Toxic Parents

[Pix]

My mom gave me up almost right away to her mom to take care of but took me back just to hurt her mom shortly before I turned 5. She and dad were terrible dysfunctional drunks, more neglectful than abusive once I learned to stay out of their way, though it was still criminal and not "benign neglect" or "apathy" but the kind that made me realize I was on my own, and I had to create strategies to feed myself sometimes. I saw a lot of violence between them that shook me up and learning to hide fast. Like when Dad busted through a window while drunk (with a restraining order against him) in such a fury I was sure he was going to kill us both (and probably would've if things had happened a little differently, and he also almost killed me and mom by vandalizing the brake pad in his beloved car Mom won from him in the divorce). I saw Mom try to use a shotgun on Dad, too, but she was either too drunk or ignorant to switch the safety off (I do have to give Dad credit for not beating the crap out of her with the shotgun, just taking it from her and giving it to someone else in another house to hold). After the divorce Mom forced me to live with her so she could get child support for her booze and smokes. And of course the courts have the dumb ass idea that the mother is automatically the best place for a child no matter what the child has to say.

Once things calmed down it got very dreary and depressing. (I hate when I dream being back there, I'd literally rather have scary nightmares.) Her beloved beauty was fading and she had nothing left really, she spent most of her time in her room drinking, sleeping, and listening to music, sometimes the same song over and over. I can't hear Father Figure by George Michael or Candle in the Wind by Elton John without flashing back to those days. She'd talk to me sometimes, usually calling me into her room where she was lonely and often drunk, and talk about her old modeling career (and why I could never be a model myself) or conspiracy theories about Marilyn Monroe (seems many models admire her, along with singers who still write songs in tribute to her to this day). Of course she never showed any interest in me...but when she'd pass out drunk I'd still her brandy to trade for food (she got it with child support meant for me after all, so I felt justified).

When my best friend decided to run away from home I decided I'd go with her because I loved my friend and she loved me, but my parents didn't (and I couldn't go to Granny's, especially not with her, the courts saw to that). My best friend died and I was terrified into running back home by a psycho cop obsessed with me (out of sexual desire as opposed to his job) and I'd missed by 16th birthday as I was still on the streets but she didn't ask me anything or wish me a belated happy birthday when I showed up. I asked her what Dad said about me being gone and he said he didn't know, and that she couldn't tell anyone I'd run off as she'd lose her child support!

I found out years later that Granny called but Mom lied to her about me not wanting to talk to her anymore so that she could keep Granny from finding out I was on the streets as a runaway. I believe she told my school I'd gone back to live with Granny again (as I did sometimes).

School put me in an Adaptive Behavior Class after I came back and I stayed there a few months until almost the end of the school year but when they threatened to return me to a teen gulag (and what I call an "outpost of Hell on Earth") I changed my appearance and assumed a new name to run away...my plan had been to get to Los Angeles where I knew some runaways I'd met had gone off to but it didn't work out the way I intended (for the best).

I didn't return to visit family until I was nearly 22. Mom still didn't care much about me. I found out Dad continued to pay child support until I was 18, he only found out I'd left home when I told him...and he was angry at me for being so selfish as to not tell him so he could stop paying child support when I left (but then Mom WOULD report me). Dad didn't ask how I survived either, and it wasn't because he didn't want to hear stories of pain, he simply didn't care. I kinda find it funny he had the gall to call me selfish.

Getting away from them, even as a runaway (at least the second time, but I probably wouldn't have been brave enough the 2nd time had it not been for the first), but I was lucky...extremely lucky. (And I did suffer on the streets, including years of nightmares over what happened and a permanent scar on my neck from when my throat was cut and when I finally got away from him I had to evade the cops and hospital as much as making sure he didn't catch me again, but still I consider myself very lucky...it could've been much worse than it was.)

You're an adult so it could work much better for you. Personally, I'd advise you not to be too proud to get on welfare as a "step up" though don't expect it to actually get you through, at best it will just keep you from starving. Jobs aren't plentiful right now so I don't know what kind of niche you could find, and if you choose the route of schooling then I'd suggest a community college to start with as they're actually affordable (or close to it anyway). Too bad you live in the USA, it's not a good place to be homeless. But all the same, for all its hardship I bet you never choose to go back to your mom!