Sometimes the best stories to tell are your own. I don’t remember much about my life before my parents passed. I had turned just turned ten in September and my father passed away from cancer the last week of that following February and then my mother passed away that first week of March.
I remember us moving around alot, as my father was a carpet salesman. My mother was very strict and abusive at times.
Some of the stories I will tell you may be hard to read so please be mindful it is a true story.
My siblings and I weren’t allowed snacks and such, so we we quite small. We got three meals a day and that was it. Only water to drink, and only allowed after we finished our meals. My mother had thought we were lacking in iron so she used to make liver and onions with grave, with mashed potatoes. I hated it so bad. I remember throwing it up and my mother making me come back to finish eating it.
my mother drank alot. She Mad Dog, the orange flavored and let me lick the ice from it. I would sleep with her on the couch at night and she would put her ice cold feet up under my nightgown. She thought it was funny, me not so much.
I don’t remember alot about my father. He wasn’t around much that I recall, work I suppose. When he was home, he had a beer in hand. I remember him watching Star Treck all the time. When his alarm would go off in the mornings the only songs I can remember hearing were from Willie Nelson.
I remember my mother taking me with her when she would go door to door selling Avon. She didn’t drive, was deathly afraid to drive. I remember my father trying to teach her once and she backed into the mailbox and took out the fence in front of the house we were living in at the time. She took cabs from then on.
I don’t remember having Christmas as a child. I’m sure we probably got something but it wasn’t much. When my mother had her mean strieks I’m almost positive it was when my father wasn’t around.
Things will get worse, and I urge you to stay to tuned to “One girls recount of a life of hell”.