So I've been thinking a lot about the concept of family. My faith in a working family has been crumpled up, kicked, bashed, burned, and otherwise destroyed. When I was an infant, my mom and my dad worked opposing shifts, meaning that they never saw each other. During the time that there was no one to take care of me (from work overlap), I stayed with my grandparents. Then he was never around, mom threatened to divorce him, and he threatened to take me away and she would never see me again. So no divorce and he essentially ran away. Got a different job in a different city. I was taken over to visit my family on his side every once in a while and I remember playing with my cousins and such. Well, then he got drunk, flipped his car and died. After that, mom and I moved in with my grandparents (I was three) and it set us on a path to where we would never speak to my dad's side of the family ever again.
So there's half my family. Just gone. Imagine the life you have now. And then your dad and his entire family walks out of your life. All you have is half a family. Now you roughly have what I've had essentially my entire life. So mom worked third shift and I went to school and such and we stayed at my grandparents house until I was 6. Then we bought our own house and lived beside my grandparents (actually, on their property. There was no escape. They could see whatever we were doing outside). Also, mom's a chain smoker (or she was, I guess she's not so bad now, but I stay away from her as much as possible), and being a single (sometimes) mother with one child, it gets rough. Sometimes it got abusive. Mom also dating random (and very sketchy) men and there were definitely a lot of awkward scenarios. Also, myself being placed in positions where I shouldn't have been placed (in a room filled with cigarette smoke and very drunk and loud adults, various things).
Then she got married again. Which severed the ties between us and my dad's family even more (waytogo, mom. Blaming this one on you). He turned out to be a drunken douchebag (literally. Like he had the little thing you blow into set in his car. And if his BAC was a certain limit his car wouldn't start. So sometimes he would either drive mom's new car [she gave him her old one] or he would take me with him and get me to trick the system for him. Of course I didn't know any better). He ended up destroying the car on the inside and she filed for divorce. Then she dated several other sketchy fellows (also was crazy in something with this one guy who comes and works on things at the house for us (and my grandparents). He's married though. Awkward. Nothing happened to my knowledge though).
Next, here comes significant other #3 (just going to call them SO ## from now on. Much simpler), and here's how I met this classy (lies) fellow. I came home and was about to get on the desktop (before the mac) and I look over and there's a man wearing only boxers asleep on the cough. So I'm kind of panicking at the moment so I asked him if I could get online (which was stupid, because it's my goddamn house, goddamn it and I can do what I want and no almost-naked man is going to tell me otherwise). He thought I was my mother, I swear, because he said "of course you can, sweetie." Awkward zone has been reached. I later find out that this is mom's new boyfriend and oh joy he's moving in with us soon. So he moves in. He was a pain. So was his useless son (SO #2 had a son, much less annoying though, but weird looking), who stayed with us for like a month. His friends were drunk all the time. And at our house. And then they were drunk out our house. Lovely. He also bought me a guitar. Which his drunk friend almost broke (life lesson, stay the fuck away from my instruments, goddamn it). They were also engaged. Kinda. Not really. Mom was too emotionally scarred from the previous failed relationships that she was forced into a corner and didn't really want to get married. I kinda felt bad for her. And then he started yelling at her a lot. I felt bad for her again. And then I realized she was kind of a bitch. I stopped feeling bad. So finally she decides after his numerous bad decision making that he was getting kicked out. Note, they were never married. We actually still have some of his stuff at the house, actually. Also, as soon as he moved out, he moved in with another chick. Almost immediately. Awesome.
So now we have reached the point in time where mom has met a delightful (sometimes) young (16 or so years older than her) man (still old) who has become SO #4 (AND we have reached the present in my delightful storyline, about damn time). He has a daughter, who is very nice and kind (and riiiich) and she lives in New York. Also, she is twice my age. So much for having a sister. He's also old enough to be my grandfather. Awkward. But he's respectable, silly, and independent, and he bought (more like his daughter bought) mom a big rock, which she was very happy about. They are married now, but they don't live together. Mom still lives here in Mocksville and he lives in Greensboro. She visits him on the weekends. So, maybe this will be the last time I have to pull out the number system to figure out what the fuck is going on as far as father figures (HA) go?
Any, what this was supposed to explain is to why I don't have strong faith in family. Mine has always been broken, changing, and people are constantly being replaced. I don't really know how I'm supposed to see people. So I really pick my own family out of friends and such. I don't handle well with people that act like my mother. Guess what people, I've (unfortunately) had a consistent mother figure for all 18 years of my life. I really, really, don't need another one. I promise. Go send your protective estrogen force-shield elsewhere. So I tend to find stronger friends in guys, just because I seem to fit in with them a lot better. Ehh. That part was kind of a tangent. Anyway.
So today things changed. Back in the day, way before I was conceived (six years), my father was married to another woman. They had a son and later got divorced (I'm a little blurry on the details). Then he married my mom. And I was conceived and thrusted out of my mother's vagina! Anyway. So I probably met his son (my half-brother) maybe once. I consciously remember him being there once. And then I had a picture. Which is lost somewhere, actually. So, never spoke to him again, because apparently his mom was kind of a bitch and wouldn't let him have contact with anyone on my dad's side of the family. So I forgot about him. He stopped existing to me. He wasn't there. My dad's family isn't there. My dad sure has hell isn't here. There's no family there anymore. Read in the paper once (quite a few years back) that he went into the military. Even less of a chance to ever communicate again. There was no way to find him.
And so while I was online, I go to facebook and I have a message from a 24 year old enlisted man named Nick Clark who was asking if I had a half-brother..
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