The blame game

   My mom kicked him out of the house. He refused to leave. So she did the next best thing. She called her brother. He lived in California and was going to stop by to see us before he headed to Mexico to see my grandparents. He knew he was an alcoholic he applauded my mom for finally standing her ground. When he arrived he was surprised by how he found my dad. He wasn't the man he remembered.  Alcohol tends to change people both physically and emotionally. My dad was shocked he didn't expect to see his brother. He was ashamed , scared, anxious. Now I see where we all get it from. That nervousness, the anxiety of the new. It came from him. My uncle told him he was going with them, no excuses he was not to stay with us. He refused, he argued, but I'm fine, I can stop at anytime. Lies , or maybe he truly believed it. My mom packed his things and they were loaded to the car. My brother held on to him, he knew things were going to change. He was so angry at my mom, in his eyes she was the one breaking up the family not him.
  My dad looked at him and said goodbye , gave him a hug and he cried. I think that was the first time I felt he was sincere. My sister was too young to remember and my youngest brother was a baby, I stood up to give him a hug, he looked at me and walked away. I sat and tears rolled down my eyes. Not even in this moment could he give me some acknowledgement. My uncle noticed and hugged , don't worry he said he will get better. The car pulled out of our dirt parkway and that was the last time I saw him. I haven't talked to him since. I would pen pal with my grandparents weekly , I never got to meet them, well yes  I did. I just don't remember them. I left Mexico when I was five and they became a blur to me. Talking to them though seemed so familiar, these letters I looked forward to. It was my connection to him , I see that now. The older they got the fewer the letters that came until they just stopped. I got older and I focused on other things.
   My dad has almost weekly phone conversation with my brother, I talked to him once . It was brief, he told me he blamed me for the divorce, how could I do that to the family?! I sat there in disbelief, how was that my fault?.. Well you see my mom had told me before hand, she wanted to make sure I was ok with the divorce. I told her yes, do it. So it's my fault the family that was so well maintained broke. I had nothing to say to him, he blamed me then so be it. I was his excuse. After blaming me and telling me all nonsense he then had the nerve to ask me for money.  I laughed, yea it would be my pleasure to send the father of the year some money. I shook my head, this is all you want from me isn't it?.. His silence answered me. I hadn't talked to him once in about 10 years . The fuckery of it all. I handed the phone over to my brother and walked away. Brother still at times sends him money and talks to him often. Me or my sister don't . My youngest brother on occasion humors him.
   Its my brothers choice so I respect it, but I for one don't want to speak to him. I needed him as I was growing up. I needed to feel the love of a father, the support but I didn't receive it. I accepted young that he wouldn't be that person for me. It did hurt, it made me feel unworthy. Back then I felt less than, so him not showing me that affection just reinforced to me that I wasn't good enough. I needed his protection. I was being molested and I was afraid, fear controlled me. I was scared of life, I was a ball of anxiety.. I needed him to protect me. I created this bubble around me to protect myself. I didn't let anyone in, and I didn't let anything out. Every single tear was stored, all the anger ran through every inch of my body. To help ease all that emotion I started cutting. That physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional pain I was feeling.
   I never once told anyone what was happening. I felt tainted, I felt I was the one to blame. I turned to food , well If i gain weight I thought this will go away. So I ate. I gained weight. My aunts criticized me for the weight gain, they would make remarks. Oh are you going to eat that? You shouldn't wear that. You really should loose weight. All of it added to the pain. Why didn't they see that I was protecting myself?! WHY! My confidence was shot. I felt like I didn't belong. SO many night I layed in bed with the blade looking at my wrist.. Maybe tonight I thought, maybe I will be brave enough. I no longer wanted to go anywhere I wanted to stay home and avoid making myself a target. Mom noticed the change in me. She would ask me if everything was ok. I always lied. She didn't need this stress too. I refused to be the reason she suffered. After those times of abuse, I don't know where I traveled to mentally. I would loose my days, I completely omitted it. I refused to have it in my mind. But it didn't always work. Mom got me counseling at school, I went completely inwards. But the counseling didn't help. I knew what she needed to hear so I told her just that. I needed to not get myself in these situations I thought. So I learned then to show people what they need to see.
   I became an expert on hiding behind a smile. It became routine at some point. That's when I stopped living .

My bike

       
         Having my brother be sick and need medical attention was hard on my mom. She really had no help from my dad, she is so strong for dealing with all that she did. Back then I didn't realize it. I feel guilty for being angry at her , for not noticing everything else that was going on. I resented her for not allowing me to be a kid, for all the responsibilities that she put on me. But now looking back I was the only support she had at home. Most of the time it was me who would step in, because well I saw that she needed help. I stepped it. Coming from a Mexican family I saw that she held on to the marriage because that what was done. Men are the head of the household, they are very macho. I take care of the family therefore you do as I say. Even though she was the only one working at some point he still had the power. Until she took it back.
         I remember arguments , I remember my cousin separating my dad from her after he had hit her. But I think what really did it was the fact that he stole from his own kids. Well his daughter. Because he was very close to my brother, he took him everywhere he was his son, he would be his legacy. Is tradition for girls to have a quinceanera the ceremony that told the world we are young ladies now.Mom had asked me to start planning what I wanted. I was surprised for I wasn't expecting it. I was excited but I also never voiced it for I knew that was something she couldn't afford to do. I didn't want to put that burden on her. My aunts had said that they would all pitch in and help, but I sat there and my mind drifted , I would have to be the center of attention, everyone would have their eyes on me. That scared me. I didn't like to have the focus on me, maybe they would see? I didn't feel worthy of such a ceremony of such celebration. I felt tainted. I told them then that I didn't want one, save the money mom I said. I avoided it completely. Well on my birthday my mom gave me this gold bracelet and a necklace. The bracelet said "15" on it and the necklace had my name plate on it. I know how much she had to have sacrificed to give me that. I held on to them so dearly.
          Well I wore them on special occasions for daily use was not something that would of kept them safe so I thought. One day I went to my little jewelry box to put them on to my surprise it was gone. I figured mom had put them away somewhere else. When I asked her she said she didn't have them. She then went straight to my dad, where are they she said?  Gone . That's all he answered. He had pawned them, to make sure he had his daily supply of beer. I was so hurt how dare he, she had worked so hard for that, he just took them without any guilt. I never really felt he wanted me around or that he loved me. That wasn't the first time he stole from me.
   Christmas time my mom got help from the salvation army if I'm not mistaken, well that year me and my brother got a bike. Goodness we were so happy, I didn't care that , the bike was all. I was elided, we got on it and we rode all day, everyday. Coming home from school dropping the backpack and straight to the bike for some freedom. On one of those days me and brother made plans on where to ride. We ran to the back on the house and only his bike was there. I ran outside I swear I put it away, nothing was there. Brother asked dad , he told him he had sold it. He came and told me. I had nothing to say. I walked to back where this huge palm tree was and sat next to it. I let the tears flow. Never had I felt such rejection. Why me ? I walked back into the house and said nothing . I stored it away somewhere.
    Mom came home and that's when she really let him have it. She told me she was sorry he did that to me. She cried because she saw my pain. He never even said sorry. That was the day she told me she was going to divorce him. Enough is enough she said.

Childhood?

I often hear stories told by friends of childhood experiences, followed up by laughter. They so vividly remember so many things. I often find myself listening so attentively, infused within their stories, trying to see if maybe then I will trigger a memory within me. It never does.
     Why don't I remember? I sit here writing this thinking back, thinking hard.. and nothing. Its blank not completely but not how it should be. I often hear my aunts or mom tell stories of me and my brother , of the things we did and they laugh and ask do you remember ?..The answer is always no. They find it weird too, but they all brush it off. I have one vivid memory, just one. Me holding my grandmas hand and walking down the street, that's it. How is that possible? Up to the age of eight maybe ten everything is blank. As if that's the day I started living and creating memories, but trust me when I say I wish those memories would be erased. The irony. By the grace of the universe some of those have been hidden deep within me. Which just makes me wonder , if the previous years are hidden for a reason?

I am the oldest of five kids. Ever since I could remember I have had responsibility that a child should not. My mom has been such a hard worker , she relied on me and I accepted that early on. I took on what I could, to help her . I saw her struggle and I wasn't going to add to that I was going to do my best to relieve some of that stress. She often worked long hours and multiple jobs. I would see her briefly as I got home from school dinner would be ready for us, she would ask us how school was, tell me to please make sure my brother and sister ate and to clean the house. I complied. I feed my siblings as she rushed out of the house to her job. Where was dad you ask? Oh well you see he was sleeping, not because he worked too, no you see alcohol had him. Most of the time I saw him he was either sleeping in the couch because he was drunk, he was drinking, or he was leaving with his friends. I would wake up early get my brother ready for school to let my mom sleep for a bit, she had to get some rest for her job. But brother never made it easy, I would have to drag him out of bed, drag him to school. Such a challenge with him. He had it rough to then. He suffered from seizures , had to take tons of pills which he hated. He often wouldn't take them and he would get sick. I never understood that, why avoid the medicine that;s keeping you from having a seizure. Stress was one of his triggers, and we came from stress. Life in our household was not peaceful.
    I would always check up on him at school making sure he took his pills. One day I remember this so vividly. A teacher came into my classroom and grabbed me come here she said. I rushed out, whats going on? Your'e brother doesn't feel good, he is asking for you. I walked into the classroom and I saw his eyes, those green eyes were empty I knew he was about to have a seizure. I ran and held him, I turned his head and he vomited and told him it was OK. In that moment it was me and him. He The nurses came in and waited as it passed. He was starting to come back slowly and I looked up the kids in his class were horrified. They didn't know how to react , but this was normal for us. This was life. I went back to class to be called again, they couldn't find my brother he was gone. My heart sank, I ran through the school, through the playground. He wasn't there. I wast allowed to leave. I was in such panic, thinking my mom doesn't need this, how could I loose my brother ? I was so mad at myself.  I got home that day to find him sitting at home laughing with a friend. Mom had scolded him , the police officer had to. I said why would you do that? his response I was embarrassed everyone saw. No one knew until today.