I should have known…
…that nothing good could come from convicted felons, drug addicts, alcoholics, and people with serious emotional disturbances. I thought that I had gotten lucky. I had somehow narrowly avoided a life as a derelict, addicted, hooker, and criminal. I always admitted my luck. I gave those lucky stars plenty of credit.
WHAT NOW, UNIVERSE!?
WHAT NOW, KARMA?!
I realized today, of course… of course I couldn’t come out of such a genetic shitshow as my family unscathed. What kind of hubris would lead me to think I could??
And it’s not only generations of felons and addicts. Who, of course I should have suspected suffer from a mental disorder…no, no in some distorted way I thought they survived all the shit due to some kind of almost superhuman resilience. The ratio of possible deaths to actual deaths must mean that we’re actually invincible.
It’s also the environment. Who can not only be born with the genetic makeup, but then be surrounded by drug addicts and freaks, a young mother who hadn’t the slightest idea what she was doing, would leave me at parties as an infant to get pot, smoke cigarettes sitting next to me while I cried, and be just as violent as my sister’s dad when they got into it…and be healthy?
Who can count their mother’s number of boyfriends to be over 10…by the time I was in high school, and not develop a twisted sense of relationship? Who can learn the explicit rule to never, ever rely on a man or anyone for that matter, and then not internalize absolutely every problem because NO WHERE IS SAFE.
Your dad: Doesn’t care, convicted felon a few times, still sells and uses heroin, physically abused my mother. Had a brief relationship from the ages of 19-22, much of which while he was in prison for (you guessed it) selling heroin. At least it’s all documented. And hey, I got Charles Manson’s writing address for Valentine’s Day, and a dream catcher from some Native American who killed someone. Pretty sure I’m not hanging that anywhere NEAR my bed.
Your mother: Unwilling or unable. The jury is still out on that one. She once told me drank about a quart to a liter of kahlua and milk every day when she was pregnant with me. But she quit smoking, so it’s cool.
Your sister’s dad: A freak show. Violent and somehow constantly the victim. When he put the family dog down, he came in and told me I didn’t play with him enough. Once he left me in the car for hours while he went inside to party with friends and do cocaine. Missed the father-daughter parade float we were supposed to ride (of course). I stood on the porch looking at every pair of headlights drive by, waiting and hoping. Didn’t show…until the next day, when he brought along his OWN father who had clearly wiped out Toys R Us on the way. Pathetic.
So yeah, taking a look at those ingredients, how the FUCK did I think I would end up with creme brulee?
No, instead I’m just left with two girls, one cup.