I guess I should start laying down some background info on myself and why the title of my blog is “An Untrusting life”. When I was born I was the first child of my father and my mother’s second child. I have an older half brother, Ryan. The story I was told is that my mother and father met on a blind date, arranged by my aunt, my dad’s youngest sister. I was never told much about my mothers past before she married my father. What I tell you now I only recently discovered. My mother and another single mom were sharing an apartment in the same complex as my dad and his youngest brother. I am still unclear how my mom and aunt met. Originally my mother was suppose to meet my uncle for the blind date but he didn’t want to, so my dad went. Still with me? Anyways, my mom and aunt were at a bar and my dad came instead of my uncle. Long story short, my parents hit it off and within a week my mom and brother were moving into the apartment my dad shared with my uncle. I guess my mom and her friend were going to be evicted and they each moved in with their boyfriends. This part I never knew until my uncle told me recently. So, my mother, father, uncle and brother were all living together in a small two bedroom apartment. My mother did not work, she stayed home and “cleaned and cooked” as her way of contributing. According to my uncle the house was never really clean and she would only make dinner for the three of them and left my uncle out. When my uncle said something to her about cleaning and making enough food for him too, my mother comes back with “I am not your maid, and cook your own damn food” and if you knew my mother you would know she says those things. So instantly that started strife between my uncle and my mother. My dad, of course, stayed out of it. He is great at not getting involved. Finally, after a few months my uncle moved back in with his parents. Shortly after that I am guessing they found out I was coming and decided to get married. From what I have been able to put together, my parents knew each other less than a year before they, shacked up, got married and had me. After I was born they needed a bigger place so they moved into a little house close to my dads parents. He was their favorite, and also worked with his dad in the family cabinet business. Even though my uncle and mother didn’t, and still don’t, get along I was my uncles favorite. Uncle Tim Tim as I called him was my favorite person, other than my grandma. He would spoil me rotten. I have more pictures sitting on Uncle Tim’s lap than I do of either one of my parents holding me. When I came along Ryan became jealous. This was mainly my mothers doing. My dads family always treated Ryan as if he were biologically my dads son. So around the age of two, Ryan started doing little things to hurt me. He would pinch me, steal and break my toys, and just in general be mean to me. I grew up thinking this was normal behavior. No one ever told me differently. My mother never stopped him and my father was always working. I stopped telling my mother everything that Ryan did. If I showed up with a bruise or a cut or whatever and she asked how I got it, I just said I didn’t remember. When other people would ask about the bruises she would say that I was a very active child and that I was clumsy. She started calling me Midas to go along with her calling me clumsy. Instead of turning everything I touched to gold, she said everything I touched I turned to shit. This was just the beginning of many put downs and insults that I was dealt. Stay tuned for more!