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We weren't members of the local religion and my brother and I (but not my sister) were both easy targets and singled out by bullies during elementary and Jr. high school. I was pretty much friendless until 9th grade. My mother is a drug addict and an alcoholic - although she is clean now - and she'd leave for days, binge, and then come home and sleep for days. She was pretty much absent from my life for several years. During one of her bad binges, she slit her wrists in front of me and my siblings. The cops came to get her and it took 2 of them to get her in the squad car. She fought the cops so much that the bedroom looked like a tornado hit it - the bed was tipped over, the lamps were smashed on the floor, the TV was knocked over...pretty much everything was on the floor. My brother was 13ish and had the good sense to make me and my sister leave the house while the cops fought with her. I think I was in 7th grade. My dad dealt with this by going on long bike rides/trips. During warm months, I didn't see much of him because he'd be gone all weekend.
Despite all of the shit - I do remember happy times from my childhood and I knew my parents both loved me.
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"They say that patriotism is the last refuge to which a scoundrel clings; steal a little and they throw you in jail, steal a lot and they make you king"
Formerly Medusa
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