Being sad…

Looking back over my childhood, I never remember being happy. Everything was always a sad time. I always felt embarrassed and ashamed. Being from a small town, everyone knew my family and that was not a good thing. The whole town was quite aware my mom and dad were drunks . Going to school  made for a great deal of playground teasing and bullying because of my parents actions. Many of my classmates were instructed by their parents not to associate with me.  My teachers were also a bit harsh at times because they had also taught my parents and knew what kind of hellions my parents were and had become.

The 12 miles, one way, bus trip to school everyday was the worse. The bus was very crowded. My house was the last stop in the mornings so finding a seat was challenging. No one wanted to sit beside me. I could understand why. Most days I was filthy to say the least. Baths were something that only happened once weekly at best. My clothes were always dirty.

My elementary and middle school years were very lonely. I never played with any classmates. I would usually just sat by myself on a swing at recess.  I was never invited to birthday parties. The only friend I had was the daughter of friends of my parents. Her parents were also alcoholics. We had a lot in common.  I think my friend was better off. She did have running water in her mobile home and her mom also bought her school clothes and she had glasses. Something I only dreamed of.

Birthdays and holidays were always sad for us. As kids we went to grandmother’s house next door for Christmas and watched all of our cousins open their gifts. We always felt sad for not having gifts to open and share ourselves. I remember just looking in awe at all of my cousins new toys and clothes, wanting so bad just to touch one. I remember in third grade all I wanted for Christmas was a Cabbage Patch Kid. I just knew I was going to get one. Again, however I was disappointed to wake up without a Cabbage Patch Kid. The sad part about this is not the fact that we were poor and we could not afford a Cabbage Patch Kid. I think I could have handled that situation a little better. The sad part was at the age of 8, I had figured out that I could have had that doll if mom and dad didn’t drink beer and whiskey everyday. I knew the price of their addiction because everyday it was a fight to scrape up the the $5 for the 12 pack of Milwaukee’s Best and the $13 for the half- gallon of Heaven Hills.  I figured out at the age of 8 that if they did not drink for one day, I could have had the doll. I think it is sad that an eight year old could figured that out, but her parents could not.

I look at my children each day with pure joy. They are young and innocent. Their laughter fills our home and it makes me happy. I watch my children and pay close attention to their  laughs. When our son laughs, his whole body shakes. His dad laughs the same way. Amber, our third child’s laugh is so unique that you can’t help but laugh along with her.

I am so happy  my children  have a safe and stable home where they can laugh at will. I love that they can have friends over. I love having their friends over. I am also glad the only things my children will have to worry about as kids is how they are going to wear their hair, who gets to play the Wii first, who walks the dogs, and what is for dessert tonight.

Stay tuned for more as I chronicle my journey from extreme poverty and abuse to my new life of love and happiness.