I’m I the only one who try to be a part of something (family) and felt so much like an outsider that you just gave in slowly burning away the memories, the thoughts that they do not exit. The hard thing is you can’t. Since I can remember I have been dealing with what everyone calls Black Sheep identification. This is supposed to be when your considered least to succeed in the family. And didn’t go through it, seriously. Since day one I was told I would grow up to be just like my uncle Parish (Long time criminal and tough ass). I do not know why this was said about a child who has yet said a word be prejudged like that but that was me.
A memory that has bothered me to this day is my mother trying to drown me because I was crying to go home to father. One day we were going somewhere, walking randomly, ending at someone house. My mother knocked on the door and some lady let us in. Next, we ended up in the bathroom and me taking a bath. I could see the depression on her face, frustration… I guess my muffles made whatever frustration vivid because she became livid. Next thing I know my face is being pushed into the water and held. I was actually inhaling the water to my brain. I can feel the burn on my brain like it was boiling. She pulled me back up for a few seconds than stuffed my face back into the water. I cannot recall if I saw her anger but I felt it. The hurt to be on the street with a child, for me to be crying for my father when he left (supposedly).
See family, I can remember a lot. From my first words to my Aunt owing me a notebook (we always trip off that. I know they sometime think I’m tripping but I can name the street we lived on and what school year it was for me. East Bethune ST. And I was starting pre-kindergarten). A person I admire to this day is my Aunt Tonya. Since day One she’s been one of the realist women I ever known. I can remember this fire truck she bought me for a birthday. I loved and honored that truck. The truck was black jeep truck with fire blaze all the way around, and it had a black solider that came with it. Aunt Tonya, Uncle Irving and Uncle Daryl if I can remember treated me and my cousin Pierre equally. There was one time I felt my Aunt treated him better. She helped him purchase a stereo system. But the whole thing is he was getting straight A’s in school- since he started school. And I think she got it for him in 9th grade. His intelligence and maturity have been high, though I am older. I remember my father called himself getting Pierre to help me learn some math over the summer. We were both in first grade and our studies didn’t go pass multiplications and dividends. And if he real cared he would have asked my mother, my teacher or most important me why? Because he told my cousin the wrong studies- it was reading.
My father was a good father but a bad dad what made him an ok man. A fought for his had most of his kids or tried to get them. A lot of kids. Some that are still coming out. Some that love him (us that lived with him) and those that don’t (the one’s that didn’t). My father is diagnosed illiterate, meaning he can barely read or write. But I tell you, he’s far from stupid.
Can I tell you how my mother ended up having me? And drowning me. It was a good day; well it started that way. I was running around the house when my mother came in with a baby seat in her hands. I can say I was happy to see her. I ran to her and hugged her. In her hand was my little brother Ramone (I still call him pie- face to this day. He turned out to be A better functional man then I am, I would say. I am proud of him). My father came out the room than he and my mother went in the room and closed the door. When my mother came back out, she seemed mad and started down the stairs. I ran over to say bye she asked me did I want to come. I said no.
Note: I was always told my mother assumed I loved my dad more. I didn’t believe it but after years of see how she act around and towards my step mothers. She would say stuff I couldn’t understand then. I do now.
Anyhow, my father is a verbal abusive guy (now I see where I get it from). He used to say some shit to me. I might not be his. He disowns me. I’m the oldest but the dumbest. Craziness. What I despise him the most for is him using me for babysitting. I was very good at basketball. So good I received a scholarship in middle school. I was a problem child and the school offered me a scholarship if I continued going to school and playing ball. My father would say I’m lying but it is true. He did the same to my sister Terricka. Had us thinking he was out working or handling business. The whole time we were missing school to babysit. He would literally get mad if we said we didn’t want too. Then have the audacity to use the other with taunts of who is the better child-vice versed. It felt like he never wanted us to do nothing. We couldn’t go to family functions, hang out with cousins and friends. He would always say they was talking about us- in which was. But most of the time it was because of him. His mouth. Most, his lies. Some was because we actually done bad things. Especially me. I had hands problems (stealing, lying and girls). He never had a problem throwing me out. From the time I moved with my father I ‘ve been with my grandmother, aunts, uncles and back to him. I can’t remember staying with no one more than a year. Damn shame.
Let me tell you about third grade. There was this new kid that transferred to our school (William Penderhuges). We became pretty cool over time. Our thing was playing Mortal Kombat before school started. One particular day we were playing and I was getting the best of him. Dude got mad and kicked me in the nuts. When I went to the bathroom, I had blood in my power ranger draws. When I got home my father owed me a wiping for acting up in school (playing with dude). I took my pants off and there it was a big blood stain. He seen it, look at me and continued on beating me (that’s probably why I cannot have kids). Another was in my teens. I had gotten a job a t an elementary school tutoring and gym work making summer money. My father had a job there as well as a janitor. My dad had bought this necklace and bracelet set. They were the cross and Jesus piece. I wanted them too. They were sterling silver and shiny. Well on Christmas Eve my father offered them to me, for a price though, 240 dollars. At the time I was 124 yrs old. He slicked me out my Christmas check. All fake chains. And guess what he got us nothing for Christmas and carried me and my sister like we were acting up is why he didn’t. This is how mid-evil my father can get when it comes to many. I was doing good at one time. I would go to school and after work. Another Christmas, I had given my dad my rent money. I asked him if I could keep my next check because I wanted to buy my little brother and sister gift. I was excited about too, he agreed. Do you know when I got my check, he went back on it saying he never said that. We got into it big towards the point he put me out. Not because I acted up, not because I owed rent, not because I disrespect his home but because he wanted my money to buy his new lady friend kid’s gifts. He bought me and sister nothing. He bought Ms. Rene kids timberland boats and tennis shoes. I was put on the street to impress another man’s family, period. The only time can really remember good times with my father is when I did not live with him. I earned a lot from my dad but suffered mental abuse at a high. Some people just don’t understand what they do and never will…
To be Continued….
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