Add a little bit of… trauma

Life never throws me lemons.

Life must have started with something happy. My mom speaks on how happy she was to finally have something of her own blood. She was adopted and for years searched for something to link her broken, abandoned heart. I don’t think it was me who did that for her, but it was a nice thought. Mom was 7 years younger than my father. By today’s standards, he be a rapist. They got married, then had me. It’s anyone’s guess which came along first, but ultimately it ended in war. Domestic Abuse, screaming, black eyes and my grandpas’ gun in my fathers’ face. I would have given anything to have seen this.

Mom isn’t the type of girl to be alone. I’m sure she was a real catch back-in-the-day. A real tom-boy, a hot fuse, who didn’t show much affection. She had to be someone’s type; my stepdad fell for it. She has always loved a good laugh and he was the forever jokester. Dad was a party man, loved to drop acid and rail cocaine. He was a standup guy with a government job, loved to binge drink and totaled more cars than I will have in my lifetime.

Oil and water separated faster than these two. After 20+ years that shit came to an end. They never laid a hand on each other. Mom loved to scream and slam doors. Dads favorite word was “Bitch”. It evened itself out. The new norm was over shadowed months later by him being involved in a head on collision. 11 broken bones later, he moved back in with us. Mom took care of him while he painted his “Morphine dreams” on canvas from a wheelchair and grew weed in our back yard. When he was better, she sent him to his house. The hardly have spoken a word since.

When mom finally got her groove back- we were shitfaced together every weekend. Glorious times, until she found plenty of fish. First there was a cop, then some random, and the strange. She knew how to pick them. Shuffle the deck of cards and chose another. Scored a country guy, big fluffy dude who loved to gamble, would get obliterated at the bars and had a girlfriend back in his hometown. Mom lavishly spent money on him, nothing says “Its ok you cheated” quite like an all-expenses paid vacation to a different country. When the trip was over, she went back to searching while he got married.

The Con artist was by far her most desperate catfish. He never could get his stories right. Was he a cop? A plumber? Retired army vet? He looked like a middle age bald guy with a guy Ferrio goatee with no job. Also, this man showed me his balls. Dirtbag ass mother fucker.

Then she found husband #Tres. Hes just a few years older than me, loves to laugh at his own jokes and is harbors the spirit of the KKK. Hes a real winner.

I’ve been the middleman, the best friend and the back burner. I have been pawned off, neglected and let down my whole life by my parent’s choices. Here I stand making those same fucking mistakes and can’t take any of them back.  But this is one thing I won’t do, chose between my child and a man. I don’t claim to be perfect. Hard line. Do not pass go.