Wasting life

I am a complete mess. I always have been...however, I don’t want to say I always will be because I hope for better for myself. It began when my mom left me at two years old. That’s when the big mess of my life started. Imagine having your finger ripped off in your sleep... it sounds horrible and confusing right? Like who would do something like that? That’s how two year old me felt about her leaving. It was a horrible experience, not as horrible as it could have been if I had understood the situation but still horrible to my underdeveloped mind. Pretty traumatic if you ask me.

However, my finger basically being ripped off wasn’t even the worst of it. About a year later, maybe less (when I was three) my dad was killed in a shooting. So at that point I’m officially on my own, at the age of three! Crazy right? To this day I resent my birth parents tremendously. I have to remind myself that not everything was in their control. At least in my dads case...My mom was definitely in control of the situation, she allowed herself to be taken over by drugs and alcohol. She permitted herself to drift away from her own child. For her though, I believe in karma. I believe karma is good to you when you’re good to others but will come back worse if you do wrong by someone.

Additionally, There’s one person that I need to talk about, my paternal grandmother. Shes the one who took me in when my mom left me. She took in my bruised and scarred heart and attempted to heal it. While a few months later after the loss of her son, my dad she was doing all she could to heal both our hearts. I believe she is the reason I can talk about all this without breaking down. She taught me how to be strong. She taught me what it means to be a honest person, How to love others more than myself. How to be different in a world where everyone is the same.

*This is being written for my own therapeutic purposes so some stories are gonna be longer or shorter than others*

*This is part one of a little short mini life series, this is all true stories and to be honest it’s gonna get worse before it gets better this was not even scraping the surface of my trauma so if anything triggers y’all let me know so I can tone it down* thank yalll