OK, I keep hinting that there is something that might help if I tell you a little bit about growing up in my household. There are still more stories on bad things that have happened to me with men, and I will get those out eventually. Just like this little blog on my childhood will only be a speck to what all I grew up in. So let’s rip the band aid off.
My household growing up was filled with drugs. My mom was a user and a dealer. The drug was cocaine. To this day, I can say I have only smoked pot and drank. Seeing my mom live her life like this as well as so many other family members, drugs were just not really on my list. And to be honest, outside of cocaine and pot, I am not 100% certain I could identify any drugs. I am not sure if that is a good or a bad thing. But it is what it is.
I knew which family members and which friends of the family were on drugs from a very early age. I can remember being 5 and seeing coke on the coffee table in my mom’s room. At the time, I was not aware what it was. At about 8 I figured out for sure what my mom and all the others were doing. When I was around 5 or 6 I saw white powder on one of my mom’s dressers and I for some reason thought it was sugar. That was the first and last time I ever tried cocaine. Let me tell you, it tastes nothing like sugar….LOL
A typical day in my house would consist of my mom sleeping until who knows when. My brother and I would wake ourselves up, get ready for school, there was usually a few bucks for lunch and we would walk to school. If you woke up late, waking up my mom to drive us was not something we ever wanted to do. My mom had a part time job working for herself cleaning houses. She would do this a few times a week and then every night she would go out drinking until the bar closed. At 2:30am every morning, I would be woken up to my mom getting sick. You would think she would know her limit….LOL When I was younger, she used to drive me to my grandma’s where my grandma and her would go out drinking and then every night I was woken up a little after 2am to be put in the car for my mom to drive us home. And every night at about 2:20am when we would pull up to our house, I would tell my mom I am sleeping in the car. I never did. I would get to sleep and then be woken up by my mom getting sick. Boy was I tired as a child and very thankful when she finally realized being alone at my house is the same as being alone at my grandma’s, but this way, I am not being woken up every night at 2am to go home.
There is so much more to write on this, but it will be another time. I promise you this, not all my stories and memories are bad. But they all make me the person I am today. Sure, there are things I wish I could change or erase, but that would change who I am now and I like who I have become J
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