As a child, most of my life was all fun, games, friends, running around, and most of all no worries. A child never thinks about the consequences they will have to endure from the decisions they make when they are young. Some party, hang out with friends, have boyfriends, and go on dates; That's something big when we are young. The last thing on my mind was growing up. Then what seemed like all of a sudden, I was, all grown up and reality bit me right in the rear. No matter what warnings or good advice my mother gave to me, I always seemed to know everything. I have paid dearly for a decision I made when I was fifteen. It stuck with me for twenty-five years; And still continues to follow. Even though I have done things to make my life better, the decisions I made in my past will always remain.

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Life;The Beginning

As a small child, in a world of what appeared to be uncomplicated. I never thought of things like: problems, complications, or consequences. Going to school, playing, staying all night and hanging out with friends, that's what I thought about. Me and my family had our fair share of ups and downs. To me that was normal. But, I've had several things happen to me in my childhood that weren't very normal. Including things that should never happen to a child, that I will never forget; nor would I wish them on my worst enemy. I would not realize just what an affect it would have on me until later in my life.
(My mother raised me mostly as a single parent) The worse thing I ever thought I would have to encounter, was the fact that my father was an alcoholic (Boy was I wrong!). He was usually never around(In Tennesee most likely)and when he was, he was usually drunk; Arguing with my mother, sisters or brothers. My father, collapsed in our bathroom while drunk; just to have the paramedics come and tell him that if he didn't change his life-style he wouldn't reach the age of 43. My father died at the age of 43 in a jail cell when I was 9. Uncertainty of the cause still remains. My mother recieved a phone call from the police stating that they found him lying over his bunk; dead. He had bruises all over his face and the clothes we recieved had holes in the knees and elbows and his shoes were scuffed at the tips; As if he had been dragged. When questioning the last people he was suppose to be around or with, there were no answers. The bartender where he was, stated that if he told, they would close his bar down. The cab driver that he was drinking with, who called my mother to come and get him from the bar, could never be found.
A few years later my mother was hospitalized. Needless to say, for problems of her own. Raising 6 kids on her own was very hard on her. Me and my brothers were separated. They at one sisters and I at the other. Eventually, we were all back together.
About a year later, I became a teen. I didn't always listen to or agree with my mother, or her advice. As I would discover later, she only wanted what was best. Her main goal for me was, "my best interest". Of course, I didn't see it that way. I just felt like I was being told what to do(I guess that's most kids). The result? Rebellion. I believed I knew everything. The decisions and choices I would make, would prove me to be terribly wrong.

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