Less Than 3

Family.  That word is fairly meaningful to most people. But not to me, It's repulsive.

The divorce of our parents wrecked our lives in so many ways. I'm still in regular therapy undoing the damage of my parents failures as they selfishly put most of their effort into spiting each other. With their best chess pieces; my 2 siblings and I. And it's proof that both of my siblings and I don't talk to each other still, as adults- (Ages: 24,26,28)

My dad, whom I live with currently, but probably not too much longer, says he wants to play peace maker. But he simply likes being in charge and attempting to control others. He is loud, violent and angry more than he has ever been peaceful. He tries to out parent my sisters children when they are in town, and stills tries to parent his adult children. He gets mad when things aren't perfect while bossing others around loudly from the side lines because his hearing is poor... and because it's "his house" and "he can". This was one of the many reasons I said goodbye to my father as a teen. 

Yup, this book exactly. My memory is fucking spotless.

I remember 2 specific moments that I made the decision to never go back. I was 14 and we lived on a busy road. The speed limit on the road in front of our house was 45-50MPH. My dad pulled his truck out in front, off the side of the road partly into the drive way. When I heard him pull up my mother asked me to take my new, pricey, music books she purchased for my voice lesson- solo and ensemble adjudication, and ask him if he'd be willing to pay half or compensate for them fully. He scoffed, rolled his eyes and said no. I got flustered and walled back in to grab my giant duffle bag. My siblings put all our belongings into these each month to live with the opposite parent. Mine was red, my brothers was light blue, my sisters was navy. So with my head down I shared the news to my mom. She told me she'd come with me this time. She asked "Kenny, she needs these books for her music and voice lessons, are you sure you don't want to help support her in this?" And he grabbed my arm with the brand new books, and threw them into the street as cars raced by and blew my new pretty purple music book pages open. He looked me in the eye with his hand around my upper arm pulling me closer and pointing to my chest in anger "Do you see your breasts? Your mothers chest use to look like that when I met her... now look at them. THAT's where my child support is going that's, that's suppose to help with your damn books." 

(Editors notes: I went to add more to that last sentence, without reading the sentence completely and realized I was typing the same words from memory, already written. I temporarily feared I had forgotten something in my minds eye. Nope. Muscle memory. word-for-word!)

I remembering wanting to scream at him that he hasn't seen her naked in at least 6 years, but I have. The woman's boobs touch her fucking belly button. No cosmetic surgeon would fuck up a boob job that bad. I'd ask for my money back! My mom did not have her breasts done. She just kept her 34/C cup from breast feeding 3 kids. On top of remembering how much my dad supported my brother in his many sports outside of child support- he just hated me. Countless trips to Dicks Sporting Goods for new shoes, apparel, and just to see what's new. My dad never once stepped foot in a music store.

Everything else became a blur, and I tugged free of his grip and I heard my mom try and defend me while picking up my books out of the busy road and chase me back into the house. He left without me that day.

The second time was roughly 18 months later. My mom tried to push me to his home again for a holiday weekend once married to her awful husband. He was tired of his wife's daughter, but not her son, staying full time in HIS house. (You know, that place where "families" live together when you get married? In a house. To this day, my mother still lives in HIS house.) My mothers newest husband also was prior divorced and had shared custody of his son and I guess was use to getting at least privacy during each month. When my dad picked me up for the first time in roughly a year he was already in a bad mood. He got angry at me for something I said and uttered the words he has used under his breath many times- but this time I remember they were directed at me and only me. I was the only one in the car.

"You remind me too much of your mother. She's such a stupid bitch. I cant get over how much you look and act just like her."

As we got to his place, he was currently living at his mom's, my grandmothers, I was in tears. He said "you know what I should just take you back home, you don't even want to be here anyways with all your crying." And he took me home. We rode in silence, as I cried some more. My mothers husband was livid, even while clearly still being in tears. I'm not sure who I hated more than, my mothers now 3rd terrible husband, or my dad.

To this day I bet he doesn't even remember those stories. But I sure as hell do. My dad is not a kind man. All three of his kids eventually stop living with him. I didn't returned to his house until I was 21 years old. My relationship with my dad has hands down been the hardest of all his children.

He never replied, I'm not even sure he got it. But, I tried.

My brother is in town for the first time in two years, sparking the idea for this blog, and everyone is finally meeting his wife and kids. He married a woman who already had children last year, they are both in the army. His daughter (9 years old) just said "he HATES his sisters, he says it allllll the time." Everyone laughed. I chuckled, but mostly I just felt the sting of the words I know are true that were finally said out loud, by the most truthful and my personal favorite form of human, a child.

 My dad replied to help keep perspective that "Yes, and this is one of his sisters." As he points to me in the room. Apparently we just don't say those things out loud, but why not? Since we are speaking truth I chimed in, mainly for the adults in the room. "None of us like each other. It's why we never talk to each other. The feelings are mostly mutual."

And the room got awkward.

I've been having nightmares about Quinn's family visiting since I knew they were coming. I kid you not. Knowing that they hate us-not just me- but wasting time and money coming all the way from El paso Texas by car to visit? For what? Just stay away, save yourselves from this toxic family, and save us from your disinterest.

Side note Family dynamic: Instead of "grandpa or pappy" My brothers kids also call my father Mr. Kenny, and My brother introduces himself as Quinn to everyone else but his new wife and kids. He goes by his middle name, Christian- (that he has never used before)

She was mad I posted a photo on my social media of my nephew and I, even though other family members do it.

My sister and I have feud for over a decade now. We are very different humans. While we use to fight more aggressively, we simply blocked each other from all forms of communication, other than in person cordial behavior. This has solved most of our issues. Because we simply don't have a relationship. She has recently started working on her physical and mental health and her behavior seems to have soften some- I noticed from when she has come to visit. Which is good, especially for her parenting. Her kids need a better mom. I'm glad she is getting professional help. And besides her telling me she wanted to smear my face into the drive way and watch me bleed 2 years ago, and that I'm a disappointment, and she is jealous of my life and hates me for it.... We're mostly okay.

I already have a blog about my 3 grandparents, (See the blog called "I'm a Disappointment") So we will move to my aunts/uncles. I've lived with both my aunts and uncles on my moms side. My dad's only sibling was never around, so no need to mention him. When I was accepted to go to BYU-I, before I dropped out, I was living with my mothers oldest sister. The arrangement was to be in school to continue living with her. So that only lasted from June- a week after High school graduation when my mothers husband really didn't want me in his home anymore and paid for my damn plane ticket to get out- Until a week after school started in September. Then I was kicked out and became homeless. Doors were locked on me mid move, even though I was never given a key. They always keep their doors unlock. Always. (Mormon/Idaho thing) Lots of anger and shame for me having sex with my boyfriend. Guess who's 26 and still never got pregnant?

A year of homelessness goes by and I'm now living with my other aunts house in Southern VA. They had always been more approachable, but perhaps it was just because they visited more often because they lived close by. The news that I was to stay on pysch meds or not allowed in anyones home was passed along family member to family member. Some of my most traumatic mal-practice impatient psychiatrist stays happen in Southern VA, and they perpetrated it by standing their ground that I must stay on meds or leave. Eventually they kicked me out when I flushed the meds making my hair fall out and me vomit daily. My aunt later half ass apologized to me when I was living with my dad, med free for 3 years, at a time in my life I was doing well. She's very intelligent and my insides felt warm and proud as I watched her brain work through all the nasty things they said to me about forcing me to be and stay on my meds, I felt her remorse. She was wrong. No words were needed. I got what I wanted. She was surprised I was so stable, without meds. I blew her damn mind. To read more on my experience during this time read Nuclear and Wytheville.

I bet you thought I forgot my mom, didn't you? She gets her own damn dedicated blog. I'm not going there today. (Read Mom)

If you're looking for family love, you're going to have to look else place. No less than 3's here....

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