My mom is visiting, and to be quite blunt it’s hell. I love her, but she and I are very different personalities for good reason. And you’re about to find a lot more out about me than you did before, simply because I need to vent and I hope some people out there understand where I am coming from.

I grew up in poverty.  Like, my father was in and out of jail because of DWI and I got shifted back and forth between places to live so many times it’s hard to remember them all. I am going to post everything I can remember here in vague chronological order to see if I can remember them all.  That is probably why I have memory problems.

Anyway, so…  My father is an alcoholic. I know this, I understand this, and I forgive him for it, because it’s not the end of the world or a terrible thing. It could have been worse. It was pretty bad at times but it could have been worse.

I was raised with a lot of rage and it is because of both my parents.

okay, let’s see.  Second grade we lived in that white house near where I found out Frank Bovenzi lived in 4th grade.  He was really mean to me o_O  Anyway, I remember the beer paper plate thing and my dad talking to me about Labelon, and I remember that I got in trouble for something stupid because of Frank Bovenzi at school (it might have been 3rd grade)  or something, and I was told I had to stay later. I always wanted to please people and make friends, and I think I know why now.

My dad told me many times about the “Dat” game I would play with him, and how my mom and her mother in law Adrienne would refuse to play it with me because I was “getting spoiled” and my dad would give me that interaction.  This is all from him, I don’t know how true it is, and he was often drunk during my childhood, so double that.

Anyway, I remember him telling me about that, too. So I always wanted to please people because no one ever liked me. I was the weird girl with glasses who read a lot and didn’t talk much.  I remember in first or second grade I came home crying because the other kids all refused to give me any valentines for valentines day.

I hated Canandaigua, absolutely hated it. I didn’t know that other kids lived in houses, though I did figure it out, and then I felt even worse. Can you imagine that fear and sorrow and sadness and pain?  I was such a lonely kid. I remember when I lived with my mom at Jefferson Square, there were some kids in the area whose mom or something was friends with mine, vaguely, but they were nasty to me.  They were younger than me and I’m not sure if they were, well, inbred or not, but I remember that they were VICIOUS.  They all attacked me at once to “Teach me how to defend myself” and all I wanted to do was get home and cry, but they pinned me behind the building so my mom couldn’t see.

Yes, that actually happened to me.  No one believes me when I mention these things, but I remember it. I didn’t want to hurt people so I didn’t fight back. I might have slapped but that was it, they bit me and stuff.

this was all before I was 10. I read a lot, because kids at school were getting meaner and meaner, so why not go live in stories, you know?

When I was about 7 my mom kept making me write notes every day when my dad was in jail about how upset I was that he was gone, it was forced.. I was never sure if he got them sent to him or not but he said no.  They split up when I was 2.  He dated Margie for about 10 years, ending when I was 13 or so.  I remember staying at Robbie’s house, that kid was a little asshole. 

I never felt like anyone liked me.  My dad always felt like my mom’s family was trying to take me away from him, and told me as much.  I had a very angry personality for a very long time because of the back and forth war between my mom and my dad. They battled over custody over me until I was in 6th grade.  My mom won, and within a week or two she packed my stuff into two black trash bags and sent me on my own to my dad’s.

I moved in with him, there was Margie for a bit, she was a nasty bitch, then they broke up and Patty was there. She lasted maybe a month or so before Papa got sick of her. She was gross.

I remember what it was like still to be on Prozac for that two months or so. I think that was the last time I ever trusted my mother.  Really trusted her.  I was so stoned and terrified and sad and alone… I just couldn’t do it anymore. I am not sure when I realized that I didn’t want to emulate either of my parents.  It was a long time ago.

I was just surviving until I met my friend Nyssa Huff on MySpace in the Occult Studies group. I was 17.  She knew me best in the world and she is dead and gone forever.  Do you blame me for being depressed?

~ by araelysia on December 24, 2012.

2 Responses to “Memories…”

  1. Wish I came around and reverse spin kicked those little kids in Jefferson Square

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