The hardest part of my life was my childhood. To put it in context, I was born in 1994. Everything I remember was from Kindergarten to Second Grade. I don't know how much of my memory is factual or my imagination.
My father was an alocholic and a drug addict. I truly believe he loved my brother and I but he just couldn't stop. He enjoyed drinking and abusing drugs too much.
I remember my father being drunk and being physically abusive with my mother back in our trailer park home in Michigan. He threw her computer out the window because of some online chatroom drama. He was in his underwear and was very drunk. My mother locked him outside the front door and snuck out the back door. She went to the neighbors and called the police. I don't really remember what's real or what's my imagination but I remember furniture being thrown, I remember him banging on the door screaming to be let in, I remember the door opening and him entering, I remember three police officers entering, I remember them fighting, I remember a tazer, I remember one officer going out a window, I remember seeing my father fall down. I don't remember anything past that.
I remember them divorcing and I had to live with my grandparents. My grandfather was very abusive and impatient. I was doing visitations with my mother and father during that time. My dad met a girlfriend who seemed nice, my mother was always amazing. My mother was moving out of state trying to get her life together. During visitations she didn't know she couldn't take me out of state lines. My dad claimed that she was trying to steal my brother and I and she lost visitation and custody rights. This is where my brother and I were forced to live with my father.
My fathers trailer wasn't the nicest condition. There weren't doorhandles and the ceiling above my bathroom was kind of missing. I remember a tarp stopping the snow/rain from falling in at one point.
My dads girlfriend turned out to be a drug abuser and an alcoholic. Anytime my brother and I wanted to call my mother she would hit us with the telephone cord. My brother knew how to work the caller ID and would cover our tracks, unfortunately I didn't. There were rules in our trailer. If you wanted to open or touch anything, you needed permission. "Dad, may I leave my bedroom?" "Dad, may I turn on the television?" "Dad, may I open the fridge?" This rule applied everywhere for everything. I shared a bedroom with my brother (He's 4 1/2 years older). The doors had no doorknobs, there was no privacy. My dad would often come home drunk and angry. He would beat us out of frustration. My father was poor and took the child support money to fuel his addiction. We had no food in our home. My brother and I stole food from our neighboring gas station, and church. I remember stealing animal crackers and oreos. One day I stole $100 from my father's wallet while he was asleep and bought food at the gas station. My brother, neighbor, and myself ate like kings. My father was informed by my neighbor. When my father found out he beat us and disciplined us.
My father placed a padlock on the outside of our bedroom door. He nailed curtains on the outside of our windows. He barred the windows in our bathroom shut. We weren't permitted to leave the room, nor could we look outside. I don't know how long this went on, but it felt like an eternity. My brother and I would hand vacuum the floor of evey spec and crumb in hopes that our dad would be nicer that night. He would come home and open the door to feed us. We ate in there, and then he would leave.
In the mean time my mother hired a private investigator to try and get us back home. My father would do his drugs and drinking in the shed, where the investigator couldn't see (due to it being closed). The investigator did a home inspection, however, my father removed the lock. You could clearly see where the lock was installed, but since it wasn't there, nothing could be proved. My mother gave up every dime she saved and all she told the private investigator was "Get my children back". She had moved multiple states away and met a man who cared. My mother drove up every weekend from VA to MI to visit us before she lost visitation rights. He made the drive with her without even knowing us, nor us being his kids. He was very young, 21, and she was 31. They've been married 15 years now.
I'm going to cut this story short now. Life was bad for a long time and the psychological effects still take their toll on me. I was beaten, abused emotionally and physically, and locked in a room. My brother doesn't remember anything and thinks my father is a good man. My mother has worked very hard from being pregnant at 18 and 21, working to make ends meet to being extremely successful. She works from home and makes well over $150,000 a year. She is my inspiration and she is what keeps me going. I've got a lot of emotional and psychological problems that I have to sort out. I'm now 21 and I work for the government as an Intelligence Analyst. I do a very great job at Analysis, I'm very gooda t thinking. Unfortunately I think too much and it hurts me. I have bad anxiety and I try to keep it to myself. I have a very hard time showing emotions. I am really good at acting and pretending. Putting on facades is easy. I have issues I can't quite fix yet. I can't have my back to doors or entry ways, I can't sit in the front of classrooms or movie theaters, I can't handle people being behind me.
I haven't overcome all of my issues, but I have made significant progres. My mother is the biggest inspiration and cause of my success. Without her I'd likely be dead or useless to society. She really rehabilitated me and helped mold me into a successful adult. I'd be nowhere without her. I get made fun of a lot for my mothers involvement with my life, but I value it and I will never put her second in my life. I've had to overcome my anger and resentment for my father; that was very difficult. It wasn't until my high school teacher told me about how she was raped and how forgiveness made her whole again that I learned to overcome it. I haven't fully forgiven my father to this day, but I've made some positive spins on it. Growing up without a father was very difficult. Teaching myself how to be a man has been hard. Fortunately, my father taught me exactly what I never want to be in life, so far that I can thank him.