I Took Yesterday Off To Contemplate My Extreme Reaction To What Happened Over The Weekend

My reaction was extreme. However it was 20+ years in the making. The Gerdts’ have NEVER treated me even close to how they treated my brother. Even before my car accident. After my car accident they decided I wasn’t even worth talking to. I don’t regret sending the links, it gave me the opportunity to really see how there are no redemptive qualities with anyone on that side of the family.

I was always smarter than him, I still am, if I’m honest. I have a bigger vocabulary, I skipped a grade or two in elementary school, I always made straight A’s without even trying, whereas he’d have to work his ass off to get a C. The funny thing is though, that even though I was never good enough, I never held it against him. I was never jealous, in fact, when my brother became too much to handle, she sent him to NY to live with my father, she kept me around and fought for me, kept sending me to residential treatment, and helped me to get on the straight and narrow again, and for that I will always appreciate her. I’m not sure what will happen with the two of us, but I will always be proud of her for getting sober and always thankful for the help she made me receive as a teenager.

After my accident, I kind of had to start life over, and it was my grandpa who raised me. He was more of a father to me than my own father, and I can’t say he did a better job, but he made me feel more loved, he never made me feel as though I wasn’t good enough. He has never told me I should get my own apartment. This is the first place that ever felt like home. And actually, I did live on my own twice. The first time I moved back to NY was with my brother and his friends. I’m pretty sure he only wanted me there because grandpa would make sure we had enough money, we had a falling out and I had to sleep with my cat in my car! Then him and his friends destroyed my 36″ inch tv (which was an expensive tv, and it was considered a big screen back then. When I went to get my stuff they pretended like they didn’t have anything to put my stuff in and I had to put whatever I could fit in a garbage bag with garbage in it. That’s who he is. I should have seen it back then and written him off and never looked back.

The second time I moved out on my own, I had a roommate named Anthony, who was more of a brother and treated me like his sister while I lived there. We still keep in touch on Facebook. He had a cat named Mr. Jingles, and I had a cat named Spitfire (the only female cat I will ever own). We lived in the Bronx and Mr. Jingles took to me right away, of course he loved Anthony just as much, but he was really sweet to me as well. When we both decided to move, he couldn’t bring Jingles with him, so I offered to take him until he could have him again. I know that sounds dumb, but I know how it is to have to live somewhere without your cat and miss your cat like crazy. I had every intention of giving him back if Anthony wanted him. But then I got so attached. And he was getting the care he needed, vet visits and regular shots and stuff. I’m not saying Anthony wouldn’t do that, or didn’t do that, I’m just saying I got super attached and ended up asking Anthony if I could keep him. He said yes. And I am so grateful. Had he said no, I would have given Mr. Jingles back, it would have destroyed me but I would have given him back. Tangent, sorry.

Since then, the thought of moving out is not even an option for me. I want to fix up our house and stay here with my uncle, whom I have always been close to, and has really helped me on and off for pretty much my whole life. When I was in residential treatment we would write letters to each other, we always had a close bond, and now it’s even more. He helps me out, both emotionally and he’s helping me get straightened out financially to become more financially independent. We talked through a plan and worked it out, because when I got the summons I completely relapsed on the shopping front.

Funny, it’s the 3rd, yet I haven’t gone to any websites or have any plans to go to Walmart, Target, anywhere. I have an Amazon cart which I am paying for in Amazon Gift cards, on my uncles account because mine is sill locked. But for the first time, I’m paying. And I’m not trying to get anything else, a lot of it is stuff I need. I’m kind of proud of myself.

I’m a little worried because it is hard to concentrate and I love to read. Next month I see my old neurologist to discuss the two major head traumas and 5 concussions, at least 5. To see if I have Post Concussion Syndrome, I kind of think I do, I looked at the symptoms and I meet more than the 3 required. Of course I also have medical conditions so some of the symptoms overlap. However, since the last concussion, I’ve been having a very hard time concentrating on reading (and I am a voracious reader), I require a nap each day. It’s not fun.

Well, that’s all for right now. I hope everyone that reads this enjoys it!

Don’t forget to comment, like, follow, subscribe, and share if you care!!! XOXO

I Think I Might Be

Too depressed to even assist in my own defense. Aside from the physical issues I’ve been dealing with the events of yesterday and today have just made me feel empty. The only one on my side is my grandpa, my uncle has even decided I’m a burden or whatever. I’m empty at this point…..

I don’t even have the energy or desire to get out of bed, let alone eating, taking a shower, anything. Every thing sucks and I am done.

Update

I wrote a short blog entry saying I was not ok. And I wanted to give my readers (what few I have), an update on my condition.

I Am Not Ok

So I wanted to give an update on how I am doing and feeling. I’ll probably post two entries today because I have a LOT going on in my head right now.

Anyway, back to how I am doing. I read an article in my local paper about how the Chief of police has assigned an officer to be a “community officer” for vulnerable groups. Now, since I’m in a bit of legal trouble (I can’t go into detail), but I was a wreck I went a week without eating, I was sleeping all day. I was a mess. So after a few hours of debating on whether I should call or not, I called. And the lady got back to me right away, and she met with my the next day and she was able to really help me feel better, and she knows what I am facing. But she gave me some scenarios of what might happen, all of which are not bad. And I am feeling a lot better about things in general,

And, my primary doctor came through!! A very nice lady called and offered me a program that helps with transportation, social work, even dental work!!! I will hopefully be able to get my teeth fixed without having to use grandpa’s money!!

I am feeling super positive today!!

I’m going to put a donate button up if anyone would care to donate. I have 4 cats and they are all overdue for their exams and their shots, so anyone who would like to donate I would be extremely grateful!!!

That’s all for now, I may write another post a little later, or I might not. I want quality over quantity. I don’t want to just write posts just to write them. I want each one to be worth it.

Don’t forget to subscribe, follow, like, comment, and share!!!

My TBI- Part 2

Yesterday, I wrote a blog post about how I got my TBI and how I was raped afterwards, and I also said I detach whenever I speak about it as a coping skill, because he gets no more power over me. The things he said, and the things he did, screw him and his mom, because she did a shit job in raising him. (Breaking into windows to have sex with sleeping woman!?). Some of this story will be about he got caught and how stupid he was.

Here’s the link from yesterday:

How I Got A Traumatic Brain Injury That Still Affects Me To This Day

For a long time after I left the hospital, I had a lot of difficulty articulating my thoughts and feelings which is why it went on so long. My mom had a feeling something was going on at night which is why she locked the window each night. And I didn’t want him to be able to get in, so I locked the window, not knowing she had already done so. Every time it happened I remembered thinking to myself “How did he get in? I locked the window.’ Months later, when I was talking to a special police lady to see if I was even able to consent to sex, I realized what had been happening, and for a long time I blamed myself. But come on, I wasn’t even able to handle locking a damn window I certainly couldn’t consent. He was a fucking weirdo.

I had to start life all over again. I had to relearn how to talk, and relearn what words meant. Spoiler alert: rape is not one of the words they teach you in speech therapy. Had I been able to tell my mom it would have stopped immediately. Like I said, the TBI made me a little slow for a couple years, I had trouble articulating my thoughts and feelings, and I was so overmedicated it took A LOT to wake me up. (That psychiatrist was a bitch). And what’s real sad is that there are a lot of psychiatrists that do overmedicate their patients. Which is one of the many reasons people don’t like to take their meds.

Anyway, our lease was coming up and all we were having a family meeting about whether to stay in the complex or move. All I could get out was that we had to move we had to move. I was insistent. “We have to move! We have to move! I don’t want to stay here”.

It was a month or two after we moved to a new complex that I felt safe enough to tell my mom. I did it in the psychiatrist’s office because I was afraid mom wouldn’t believe me, or she’d get mad at me, I had a lot of fears that were all unfounded. I don’t know why I thought my mom would be unsupportive, probably because that’s how society works. We don’t ever believe women.

There really wasn’t much my mom could do except be there for me, it wasn’t like the cops would believe an outlandish story about how I didn’t wake up as he was coming into my room, or taking my clothes off, or even the beginning.

Until he found out where I moved to. He came to our new apartment and tried to open the window, except he got the wrong window! I was knocked out in my room and he was trying to get into my house. Moron. So my uncle went outside and he’s just standing there like a moron, and my uncle says to him “***** you can’t do stuff like this”. And he turned to my uncle and said “Yeah, I know. I should probably go huh, the cops are coming aren’t they?” My uncle followed him to his car and got the make and model of his car.

The cops arrived and my mom told them everything. Including what had happened at our old complex. The were unsurprisingly a little skeptical, but then my mom showed them my room and said “Wake her up.” Needless to say they tried everything from yelling to dropping stuff on the bed. I wouldn’t budge. So my uncle gave them the make and model of the car and his last name. The cops were like “Hmmm, different car than he was in a few hours ago. We know him very well, we’ll let you know when he’s in custody.” Turns out he was at his mom’s house and they got him 15 minutes later.

So he got charged, (my mom didn’t want to pursue the rape charges in the condition I was in; she was worried what a trial might do to me emotionally), but he was still charged with something and I never saw him again.

Some months later I had a couple girls contact me and told me he did the same thing to them. So much for taking my uncle’s advice huh?

5 Mistakes That Will Destroy Your Blog

I saw this yesterday on on another blog, it’s a really good read, especially for me who’s just starting out

Blogging Mistakes Blogging is such a fun way to express yourself and interact with other like-minded people. A lot of people really enjoy a lot of aspects of blogging but the one thing most people I have interacted with enjoy is the social part of blogging. The WordPress community is a truly unique place on […]

5 Mistakes That Will Destroy Your Blog

How I Got A Traumatic Brain Injury That Still Affects Me To This Day

I was a pretty bad teenager until I was 16, but that’s for another day. The important part was in 2000 I got my GED and got a full time job at Sears. I loved my job, my mom and I were getting along great. Except for when she found out I was sleeping with a 28 year old ex con. She wasn’t happy about that, but she knew how manipulative I could be and she knew very well I lied to him about my age. (I had a habit of doing that. I was 18 for like 5 years). Again, a story for another day. I had a friend named Chris and another one named Mike (we all knew each other from residential treatment). Chris and I were both out, as well as my best friend at the time, Erin. Mike was still in the treatment center but they gave him special passes to come to my birthday party, or sometimes just to hang out.

It’s one thing to mention I have a TBI in passing, its quite another to tell the story of how it happened, and how it affected me and still does to this day. There are certain parts that when I talk about them I dissociate. For instance, when I talk about how I was repeatedly raped after I came home from the hospital. I don’t think you can ever fully get over something like that, but I guess as a coping skill I pretend as though it happened to someone else and completely disassociate. I refuse to give him that power to make me cry or feel violated anymore. He’s a bastard and I heard he got what he deserved. But that’s it. He gets no more power over me or my emotions.

I started this blog to write about my experiences and how I view the world through my many disabilities, but something has been holding me back from writing this entry. I guess the fear of being judged, the fear of being looked at differently, even the fear that no one will care to read this….

So here I go. Here’s my story about my car wreck and what it did to me.

My birthday is on October 10, the only year I ever had a birthday party, and haven’t had one since. Then on October 18, 2000, Chris, Mike, and me were all hanging out when I wanted to go to a guy’s house I knew. So we got in the car, Chris was driving, Mike was in the front passenger seat, and I was sitting behind Chris. We all put on our seat belts which saved our lives. And I’d be lying if I said I was grateful we did. I’ve been living in a sort of hell ever since.

I don’t remember much of the ride really, all I remember is saying “we’re almost there”, I don’t even know if I really said that, I really can’t say definitively what happened. But I know we passed an intersection, a bad intersection where there were 8 or 9 accidents that year alone and we were the only ones that survived. I believe a cop was even killed there. So yeah it was a really bad intersection. I don’t even remember the name, all I know is it was by a school where that Bork guy that was nominated for the supreme court by Reagan but the democrats blocked him, taught. He then went and spent the rest of his days indoctrinating kids in Naples, FL. I’m just saying if you’re not good enough for a court position, you probably shouldn’t be teaching kids.

Anyway, I don’t really remember anything but I’ve heard plenty of stories over the years. Apparently, Chris ran a stop sign and the car we were in got run over by a dump truck. 8 days after my birthday (I abhor the month of October) because two years after my wreck on the 26, my grandmother (whom I called cookie died) . So when we got run over, the right side of my brain smacked into my skull. I’m left- handed so the right side of my brain controls things like talking, writing, walking, etc.

I had no id on me, but I was wearing a nameplate necklace that said “Shannon” and I had a pager, and my mom had paged me pretty close to the time of the accident. Apparently I was in and out of consciousness and the paramedics asked me what my name was and I answered “Joan”. Not sure why, maybe I was just being my sarcastic self, or maybe I thought I was in trouble. Who knows.

I flew by helicopter to the hospital, and the doctors and nurses weren’t sure if I’d make it through the night. So Florida people being Floridian idiots called the last number who paged me (my mom) and said something to the effect of “we have a 15 year old girl here, (I was 17, but I always looked young for my age) we’re not sure if she’ll make it through the night. Do you have any idea who this girl is?”. That’s the voice mail my mom got when she got a break from the college she was going to.

It wasn’t like me to not answer pages from her quickly. Like I said, I had gone to a couple residential treatment programs and the second one really helped me work through my issues and got me on the right medication. I worked full time to help mom with the bills, it was completely out of character for me to ignore her pages.

I was on a ventilator for a day or two when the doctors wanted to take me off because I would have become dependent on it. I started cursing at the doctor and the doctor told my mom “don’t worry profanity seems to come back first”. To which my mom replied “I really can’t tell the difference”.

Of course she rushed to the hospital and called my brother, who had a hernia operation scheduled for the next day. He put that on hold and drove to Florida to see me. I don’t remember him being there. But I’ve heard the stories about how I was on an all liquid diet and yet he fed me cheese fries, and got me to read his cup that said circle k, he was in a little bit of denial.

Others came to see me, my bosses at work, my friend Erin, staff from the program Mike was in (because I was there twice). I was in and out of the coma but all I remember from the time was my grandmother and grandfather (whom I now live with) called me everyday. I had no idea who anyone else was.

When I came out of the coma for good, the first thing I said was “I have to get to work!” In my slurred speech. Then I looked around and had no idea where I was or what had happened. I didn’t understand why my speech was slow and slurring, why I wasn’t allowed to get out of bed, I had no idea what happened, it had to be explained to me.

The doctor explained that since I’m left handed and the right side of my head smacked my skull I was the equivalent to a stroke victim. I couldn’t walk, write, I had trouble reading (which growing up in an abusive house with an alcoholic mother, reading and writing were my escapes), I talked slow and slurred, I was kind of slow for the next few years.

I do remember one time my first stepdad was supposed to come visit me and he never showed up. So when I got him on the phone he said “well the last time I was there you didn’t do anything so I didn’t think it was a big deal”. Trust me he’s a whole post of his own. But that was my life. I lost everyone, except my job, my mom, my uncle who had flew down to Florida to help my mom, and my grandpa who came down to relieve my uncle for a bit.

They wouldn’t let me out of the hospital until I could walk again. Bastards. I wanted a walker! Because when people look at me they can’t tell anything is wrong. It’s only when I start to speak with my dysarthria voice and how slow I talk people. people assume I’m slow, or assume I’m drunk.

When I fully came out of the coma I decided I wanted to go home by Thanksgiving. The nurses and doctors were all like “we don’t think that’s going to happen”. So I answered like I always do “challenge excepted”. Then I got to work. And worked my ass off to learn how to walk again, and I was able to read again, go to the bathroom by myself. Although, my mom did have to buy me a shower chair and get a special shower head put in, and I had no reflexes. But I proved the doctors and nurses wrong and made it home by Thanksgiving. Because that’s what I do, I’m a survivor and I prove people wrong.

When I got home, the cat my mom had adopted especially for me as a reward for completing treatment. Wanted nothing to do with me! Apparently when she went to adopt a cat , the cat, named “Lady” reached her paw out and grabbed my mom. She was always my mom’s cat. I didn’t realize until 2013 when I adopted Mr. Cat, that cats sometimes pick there owners.

Which I should have realized because asshole , I mean stepdad 1, had a cat named Dink, and when he brought her to our house she chose me. She became my cat real quick.

So I started looking in the paper and found an add where there were two female cats for adoption and the guy wanted to keep them together. I could never separate my four kitties. One I got on his two month birthday and 2 well they weren’t more than a month or two old (their mom abandoned them or something happened to her). Regardless we are one happy kitty family.

So my mom took me to the guy’s house and he wasn’t insistent on keeping them together, because when I said I could only have one he was like “ok”. I had a choice between “Skittles” and “Spitfire” I chose Spitfire right away because she came up to me and let me pet her but more importantly she was born without a tail. I remember saying to my mom “I want Spitfire because she’s handicapped like I am”. I loved that cat so much. But my cats are another entry. Back to my story.

I remember when my grandfather was down in FL so my uncle could go back and get things in order so he could move down to FL, I loved going for walks, but no one would let me go by myself because I didn’t have reflexes. If I fell, I fell straight down. So, one day my grandfather took me for a walk to the Circle K by my house and on the way back we were so close to my door but I fell, and my reflexes worked!! They came back and I was so happy.

I had been going to physical therapy, occupational therapy, and speech therapy and I was so frustrated because it seemed no matter how hard I tried I wasn’t making progress. So I made up some stupid excuse to my mom and uncle and stopped going. I felt I would never be back to the way I was before the car accident, and the doctor had said I would make the most progress the first six months (which turned out to be a bunch of bull because I after I moved in with my grandfather in MA is when I started really making progress).

I know I said I’m not giving my rapist anymore power and I really don’t think this is. I just want to explain how it was able to happen. I had a psychiatrist I was seeing before my accident, and I saw her after. For some reason every time I saw her after my car accident she increased my medication. I was so over- medicated that sleeping in my bed I wouldn’t wake up until he was 1/2 way done! Now, every night my mom locked my window, I also locked it. It turns out I didn’t know my mom was locking it, I thought I was, I really thought I was, I didn’t want it to keep happening! But my slowness, confusion whatever you want to call it, had my unlocking the window. I blamed myself for that for a long time. Now I blame being over medicated, and his moronic ass. Who does that? I mean really who opens windows, climbs in, and starts having sex with a girl knocked out on meds? Fucking moron.

Although, I never lost my personality, which at the time they said was an unusual thing. But that did not stop me from losing every friend I had, even my dad’s side of the family decided they wanted nothing to do with me. I wasn’t happy I survived. I had lost just about everything within 6 months. Me and my mom weren’t getting along. I was done. I didn’t want to be alive anymore. The day of my suicide attempt I told my manager at work “I think I’m putting in my notice” and I was having trouble holding back tears. My mom wasn’t supposed to come home that day but she heard something in my voice. By the time she had gotten home I had taken all the pills I had and was blasting Papa Roach’s song “Last Resort”. Don’t really remember much after that except I remember stumbling to her room mumbling something about Tegratol.

My mom has PTSD but it wasn’t known at the time, so when I brought home someone that triggered her, she told me I had to move out. For a long time I blamed her and thought “what kind of parent kicks their head injured daughter out?” It wasn’t really like that though and I understand it a lot better now.

So I found a roommate (bad idea she stole a bunch of my stuff), and we moved into an apartment. Now when I moved in the lights were on! I didn’t know I had to call FPL and get the energy put in my name. I should not have been living alone.

So I called my brother and asked if I could move in with him. My dad had decided to try being sober again and wanted a fresh start. So we both moved in with him. I was not taking medication at that point because I didn’t want to be over-medicated again. It wasn’t too long before I became a burden to him and he kicked me out. In fact the night before I left, he wouldn’t let me stay in the house and made me stay out on the streets of long island. He’s a dick, and I have come to terms with that.

So even though my grandmother had just died a few months before, when I called my grandfather, he didn’t hesitate to let me come stay with him. Originally, the plan was I would stay about two weeks while I found a place in NY, although I couldn’t have Spitfire up here because I didn’t have a bedroom. But when my uncle moved out I moved into the basement, and grandpa said I could have her if she stayed in the basement. Now my cats get to run around the house all day. But they are so good. At 9:30 pm they all come downstairs and hop into bed with me.

When I first moved in with my grandpa, he got me put on ssdi, bought me a really nice day bed, paid for driving lessons. My mom and most of my family were against me driving but I really wanted to drive. When I first came up here all I had was a garbage bag full of clothes, and my grandpa replaced my wardrobe. For the first time in my life, I felt like I had a home. He got me everything I needed and more.

I was having nightmares and sleepwalking, but I was hesitant to see a psychiatrist after what happened in Florida. But I saw my psychiatrist and luckily he does NOT believe in overmedicating. I do take a lot of medications but most are for medical conditions: vasovagal syncope, IBS-D, Inappropriate Sinus Tachycardia, etc.

I do take a mood stabilizer and an antidepressant but he didn’t start prescribing those until a few years after I started seeing him. And my therapist had a say as well.

I still feel like I see the world through the eyes of a 17 year old. I’m not as mature as other people my age. I still struggle with dysarthria, I still talk slower than most, (and believe it or not people are very judgmental, they hear someone talk slow the automatically think I am slow). If it wasn’t for the clonazepam I would still have to deal with intention tremors and probably wouldn’t be able to handwrite. I am still dealing with severe short term memory loss. If it wasn’t for the fact that I stay home and take care of my grandpa, I don’t know where I would be or what I would do.

I do have two friends and I think that’s enough. They have known me since I moved up here. And they have never let me down, talked about me behind my back, and never held my mental illnesses or my TBI against me.

I’ve tried to work regular jobs, but they have never worked out. I can tell when someone is treating me different than everyone else. And it’s usually not in a good way. That’s why I want to be a writer. I’ve always had a vivid imagination and I have a lot of ideas for books. I think I’d like to write young adult fiction.

I made so much progress living up here (I even taught myself to run), I have a 3.95 gpa in college, although I am one class short of my associate’s degree.

I stopped dating because I always put my all into relationships and all that happens is guys take advantage of me. That and I need 25,000 worth of dental work. My car accident fucked up my teeth, and we tried to fix them with crowns and implants but I grind my teeth at night and during the day so I ground the crowns right off. So I need to get special dentures. Thank goodness we’re all wearing masks when we go places.

I’m sure there are some things I have forgot to mention, but I think this covers most of it.

Please like, follow, share, leave some comments, subscribe, and feel free to ask me anything!!

XOXO

My Estranged Grandma

The last blog I only touched on my grandma. And our relationship turned toxic, so toxic in fact I went to court and had my last name legally changed. (I do not regret it). However, I would like to talk about the good things I remember about her. She wasn’t all bad. And I believe she cared about me in her own way. And despite everything, I always had a place in my heart for her. And even though she was not in my life, I miss her.

I remember when my brother and me were young, my grandma and grandpa would take my brother and me to the Poconos, at their vacation house. It was so fun. My grandma taught me how to cross-stitch and latch hook. Which really helped me in my recovery from my car wreck. I have some fond memories of her.

And I am focusing on them. I also remember her taking me to see “Save the Last Dance”. Most of the guys I have dated have been African American, and that side of the family, well let’s just say they don’t approve. I was hoping that movie would demonstrate to her how you can’t help you fall for, or help who you fall in love with. (It was a bust, but I had fun going to the movies with her).

She will always have a place in my heart. I don’t know if there is an afterlife, but if there is I hope she has found peace and she’s with my grandpa now. (my dad’s dad). I didn’t think it her death would hit me so hard, but it has. And I choose to remember the fond memories, instead of how it was the last couple of years.

I love you grandma and grandpa and I hope you are both resting in peace.

So anyone who reads this, I would like to know what types of blogs you would like me to write about. My mental illnesses, my head injury, my mom who never gave up on me as a teenager. Anything you would like to know about me, I’m basically an open book. “Ask Me Anything”. I do plan on doing a blog post on Allison Burnett whom I consider a mentor and who is one of the nicest twitter pals ever! His books and movies are wonderful!! I’ll do a post just on him.

Please subscribe, share this blog if you’d like, leave me a comment, and don’t forget to like 😉

XOXO!

Shannon Marie!

I Am Not Ok

Lately, as the days get closer to my arraignment, the more of a fog I seem to be in. I’m not eating, I feel like the tiniest thing is a herculean task. I’ve had no luck finding representation yet, and if it wasn’t for my grandpa I would have given up a long time ago.

Blogging Article

I really enjoyed this article and thought I would share it. Check it out 🙂

https://growingwithspawn.com/5-things-bloggers-wish-they-could-say/

Me and My Mom (part 1)

My mom and I at times have a very contentious relationship, we fight like mothers and daughters do. Even to this day as I’m an adult (kind of), I’m starting to realize I’m a lot more like her than I’d sometimes care to admit. We’ve had a lot of obstacles we’ve both had to deal with. She is a recovering alcoholic, sober since November 7,1995. And I am so proud of her. When she was drinking as I was growing up well life wasn’t so wonderful, but I’m a big believer in the “butterfly effect”. By which I mean if she hadn’t been drinking and abusive and married an abusive racist jackass, then I wouldn’t have turned out to become who I am. And yes, I have issues that I am working on, and I’m trying to get better, but overall I like who I’ve become.

I remember she when she first got sober she left stepdad #1, and moved my brother and me to Naples, Florida. I had to leave the gym I had been at for years (gymnastics), I didn’t like my new gym, and all of a sudden she was taking an interest in my life trying to tell me rules and stuff! I mean seriously, how dare she start to act like a parent that cares!? (😂 )

At my new school I fell in with the wrong crowd, which really wasn’t hard to do considering I was younger than everyone else in my grade and most of the kids in my grade didn’t really want to hang out or be friends with the kid that was a year and a half to 2 years younger, even though I was in the same classes, I was just as smart if not smarter. Regardless, the only ones that wanted to be friends with me were the people that were all mostly in prison by the time I was 16.

The eighth grade is the beginning of my mom and me constantly fighting. I was a little brat that felt that she didn’t get to just stop drinking and become a parent. I felt like I didn’t have to listen to her.

I remember in the eighth grade, how me and two other 8th graders went into the bathroom with a 7th grade girl because she had iced tea with coconut rum in it. So we all drank it and got buzzed and then in the next period we were brought to the vice principal’s office. Me and him had a past the dislike was mutual but looking back, he had my number. He knew how manipulative I can be and he was one of the few people that knew I would lie and manipulate to help my cause.

So the four of us were in the vp’s office the 7th grader was crying uncontrollably (she got arrested) and my other two friends were just kind of skulking there, so I said “What’s going on?” and the vice principal went into a long diatribe about how the three of us were going to get 10 out of school suspensions and a bunch of other nonsense that I wanted no part of. I looked him dead in the eye and said “she (the 7th grader) told me it was iced tea, I had no reason not to believe her, so why are we getting punished for being duped?” He was not having that and after a few minutes of back and forth I’d had enough. I looked at my 2 friends and said “you have the right to remain silent…. use it! Until I get back” the vice principal then said something like “I’m not done with you where do you think you’re going?” To which I answered “Over your head, you four-eyed midget!” (Karma: I’ve been wearing glasses for the last 10+ years. Be careful what you say to people).

I then went and found the principal and went into my “I thought it was just iced tea”. Threw in the sad eyes and reminded him of how well I did in school and the fact that a 10 day Out of School suspension would destroy me as I wouldn’t be able to make up the work. He then stepped in, sent the three of us 8th graders home and said we’d have to meet him in his office the next morning because we were drinking alcohol on school grounds.

So I went home and my mom, who was working nights at that point, woke up and said something about me getting drunk at school and I said “I thought it was iced tea” to which she replied “Bullshit” I’ll be honest it was kind of hurtful that my own mother wouldn’t give me the benefit of the doubt, but the school’s principal did. Of course my mom could see right through me even then, that was just the beginning of our journey during my teen years. There are a lot more stories to be shared and they will be. And it’s funny how back then I saw her actions one way, but now as an adult I’m able to see them for what they were. Two completely different perspectives.

Like I said, my mom will be a series and this is just the beginning….

However, to finish the story, we ended up getting one day of in-school-suspension and 2 days out-of-school suspension. And the principal spoke with my teachers and I was able to make up the work…..

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