Who am I?

I am going to start this out by giving you a little history about me. I grew up in a big town in Oregon. Growing up, i was a handful. Why? Well probably because i was always shuffled from house to house, because no one wanted to deal with me. It was easier, to just move me in with someone else rather than show me the love I so badly longed for.  Which is more than likely Why I acted out for.  The one man who never walked away from me, or turned his back on me was my Grandfather. In fact he was the only one. My father was and always will be an abusive alcoholic. He always wanted a boy, but i was a girl so he dealt with it for a while. He would take me with him hunting and fishing always drunk. I do not ever remember a time growing up when my father did not have a beer in his hand. My mother was always worried about what man she was going to bring home next to support us.  She did try, bless her heart, to be a mom later in my life….but by than the damage was done.  At the age of three my parents got divorced. I don’t really remember much before they got divorced. I do remember them always fighting, I remember my mom getting angry when my dad didn’t show up on his weekends because she had some big getaway weekend planned with some random guy. My little brother was born when I was coming into my teenage years. My dad and his new girlfriend had what they wanted now, and it was time for me to go. So my dads girlfriend kicked me out of the house one day while my dad was out-of-town. I had nowhere to go. My mom was miles away. I was almost 13, and hated her and at this point the world.  I ended up moving in with a woman who my dad was friends with.  I lived there for a while.  When my father returned I remained at his friends house for quite a while. Until he decided he wanted me home, so I could be a slave and babysitter. As you can guess this didnt work out for long. My dads girlfriend ended up leaving my dad and taking my brother with her. Of course my dad took it out on me. The drinking got worse, he was using drugs, and had to take his anger out on someone. So who else…but me. He would physically and mentally abuse me. He would lock me in my room for days with no water, no food, and no bathroom. I ran away. The cops found me and brought me back to that hell hole. Not caring what I had told them what was happening at home. Not even looking into it. It didnt change anything in fact it only made it worse. He screwed my windows and door shut. I remember at one point when he was home and I was not on lock down, he would drink all day, passout for a few hours, wake up go to the Bar, come home and pass back out. This was a daily routine from the time he woke up to the time he passed back out. So while he was passed out during the day i would gather all the empty beer cans and take them to the local grocery store, in my wagon, get my little voucher for .5 cents per can, and buy myself food. Our fridge was always bare, because he never bought food, only beer.  So this was my way of getting to eat. I averaged a total of $20.00 every other day at .5 cents per can. I’m sure you can do the math. Whatever was left, I would go and have myself a treat. My grandmother on my dad’s side was always so bitter. I remember her always being so mean to my grandpa. I even watched her Hit him over the head with a cast iron frying pan.  In my years growing up I remember always sitting with my grandpa in his recliner. Watching baseball games, the horse races, or some science show. That was always my favorite place to be. I was definitely a grandpa’s girl. During Christmas the tree was always packed full. I would search the presents, but never found one with my name on it. There were lots for my cousins, even my brother, but not me. Yet every Christmas my grandpa would go in his room (My grandparents had separate rooms and seperate beds) and bring me out my one present. I remember watching my cousins and brother shredding the wrapping paper on gift after gift. While i sat in my grandpa’s lap holding on tight to whatever he had got me. I was content, but was so angry. If i cried my grandmother would curse at me. So i held back the tears. Birthdays were no different. Only i never had to watch anyone else open any thing. My grandpa would get me my present and i would snuggle up in his arms. I do not ever remember a time when my grandmother even acted like, she even remotely liked me.  The final breaking point was when i broke the window at my dads house and took the drugs to the police dept hoping this would force them to take him to jail and get me out of the hell hole i was living in.  My dad was passed out and had no idea. I walked down to the police department. Layed the drugs down and explained to them how bad my living situation was.  The chief of police laughed at me and told me to take my dads stash back home and put it back where i had found it. I went back home and did what he said. A short time later that same chief of police called my dad and told him what i had done. I remember the beating so bad. I remember him grabbing me by my hair and flinging me around like a rag doll. To this day i do not know who called the police, i can only guess it was probaly the sweet elderly couple next door, where i would go and pick blackberries with. The cops showed up, and my dads anger turned on them. My dad was maced, that night, and was arrested. Not for child abuse, or illegal drugs, but for assaulting a police officer. By now i was 14 years old and weighed less than 100 pounds. Not only because i was small in size but because i was extremely malnourished. The police sent me back to stay with my dads friend, and my mother was called. She at this point had moved to Texas. So my grandmother on my moms side came and got me, she lived 3 hours away. I stayed with my grandmother for about a month until my mom flew up to get me. We met my mom and stayed in a hotel that night until our flight left the next morning. The next morning we got a wake up call that our house in Texas, had been burnt to the ground. I’ll never forget that night. In time my mom bought a nother house. And we moved into it.  This is where the next chapter in my life started, and I will continue this into my next blog.