I was feeling. I guess as a repentant to my life, I figured if I join the military after 9/11 that finally someone would be proud of me for doing something right. Why not if my grandfather Was in World War Two And my father would have been in Vietnam. It would have been a time for my father to be proud of me. I tried to earn his respect, but that faltered. I wanted to change my life and all I got for it was heartache.

In 2002, I wrote a letter to my father from basic training, and in Shirley's handwriting it said return to sender. I knew at that point, I didn't even have my dad. It felt like he wanted to cut all communications with me and act as though I didn't exist. I didn't understand why he wouldn't talk to me.The least he could have done was when I called to say so himself. But every time I'd call she would answer and say he wasn't around. That was the hardest time in my life, Because I wanted to draw communication between myself and my father and try to rebuild what was never there. When I left the military. It felt as if I wasted my time because I never went overseas. I felt useless, I felt alone even though I was surrounded by family. Everyone seemed to be a narcissist. I was always judged because I was not like them. I felt like I had to please people, to keep him off my back. My childhood and teenage years were always about them, never about me or my growth as a person. I remember I was 12, it was Christmas And I only got one present and that was a white fluffy cat from my Uncle Bobby. I was told that Christmas, that I was so bad and disobedient that I didn't deserve to have presents. Yet for the next 3 years I had to go to the torture of sitting and watching Skyler and Rachel opening their gifts as I got nothing. I know it sounds a little pretentious, but that's the kind of life I was living in. Their dysfunctional world, that when I ran away I was happy to be out of.

Later on, at my sister's kitchen table we told my father about what happened to me, And he was in shock and awe. He consistently claimed he never knew what was going on behind his back.But I knew he was just saying that to keep face in front of my sister. When I confronted one of why he laughed when Margie knocked me out at Tory Ave. He claimed he didn't know why we were fighting. I knew that was a bunch of bullshit, the minute he opened his mouth and said it. I tried to tell him about the times when I would be punished by Shirley, and that she wouldn't tell my father she handled it. Then I would be punished when he got home And would take off his belt and whip my ass while sitting in a chair, as I was bent over his knee.

There was one time when he beat me, and she had beaten me all week. I went to school and had bruises from the back of my neck to the bottom of my ankles. Mr Ferretto, my third grade teacher, asked me what had happened and sent me to the nurses office. The nurse wanted to know what happened and she wanted to see all the bruises. A case worker from the state of New Jersey, showed up to the school and a case of child abuse was filed. It was like the minute the nurse called the house Shirley picked me up, and I was being grilled about why I went to the nurse in the first place. When I tried to tell her the teacher sent me there she kept saying that I was a liar and that I didn't wanna live there anymore. Not realizing at the time that she would have lost money for me not being there.Maybe in the back of my mind I didn't want to be there anymore, maybe I wanted it to be taken away and then the later cases of my life I felt that maybe that would have been better. I was always told that I was seeking attention to get beat to be taken away, I just think that Shirley didn't want to admit that she was bitter about the fact of having me in her life because my mom was no longer around.

There are so many countless times that I can remember thatI wish I could erase from my mind. But they're so burned into my cortex, that I can't. My running away became so frequent, where they had to come pick me up from different places.That my stepmother decided it was easier to lock me in my room. You know I remember when I had a ton of toys and things that kids would have to play with.I had all that when I lived with my mom, but it was like the moment that my father got custody of us my stepmother threw away all my toys and things that I had. I started to feel as though I was living in a cell, I wasn't allowed to leave the yard And I had to eat the food she made. I got in trouble one time for making a peanut butter jelly sandwich because I was hungry. I don't think any kid should go through choosing to eat or get beat and going hungry. The privacy I lacked made me feel like I was living in dorm rooms, my teenage life. I didn't have a radio or a tv in my room, just a bed and a dresser. And every day I would come home from school to do my chores, even though Shirley was home every day I didn't have a job. I would get stuck doing dishes that sat around all day, I would have to vacuum the floor at a certain time so I didn't interrupt her daily TV watching.

I felt like I was growing up to be an adult quicker than I needed to be. I wasn't allowed to have friends, I wasn't allowed to go anywhere and I definitely was not allowed to wear makeup or have a boyfriend. It was like she was trying to mold me into a person, That would obey every whim and tickle her fancy. Maybe she realized that she screwed up with her own daughter, that she was trying to make me her own personal project. You know I felt down for many years, immersing myself in marijuana and alcohol. I didn't wanna face my life after I left the military. I tried to connect with my estranged brother this summer when I turned sixteen. My father thought it was a good idea to have me there, to teach me a lesson on what not to do with my life. But I just made my life worse. I thought my brother grew up because he was living with a woman who had three children. My brother was no longer getting in trouble with the law, but he was heavily immersed in drugs and alcohol And that was the part my father didn't know. That summer opened my eyes to what life could be fun and fancy free. Not realizing at that time, that it was wrong. I met a lot of his friends that were the same age as me even though my brother is 12 years older than I am. They ended up being high school kids. These kids and myself would drink and party with my brother and the town that he lived in was a bunch of rich kids. This was the time when I met my future son's father and at that time I had met what I thought was my first true love. Having so much in common, and him driving a cool car a silver Buick Skylark. We never hooked up at that point in time, We will just hang out and have fun.

When I got back home from that summer, I started opening up at school. A close friend of mine who at the time was a major Marilyn Manson fan, Michelle Demotto. She lived in Beachwood, but we ended up going to the same high school. I started cutting a lot of my soccer practices just to hang out with her because she was my only friend. So since soccer was the only thing I was allowed to do after school, after my father told my stepmother to let me do it. That was when my eyes were open to a band called Green Day. Michelle knew about my shitty life and what I was going through with home, she told me maybe it was time for me to leave. give it all up and live my own life.Being a rebellious teenager herself, we made a pact at that time.That if I leave she leaves, but she backed out like the “true” friend she was and I left. I was only two years away from being 18 and on my own legally. I had been to New York City so many times, the people I knew up there wouldn't let me down. They always had my back, or so I thought.

My first boyfriend that I ever had in a serious relationship, with Garrett. I remember that day when we met outside of Virgin Records in Times Square. I was wearing a blue sweatshirt, with denim overalls and my airwalks standing there. I was smoking a cigarette. You're probably wondering how I was able to get cigarettes at 16. Well in the city of New York they have these things called bodegas. They used to sell lucy's (single cigarettes) for 25 cents a piece, and they never carded you as long as you had money. Anyway I'm standing there, when a kid later named Tommy. Asked me if I had a cigarette, telling him no and that if he wanted one he could get one at the bodega up the street. He walked away from me and came back and asked me if I had a boyfriend. After telling him no, and that he wasn't my type he walked away again. After I got done smoking my cigarette, I put it on the ground and stepped on it. I walked into Virgin Records and took the escalator to the second floor. Since I had never been there before I looked around, and used the bathroom. The first time I went to Times Square they were actually building it. This store was huge, the biggest music store I've ever been into. They had music everywhere, where you could listen by putting headphones on and nobody would bother you.

I went back up to the first floor, to their alternative section where Green Day had their album Dookie on display. I placed the headphones on my head and I'm listening to their music. A person put a rose in front of me, when I had my back turned. I got spooked and turned around, and saw a blonde haired white thug standing in front of me. He looked a lot like Eminem, before Eminem existed. I took the headphones off and put them around my neck, and thanked him for the rose but I didn't understand why he was giving it to me. He thought I was beautiful when he saw me outside of the store, And that his friend Tommy was the one that kept asking for a cigarette. From that day forward until I ended up being arrested, In Cape May And caught that you and I will charge he always had my back. Even though he had my heart that first day, when he handed me that rose.I thought that I had found my soulmate, my love In my life. But things can be very deceiving, when I got out of jail and went back to New York to find him because I knew his time in jail was over. See we got in trouble with Tommy for stealing a car in Jersey City and driving it all the way to Cape May. That was the first and only time I ever got arrested for breaking a law because it scared the living shit out of me. Having a knee and gun to your back Is not the greatest thing to look forward to. When I arrived in New York to find him, I found out that he was cooped up in a hotel with another chick. I was completely heartbroken at that point, and I walked the streets for three days And slept on the A train to Rockaway and back.

It opened my eyes and made me realize that you can never trust anybody and that you can only depend on yourself. The closest living relative that I had was my brother, to the city. I jumped on the train and went to Ramsey, where he was still living with his girlfriend Laurel. I asked my brother if I could stay with him for a while, and that's when I was sleeping on the couch. I got a job working at Wendy's, this was before I went to the military. The person that got me to go into the military was my boss when I worked at KB toys. He said maybe it was time for me to go, because I had zeal and the country needed me. It was 1999 but I didn't go in until after 2001. At that point my life was moving pretty fast. I made a friend named Arlene, who knew my brother and she had a friend named Justin who lived in Ridgewood. He was graduating high school that year and not knowing that he was seeing a girl named April who through the years has now become my Facebook friend where I see their daughter Melody growing up. At that point Justin and myself had a whirlwind relationship and it really wasn't anything serious. Years later he's now married to a lawyer and has a son of his own. After that, the relationship of friends with benefits ended. There was another man that stepped into my life.

My son wouldn't be here without him. Even though I call him the sperm donor. His name is Daniel. He is of Croatian and Czechoslovakian descent. He was still the cool guy with the Buick Skylark, hanging out with my brother. Because of his cool mac daddy ways, I ended up hooking up with them at the age of 19. Our relationship was only supposed to be friends with benefits and it ended up resulting in a child when I was 24 from the same guy. He was dating a girl named Jessica, and myself at the same time. But at that time we didn't know about each other. After our many hookups, he ended up getting Jessica pregnant and marrying her. She had my son's oldest brother Daniel.I didn't know that Dan was an abusive person until I found out that he would beat Jessica and the baby whenever he got drunk or high. Maybe I should have thought outside of the circle of friends and found a man like the man I'm married to today.

My brother got so mad when he found out that I was pregnant when Dan's kid, that up until today I think he knew how Dan was towards children.To end the conversation about Dan.He's now incarcerated In federal prison for the child abuse of the other five children that he had in his custody, with drug charges, gun charges, and probation violation and I hope he rots in jail.

When I was 15 I was told I could never have kids, because I had a problem with my reproductive system. So I've always imagined my life without children. Not because I didn't want children but because I was told I couldn't have children. So I had my whole life ahead of me, I wanted to change my life for the better. I wanted to have a fresh start. Before I had my son, I had moved to Hollywood, California. I loved the movies and acting and I was not that bad looking of a person to at least try. 2002 was going to be my year, a new turning point, a new outlook on life. I had just left my first husband, that relationship didn't pan out as well as I thought it was going to. I saved all my money, bought a guitar and a bus ticket and took a bus to California. I didn't know what I was going to do when I first got there, but I knew if I had something like the guitar I could make money. I've heard of these things called hostels, that if you're from out of state you only pay $17 a night to stay there and you get a locker in a bed. So that was my plan.I would stand on Hollywood Blvd in front of Gruman's theater and pluck away at a guitar and hope to make money. At first I didn't make much, but then I got a hang of it. I would make at least $30 a day that would pay for my room and food. Also, I learned that if I start telling jokes and make people laugh they give me more. So that's what I would do, I plucked away at my blue sunburst guitar and told political ones at that. I was bringing in the money and living what I thought was my best life. After establishing an address of a place for 30 days. I was finally able to get a good paying job. I started selling show tickets for NBC, and worked my way up into a messenger's position at Universal Studios. I felt as though my life was on track, so I went back to school. I enrolled in Santa Monica College, and started taking classes in Law. I felt that if I was ready to work during the day, then I could go to school at night.I got a nice cozy little place, an apartment with 20s art deco near Griffith Park. I was only paying 550 a month to stay there and to only be paying something that little in rent was worth it.

At that point in my life, it was an oyster. I was a free person. No one is telling me what to do and how to live my life. No one physically hurts me or emotionally pulls me down. For the first time in my life I was able to be who I wanted to be and when I wanted to be. Through my years in Hollywood I've met some very interesting and neurotic people. I overcame being starstruck, because I worked at Universal Studios. I was always on sets with actors that I did know and didn't know, and sometimes personal assistants to others. I became an extra on two movies, S.W.AT and The Italian Job. I worked with two of my favorite actors, Edward Norton and Mark Wahlberg. Would not be the first time I met someone. In New York even though it was a close set, Adam Sandler signed my Subway hat. After work was invited by his assistant to play basketball with him at a local park, while he was filming Anger Management. At that point in my life I realized that actors were just human beings with a lot of money.

The first time I was married was out of circumstance. I needed a place to live and he needed a green card. So in order to make that work we got married at City Hall in Manhattan. I had no relations with My first husband until after we got married. He said he actually wanted to try to work it out even though we were from two totally different worlds literally. He told me he was from Morocco where his father worked for the king of Morocco and that they had a higher statute of living because of his dad's job. Me being from America is pretty much all he needed to know . There were a lot of things that we had in common like music, the style and clothing and that we both needed something from the relationship. The one thing that stood out to me was that his favorite character was Spiderman. So I drew him a Spiderman tattoo and he got it done on his arm. Stating that he will always remember me every time he looks at his arm. It looked like the guy from POD. With his long dreads and his skinny stature. He didn't look like he was from Africa, he actually looked like a white guy. There was one thing we never agreed on. I didn't like the idea that he still had feelings for his ex-girlfriend Maria. Even though me and Rashid, we're trying to make the relationship legit. He had screwed up big time. I came home one day from work, and found him screwing her in my bed. Because I'm a hot-tempered person, I told my friends who live in the co-ops what he did. Maria lived in the co-op, and when I saw them together on one of my many visits there. I was there at a party, because the friends I had were school teachers and they were celebrating the end of the school year. I looked out the 23rd floor of the balcony And saw him and her walking through the courtyard. I'm not going to disclose my friends names because it would ruin their reputation, I told them that he was there. So as a practical joke they went downstairs and grabbed him up. They tied a chair to the outside of the balcony where it would hang over the edge. They placed a pillowcase over his head and sat him in the chair. He never got hurt, nor did he die. That would be the first time I would ever see a grown man piss himself.

After that happened, I was sure that he would decide to change his perspective on life. but he didn't. I was gone from him for many years, and had a child that was not his. When I was placed under investigation. I wanted to go back into the military when my son was 4. When they found out who I was, the NSA that is. They questioned me about him. About his past, And if I was still married to him. When I told them that I left him and filed for divorce and then I never got a reply back.They had informed me that my name was signed on his immigration paperwork. They showed me and that signature was not mine, after proving that the paperwork was falsified. I was granted an official divorce and allowed to go in the military again. See, what people don't know about this special situation, a lot of lies were told. I finally left him after I found a passport that had his picture but a different name. I told the NSA agents what I had found and they asked me why I did not turn him in. I told them that I didn't want anything to do with the situation period. That my relationship with him was terminated because of his cheating ways, and his secrets that he was hiding from me. I had already been arrested once in my life and I didn't want to be in trouble again. When they told me after they officially exonerated me from being part of a situation.It gave me More fuel to want to go back in the military and go overseas and kick ass.

What I was about to find out about him made my blood run cold. At the time his frequent Jersey City meetings were not what he told me. He was actually going there to plan the attacks on 9/11. When his name came up on the radar, after the attacks. They were trying to find me, to find out what I knew. But because I have been away for so many years, they realized after my exoneration that I had nothing to do with it. I didn't know that I was on the run from the government for that long. Due to my full cooperation, and my testimony after I was granted a governmental divorce, he was sent back to Morocco and now has to spend a lifetime in jail. I guess I really never had to be in the military in order to do something for my country.

As I look back at my life, I'm kind of sort of like the real Forrest Gump. That story was a fiction as mine is a fact. I never had to wear leg braces, and never had a best friend named Jenny. Many struggles have pushed me and pulled me in so many different directions. I feel as though I lived a life that has made me stronger as a person. I really never knew what I wanted, to make me happy. I was never a person to stand out, the Beauty queen, or the one everyone liked. I was really never a blip on the screen. There are some things in my life that I wish I finished. As well as things that I wish I never did. Yet without these things my life would've been pretty boring. Inside I was screaming that I wanted to be loved and hated at the same time. As I got older, I never became my mother nor my father. I never became a stand in, or a waste of time. Each step in my life gave me a glimpse of what could be and can be. I'm not entirely innocent nor I'm not entirely guilty. Life does not come with instructions you learn as you go. Even though I never had the proper upbringing of both a mother and a father. The one constant in my life that was always there was my sister. Even though for many years we never saw eye to eye,we never agreed on anything, and we both had a different upbringing. I believe she was the only one in my family that loved me. She encouraged me, helped me when I was at my lowest, and helped me grow as a human being. I wanted what she had a loving husband and children that adored her and a forever home.

I guess if you look at it In an odd kind of way, she even helped me with that. That day when she told me that I had 30 days to leave her home with my 6 year old son. I couldn't sleep, I stayed up all night and packed my stuff and I was going to leave. I didn't know where I was going to go. I didn't know what I was going to do. All I knew was that she didn't want me there anymore. I guess you felt her feelings, and I realized I was no longer welcome in her home. the next morning when she got up and had her coffee. Seeing that I had all of my bags packed, she asked me what I was doing. I had reminded her that she asked me to leave within 30 days. I was so angry with her that I was leaving that morning. I had enough money in my pocket to buy a bus ticket to Boston. Someplace I've never been before, but I wanted to be far away from what was hurting me. Up to this point in my life, I was never truly happy. I had given up so much yet had so little. I felt as though I was trapped and that I needed to do what was right for my son. Living with family for the first six years of his life was hard enough on me. I no longer had my father Nor my mother to lean on. I would say that was the biggest gut punch I ever received when I found out about my dad.

In 2008 I was in Pelion, South Carolina when I got that dreaded phone call That would shatter my budding relationship with my father. Strangely enough I had talked to my father the night before on the computer and on the phone. He told me that he was going to his chiropractor because his back was hurting. His Chiropractor was also a pastor at a local church. My father was really never into church, but for some reason he needed a shoulder and the pastor was there for him.You really never showed signs of any mental illness, but for what had happened I think he hit it pretty well. I told my father the night before that I was gonna change my life and go back into the military. Tell him about my plans and how Michelle was gonna watch Alex while I was in basic training. Her agreement was gonna open a whole new world to me. After our conversation, he said that he loved me and that he would talk to me soon. He sounded as though he was okay, but little did I know. I wish I knew what was going on with him. If only I could have been there. Even though he was never there for me. I could have changed his mind. Not even 24 hours from that last conversation I had with my dad, I received that phone call.

It was 6:26 PM July 28th I was in the middle of feeding Alex. He was three at the time. When I was handed the phone, the words of “I want you to sit down”. came through the other end. Margie had called me, to tell me that my father had died. I told her it couldn't be true, That I had spoken to him the day before, that It had to be a joke.Even to this day what I think about it feels like it was yesterday. I cried for hours, for days, for years. I felt like the clock stopped, time was running slow. When she told me that he had hung himself into a tree, I was in disbelief. I can't remember much of that night, I do remember sitting in a garden tub in very hot water crying my eyes out. That one thing I wanted to do, having a relationship with my father was taken away from me. A solid brick wall was put up in my heart. My brain just shut down the feeling of hate rushed through my body. I hated that it was her calling. All these emotions flooded me. The dam had burst, I didn't know what to do. Should I feel sorry that for the rest of my life I will never have the relationship she had with my dad. Should I hate her, for pushing her way into his life as he pushed us away. All I wanted to do was cry. It has always been hard for me to show my emotions. I wasn't allowed to show emotions growing up Because I was considered weak. I was told I needed to grow a backbone.

The day of my father's memorial service I didn't know he had so many friends. The only people that showed up from Dad's family were Uncle Bobby, Aunt Sue and my cousin Bonnie. Besides my sister, my brother and myself. I was taken aside by the pastor, he told me that my father had a lot of demons and that morning he had spoken to him about what he wanted to do. And that is the one thing that God cannot forgive you for doing, but he did it anyway. You know my brother always cried wolf, that he wanted to end his own life but he never did. You would constantly tell my father about how he wanted to kill himself Because life wasn't going the way he planned. The thing with mental illness is that it's inside of you and you don't know what's going to happen until it happens. I should know first hand. I think about losing my mother, at such a young age. As well as my father and how I couldn't help him. He probably felt ashamed about his life, or didn't want his children to bear the burden. I really don't have any fond memories Of either of my parents. Heck I don't have any fond memories of my life at all.

I guess that place where you put bad shit in the file cabinet in the back of your brain. Doesn't exist in mine. Maybe I'm so used to being pushed and pulled in so many directions, and dealing with good and bad situations. That my mind, like a ping pong table, just bounces over the net and goes away. As my now husband says, “ What is going on in that brain of yours?”. You know I really never felt love and comfort, until I met my Andrew.

The first day I saw him, I didn't know who he was or what he was about. But I knew he was going to be mine for the rest of my life. I first saw him when I was living in Lexington, Massachusetts. Him and his black T shirt, baggy jeans, driving in a black Chevy Impala. He had his baseball cap covering his face. There was just something about him. I couldn't put my figure on it, but I tell you what he did become mine, we've been married for the past seven years together for 11. There is just so much joy in my life, I'm finally happy that I found my forever love. This love story doesn't go without its troubles. When we first met, I called him a fucktard. Replying, through my wavering words he called me a bitch. I was in love and I didn't care. We were involved as friends with benefits, and boy did that piss a lot of people off. Even after I left Massachusetts. I still pursued him for almost a year. I had moved back to South Carolina. Where I got a job and I was trying to save money to move into a place. At the time I was living with my cousin, as things weren't working out very well. People were jealous, And didn't like the idea that I wasn't like them. So I needed to get out, and get my own place Because it was a very unhealthy place for my son and myself to be at. So I contacted Andrew and told him that I wanted to move back, so he rented me an apartment in Haverhill. He said he didn't want to be in a relationship because he was already in one with someone. I respected his decision and he told me that he was gonna move to an apartment on the beach. Well he never left, we ended up getting involved deeper than before. Leading to where we are now. I don't Think he really knows how much I respect him. There's a lot of times when he saved me from myself. He knew that I had a son and he didn't care but over the years he became his father. He knew that I had a lot of baggage, going into a relationship with him. He knew that I couldn't In the beginning, He knew that I couldn't trust, even though he was being very faithful to me. My first year with him was a trial. There were a lot of things that I needed to go through in my life, in order for me to be me around him. There were many times when we almost broke up because he couldn't handle my mental state. That's something I'm not going to hide, because it's true. I was always erratic, always mad and never happy. I didn't want to lose what I had with him, so I needed to seek help with my mental Illness. I've never in my life had anyone stand behind me, and pushed me to be greater than myself. On May 2nd 2017, after four years of being together we finally tied the knot. Neither of my parents nor my sister could be there. But that was the day that not only did I marry Andrew but I married his family. I have the mother and father that I never had. Sometimes, even though they can be a trial themselves I love them.

I have been seeing a therapist now for the last three years, something I should have done years ago. Mental health is not a thing to be messed with, without treatment It can lead to many outcomes.It could lead to death like in my father's case. or can lead to drug use and alcoholism like in my mother's case. With everything that goes on in the human brain, we are being programmed to be what society deems as “normal”. Show me one normal person, and I can show you all their flaws. Normal is just a term that is given to people that hold white collar jobs. They are more screwed up In the head then a person that holds a blue collar job. At least a person with a blue collar job knows what it means to survive.

Now that my child is a grown man and is seeing what life is about. He thinks he knows better and is trying to tell me how to live life. He doesn't know what life really is yet. He grew up in a society, where everything is handed to you on a silver platter. I taught him the value, you work for what you want. Going back and thinking about it I really wish that when that was taught to me they stuck with it. I remember my very first job. I begged my dad to let me have a job, But I had to find my own way to and from work. I was attending high school at the time, so I had to walk to work after school and walk 5 miles home from work. I was told that as long as I worked I could buy my own clothes for school. Also to show me responsibility I also had to pay $50 a week in rent. My very first job was working at White Castle. So after school, everyday I walked to work. I worked from 3:00 o'clock to 10:00 o'clock Monday through Friday, and sometimes the weekends. When I got my first paycheck I was excited,even though it was only 3.75 an hour. I was still excited that I had money in my pocket. I was happy that I could buy anything I wanted as long as I paid my $50 a week. So, I went to Kmart and bought the clothes I wanted to wear.It was the same clothes that everybody else was wearing in school. So I didn't see a big problem with it. But my step monster would not let me wear the clothes I bought to school. She would say that I looked like a whore and a slut and then I needed to return them. At that time, unlike now. I was a very slender 5 foot 6 ,135 lbs and wore a size 10.

I couldn't help the fact that I was growing up and that I was not a little lady anymore. No more sun dresses, no more jellies, and especially no more hand me downs. I bought a CD Walkman, but I could never listen to it. I bought my first pair of airwalk, and I wasn't allowed to wear them to school. So I wondered why I was not allowed to wear the clothes that I bought to school. My father always told me I had to obey whatever my step monster said or he was going to get an earful from her.

Sitting in the same chair that he sat in when I was 23, and told that I could not live there If I was pregnant. See he never told me that I couldn't be there, my step monster and step sister told me I couldn't be there. Guess you can always say that my dad was pussy whipped. He could never be alone, so he just let her handle my life instead of him. That day when I found out I was pregnant, it shocked me to my core. I was living at home again, this time on an inflatable cot in the middle of the living room working at Wendy's and I had no direction. Did I also mention I had to pay $200 a week to live there. Even after I turned 18 the mental games kept going on. My step sister was pissed when she found out that I was pregnant. She made it very clear she fired me from my job. It was like somehow they were enjoying the torture. Telling me things,like “ What are you gonna do? You don't have a job, you sleep in the middle of the living room and you don't even know who the father is”. I knew exactly who the father was, I would have still had a job if I wasn't fired. And most importantly I was saving up to get my own place before I found out I wasn't gonna have a child. I was kept being told that I needed to get an abortion, that I needed to get a real life. I was pretty much bashed for the same thing that Margie had done at 18. The situation was as tense as it was. Apparently my bags were already packed sitting by the front door when I got home. My father just held a blank stare looking at the television, when I asked him if this is how he felt. Seeing his own daughter being pushed away, there was no response.

Maybe my gift of observation was the only thing that kept all these memories in the front of my mind. I was raised to be seen and not heard. I was being treated like a dog that went through obedience class every day. I don’t know what was going through her head, when she would always watch me take a shower. It was a humiliation of my physical appearance and privacy when I started to develop. Whenever I would take a shower, she would rip open the shower curtain and watch me wash myself. She told me it was normal, because she was a woman herself but I felt it was creepy. Maybe she was infatuated with that kind of thing. Oddly enough she wasn't my mom, But she did see me when I was naked as a baby. Since they were quote “best friends”. Always stuck with me. You know she would fill my head with all this bullshit about my mom. She never knew that my father was still in love with my mother even though she was gone. I had a conversation with my dad one time, when I met him at a diner when he was on the road. He wanted to talk to me away from the house, while I was working at 6 Flags.He wanted me to meet him in Bethlehem PA where he was there to pick up a truckload of concrete sand. So I followed him to the concrete plant, then we drove over to the truckstop in my car, we ordered food and we had a conversation.

The conversation was not what I was expecting it to be. He was trying to ask me if I would move back home and help him take care of Shirley because she was sick. I told him that I would have to think about it, Because of all the shit she put me through. He told me it would be a big favor to him, that I didn't have to pay rent while living there. The rent free part got me. Apparently Margie and her mother got into a fight and she moved out and doesn't want anything to do with her mother at this point. Margie would not agree to help my father with her own mother by coming up with excuses. At this point my stepmother was going through kidney dialysis and was on an oxygen line through the house. I agreed to come back, I cut down my hours at work And I took her three times a week to Paul Kimball Hospital for her kidney dialysis. She wouldn't drive in my car. I had to drive my dad's El Dorado. I was figuring that she was going to die and I wanted to sit there and laugh in her face on her deathbed. I was just so angry with her, I prayed every day that she would stop breathing. My own sister found it funny when I used to kink her airline, because I wanted her to suffocate and be dead. Well as per usual, the minute Margie found out I was home at my dad's living rent free, She all of a sudden found time to take care of her mother. Moving herself, her husband and her three children back into my dad's house. Unbeknownst to me, I come home from work and find my room now occupied by her and her husband, and my stuff in the basement underneath a fold out couch. At this point I am fuming. It has been two months and three days and here I am again in the basement. Yet again, my father does not want to pull waves with anyone. Told me that I needed to, pay to stay there or I had to leave. So I left again, thank God that my sister Michelle helped me again by asking her friend Linda if I could stay at her house.

Should have known then, like I know now that I was just a pawn in their game. I was moved around from square to square, every time I had my life semi settled. Every time my life was going well, before I had my kid a life changing moment would happen and I would have to be the one to pick up the pieces and try to put it back together again. You know he never thanked me for uprooting my life so many times to do him favors. You know, the one thing that really made no sense to me was that I was not allowed to come home drunk living with them. yet they allowed Alcohol and drugs to be consumed underneath their roof by none other than my step sister. The one who was the least responsible of her own family. I don't remember a time when she did not live with us. She was able to live there rent free with our whole family. as my father busted his ass to take care of everyone. I think after the third time she lived there my father got wise to her antics. Every other time she would say that they were saving money to move out. Yet every six months they were being evicted and moved back in. There was one time she was on a program, and she knew how to use the program to her advantage. All she had to do was pay $6 a month for a townhome. She couldn't even do that. She was the most irresponsible person that to this day I will ever know.

Through my therapy, I have come to realize that the only reason why people gossip about others Is because of the green monster in the room. Jealousy has always been the center of my younger years not from me, but to me. Whenever my father tried to show me any inkling of attention, both my step monster and step sister would be jealous. I could also observe that from whenever my sister was around. If my sister ever visited with her children,they would both talk shit about what my sister was doing wrong. I think my sister knew the backstabbing that was going on behind her back.That could be a reason why I barely ever saw her growing up. I think that the fact I was not allowed to see my mothers family after my mother's passed away could also be part of that. Shirley had the strange philosophy, that because my mother passed away that gave her the right to keep me away from my mother's side of the family. In some ways I'm glad that she did that. In other ways I'm not. My Aunt Linda used to be a big part of my life, because I had cousins. When I was little, way before my mom died. We used to go to Bradley Beach and spend the weekends with my aunt and cousins Heather and David. I remember one time getting hurt because I was sitting on the bars of my cousin Heather's 10 speed and she hit a curb and I went flying about 4 feet. I remember hurting so bad that I was bruised from my hips down and my face was spelled up like a balloon. I remember going to Sunday school, with them I was learning a faith. I was learning that God was always there for you, no matter what you were going through. It may have been these stupid macaroni paintings and paper plates with glitter. But I think in some way, my mom wanted me to know I wasn't alone. Shirley used to say you can't be a sinner six days a week and try to repent on a Sunday. Growing up I always thought Shirley was the devil, I wanted to throw water on her one time to see if she would melt. The day that my father and stepmother exchanged vows it was on Halloween in 1988. I didn't even want to be there, I hated her then. I wanted to go out trick or treating, not be standing in a church and watch my father marry the worst mistake in his life. Shirley always felt that what she said would go and my father made that clear to me. I knew there was a god, And I would pray to him every day. I would ask him why? Why does she do these evil things to me? And I think I finally got my answer in 2006 once she finally died. I was sad for my father, because he lost his companion. I wasn't crying tears of sorrow, I was crying tears of joy. That her shadow of hatredness was finally gone.

She was the one person that filled me with hate. When I didn't have to hate. She was just a miserable person that wanted company. A person that you could control.Fresh blood. She was a narcissist, That wanted everything to go her way and if it didn't I was her whipping post. That day they showed up when I was in 3rd grade I wanted to be taken away. I wanted them to take me away. I just didn't want to be there anymore, and being 9 years old and scared of being in your own skin. That fear Is never reprehensible. There are so many memories of miserableness In my life that were brought upon not because I was disobedient but because she was angry and deceitful. Outlandish punishments included making me eat 3 huge salad bowls filled with chocolate three times a day for three days. All because I took a piece of chocolate from the refrigerator without asking. Making me eat a whole jar of peanut butter, because I made a sandwich without asking. It was like the crime was more the punishment than the crime itself. This may sound funny but I had to carry a rock for the whole summer because I held it over Skyler's head. It wasn't so funny, when I went back to school and I was picked on because of that. I remember one time, shortly after my brother got out of jail and he was living with us. Shirley had made roast chicken and because I wanted a second helping. She made me eat the rest of the chicken to the bone and the rest of the mashed potatoes. My brother got into an argument with her about it, and that was the only time he stood up for me. After I had to finish the food I ended up going to the bathroom and throwing it up.

You know she had everybody believing that, the reason why she was so mean to me was because I deserved it. She even turned family against me, that I didn't even know. Having a person hate you that much because they are resentful mentally fucks up a person. You are destined to believe that you will be nothing and be exactly the person they said you would be. Maybe because I was finding my own path and became wise to their shenanigans, they knew they lost me. Little did they know, I was with faith. I held the faith In believing that I could do better with myself. I held the faith that God would not be testing me In this way if I couldn't handle it. I held the faith that we were all here for our purpose. I wanted to have revenge so bad but karma did the job for me. That my friends,is faith.I know it sounds cynical or sadistic, but I'm glad that my son never met her. I'm blessed that he doesn't know my step sister and her family. I guess I got out in time, before I was deep In the cesspool that was called my family tree at the time. I'm glad that that tree was chopped down a long time ago. I can't even tell my son about his own Grandparents he had. I never knew who they really were. All I knew was that they brought me into this world. My mother needed to pick new friends, that was for sure. I can tell you is what my father used to tell me about my mom. My father never put her down the way Shirley used to. My father admitted to me that he was still in love with her even after they divorced, he was just riddled with embarrassment from her actions. He told me how they met. He was actually friends with her brother Wayne. My father's past isn't all roses and it didn't smell sweet. He told me about how he would go to a bar with Wayne outside of an army base in Tinton Falls. Wayne kept saying that he had a really nice good looking sister named Sandy.That my father should meet with her. At the time my father was in a turbulent relationship with a woman named Vera,she was his high school sweetheart. My father went into the military in 1965 and that's when his relationship with her started to hit the skids. So after many weeks, in 1967 my father met my mother at a bowling alley. He said that they made it to the parking lot and the rest is history. When my father went to his parents and told them that he was going to marry my mother because he knocked her up. They were not that happy because of my mother's reputation around town. They asked my father if he was sure he was the one that did it. My mother said yes he felt he had to take responsibility. Being that's how he was raised. I just wish more men would be like him. Now they just unload and dip, I know that from personal experience. That's why I stopped at one child. Nowadays it's no longer the mother and the father, the nice house, or the white picket fence. Not even a dog named Skip. The way my father made it sound, it was an unbelievable love story. How Romeo still loved his Juliet even after her death. I don't think I could live my life without my Romeo, they would have to make a box built for 2. The only thing left of my mom are pictures.Not even that wooden chest that she carried around everywhere she went.

When we visited my brother after the news of my mother's death. He ended up leaving everything behind when he moved. I guess he felt that we were not entitled to know who our mother was. I think a part of him died when she died. He was always in and out of jail, for one stupid thing or another. But it was mostly drugs and drug paraphernalia, but back in the 80s that was a big thing. Now it's legal. I remember one time my brother used my mother's Chevette to go buy drugs in Lakewood. I remember he owed the money, they found him and beat the shit out of him. They even destroyed my mom's car by taking a baseball bat to it. I remember my brother being so scared to get arrested, he hid in the closet when the cops came looking for him. you know he did all this shit when he was 17. You would think he would have grown up by now. He ended up with cirrhosis of the liver at 27, Hepatitis C by the time it was 40, and now he's dying in some hospital with liver and skin cancer. You would think as his sister I would give a crap. But I don’t, I'm waiting for that phone call to come identify as body. His lies through the years about the last moments of my mother's life. Has given me reason not to trust him. Everything that is going wrong with him right now is all his fault. There has been medication to treat Hepatitis C and he refuses to take it. One time when he came to me and told me that he was addicted to crack. He may have been just telling me that to get my attention. but when he did that he pulled out his pipe I took it from his hand and I crushed it on the ground. He admitted that he's done drugs intravenously, with people that he knows that had HIV. it's like on his gravestone he wants a list of everything that he's done and then everybody to feel sorry for him when he's gone. The one person in my family that I know has a lot of mental problems is my brother. He tries to use my mother's death as a crotch. But like I said previously I know that he lied about that night before my mother's death. He was so drugged out himself that he ended up calling a week after my mother died to tell us that she had died that day. I know that he's probably using meth and fentanyl because that's to do with things on the market. I've never seen my brother straight in my life .It's like he's afraid to be not high or drunk. I think he's afraid to face the reality of the world and that he's dying. His death would be brought on by nobody but himself. I think he's trying to keep up with Keith Richards.

As I sit here and write these memoirs and snippets of my life. I think about what my life would have been like if I didn't choose the path I chose. If I stuck around and kept taking the abuse and the manipulating mind games. I don't think I could ever imagine that. I only know what I lived, what I've seen and what I felt. Would I go back and erase everything back to 1981?. I wouldn't erase a damn thing, but if I can go back in time I would take this paper and show my mother what her death did to me. The falling of dominoes from one single event that I know didn't just change my life but also my sister. Both of our parents would be around to see all their grandchildren and great grandchildren grow up. Part of my parents love story would end with them sitting on a porch holding hands in their rocking chairs. Seeing us grow and thrive because they worked it out. There are many stories in many families that end like this. Due to the dysfunctionality that I grew up in. I was very fortunate not to be like my stepmother.

I think her anger started when she was a child. I would hear her tell stories About how they were so poor growing up that they had an outhouse and didn't have indoor plumbing. That I should be happy to have a roof over my head. She grew up during the Great Depression. She was older than my dad. He was born in 1947, two years after World War ended. That is a story in itself. I don't know if you want to hear it. Filled with adultery and deception. My grandmother, Doris, was married to a man, but my father and my aunt Sue are not his kids. She cheated on her husband with his cousin. While he was overseas, fighting in World War 2. This is a very long story so I will end it here. Let's just say the family tree is connected in more ways than one.

Like I said my father had a checkered past that he shared with my mom. They were in their 20s and 30s when they're over the top activities and relationship went into hyperdrive. My father was a very private person.He never shared types of stories that would make him look bad to his children. I did not know until after my father had died.That him and my mother were swingers. Yes I said that correctly. It wasn't unheard of in the 70s to do that. It was just weird to think that my straight edge father was like that. Then when they heard about AIDs. They decided it was time to stop messing around with other people. But I guess my father was the only one to get the memo. I've always thought that my mother may have contracted AIDS because of her lifestyle. But thankfully that was not the case. The years of free love were over unless you wanted to die. But like I said I think my father was the only one that got that memo Or was he. I did hear stories about my dad getting it on with some waitress at a truck stop In Bordentown. And he was still saying or even being married to Shirley. Hell he was even seeing her when I was 24. I always thought secretly it was my mom. It wasn't, but I really do wish I knew who it was.

I think there was always a secret that our father kept from us. Especially when he said to me and my sister that “we'll know in time”. Maybe that time is already here and it started us in the face and we just haven't seen it yet. I secretly wish that I had another brother or a sister younger than me. If I did I know that that kid was not being treated the same fucked way. Maybe someday I could meet them, but I think it's only a dream. Weirder things in my life have happened, so I would not be surprised. I'm just glad that my life now has some consistency to it now. I'm not constantly walking on eggshells and waiting for a frying pan to hit the back of my head. I have a loving husband, and a child who is in teenage angst. I have my own home even though some people don’t think that it’s ideal. It's ideal for us . I have two fur babies, Charlie and Rock. They depend on me every day. They help me with my anxiety, and they're there for mine and their companionship. I no longer have to get the approval of other people, like I had to my entire life. I no longer feel the need for material things. I have what I need to survive and I have love.

My lost faith is slowly creeping back into my life. Knowing that I don't have to be ashamed to have God in my life. He has always been there, but now I can praise him. All I know is that he has given me challenges that he felt I could handle. I'm not a God fearing person. I don't have a particular religion, but you don't have to if you believe. God is the same no matter what religion you practice. When I married my husband, I found out that his father was raised Jewish. So I think maybe because he is now my dad, I should go down that path. Out of all the people in the world the Jewish people are the strongest. And I have been pretty strong my whole life. I continue to be strong and hold faith close to my heart.Of the few things I have in my life, I am thankful that I have a sister that has always been there. I am thankful that I became a mom. I am thankful that I have a husband who loves me more than life itself.

So to end this paper, life is full of challenges that may push and pull us in different directions. It's our past and the lessons learned that keep us going. You may not get what you want in life, face it life is unfair and it sucks. There is never a normal, it's just a saying. All you can do is pull up your bootstraps and keep walking forward.

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