Sunday, last day of the weekend, what a shame. I ended up not writing yesterday because we ended up getting busy doing some yard work and all. Back to the grind today.
We officially moved to Canada in 1992/93. My mum and I moved in with her aunt and uncle up in the northwest of Alberta. Being about 6 years old and seeing snow for the first time was absolutely fascinating. I remember there was SO much snow that it was probably about 4-5 feet tall. AMAZING!!! I am not sure how long at this point that we had been living with them, but the government found out and gave my mum three choices, to take a citizenship test, marry a Canadian, or be deported back to Poland. I personally think she chose the wrong choice and went with marrying a Canadian that her uncle had introduced her to that lived down the road from us and within a matter of a couples weeks or so they got married.
You could imagine as a kid, I was pissed. Not enough there was tons of moving around, but then a divorce and not seeing my dad anymore and POOF!, then she gets remarried to someone she barely knows. She says she did it for me, but she could have just as easily taken the test too. But what do I know, right? I was just a kid. If it was me, I would have done things differently. We eventually ended up moving in with him.
I think after all this, my life got twisted upside down. I didn’t feel like I was part of anything anymore. Before I go on, I should mention there will be some deep memories coming out. Some pretty dark ones too. Also, there might be some graphic (not too graphic) content also.
Before I go on, I should mention there will be some deep memories coming out. Some pretty dark ones too. Also, there might be some graphic (not too graphic) content also.
I grew up in an alcoholic and abusive environment. My mum would physically and mentally abuse me. This occurred mostly on a daily basis. It got really bad at times.
**Memory – I remember once my aunt and uncle were gone somewhere and it was just me and her at the house. She was off cleaning or doing something. Does anyone recall a show called Rescue 911? Good show. I remember watching it as a kid and this one day I decided to call 911 just out of curiosity. Now, don’t ask me why I would call 911 if there was no emergency but I just did. I ended up telling the operator that I had made a mistake and everything was okay and hung up. After a few minutes or so, my mum ended up coming in from outside and the phone had rung. She answered and it was the operator calling back, asking her questions and making her well aware that I had ended up calling them. I knew right away I was in major trouble. She got off the phone and found me hiding. Instead of being a loving angry parent, she became something that was not loving at all and demonic. I remember her not only screaming at the top of her lungs but hitting me, and hitting me really hard. Not on the butt for discipline but she would hit me so hard in the face, my head, and she would pinch so hard that it left bruises behind. This seemed like it lasted an eternity, and she left me crying, bawling, on the floor. That is the day I remember my nightmare of a childhood had begun.**
So we were living in this huge house but it needed a ton of work done in order to be completely finished. The main floor needed a paint job, the ceilings, the upstairs was wall-less, etc….like this house would have been a beautiful home if more TLC was put into it to finish it. The house had/has so much potential. But it was a roof over our heads so I guess I couldn’t complain. The driveway to this house was like a 1 km long or so, pain in the ass to walk to the bus in the winter when cold and the snow was drifting. It was a nice property, a bit too far from town but still very lovely and quiet. At this time of my life, I hate it, and everything else.
I have to cut off here as I have a bunch of stuff to get done before Jody’s friend’s birthday party but stay tuned.
Have a great Sunday!