I lived in a land where the men would brag about how tough they were… I wasn’t from  there, so not being related to any of these so-called ‘Tough Men’, I didn’t know if they were telling the truth or if they were indeed really all they said they were.

I had spent several years previously in the Foster Care System, and when you grow up  in your formative years without either of your parents and you have nothing to compare this experience with, you don’t realize until much later that all kids don’t grow up in the same way as you.

When you grow up with your parents, especially both of them, you have a much greater chance of feeling loved or wanted by at least one of them. You are not burdened with such inconvenience when you are raised by strangers.

Because perhaps they didn’t show me too much favor; I, in turn, did not show it back to them. It was a great opportunity for honesty and forthright expression.  “I wish you were dead!” AND “I can’t stand the sight of you!” Take on a less personal bend when one realizes that this is great preparation and fodder for life in the real world.

Survival is key because if you don’t survive, then you aren’t going to be around to tell many stories, now are you? Once the surviving becomes a reality, you must of course find the courage to accept the facts that you are one fucked up puppy who is in need of serious therapeutic council.

Having accomplished all of this, then becoming a parent and ensuring your child does not endure the same intergenerational transmission of family disfunction that you endured is of the utmost importance, or else, what was the fucking point?

I am so grateful for this unique experience of life… Am I making it look easy?