Dear fucked up family

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It must be nice to have always fit in, to have always felt loved. I know our parents came from an era when affection was not shown to children. On top of that we were raised French Canadian Catholics where all you heard growing up was that God was an angry God and always at the ready to punish. We were told of mortal sins, hell and doom. We were told to not cry when we hurt and were encouraged to keep everything bottled up inside. But it seems like through all that it is I who got the brunt of all the hurt. I was the one abandoned by my siblings at the age of 3 or 4 to a transient who often stopped by the garage to warm himself in the winter or to take advantage of my father’s kindness to strangers. He showed you the older two some money and gave it to you to go to the store and buy candy thus leaving me alone with him while Mom and Dad were gone to church. Why they didn’t bring us that day I don’t know. Anyhow he took me into my mother’s bedroom and started to sexually assault me. That seemed to be the beginning of my woes. Years later when my brother attacked me by jumping on my stomach while I was laying on Mom’s bed and knocking the wind out of me, my mother said to her company when she saw me doubled over gasping for breath, ” look at that good actress”. I thought I was going to die and no one helped me. I was always alone being stuck in the middle with boys all around me. Big sister too old to play with me or not wanting to, younger sister too young and still holding onto Mom’s apron strings. At 16 my big sister got me to try weed, I think that was the only good thing she ever done for me without realizing it. She moved out of home to be with a boyfriend and when that didn’t work she came home. She did not like the idea of a curfew a job, or Mom’s rules.Then when I got a job at 18 my wonderful big sister now wants to hang with me but only because she wanted to use her gullible dumb sister. She convinced me to move out of Mom’s and in with her but I was to pay for everything even though it was all in her name so she could get a welfare check. The day she would get her welfare she would never be around and never ever offered me a cent. She would buy soaps and perfumes and could not smell but would ask me how they smelled and that she would throw them out if they stank. She would bring home a different man every night, alter my clothing to fit her and have us move every two months or so. I stopped buying food and ate out or at work. Being a little hungry but saying nothing about it she started frequenting her so called friends houses around lunch and dinner times. Needless to say they got tired of her as well. She finally got the hint and moved away, far far away. Good fucking riddance. Now she’s an alcoholic(said so herself and seemed proud of it) and nobody sees it and if I have a couple of drinks and I’m the one with a problem. I’m the alcoholic and the pot head. I’m the shit disturber because now I want to talk about everything and no one wants to listen or cares. My two sisters both verbally abused my mother in my presence but when confronted one said,” I have no patience with her”, and the other one looked like a deer in the headlights. Whether it happens once or a hundred times it’s still elder abuse. She was in her early nineties at the time of the offences. Shame on you two bitches, because that is exactly what you are. Two selfish bitches. Anyway I’m done with keeping everything bottled up inside. My younger brother said exactly what I’ve experienced my whole life with this family when he said,” I don’t want to hear it” when trying to explain why I’m angry with my sisters. Story of my fucking life. Anyway I’m glad I got off my chest the things I did get a chance to say and glad it was with both barrels. Little brother tells me I scared you little sister, good! I would have liked to scare you a whole lot more, maybe with a couple of fists but of course I’d get myself another label to add to all the others and probably some jail time. You’re just not worth it sister dear. I know I left you with little stresses and I hope they bite you in the ass. —The middle child

This article appears in Feb 18-24, 2016.