For the record, every instinct i possess is telling me not to do this, to spill my guts on the internet and let the whole world know exactly what ive done, what ive been through, and where i am now.  But, my mind feels so closed lately and ive crawled inside my skull and cant seem to pull myself out in order to do anything anymore, so Im going against my instincts cause if my mind is my own worst enemy then I shouldnt listen to it and continue to do nothing.  So here goes, Im noticing that i put part 1 in the title…guess that means im anticipating having to stop…

Other than being diagnosed at 11 months old with juvenile diabetes I had a fairly normal childhood up until I was about 9 years old.  However I must say I always knew Id be different because of the diabetes, but I grew up tough as nails…I dont know something happens to you when you know that you have to hurt yourself to continue living with the rest of the world that gets to live for free without having to get stuck with needles twice a day.  It makes you learn pretty early that everything has a price, when i wake up in the morning I pay that price first thing, like a parking meter for the day.  Needless to say I learned to tune out pain at a very young age.

I was born into a military family.  My father was an army boy from georgia, my mother a high school dropout from georgia as well.  I have no memory of my father really until I was about 7 years old however, because he was stationed in korea and we remained in the states.  My brother tony is 2 years and 9 months my younger and his story ties in very close with mine as we have been traveling the same road together for a considerable amount of time now.

Ill never forget the day that my story begins.  It began like any normal day for a 9 year old kid.  I went to school, I came home, I played with my dog with my brother, I got called in for dinner.  The plan was to grill steaks.  My parents had always encouraged me to learn to be responsible for things, so at very young I was allowed to play with pocket knives and fire and various other things that kids my age were sheltered from.  Be that as it may, I was told to go light the grill, clean it, and throw the steaks on, and let my dad know when everything was ready.  So me and my brother were sitting out on the back deck doing as we were told.  Then we hear alot of screaming…naturally we go to investigate.

We walked around the house to the front door and walk in.  My parents were fighting, nothing id never seen before, but this time things went crazy.  He started screaming at her about how she was such a f-ing whore and he cant believe shed do this and various other choice words, but then he snapped.  He punched all the way through the bathroom door, weeping and crying uncontrollably, then he grabbed my mom, drug her to the front door, and threw her down the front steps onto her ass and spit in her face and told her to go on and get the f out.  I ended up burning the steaks…came to find out a little bit later she had just told him that she was pregnant with another mans kid and was going to leave.

Now keep in mind, Im only nine, and ive only had constant daily contact with my father for about 2 years.  My relationship with my mom was ok i guess.  I wasnt as sensitive or needy as my brother was and I could always tell that she favored him over me because she liked being needed.  And that was fine, I didnt feel left out or neglected, its just my brother needed her more than i did…no big deal.  But my dad, I loved him.  Especially once i got to see him everyday I really looked up to him.  He was a soldier, he traveled the world, he was strong, and smart, and seemed to know how to fix anything.  I wanted to be just like him.  I idolized the man.

I understood what my mom did.   She cheated, she got pregnant, and now she wanted to leave.  I felt bad for my dad cause I know he was hurt deeply.  Every night for months hed get home from work and just cry and cry and cry…and Id sit there and hold him, and tell him Im sorry, and tell him that wed make it through this, and I would help him…and after about 6 months he progressively started to cry less and less and less…and eventually regained his composure.  Eventually he decided that he needed to work more overtime and keep the house so thats what he did, and not wanting to leave myself and my brother all alone at 9 and 7 decided his best bet would be to find sitters that we could stay with overnight if need be.

The first group we were with was with a married couple that didnt believe in birth control.  They had 7 kids of their own and didnt mind taking the two of us on.  They were good enough people, and some of the kids were about my age so they made good company and all was well except for one simple fact.  Kids fight about stupid stuff, and naturally the mom always seemed to side with her kids unless they were absolutely clearly the aggressor in the conflict.  Naturally after a while me and tony became the black sheep, and my father would leave us there for as much as 2 weeks at a time.  i felt it was really unfair and I eventually after about a year convinced my dad I didnt want to be with them anymore.

We then moved on to a group home.  There were all sorts of people here, kids that just needed sitters, kids from juvi, the house was crammed full of kids.  Me and tony lived in the basement for a little while and all was well for the most part.  it was just me and him down there, so we got some privacy and could do pretty much whatever we wanted as long as we went to school.  I remember making a good friend there and things were going fine, until the head of the household let this crackhead and her kids live in the basement with us.  She was foul, unkempt and unclean, and her kids were mean.  I remember one night her son had wet the bed, and made him sleep in it…and the whole night i couldnt sleep cause of the stink.  Eventually this living situation got worse and worse and by the time I was 12 I convinced my dad that he need not waste money paying these people anymore cause I was damn near a teenager, and I can take care of myself and my brother.  Eventually he agreed to allow this to happen.

By this point in time my fathers alcoholism had fully manifested itself, but i never noticed before because I barely ever saw him.  Hed occasionally come take us home on the weekends, but for the most part he would just drop off money for them and clothes for us.  Either way this is when things began to get very ugly very very fast.