Good morning, although it’s goodnight for me (I work third shift sort of). This is something I have been wanting to do for a long time and never have, but after the months of constant disrespect I have received, I decided to begin this newsletter as a healthy way to cope. I’m no writer by any means, my “day” time job is a table games dealer at a casino, but I have always been told I’m a good writer and should take classes but let’s just start here.

I’m sitting here, almost 7am my time, distraught by all of the latest drama. In the past I would’ve ‘crashed out’ but it has been a good while since I reacted like that and heard writing can be therapeutic. I would like to avoid the ‘crash out’ phase of my life. Before we get there though, I’ve always been the type of person to actually tell the truth, both sides of the story, I genuinely want to know if I’m right or wrong. If I know I’m wrong, then I can begin to grow… Plus no good story starts at the end so let’s take it back (I think it’ll be worth it).

So according to my mom, my earliest memories start when I was 4 or 5 years old. Which is when I remember flashes of spending hours going from one church to another. Turns out, my mom and dad were planning their wedding. I didn’t know why at the time obviously, but eventually the tours stopped and I just remember not seeing my dad anymore. I learned a few years ago the semi truth; My mom says it was because he cheated on her with our cousin who happened to be more like a “sister” to her; My grandad said my cousin lied to break them up; My dad never talked to me about anything really. So, I may never know the “truth” but either way it caused my dad to not be in my life as much…

By 6/7 my mom had moved on. I remember her having three different serious boyfriends and a bunch of side pieces which included my dad (one of the few times I got to see him). I used to sleep with my mom every night, I was the youngest of three from her, and my dad’s only child, so you could imagine I was/am spoiled and clingy. I have these wicked memories of her telling me it’s not your dad so not tonight but the most disturbing by far is waking up in the middle of them having sex( not that I knew what it was then but unfortunately the image never went away) and my dad walking me to the bathroom with his strange private parts in front of my face. Now I’m not a parent so I can’t speak to much on this, but I would like to say that did traumatize me and if possible do not expose your kids to that at the ages of 4-6. I ask God to strike me down now if I’m lying but it’s something I never was able to forget. Yuck.

Now my timeline back then isn’t the greatest but eventually my mom’s fun time ended, and she married Harold (remember all names and places will be switched so I can remain anonymous). Harold would be the first twist that would change my life forever.