1980, was the year i was born.

I was born into a home of severe dysfunction in the big city of Dorchester, to a teenage girl unable to take care of herself. My mothers mother was a drunk. Her father was an asshole, severe beatings for all 5 girls. The relationships were all dysfunctional. My mother was molested and nothing was done. My mothers sister was raped repeatedly in a nut house because she was so beautiful and crazy. All 5 were abused in some way or another. In the end, it all turned out bad. Not one of the family members turned out normal. The only ones left are my aunt Linda (drunk, totally crazy and a super bitch). My aunt Diane, mean spirited, deceiving, and more manly then most men. She pretty much is a slap in the face. Oh and she is a closet pot head. My grandmother is still alive (sadly), she’s a drunk and meaner then an alligator in an alligator fight. My Aunt Sally sadly died in her twenty’s. She bore 2 gorgeous girls. Sally had it the hardest of them all. The rape I assume ran her rugged. She turned to drugs, her heart failed and killed her in her mid-twenties. My aunt Amy was the youngest and most beautiful. She always wore a smile, she had AIDS and was drug addict. But she was so sweet. She died with a needle in her arm. She suffered for a long time with the virus I’m surprised she lasted as long as she did. Then there’s my mom. She died sitting in her chair at home with a needle in her arm stone cold. She struggled and struggled, but finally lost the battle. She was emotionally 16 years old but looked her years (43). Not one person knew how special these 3 women were they were just too caught up. Scared and alone, and treated like they were worthless. They weren’t given the chance from a very young age. I guess one might say that I had it hard to. Comparatively I wouldn’t say it was all that bad when I look back at it. When I was living it though it was terrifying. Not knowing were I would be one minute and with whom I might be with. I was born, thrown into my mothers crazy life. She was a partier, so I spent a lot of time with babysitters. My dad was a married man. His name Barry. I don’t know where he is, I just know that he wanted nothing to do with me. I lived in a lot of place, because my mother burned a lot of bridges. I grew knowing what drugs were. Knew what they looked like, and that they changed my mother sometimes in a very bad way. Since she was so young at heart we did have many of good laughs together, just not enough. She didn’t have it in her to be a mom. It just wasn’t

in her. She wanted to get high and that is how she got by. She was in pain, and didn’t know how to deal. I was constantly doing things to get her attention. I tried misbehaving, that only made her angry at me. I tried making her laugh, but she was bored of that after awhile so I just stuck with misbehaving it was more fun for me. Now I realize it wasn’t me that needed to change it was her. But it was never possible. She would leave my with strange people. I remember being in the car with one of her “close friends”. He had me sit on his lap so that I could feel his bulge. This terrified me. All I could think was that I wanted my mom and didn’t know where she was. This man later ended up molesting me and taking nude pictures of me, right under my mothers nose. I did tell her she did nothing. I guess like mother like daughter. So later in life when I was in a foster home and I was molested I just didn’t say anything for years. Then there were times when she wasn’t using at all (short times) and she was sweet as candy. I remember being so happy at those times. She was normal and we lived like a normal mother and daughter. But it was always disrupted by her drug use, and neglect and I would be taken away again. 3 different foster home and time and time again of going back with my mother, before I was finally adopted at 14 years old. They gave me a chance. Yes they were normal, but they had no idea of the sexual abuse that was going on with their adopted son. I was too scared to tell. Terrified even. Ashamed. It made me feel more alone then anything. This may sound sick, but getting molested was worth the great influence that my “parents” had on me. They had no idea what he was doing. I don’t blame them, because I flourished with them. They never told me we are leaving you with the sister and don’t know when we are going to be back. They always came back. I never starved with them either. That was a big thing right there. My biological mother left me home alone at a very early age and there were many times when there wasn’t anything to eat. It wasn’t pleasant. I was malnourished, when I was place into foster care. They called it severe neglect. I was rescued by DSS they saved me I really and truly believe that! Later in ;life I had to deal with my pain and didn’t know how. I drank a lot and did a lot of coke. It made thing a lot worse. Plus I’m petrified of turning into my mother. I don’t want to be like that. 2 years I have no pick up a drink! 2 long years, but life is so much better now. I wouldn’t be able to do it without my parents, they are

my rock my heart and sometimes my conscience hahaha.

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