The early years

It was a second marriage for both of my parents. My mom brought five children into the marriage, my dad brought in four, so as a newly wed couple back in the early seventies, they started out with nine children and then had six together. So, I was lucky number thirteen out of fifteen. Confused yet? It took me a very long time to keep it all straight.

I don't have great memories of my childhood. We never went camping on the weekends, to the zoo, the beach or any place for that matter. My dad was in world war 2, I don't know much else about that because it was never discussed in my house. He was a brick mason and built beautiful houses down in the south. My mom mostly stayed home but sometimes got odd jobs here and there cleaning people's houses. Both of my parents were party animals, they bar hopped every weekend and we were left to fend for our selves. Basically the older children took care of the younger ones. We would share one pack of hot dogs and one can of beans between all of us. The hot dogs would be cut up and mixed into a can of beans and that would be dinner. We never had a real meal. Once in a while on pay day before they hit the bars, they would treat us to a hamburger or chicken, but mostly we ate beans. There was never milk or bread in our house, well honestly we never had anything in the house to eat. I remember one night going into the kitchen for a drink of water and one of my brothers was standing in the kitchen eating mustard straight out of the jar, because he was so hungry.

Later on in life, I remember my brothers would go and rob the hostess dumpsters and bring us home cakes and snacks to eat. They would also rob refrigerated trucks and would get us sandwhich meat and jellos. I know that stealing is not right but those were some good days when they would come in with some food.

Starting Out

My life has been such a crazy roller coaster of events, some may have been from the choices I have made, but others were just because I was born. I just want to write down tidbits from my life to go back and read and remember. I don't care if I have followers, or people commenting. I just want to try and remember things, good, bad, or indifferent. I know my life has no meaning to strangers, so this blog is for me only. For sixteen years, I was beaten at least three times a week, usually more and people always ask me, remember when this happened or that happened? I always answer, no. I have been hit in the head way to many times and it has effected my memory and other things I have blocked out. I am finally happy now, I have been with a great man for five years who treats me like a person should be treated, I just never knew it before him. But before I get too deep into all of that, this is just my first blog entry to introduce myself so to speak. I am 40, I am a female, I have children who are grown up (yes I had them young). I am a sister, an aunt, a niece, a good friend to the few select people I let in my life and I am finally happy. This is going to be like a therapy session for me. I have read many blogs of strangers who say, its nice to write it down, get it out and move on. So, that's what I am going to try and attempt to do. Starting tomorrow, with my childhood...I thought it was normal, I thought everyone lived the way I did. Only when I got older, I realized, we were poor, beyond poverty level and everyone's parents were not alcholics.