Some say you can’t remember anything before a certain age when you are little. But I can remember a few times and places and people. When I mentioned them to my mother, she would stare at me for a long time like I just summoned something from deep within her and told me I was wrong and that I imagined it in my head and thought these things happened, but they never did. But, then again, she always makes me feel crazy. I don’t have a great relationship with her. She is one who likes to make sure it is known she thinks I’m a disappointment but in a “nice” way. Gaslighting is her thing. But back to the start of when I remembered my first memory of my real father and mother together.
(Flashback) Here I am, 6 yr old me, playing with my 3-yr old brother on the living room floor. You could say we were close. Always hanging out with each other. Never apart. As we played, we could hear an argument coming from the kitchen between mom and MY real dad. (Yes, you heard correctly, mine, not my brothers. But that’s explained later).
The screaming became raised and we heard something about eggs, boiling water and a hot pot. There was a lot of cussing and yelling. We didn’t know exactly what was going on but we did know that it was only going to get worse. I heard my real father say something along the lines of, “he is not mine and you expect me to believe he is and raise him!? I’m not raising another man’s kid, and you are nothing but a whore”. (not exactly but close). As he approached my brother and I, you could clearly see my mom grabbing his arm that seemed to be holding a pot. That pot apparently had boiling water in it that she was preparing for the eggs we were going to boil for Easter.
He was going to throw the boiling water at my brother. My 3-yr old brother. Like, who does that?! But I jumped up and in front of my brother as my father tossed the pot as best as he could due to my mom yanking on his arm. Some of the water hit my back. Yes, it was hot. I screamed and cried. Luckily, none of it touched my brother. My mom picked me up and checked me and then put something on my back as she continued to fight with him. She put me and my brother in our shared bedroom and left towards the kitchen. She came back out with a butcher’s knife and chased him out of the house and off the porch. They ran around the house a few times as my brother and I watched out the window. The neighbors started coming out to watch. I’m assuming with the way they reacted, that this was normal behavior. It’s like they were taking bets to see who would win. Not one person said anything to them or tried to stop them as they fought in the yard. Finally, my dad left. All I remember is my mom coming in and packing our things and we left. We ended up at my grandfathers house and then we moved in with a guy. Who is now my step-dad. (end of this flash back)
Surviving Out Loud 
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