There was this little girl who believed anything was possible. Her dad was her hero, her mom her idol until one day they weren’t.

My parents are complicated. We were fed, clothed, had tv and game systems…we had the things that you can see. The things that made your parents look like they were doing a good job. Things they felt they should be admired for providing, I would trade almost all of it (I do like eating) for loving, caring parents who put their kids first or even second at times.

My mom and dad had me within a year of being married. I was a colicky baby, and my dad recently shared that he would punch me in the head until I stopped crying. My mom said this wasn’t true. I don’t know who to believe, but I wish I didn’t know this. I don’t have a lot of memories of the time when my mom and dad were together. The ones I do are mixed with good and bad…more on those later. I remember when they separated (I was 5-6 ish) and a new man came into our lives. Let’s call him Ahole.

My parents seemed to forget they had kids during this time. My mom was madly in love with this younger man and wanted to be with him. My dad didn’t want to have the responsibilities of having kids. I vividly remember when my dad forgot his keys, and we had to break into our home. He called my mom and told her she needed to come home..apparently, she had run off with Ahole and was staying with his parents. When she arrived, she found the window screen still off and that she could walk right in. Ahole and mom moved back in, and my dad ran away as fast as he could.

We (I have a brother) loved our dad. We missed him when we weren’t with him and wanted to spend time with him. He was my hero. He had picked me up when I fell. When I fractured my skull sledding, he picked me up and brought me home. I loved him more than anything in the world. After he left, we would wait outside for my dad to pick us up for his weekend, and he wouldn’t come. I remember all my items packed in my backpack and waiting outside for hours. He wouldn’t call, and he wouldn’t show up. We would have to see if he came the next time (this is before cell phones). It didn’t matter to us, yes, he disappointed and hurt us, but he was our dad. We wanted our dad.

My mom, when I was a young girl, was my idol. I had wanted to be like her. She always had shiny nails, makeup on, and her hair done up. She was beautiful and perfect to me. Unfortunately, that is not how she saw herself, and she would constantly worry about her weight (she is not overweight) or how others saw her. She was even more critical of herself and me. Once she was with Ahole, he became her world. We were afterthoughts. She would have still been my idol if she had protected us from Ahole or made us feel at least half as special as AHole was.

My life changed for the worst the day Ahole came into our lives, and my belief in fairytales and my parents was forever shattered.