The Dark Side of Life

Lessons Learned

I wrote the following paper last year for a communications class. I felt good about the paper and received an A on it to boot. Unfortunately, the story required some awkward edits to fit within the restraints of the assignment. I'm hoping to expand and finish "my story" at some point in the near future but for now, here it is in its original form. It's long so I apologize for the potentially boring read......

Growing up, I seemed to always struggle with developing confidence and a sense of independence. I was the third of three children and ultimately the middle of five. My biological parents had no business having children as they were very young, emotionally unprepared and financially unstable. I do not know much about the time before I was born other than things were in turmoil. Shortly after I was born, my “real” father decided he had had enough of parenthood and moved out of state. Things went downhill from there since my biological mother seemed incapable of caring for the three of us. My older brother spent the bulk of his childhood shuttling from one foster home to another and my older sister ended up as her mother’s maid. From what I understand, I was cared for no better than my two older siblings. In fact, I became quite undernourished and sickly because my “real” mother chose to spend welfare money on “records and lampshades” instead of buying diapers and food as most responsible mothers would have done. Finally, at the fragile age of six months, my grandmother intervened and offered to take me in after seeing my poor physical condition. My natural mother put up no resistance to this, almost as if she was being relieved of a burden. From there on, my grandparents raised me which means, for all intents, I was raised as an only child and I ultimately came to know my grandparents as “mother” and “father” and have always referred to them as such.

Now given how my siblings were raised even after I left, I consider myself lucky to have escaped. To give credit where it is due, I can only surmise what my life would have been like had my grandmother not stepped in. In all honesty, I could very well have been dead given my condition as I understood it. So therefore, I am, in large part, grateful to be alive and I know that my mother did the right thing by removing me from that environment. However, there are always negatives to every situation. In this case, I was overprotected by my mother, never allowed to do anything nor ever taught to do for myself. This made growing up difficult for me. Not only did I not fit in well, but I never learned how to be independent. Thus I always relied on my parents to provide for me. My entire childhood seemed like one stressful fight after another.

The majority of my struggle was with my mother. Because of the generation they came from, she stayed at home and managed the household. This meant she had plenty of opportunity to keep me close and safe from “harm” as she saw it. Something as simple as going out to play with the other kids was a major tug of war between us and even when I finally was able to make my escape, I was subjected to a strict set of rules with dire consequences if I dared to break them. I had to return before dark and beware the wrath if I came home dirty, I also was not allowed to travel any further than our immediate neighborhood. Rarely was I allowed to sleep over someone’s house and never was anyone ever allowed to sleep over mine. This continued until I graduated high school.

Our family also lacked anything resembling the relationship an average family would have. I was never shown affection or much attention and I never received help with homework or school projects. I could count on one hand the number of parent/teacher conferences my parents attended during all of my years in school and I was never allowed to participate in anything extracurricular. Despite the lack of support, I was a good student with lots of potential, but I became bored easily with the work. This would hurt me later in high school when I began to have difficulty with following something through to completion. I still struggle with this today.

As a family, we went on very few outings together. As I remember, we went camping once a summer for a week, usually to a crummy, run down campground. Whenever I was yelled at for doing something wrong, I was threatened with being sent back to my biological mother. As a youth, that threat was akin to sentencing someone to death. As a result, I was immensely afraid of my parents and I felt like they could not care less if I was there or not. I did actually spend periods of time with my biological mother throughout my early childhood. I have only a few specific memories of those times and they were all negative. My biological mother never had a stable home and spent much of her life living with various friends. By the time I started visiting her, she was up to five children. Therefore given her transient lifestyle, any living arrangements with her and four kids plus my occasional visits were less than suitable.

Because of the restrictions placed on me and the lack of a true family structure, I never learned many of the social skills your average child learned. I never had many friends and I was picked on without mercy throughout much of my time in school. I was the kid with K-Mart brand Trax sneakers, the Lee jeans that were so tight you were afraid they would split if you breathed in too deeply and the hideously colored flannel shirts. I was also the kid with the ridiculously oversized glasses that would occasionally have tape holding them together.

Suffice to say after already struggling with developing a sense of independence, I also was struggling with my self esteem as a result of the daily browbeating I would receive at the hands of the children at school. Between being threatened by bullies, being picked last for everything in gym and sitting by myself at lunch, I feared going to school. I never dated anyone while I was in school and I was not invited to any social activities with other children.

Surprisingly, even though school was so unpleasant, I feared graduating as I wasn’t quite sure what to do with myself. Even though I was headed to college, I felt as though my safety net had been snatched from under me. My parents never prepared me for life after high school and as a result of my sheltering, I wasn’t ready to be responsible for myself. However I was now forced to stand on my own but I had not the slightest clue how to do that.

I spent one semester living on campus at Stockton State College. I had never lived away from before, I was like a fish out of water. My struggles with my peers continued as total strangers took a disliking to me because I simply didn’t fit in. Living in a dorm where the majority ridiculed you is not a pleasant experience. Having never been away from home, I lacked the discipline to manage my life. As a result, my grades slipped and I left college at the end of the first semester.
Fast forwarding to my first substantial relationship/marriage at the un-worldly age of 22, I continued to struggle with myself. I was inexperienced when it came to women and even though we struggled with getting along, I ended up becoming too involved too quickly with someone who, in all reality, I barely knew. Before I knew it, we were pregnant and living together. I was not mentally prepared for any of it. Our problems continued as I realized after the fact that my soon to be wife was lazy, controlling and manipulative. To be honest, I made many mistakes in our relationship which I regret, although my naivety probably played a part in it. But what I do know is that today, she is still the same person she was then, manipulative and deceitful.

I had a difficult time adjusting to being a parent. I made many mistakes partly because I was not raised in a family environment and had nothing to draw references from. Through all of our turmoil, a second child was born into a situation where no child should be. So there I was, barely able to manage my own life and now the father of two children. Ultimately, my marriage failed and I was now the divorced father of two children with weekend visitation.

As time, and our separation, moved forward, I began spending more and more time with my kids, both by my request and by the request of my soon to be ex-wife. For a variety of reasons, she seemed increasingly unable to do the right things for her life and for my children. As a result, I became the primary caregiver for them and they began spending a large portion of their time with me. I was taking care of all of their needs; doctor’s visits, clothing them, feeding them, helping them with their schoolwork. Here I was, transformed from the timid person I used to be into a person having to take total responsibility for the lives of two small children. I was completely shell shocked and out of my environment. But if I did not do the right things for my children, I could not be sure that their mother would. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve made plenty of mistakes along the way, but I started to learn, both how to do right by them and how to do right for myself.

Fast forward once again to the present day. My life is radically different than I ever envisioned it to be. My days are now spent running between my job, my kids and their activities and a full time course load at college. I rarely sleep as much as I should and I am constantly thinking about what I need to be doing next. Sometimes I look around in amazement at the fact that I am juggling things as well as I am. I am also currently in a relationship with a woman who is living with us. She has been an absolute Godsend, willingly investing her time and energy into helping me finish up school. In many ways, she has made life considerably easier for me and my children.

Looking back, I realize that the turning point in my life was my children and everything I am today, I credit them for. Because of them, I’ve had to step up and do things I used to struggle with and as I succeeded at certain things, my confidence grew. By standing up for my children, I have learned how to stand up for myself in the process. Not only have I had to justify myself to their mother in defense of decisions I’ve made on their behalf, but I’ve had to also become more assertive when dealing with school, doctors and the sort. This is not to say that I’ve been transformed into some fairy tale super parent, because that is definitely not the case. In fact, there are still things I struggle with and sometimes I slip back into old habits. But invariably, I always pull through knowing I have two little ones counting on me.

07:28 - Monday, October 15, 2007 - comments {2} - post comment

Where is my mind?

I seem to in a constant state of depression. Lack of energy, indifference to many things that I used to enjoy, inability to concentrate or focus, mood swings and general grumpiness towards those that I care about. I've felt this way for so long, I can't recall a time where I felt differently. I honestly don't know how to change it either. I can't afford the lengthy process of counseling nor the cost of medication as my children have needs which always come first. For now, I feel strong enough emotionally to keep myself in check, but I fear getting older and slipping into a neurotic state of mind like my mother did towards the end. I think that even more than dying, I'm petrified of losing my faculties. I know this isn't a very cohesive post, but it's how I'm feeling at the moment.

09:54 - Thursday, October 4, 2007 - comments {2} - post comment

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