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6 years without contact
September 8, 2015
12:39 am

 I'm 26 and I haven't spoken to either of my parents for 6 years. As my husband and I are preparing for our fourth child it has been on my mind a lot lately. This isn't the first time I've went without contacting them but it's been the longest. However, this time I'm not the only family member to cut ties. Starting at the beginning, my father is an alcoholic and has been since before he and my mother ever got together. My mother has always been into drugs. Both of them had pretty bad upbringings themselves so it isn't surprising that they self medicate. I have 2 older brothers and they both have different fathers. By my mothers own admission, she was easy and would sleep with anyone willing to help her get high. (When she told my dad she was pregnant with me he demanded she get an abortion because he was convinced I would have a mental or physical deformity. My oldest brother was born missing most of his left hand but I don't know if that actually had anything to do with drug use or if it was just an anomaly.) Our lives were full of chaos growing up. My dad was verbally abusive to all of us and physically abusive to my mother and brothers. I was spared when I was younger because I was my fathers favorite. (We didn't find out until I was 9 that he wasn't my brothers biological father which was the reason I was favored.) It was normal to us when mom and dad would be in the kitchen fighting and screaming while we were in the living watching cartoons. It was normal for my mom to have bruises and black eyes and have to burn her ripped and bloodied clothes after my dad had finally passed out. My brothers didn't fare much better with him. He would beat them without mercy with anything he could reach until it broke and he had touse something else. That was the only time I was scared of him when he would do these things to my brothers. I remember I would hide in my closet and usually end up falling asleep. Many times after theses incidents my mom would wait for my dad to leave and then haul us off to our grandparents (his mom and stepdads) where I can vividly recall my grandfather telling her to leave but my grandmother telling her to get over it and let it go. She denies saying to this day and swears that if she knew it was going on she would've put a stop to it. Fast forward to my teenage years, my brothers were out of the house before I was in high school and my mom had taken to spending her days locked in her bedroom while my dad spent all his time in the garage. Things seemed to settle down between them but being the only one to interact with my mother on a regular basis I got to see who she really was. Sometimes she would invite me into her room to watch tv with her but it would only end up with her telling me that her life would've been better off if she'd aborted me like my dad told her too. Or that I was the reason she and my brothers were treated so badly by my father. And every time she said something to upset me my would tell me it was my own fault for talking to her. "You can't pet a rattlesnake and wonder why you got bit," was the one thing he said that always stuck with me. However, he wasn't innocent either. On more than one occasion I was called a stupid, lazy bitch just because I wouldn't come home from school and do all the house work on top of my homework when my mom had a job. (She was hopelessly lazy and would go for days at a time not doing laundry or dishes.) Not to say I didn't help out with the housework but when he was unemployed and his only excuse for leaving it to me was because I'm a female and it was my place was pretty ridiculous. The first time I refused and told him I had homework he called my grandmother and had her come to our house to lecture me. She said that women didn't need to worry about an education when there was a man to be taken care of at home and since my mom was working it was now my responsibility to take care of my dad. The second time, I was dragged into the kitchen by my hair and told I would do as I was told or else. He proceeded to to go into the next room and call my mom at work and tell her to get home and deal with "the little bitch" or he was going to kill me... And that's just some examples of what it was like growing up with them. I was physically abused but not as often and it didn't really start until my brothers were out of the house. I am the only one who ever sustained injuries. Three cracked rib on one occasion, a fractured wrist on another. My mom lied to everyone about it like she did whenever she had marks. Not to mention the time she let me lie in my room for almost a month vomiting continually. She kept telling my dad and everyone else I was faking because I didn't want to go to school. Turned out my gall bladder had to be removed. My dad had my boyfriend at the time take me to the er after I started vomiting blood. My mother refused to go with us and adamantly stated that they would send me home because there was nothing wrong. When they decided to transport me the next morning to a bigger hospital for the surgery, she showed up with tears in her eyes telling the nurses she had been begging me for weeks to go to the doctor because she knew something was wrong. I was 16 at the time and when I recovered from the surgeries I moved in with a friend and didn't return until I was 19. My grandma called me and asked me to go see my dad because he was sick. It seemed like a good time to reconcile as I had just became pregnant with my first child and wanted my child to have a family. (Her sperm donor didn't want anything to do with her and neither did his adoptive family.) So I ended up moving back in with them which was a big mistake. My dad was happy I was home. My mother was not. She started complaining how it wasn't fair that I got to move back home just because I was pregnant but my oldest brother (in and out of jail for drugs, theft and a whole list of other things) wasn't allowed to come over. She would get mad that my dad and I would spend time together. Once again they started fighting and shortly before my daughters first birthday the had the worst fight I'd ever seen. Long story short he threatened to take a whole bottle of pills with a bottle of whiskey. She took the pills from him and ran to my room to call the cops (thinking because he was so drunk he couldn't climb the stairs.) I had to step in between them and try to calm him down. When all the yelling woke my daughter up I was afraid he'd go after her so I did the only thing I could do and I hit him. He went down the stairs and broke his arm. The chain of events that was set off after was horrible. He basically chose my drug addled mother his children and grandchild. They moved in with my uncle who sent me a bunch of nasty texts telling me how horrible I was for what I had done. But after about 3 of them being there he kicked them out too and apologized. From there they went to live with my oldest brother and his girlfriend to the same end. I haven't spoken to them since the night my dad was hauled away in an ambulance and my mom stood in the yard telling me it was all my fault they never got along. At first I was angry and heart broken but now I think it was for the best. If they could get clean I would love to try to reconcile. But sadly, I know that will never happen. I heard from my aunt that my dad had a bout with cancer a couple years ago and I'm happy he's ok but it makes me sad to know I wasn't there for him. Maybe someday.

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