Category : Blogs

Sub Category : Miscellaneous

My problems. I was born from a Life birth mother that has psychiatric problems, chief among them being that she acts regressively. I was adopted at eleven months, the trust-building year, by a drug lord that masquerades as a legally-working salesman. My adoptive mother was an alcoholic who didn’t quit for her daughter. My adoptive father’s cover job was that of producing and syndicating TV shows. He was bigoted, verbally abusive, and would suck the life out of people by pissing them off. He’d get this perversely enjoying sadistic look in his eye once he had them metaphysically writhing like a worm on a hook in anger. I think he feels a power over them, hence his enjoyment. He is also cruelly perfectionistic and acts like  he has a sense of entitlement that could engulf the whole world.

When my mother gained weight, he said something. When I gained weight, he said something. He fat-shamed us each. He acted like he was doing us a favor, like his barked-out orders to change our habits were some kind of kindness. He was like a less funny, older Sheldon Cooper. He actually thought his rudely-given advice was some cosmic gift. I get it, universe. I’ve learned not to be like him.

I’ve learned not to be like my mother in her alcoholism. It was a crutch to her. When she wasn’t drunk, she’d act compensatorily and falsely nice. If she’d been southern, she’d be the type to say, “Bless your little heart.” and mean it as a veiled “Fuck you.” I never wanted to be like that either.

I want enough substance to mean my compliments and be kind rather than just nice or polite. I want to be tough or strict rather than cruel. I already know that I have an addictive personality by my prior food addiction and a gaming addiction I have to make sure I schedule around my life. I never want to put gaming or emotional eating before anyone. Not like my mother put drinking before me.