This post is going to be a little different, a little more personal. It’s a long one, so it will be divided into multiple parts. This is part 1. I don’t talk about this to get pitty, or a pat on the back, or anything like that. I share this in hopes of helping others that struggle with past trauma, cutting off toxic family, or if you know me, maybe it helps you understand where I came from.

 This is a topic I said I would never talk much about while my Peepaw was alive. I did not want to give him any reason to feel guilty, or feel bad, or tarnish the way he thought of his daughter (my biological mother). Once he made it to a certain age, I felt he deserved to enjoy the last years of his life. I grew up, survived trauma, and bettered myself. My trauma did not define me, it’s just a story of my past. It was pointless for him to know the trauma I endured at the hand of his own daughter. What good would it do him, or me, or anyone?

But now I feel free to speak my truth.

My biological mother is a narcissist with likely a whole array of undiagnosed mental health issues. I think she was missing the “mom gene.” She birthed 3 children, but I don’t think she ever wanted to be a mother. She was 27 when she had me, a fugitive of the law at the time, gave birth to me in Florida with an alias on my birth certificate. When I was 3 weeks old, she took me to North Carolina and along with my biological father, signed over parental rights to my grandparents (her parents) – my Meemaw and Peepaw. She then went back to Texas, turned herself in, and served 4 years in prison. My Meemaw took SO many pictures (I guess that’s where I get it from), but remember back then you had to actually get it developed! There is picture album after picture album of my every move when I was little. It was clear they loved me, cared for me, and I felt it too. I always felt at home with them, it was safe, stable, and they were loving parents to me. My Peepaw played catch with me in the yard, never missed a t-ball or softball game. They never missed a dance recital. Peepaw retired when I was in Kindergarten and Meemaw was a homemaker. I had several friends that lived on our street, and my house became the “hang out” sometimes after school. They were “Meemaw and Peepaw” to all of my friends, too. One year, my friends and I decided to put on a dance recital for the whole neighborhood – Peepaw had flyers made and sent them out to all the neighbors. My childhood with them was nothing short of unconditional love and support.

When my mother got out of prison, she stayed in Texas but would come to NC once a year and visit. She was basically like a stranger to me. I was always uncomfortable around her. Remember, this was the late 80s/early 90s when keeping in touch long distance was more difficult. She called occasionally, but I don’t remember any meaningful conversations. There were no “I love yous” exchanged between us EVER in my entire life to this day. When I was 9 ½, she had married my stepdad and had my two brothers. She convinced my grandparents she had her life together and requested for me to go to TX to live with them. I remember Peepaw presenting the idea to me. I still remember the conversation to this day. It was in the car after leaving a friend’s birthday party. I was 8 years old. I knew of my brothers at this point, had met one of them on my mother’s last visit to NC. Had never met the youngest one (they were babies at this point). I was at the start of 3rd grade. My closest friends had siblings, lived with their mom and dad. I was an only child living with my grandparents. I had a great life, but at 8 years old I had a desire to have siblings and feel “normal” living with my mother. Even though she was nearly a stranger to me. I was also young, and did not know her entire story and why she had been absent at the time. So my little 8 year old brain just heard “brothers, living with my mom like a normal kid, yay!”

So, on July 9th, 1993, after finishing the school year at age 9 I got on a plane, my first flight as an unaccompanied minor, and I moved to Texas. And that began 9+ years of pure hell.