Family secrets....

When you're a child you are in a blissful unknowing and you don't realize how protected your really are until you grow up. I remember the shock when my grandmother cursed in front of me for the first time. I didn't know she knew bad words. I was dumbfounded. The time I found illegal drugs in the home of a police officer I was babysitting for. The time I heard about my mom being intimate with another man or how she tried cocaine. The list, I thought was compete. I knew my. Dad was married before, I knew my grandpa went to the Battle of the Bulge and saw horrific things. I knew family members were drunks. I knew many things as an older child. 

This week I discovered even more things. Not anything good either. I was slammed with info that made my gut wrench and my heart heavy with sadness. It was info that made everything else make sense. 

My aunt told me how her dad, my grandpa, accidently killed his nephew. My grandfather was 5 his nephew was 3. His brother, the father of the 3 yr old, set a loaded pistol on the bed and walked out of the room. The 3 yr old tried to shoot but wasn't strong enough so my grandpa had a try. 

The next bit of info came from my father. He told me about my mothers side of the family. A little back ground here; my husband accuses me of pushing my family away. Now, I don't disagree about not missing them but I do not push them away. I just don't take an active role in visiting them. They never call, they never text, they never FB message me, they never reply when I comment or send a message in FB. They never say happy birthday, they never ask me over for holidays. Nothing. I wish I had a big family to spend time with but I don't miss their kind of visits. Growing up every single visit was marred by one or all of the following; crying, drunks, fighting and yelling, and rudeness. My dad would drink one 7 and 7 before going for a visit. Once it noticed the pattern I asked him why because he never did that when we went to see his family. He said he needed a little something. That's all he would say. What I now know was he was self soothing before the storm. A way to weather the storm without falling apart. My folks were the anchors. My aunt, drunk, always had a new man that was abusive and a drunk. My grandma was always in a pensive, melancholy, and disturbing mood. Always dying, always wanting to die, and drifting off in thoughts murmurs. My cousins were rude and mean to me, well, everybody. Total snots. My grandpa barked orders and yelled all the time. Many of my birthdays ruined by them, many events, period, were ruined by them. 

It all made sense when my dad told me that on his second date with my momhe found my mom with 2 black eyes. My grandpa had beat her up. He didn't want her across street. She was over 18. A legal woman. 

My grandpa was physically abusive. It all made sense. Grandma always wanting to die. Always meek. Always sad. Always miserable. My mom, oh she was a whack job at times, and my aunt. Man after abusive man. My dad used to yell about how my mom was on a self destruct suicide mission. Gee, I wonder why. She never got any help. Ever. EVER. It was a sign of weakness. I know, I was told that many times. You don't take meds, you don't talk to shrinks, you deal with it. 

So she dealt with it. 

I'm glad I know these things because it makes sense but a part of me wishes for the bliss of the unknown. Also, angry with my mom making me stay with grandpa growing up from the time I was 3 until 13 every summer and before school. He wasn't nice, ever. She said she wanted him to shake the shyness out of me. Oh, brilliant plan, mom. Leave me with an abusive person for 10 yrs, yeah, that was helpful in my development. Grand plan there!