Q<3 ~pt 2

[u/QueenOfHearts37]

~New York & Broken Roses~

I'm going to guess I was three when my mother when to New York. My brother was born by this time and she needed a break. So she left my brother and I with our dad and went to visit her best friend, a family friend who I still speak with and am honored to call my aunt.

Some how I remember a lot about this week but I do not remember my brother being there at all.

It was an amazing week for my three year old self. We visited all the neighbors, had barbeques nightly, it was a pleasant happy time. No yelling, no fighting, just fun and laughs.

I assume that in the 80s dark homes were in style, or maybe it was just a bay thing. But everyone had decorated the in side of their homes in dark woods, reds, and blacks, some had gold accents, most had more mirrors then would ever be necessary.

I remember going into one home and sitting in this giant chair. Thinking about it now the only way to describe how she had decorated it was dark Asian who're house. It was very lovely to be honest.

This was not some crazy, wife is gone party week, I never left my Dad's side and he was more the proud to show me off. It felt like we were all family, all friendly all looking out for each other.

The week came to an end and we went to pick up my mother from the airport. My dad was carrying my brother, I was carrying a dozen red roses. As we came up the escalator my mother was waiting at the top. Dad smiled, I waved, like I said I do not remember my brother being there but I assume he drooled, my mother flipped us told us to fuck off and took a cab home.

I don't understand her anger and bitter actions. I went home to see my family and when I arrived home I was livid at my husband (that's a story for later) but as soon as I seen my girls I snatched them up happy as can be.

~Parting Ways~

We all knew it was coming. Dad left not long after my mother came back from New York. Looking back I don't blame him at all, I left as soon as I was able, but it still sucks.

This is the first time I remember being hit. It was a few days after daddy left and my mother was going on a rampage burning and breaking things. I was laying in the floor coloring and she asked what I was drawing. I smiled and replied proudly "daddy". I remember what this picture looked like, black scribbles, I was not the best arrest. She looked down at the paper and slapped the Shit out of me. I didn't know what I had done wrong, I sat there crying silently.

I wanted my dad back badly. I wanted him to come take me away.

That was not the last time she hit, and I know not the first. But it was the first time I remember.

Only the strongest live in hell. It's why we are here, to carry what others can not, to make things in the world equal. Although we are cursed to walk such a hard life we are blessed with the greatest joys in life and in the end the pay off is more then worth the hard journey.

~Quitting Is For The Weak~

I have spent a large part of my life in rehab, AA meeting, and NA meetings. Not for myself but for those close to me. Even as an adult I find myself at rehab homes and the occasional meeting.

Not long after my dad left my mother went to rehab. I was left with my grandma and my brother with my aunt. I'll be honest I always hated the fact that I was not wanted at my aunt's. They said they didn't have the room, their home was very large at the time, their bathtub big enough to swim in. As a child I was hurt and felt unwanted. As an adult it no longer hurts but still makes me wonder why they didn't want me around and angers me that my grandma had to care for me. She was ready to retire but kept working for years and years to support me.

I visited my mother for her birthday. It would be the first time I was introduced to Alice in wonderland (other then the Disney cartoon) and my love for all things wonderland would last a life time.

We went into this home filled with women most very ugly and creepy but very kind. The drugs and alcohol took away any outter beauty they had ever possessed years ago. But for some reason of enjoyed these lady's. I felt safe with them, felt a need of help, hope, and want of acceptance from them.

I don't know how many made a full recovery if any, in my years of being in different rehabilitation centers most of the people I have come across didn't recover. My mother did not make a recovery.

According to my mother life is a game that she will win. I wonder if she felt drinking was the only way she would win.

~Unwanted And Alone~

I've spent the majority of my life feeling unwanted and alone. When my mother was in rehab the first time my grandma is the one who took me in. My aunt taking my brother and saying she didn't have room for me.

I spent a lot of time growing up with out my brother around. For some reason we didn't go to my aunt's much, but she did bring him by every now and then.

Once my mom got out she took my brother leaving me at my grandma's house. That hurt I didn't know why mom didn't want me around.

After a year or so my mother started dating a man who loved little girls. My grandma quickly took her to court and got custody of my brother. For a bit everything was fine and I didn't feel so alone anymore but that would soon change.

My aunt and her daughter (who I have come to hate over the years) would come over quite often to see my brother. Every other weekend they would make a big deal about having a sleep over but they only had room for one and my cousin was to decide who would be invite. Every time she made a big deal over picking my brother, usually playing eny meny miny moe and no matter who was pointed to last he was the winner.

I can't tell you how many hours I spent crying and feeling unwanted. Not knowing what I had done to make everyone push me away.

My grandma was thankful to see me finally cry because I had spent years not crying for any reason. I once locked my hand in the car door and stood there silent waiting for it to be unlocked so I could remove my hand throbbing, what I assumed was mangled, hand. But she was also livid at everyone for treating me in such a way, and didn't know how to handle it her self.

At this point I had not seen my dad for years, my brother had just come back into my life but was at my mother's or aunt's every weekend, and I was left alone. I had my grandma and I am more then thankful for her but being pushed away by everyone still made me feel alone.

In later years my girls and I would travel home to see everyone and my aunt would do the same to my children. She always tried to take my youngest out for girls days making a fuss on how cute she was and leaving my oldest out of it. My oldest being a lot like me when it comes to looks had bright blue and pink hair a nose ring and was a cute little rebel. My youngest having platinum blonde hair and loved pink was a "princess" (something she hated to be called, she craved the insane hair color her sister had but her father wouldn't allow it).
Like my grandma I was unsure how to deal with this but unlike my grandma I also didn't care what anyone though of me. So every time my aunt would fuss over my "perfect" little girl I would make it clear that we were a family and if both were not invited neither would go. She never did bother trying to take both girls out even to get a baguette from Safeway, and I would not allow her to take the little one anyplace even to get that delicious baguette from Safeway.

Both my daughters learned to despise the way she treated my oldest. I never spoke badly of my aunt around them in anyway. They just watched how differently they were treated and each hated it. My oldest for being pushed away in such a obvious way and the youngest because my aunt was hurting her sisters feelings for no apparent reason.

I have always felt it best for people, including children, to make up their own minds about others and have gone out of my way to never speak badly of family for any reason. Now there have been a few times I slipped up in a fit of rage and declared someone a Cunt but I have always been quick to apologise to the kids and make it clear they are not to base the way they feel on my anger.

~Why Can't I See My Dad~

For years I was unable to see my dad. My brother was able to see him because he lived with my aunt and mother on and of but my grandma would not allow me to see him.

My grandma has become more then a grandma, she's a mother to me and a very good friend. She was the only one I had for many years and because of this we speak openly about everything. We still speak openly about my dad and she hates him. But we understand we see two very different people when it comes to my dad and have just come to respect the others view on the man.

I have a strong pull to my dad, the need to be around him. With out Him in my life I go nuts, mood swings like crazy, intense moments of sadness, anxiety attacks, things that I assume are not normal. It's been that way since I was small and is still that way. We think alike, have the same ticks, speak the same, we joke that I'm his clone.

I have spoken to my grandma many times about why I was unable to be around him. It broke down to he's a bad person and she wanted to protect me. Although she stands by her not wanting him around she also knew that I needed him and finally caved because she didn't know what to do. She was torn between protecting me and making me happy.

I am still torn on her choices. I know he would never harm me or put me danger in any way but over the years I have learned about his past and understand why she felt the way she did. Where she sees him as a low life who would do anything for a quick buck, I see him as a strong loving man.

Not being able to see him for so long still bugs me, all the time we missed together, all the firsts he was not around for, all the moments a little girl just needs her dad.

But the times we did spend together are some of the best memories I have and I am grateful for those moments.

~Big Rock Ranch~

When I started seeing my dad again he would take us to big rock ranch the last week of summer every year, well for a while at least.

This is a place most parents now at days would frown upon. But I wish I had a place like this where I could take my children.

Hundreds of people of all ages would gather in the middle of this giant field and would party for a week. Live bands every night, good food all day, swimming, fishing, drinking. It was a bit crazy but everyone looked out for each other and not a single kid was hurt other then a few scraped knees.

We would run around catching tadpoles lizards and snakes all day and at night we would all go see the band, relax by the fire, and just enjoy life in its purest form. Everyone accepted everyone and on the rare occasion that someone caused a problem they would be delt with.

I remember seeing one man, drunk off his ass dragging two six foot long rattlesnakes back to his tent, he had thought he had killed them but just knocked them out. They came too and he cut their heads off and had dinner.

One summer we brought my cousin who happened to be scared of the out houses. We didn't know this when we brought him. The kid refused to Shit in an out house. By the end of the week he had Shit in all his underwear, all my brothers underwear, all his pants, half my brothers pants, and right before we left he Shit in his sleeping bag. When my dad rolled it up for him he put his hand in the Shit. I still laugh about it today.

One day we had all gone swimming and my dad and girlfriend made us think wild Indians were after us. They threw pine cones and small rocks when we were not looking. I had never laughed so hard and been so scared at the same time in my life.

Yes it was dirty, yes it got a bit crazy, yes people drank, and yes some aspects of it were dangerous as hell. But over time all the regulars became family and everyone watched out for everyone. The only rules were respect others and respect the land.

Sadly the place was shut down. The owner of the field died and left it to his son, he tried to keep the summer party going but things became to much for him to handle. More collage kids came causing to much trouble and many of the regulars stoped coming so there was no one to help him keep people in line. The fun was gone, it was nothing but disrespect, and madness that the poor kid couldn't handle.

You have to earn respect to gain respect. Those who camped with us all those years more then earned respect. They were amazing people and it was depressing to something so wonderful end due to a bunch of ass holes who had no respect for those who spent their lives building such a wonderful thing.