1.

I often think  about my earliest memories. Even writing about it now, it is like my mind goes blank. Not because I don’t remember, but because what I have up there is not really worth remembering…

When I was probably 4, I remember standing in a circle with my dad, and a handful of his friends. I had a bottle of mountain dew in my hand, they all had beers. All I can remember about that moment is my dads friend saying “She tips it back just like you.” Talking to my dad, about me drinking my soda. This is always the first thing i think about when i think about my past. Dont ask why.

Once i was at a friend’s house, my older brother was dating his mom… I never thought about how weird that is until just now. Everything is a blur until my friends mom walked upstairs with a basket of wet clothing… they were all blotched with bleach stains. OOPS, it was my fault. I remember trying to be helpful because she was stressed out… Fail. That same friends older brother got caught smoking cigarettes by my brother. My brother and his mom then forced him to smoke cigarettes one after another until he puked. I sat outside on the porch watching. It was brutal. I was probably  or 6.

My dad used to take me to the bar with him, I was quite the daddy’s girl back in the day. I have, had, eight brothers. They all lived with us at one point. Neither of my sisters did. I remember he would sit me on the bar top, I would drink soda and eat free candy all night. In the early 90’s, in the ghetto, that was a totally acceptable thing to do. Now those same parents just keep their sleeping kids in the car while they go to the bar, HA. its funny because its true.

The first time I ever tried smoking pot i was around 6. I kept telling my dad it was bad for him to smoke. (don’t get it twisted I’m an adult now and an advocate for legalizing marijuana in every way) He smoked in the house all the time with his friends, once I went to him from the kitchen, my mom was doing dishes. I said something about him smoking, He hit his red acrylic steam roller, filling it with smoke, and put it to my lips. I don’t remember anything after that.

My dad was a crack dealer, he never hid that from me. If we are being honest my dad never hid anything from me. I’ll assume that’s part of the reason I’m one fucked up individual. I remember sitting in my car seat, around preK age. [[BACKSTORY: I was a super smart kid, got selected in a very small group of 4 year olds who took a test to get into Kindergarten a year early. I beat out like 200 kids. I am TOTALLY proud of that!]] My dad and I would drive around for hours, random stops. Usually seriously shady apartment buildings. ITS CRAZY that I can honestly remember the one we always stopped at. Yellow lights, hookers walking around. Of course back then i didn’t know what they were just ladies. This old man would come to the widow and hand my dad a baggy full of dollars and cents. That’s how i learn to count money. I have a clear vision of my dad looking back at me, handing me a bag of cash and asking me to count it for him, with a chuckle. My dad and I… we were so close, he’s a great guy.

My dad being very well-known in his profession meant he literally knew everyone everywhere we went. IT WAS ALWAYS SO ANNOYING. Right before my dad went to prison, I was in 3rd grade, a guy pulled up in front of my house and tried to solicit me into his car with candy. I mean I knew to scream, but instead i threatened my big bad dad on him, “Do you know who my daddy is!” Then i ran to my front door screaming for my dad, who knows if he knew who my dad was but he pulled away.

OH once, one of the women my dad cheated on my mom with, came to our door in the middle of the night, and my dad beat the shit out of her in the middle of the street.

That’s about it before my dad went to prison.

wait…

my mom won $10,000 on the radio.

my parents had a water-bed.

the carpet in my bedroom was blue shag.

the girls across the street had lice constantly and roaches, it.was.gross.

I used to make bracelets by braiding yarn and sell them in my front yard for $.25 when my mom would have a yard sale.

and my cousin used to molest me, Ive literally never said that before out loud, technically my mouth hasn’t verbally expressed it even still.

Until next time…

Advertisements

Author: whatiforgotblog

My name is Tiffany.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s