The Post Where I Tell To Much of the Truth

Yeah, I really do.

I have had mental health issues for as long as I can remember.

It has everything to do with the way I grew up and all the mental health issues that run in my family.

My childhood was 85% bad and 15% good. The good parts was all the time I spent with my grandparents. They kept me a lot when I was little, probably up until the age of 11 or 12. That's when I started hanging out with friends a lot more and heading down a horrible road.

I had sex for the first time at age 12, it was October of 1992 and it was with an 18 year old boy and it was a one night stand. Also at age 12 I had been smoking cigarettes for about 2 years, I had my first experience with alcohol. A fifth of Fire Water. Yum. I got so sick. I had alcohol poisoning. My mom bought the bottle to celebrate her graduation from her DUI classes. Right there should tell you how my child hood went.

From grades 4-7, my house was a non stop party place. My mom would have so many people over all the time. They were drinking, smoking pot and I am quite sure there was many illegal drugs involved.

I remember having to put furniture in front of my bedroom door so me and my sister could sleep safely without worrying that a stranger was going to come in the room.

When I was 11 I caught the gay man that was living with us having sex on our couch.

When I was 12 I was molested by my mothers 24 year old boyfriend. And still to this day my mother will not accept it. When I told her, I got in so much trouble. I have learned to keep my mouth shut around her.
I remember when I was about 10, my mom pushing me so hard my heels made an indent in the wall.

I remember having to go to friends houses or my grandma's house just to eat. But if you ask my mom, she will tell you that we always had food on the table.

I remember stealing from the Dairy Mart because I was so hungry and my friends were sick of me eating there food and I couldn't get to my grandma's house.

I remember calling Children Services numerous times and them coming out to investigate and leaving finding nothing. If nothing, my mother is one heck of a liar. She lies so much that she actually believes her own lies.

I remember running away, the police brought me back, and about half hour later I asked my mom if I could go to a friends house and she let me. She just didn't care.

I remember was I was 7 we were having a yard sale. My dad came home in his red truck and he was drunk and he started to physically fight with my mom in the front yard while all kinds of strangers watched.

I remember the few times my dad actually came and picked us up. It was always the same bowling at Coloniel Lanes then Dairy Queen at Six Corners, then home.

I remember one of the last times I saw my dad. Christmas Eve of 1999. At Fancy Dans donut shop. My sister was working and my dad asked that we all meet him there. He showed up in dress clothes, a leather vest and really nice black cowboy looking boots. He gave us each a card with $50. After that, I saw him September 2007 while he was living at the Haven Of Rest, a local homeless shelter.

I remember is high school, sleeping with so many boys. I just wanted to feel needed. I needed to feel pretty. I needed for someone to love me and not reject me. I needed someone not to leave. But they always did. Always. And if they didn't leave, I would cheat on them because I knew they were eventually going to leave.

I remember ruining my first marriage because of trust issues. My ex husband and I never talked. We drifted apart. I prepared my self for him leaving, that he actually did. My ex was a good person. He never hit me, never got nasty with me. Granted, after I asked for a separation, he did cheat on me and get some one else pregnant. And all I thought was "see, score one for me, I knew it, I knew it, no matter what, he was probably going to leave anyways".

I am not trying to get anyone to feel sorry for me or anything like that. I have some issues that I am working through and I am a mess. A freakin mess. I thought I was doing really well then I had to see my mother this past weekend. Being in her house made me so uncomfortable. My memories came rushing back. The pain, the sadness, the regret, it all came back.

I had a crappy childhood and I have to constantly work to make my kids childhoods good. I have to break the cycle. I need to be a good mom. But you know what, I don't always know how. I find myself resorting to things my mom used to do and I find my self talking to my kids like she used to talk to me. My kids deserve better then that. I am trying, I really am. I want to be a good mom. I want to give my kids all the things that my mom and dad could not give me.

But being in that house took me 20 steps back. I have been sad and depressed since Saturday. I am angry. I am angry because she still thinks we had this wonderful childhood. She still thinks we had food on the table. She thinks I was a virgin until high school. She thinks her boyfriend was not a child molester. Sometimes I really think I hate her. Sometimes I wonder how I would feel if she died. Would I cry? Would I really care?

She barely knows my kids names. She still calls Landon "Logan" sometimes. She has only been to one birthday party for the boys. And that was Landon's first birthday. He will be 4 this year and Chase will be 3. She has been to 3 of Emma's parties but she will be 8 this year.

I feel dumb. I have tears streaming down my face as I write this. I thought I was ok. I thought I was ok. My heart hurts. I just want to be done with this. I want to be done thinking of my childhood. I want to be done being upset with my mother and father.

I don't know what I hope to get out of this post. I guess I just needed to say some things and just get it out of my head. Which is what a blog is for right?