The arguing as I saw it was normal for our house, but what I didn't know was the reason or that there was physical abuse, I was young, I don't think I ever actually saw him hit her but I know it happened. I also never asked, I did however make it my mission to hate him for hitting her. I don't know if my brother ever took it on the jaw so I wouldn't have to but I can not recall the stepfather ever hitting me. He would yell, make you feel like you were less of a person because you weren't his actual son. I was getting old enough to understand more of what happening.
We had that house with the little fence and the great appearance of normalcy from the outside, but on the inside we were a wreck. I think this was about the time frame when I started getting mouthy, not at home, no way that would have been the end of life I'm sure but I was more than happy to take my anger out on teachers, and even though I don't have specifics I know I was a mean spirited 4th, grader. I don't know if I just wanted to act out at school because I couldn't at home but I know that I must have been a handful for the staff. I remember kicking sawdust on a girl in the playground because she wouldn't let me play on the tires with her. I didn't just kick it on her I tried to bury her head in it. The whole while she cried and I just kept throwing it on her.
Side note: I am trying to figure out when I started to be an ass. There is no doubt that it was early on, I have people remind me of what an ass I was. So I am working out the idea that because I was an ass that young I may have learned to hide that I was when I was around people of authority or around people who I really liked. I don't know if you would call me a bully, I was 45 lbs soaking wet, the only thing holding me together was skin and bones so who knows.
In elementary school this is the only instance of being real mean to someone that I readily remember, I think her name was Cary, I know she had a sister but I have no idea her last name and I have no idea what her sisters name was, but to remember that I think it made a serious impression on me. It wasn't until around 6th grade that I actually started to get caught in my antics and that is when my grades started to drop and my care for or like of school really started to fail. My grandfather died during this time also, he was the first person in my life who died, no one explained it to me and no one told me about it until after his funeral. I started to actually learn to hate people at that time. My brother says that was the last time he saw me cry as a kid. I just started to internalize my pain for everything, the fighting in the house, my mother not leaving him, my mother not being around at night, my step dad always with a Coors in his hand and leading his house by by using fear.
Was I a mean kid by nature? Was a good kid with a mean streak? Was it that I needed a little medication to calm the nerves? I don't remember being diagnosed with any of the current ailment that kids have, attention deficit, hyper activity, etc.. but I do believe I was a poster child for most of those.
Around 6th grade, my brother was getting ready leave, he was 17, or 18 and was ready to get away from our house, the violence in our house was reaching new highs with hospital trips and arrests for physical abuse. This is when I think I actually started to drink.
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