Exposed

How do I even start this? Well, I feel like I have shared a good amount of my life before Ben. My pregnancy, family and relationships. But I have never really shared my struggles. They're not really something I like to think about, let alone share. But I feel like my past and my hardships are something that people can relate to and go through the growth right beside me. I have not always had a voice, and I will do whatever I can to keep the voice I have now and help those who need it.
     So, growing up, like I have written about before, I had a great and stable home with my mom. But that was only one side of the story- and the side I usually prefer to talk about. I would only spend weekends with my dad, which was the agreement between my mother and father. But Half the time I would call my mom twenty minutes after she dropped me off and ask her to come back and get me.     
     Living with my dad was, hard. It was stressful. I grew up in and out of trailers on the side of the road. In car lots, the mountains, on streets. Wherever they could park the trailer for a couple days, we would. There was my dad, step mom, older sister, older brother, myself, younger sister and younger brother. All living inside those small little trailers that you hook up to the back of your truck, yea that was my home. My dad was always up late doing something, usually with his truck, with his tattooed friends, fixing something or other. I never really knew what was going on until I was older. Then I learned his friends that came in and out were there for the drugs and those late nights only happened because of the drugs that kept him up all hours of the night. I specifically remember the day that I found out my father was doing drugs. My mom was talking to her friend Kim who was visiting and I overheard her say, "Anthony has been doing meth and has to leave the house again" All that really stuck with me was Anthony and meth. I was SHOCKED, beyond shocked. Mortified, sad, scared, lost, confused. MY dad, my role model, my everything was on drugs? Seriously? No.  I was only about ten years old at this time, so to me there was no excuse for this. drugs were BAD. not that there not anyways but there was no understanding this in any better way. With drugs come anger, depression, confusion and so much more. I can remember SO many memories of my father being so angry. So mad at my step mom. Throwing lamps, chairs, anything and everything around. I hate this part, but I remember in one red house by the river, my dad grabbed my step mom by her hair and drug her across the room and slammed her against the front door. I know, what the fuck, a child should not see this bullshit, but I did. My sister had to call the cops and I was more devastated seeing my father being put in handcuffs then I was with anything that happened that day. I remember running up to him and hugging him so tight, while his hands were locked behind his back. All I wanted was for him to hold me back and not leave me. I felt so empty and sad. All I wanted was for him to come back and for my mom to come rescue me, once again. Between fights, my house catching on fire from the drugs in the garage, and so many weird and confusing memories, I found the only way to accept this life was to find all the amazing and fun memories from my childhood and my father that I could. Like, Building with all the woods in the mountains, hot chocolate every sunday, buying bunny rabbits and building their cages, banana splits every weekend, family games and so many more memories that I would rather remember than the bad. I truly think it is the strangest balance to try to have when you have a hard childhood but good memories. and that carries on into your adulthood. I choose to remember the good, accept the good, find the good and show the good. There are so many bad times that I could hold against him, that I could use as an excuse for myself and that I could have but I chose to find the positive in every negative. Life is beautiful, life is hard and life is a crazy beautiful balance that you have to find within yourself and your life.

Another battle, is just yet another feather earned. Battle after battle. I AM PROUD.