My father died when I was 11. Super aggressive esophageal cancer. After he died my brother and I were left in the care of my disabled mother, her mental health was already in a dramatic decline before he passed. I graduated from assistant to full time care giver.

When I was 6 years old I got an earache and told my mom. She got irritated and I left the room. I wasn’t taken to the doctor. I didn’t tell her if anything hurt until I got older and could deal with her anger.

My mom was born disabled. Due to her mental health and disability I was not raised like most children. I was trained to help her like a live in care giver would. She was on services that would have provided her that. She never tried to find any assistance because it was easier for me to just do it.

I grew up religious and wasn’t allowed to celebrate Halloween. No cartoon Halloween specials. No Scooby Doo, and in school I wasn’t allowed to do any work or art related to the holiday. Needless to say I was the weird kid in school.

I went over to a friends house to stay the night. My mom called me and texted me until i told my friends parents i needed to go home, at 8pm. They had picked me up at 5pm.

My mom bought me a game cube for Christmas when I was 12. She didn’t buy me memory cards so I couldn’t save any progress, but it was still cool. I sold it at 13 so she could buy cigarettes.

I started driving at 13 because my mom would be so out of it she would drive on the wrong side of the road.