Growing up was hard. I come from a Caucasian mother and Jamaican father. Their relationship was short-lived ,although many would say it was a”fling”. Out of that “fling” I came. Being a young girl living in a home with only mother , grandparents , and uncle whom we’re all loving I still found myself searching. Searching for love and acceptance.
My father, however, was only 30 mins on the other side of the city. Being a man in the early 90’s , he told me stories of drug dealing and hustling. Oh yeah , and having all the women he wanted. I wondered … “Did he think about me?”
As I got older and older my mother grew more darkness inside of her. I couldn’t understand what was happening to her. She was becoming irritable , her anger was becoming for short fused , and her need for substances became more prominent.
I knew she loved me , but why did she try to end her life in front of her baby girl? … If I wasn’t there to cry and hold her and tell her how much I needed her, then that night may have been.
As my grade 7 school year approached I was being anti social just riding my bike everywhere just to escape the household.
I came home , tools shower to prepare for school and as I walked back to my room all I could see was a flash of light! Right on my wet back , the hardest most painful smack. I ended up in the ground crying in pain. As I turned around to figure out what was happening there was my mother in a drunken rage. For no reason she was trying to fight me. We scuffled for a bit and I was pinned down and bitten.
The next day I went to school , where I had been questioned and visited by children’s aid. The teachers and neighbors and loved ones have built a case against my mom and the was the breaking point. I was taken from my mother and the only home I knew and put to live with my father.
Living with my father , oh yeah I was so excited. Excited to have brothers and my dad. The excitement soon faded into disappointment and frustration. My father wouldn’t be home , or spend time with us, I was the new mother to my brothers . When high-school started I enjoyed it. I was popular and I like the school work also , teacher were fond of me. I started to ask about hanging with my friends in which I was told no almost every time. I rebelled 100%.
I started dating and hanging out after school against my father’s permission. We butt heads and I moved out at 16.
My current husband and I have lived together raising our young family since.
So even when the odds have been stacked against me , I struggle everyday with my parents and I relationship. I think about it, but I can’t keep dwelling because my sons need me to be strong and focused for them.