Wow, well this should be uh..fun? I really don’t like writing about my childhood. Well, what I remember anyway cause I feel like it was just a series of unfortunate events. The type of shit you see in movies and what not. Not something a child should have to deal with and learn how to handle and cope. (it’s not like crazy abuse, rape or anything like that) I just grew up in a confusing household, and it really made me think about a lot of things vs just taking things at face value is all. So here it is…
- Moving from Puerto Rico to Florida – This shit was rough. And I was pretty young. We (my brothers and I) legit got pulled out of our beds early one morning after someone had broken into our house attempting to steal something. At this point I can’t remember if it was money, drugs or something completely irrelevant but I know it had something to do with my dad and his choice on how he lived his life. (stay tuned for that one folks) Anyway we moved literally overnight even though my parents had just bought a brand new house we were waiting to move into. We ended up staying at my great aunt’s apartment for a while until both of my parents got jobs and we were able to get our own place. (not to mention my mother took care of my dad for a while because he had been shot; almost killed) We started school and they put me in an ESOL class (cause I didn’t speak any english) and TADA! I became a Puerto Rican American! ha!
- Finding out my “dad” wasn’t really my “dad”- Ok, I am sure that I am not the only one who has ever had to experience this especially with the amount of broken families and mixed families there are now a days. But you have to understand, I was probably about 7 maybe 8. My brothers have always looked different than me and I just assumed it’s because they looked more like my father than I did and I just looked more like my mom. Eventually while living here in Florida my biological father decided to make an appearance/visit. I didn’t remember ever having met him, and I couldn’t remember anything about this man. It was strange, but all in all..he was my “Father” so I went ahead and handled it like a champ and tried to make it work. And I kept trying to make it work every summer when I would go to Puerto Rico on vacation to stay with my grandma and great grandma. I always looked for my “father” wanted to spend time with him, only to go and spend the week at his house sitting there with his current wife/girlfriend while he was always working. (he owns a towtruck company) I kept trying and I really especially tried when I found out one summer that I had a sister. I was super excited (growing up with three yucky boys will do that to you) needless to say my attempts fluked and I gave up. Writing a letter to him explaining to him how dissapointed I was at him and our relationship. I don’t think he’s ever forgiven me for that. Tough nut. I’m not sorry I wrote it.
- Realizing my dad’s “job” wasn’t really a “job” – Now when I say “dad” I don’t mean my sorry excuse of a biological father, I mean my dad who raised me, loved me, and helped me become the woman I am today. (yes, the same one who was shot; don’t get off topic here…FOCUS) When I was younger I didn’t really think much of the fact my dad was never around, the fact that people came and went from my house about as much as he did and I just never thought about it because he was always there for us. We never went without anything. Anything we needed, he got us. Anything we wanted we got. Clearly, he was doing something right…I mean he had the right intentions. A few days after my 15th birthday (and if you know anything about Hispanic 15th birthdays; a Quinceañero are a HUGE deal) he went away to jail for drug charges. In a deep part of me, there was a realization that I knew all along he was doing something he shouldn’t have been doing and I just let it go, ignored it and completely overlooked it because he was my dad and I loved him. I just knew he wasn’t doing it for himself, he was doing it for us. I still love him for it. I wish he would have made different choices, but the past is the past.
Soooooo yeah, that’s the 3 moments that stuck out the most during my childhood. What are yours? Let me know! I’d love to hear them. Also, this is part of the random 30 day blog challenge found here.