Growing Up:

Born in 1972, as some would call it a military brat my father was stationed in Vietnam out of Ft Carson Colorado, I was sick for the first 11 months of my life, until the doctors found out I was allergic to oats, whey, barley, cow milk,and a couple of other things I had to drink goats milk. After coming home from Vietnam, my father was sent to Ft, Wainwright. In 1975 my mother, brothers Bruce, Russell. and myself where shipped back home to Grand Rapids Mi. my father soon followed soon fallowed in 1976. Which sad to say was also the end of the marriage of my parents as we knew it, reasons still unsure to me. I have been told by both of them a different story. Which also brought a new situation. My brother Russ and I had been separated one going with each parent, telling us different stories. One said the other didn’t want me, the other said that is was best that way, cheaper for all involved with court cost the battle of having to wait because children were involved, and not having to deal with child support if each parent had a child. I went with my father and Russ with my mother.

English: Downtown Grand Rapids from the 28th f...

English: Downtown Grand Rapids from the 28th floor of the River House Condominiums (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

By this time my father had remarried, and my step mother Delores Wright (Marcus) was already pregnant for my half brother Micheal. Now my step mother had already had a five children from previous marriages Marcia, Patricia, Betty, Bonnie, and Burkey, now at some point Russ ended up in the home as well. So now we have nine living in a house with 3 bedrooms and two attics. To get to two of the bedrooms you had to go through the center bedroom, which left no peace for whoever slept in that room. As I got older the older sisters started finding boyfriends and moving out which opened up bedrooms, which of course then the open rooms became closed due to older brothers, so for along time I still slept in what was know as an attic it was no bigger than I would have to say (what my brothers would call a jail cell) only on the north side the ceiling sloped due to the A frame structure, and no lights made it a very dead place felt more like a dungeon. I did have fun when I wasn’t getting blamed for something but, sitting back and thinking I think I was just sent to the baseball game that my brothers, and later finding out my stepson SLIK played, was just to get me out of the house so they didn’t have to worry about me being in the house alone until it got to the point that the house wasn’t getting cleaned while mom was working so then that became my daily job after school until bed, with eight people home on a regular bases and nine when dad came in the house was always a mess.

My mistake was I was too clean I didn’t rush to get things done and they where done right, that got me in what I would say was big trouble because when you do something right you are stuck doing from that point on. One day at a ball game I was climbing a tree and next to me was a branch that had been broken off into a point, and needless to say I loosed me footing and ended up with stitches in my armpit, didn’t  feel  nothing until they put the stitches in. I have been hit by three cars in the same spot on the same leg, lost a brand new pair of pants in one accident and a new pair of boots, but  never got one  broken bone, but the amount of stitches I have acquired over the years I couldn’t even begin to count.

OH sure we went to the lake as a family and that was fun for the most part but it always turned into to a big argument when we got home because some one didn’t like the way some acted or someone wasn’t watching the younger children nieces, nephews ect. Believe me when I say I come from a very dysfunctional family, many people who know my family agree. I can’t say I am as dysfunctional as they’re but it is defiantly in my genes and all I can do is laugh about it.
Like my kids say I am a dinosaur because I wont give up the cd player or get into the newer generation of music, sometimes I will put say something and put the wrong words in its place.
I have to say what’s wrong with that. Sometimes it can be embarrassing , but later on down the road it is something you can look back and laugh about.


2 thoughts on “Growing Up:

  1. Pingback: Are you a Parentified Child? | counselorssoapbox

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