u/leesharon1985

It’s got hand writing on it as if it’s like some kind of home recorded record. Had piles and piles of records that were given to me about 5-7 years ago from a family friend that had passed away.. she was an elementary school music teacher. But there are some records scattered throughout the bunch with this name written on covers and such. In my 40 years of age, 34 years of listening to vinyl and about 28 years of collecting.. I have never seen anything like this, let alone heard of this kind of thing. I’m gonna look it up right now, but honestly.. I’ve been lurking on the page for years and never seemed to feel like I had anything worth sharing or maybe just care. But I was way to excited to share with others this anomaly 😂

I’ve loved this song for years. The song is essentially about being accused of such by one’s family; and with me being an alcoholic for way too long.. I’ve always heard the second line in the verse as “But now I no longer touch the bottle” as “But now I no longer judge the battle.” And for some reason today was the first time I heard it differently and looked up the lyrics. And now that I heard the line correctly it almost feels like it took away some of the meaning that I held with what I thought it was. The idea of claiming to wanting to not judge one’s battle feels way more impactful to me than just saying I don’t drink now. I don’t know, doesn’t change the fact that I love the track, but it was just something I thought of while it came on just now. Anyone have any kind of moment like that with a song before? Sounds weird to even ask for reason. I’ve got issues though, so I’m probably overthinking shit like always 🤣🤌🫠🙃

Edit: Title should say misheard* (womp womp)

I was adopted by my grandparents on the day I was born because my birth giver didn’t want to tell her parents she was going to give me up.

From what information I was “given”, she was basically having an affair with a married man. No one would even tell me his name until I was in my 20’s.

I found out I was adopted by being teased by the two closest people to me when I was a kid (in the time frame at least) that I knew of as my two brothers and that are twins (my blood uncles). They used it as a way to taunt me, tease me, ridicule me, hurt me.. I now feel and pretty much assume as a way to simply hurt me and (in a child’s sense ) make me know I wasn’t really the same as them and never would be. I was 8 years old.

They always made me know that at a certain point.

Fucking hell man…

I’m gonna be 41 this year.

Even before anyone ridiculed me with that fact, I knew I was the black sheep. They’re basically all blonde and curly haired, green or blue eyes, tall.

I’ve got brown straight hair with brown eyes and olive toned skin and short as fuck, something I know I get from my mom(grandma) because she’s even shorter than me.

I didn’t look like them.

Even before I was tauntingly made aware of my difference, I knew I wasn’t like them.

The years and years of hearing all the negative things about my birth giver, being brought around her while she lived in squalor in her drug addicted and abused state of living.

When I look back on those times that me and my mom would go and visit my sister “birth giver” when I was a young kid, I can see that it was either a situation where I was being brought along to see her in her shit ass life of living in trash, booze, drugs and abuse.. or because my mom (grandmother) didn’t have anyone else to go with her to check on her (my sister/birth giver).

My so called “birth giver” was always, always, always the black sheep of the family. It was very much a fact thrusted upon me, even before I was even given the knowledge of such a fact of my adoption.

She was my moms (grandmothers) first born with her abusive husband that used to rape her. I think he might have even raped my birth giver of a mother/sister too.

I don’t know.

It’s been hinted at I know at least.

My parents (grandmother/father by birth) contribute my birth giver mothers problems to her having a very bad and life threatening fever when she was a young child. I guess it basically fried her brain and she was never really the same afterwards.

No one ever wants to tell me anything though.

I remember meeting my “older brother” when I was about 9/10yo. His name is Jessie. His father took him from my mother. I have a Polaroid of the two of us together when I met him. It’s with the two of us and our “mother” too. I’ve never seen him or heard about him since then. I knew he liked basketball a lot.

I grew up knowing her two kids (both obviously younger than me, her last two with yet another different father.) I knew of them as my niece and nephew for most of the time then.

In the time period of when my mom would take me with her to go and check up on my sister (birth giver) and help out I suppose, they lived in a broken down house that was covered and layered in garbage, darkness, roaches, and an unbearable amount of filth.

Her and her then partner/husband/what ever the fuck he really was were pieces of shits. Drug addicted alcoholics that lived on the edge of town, that was the oldest part of town, in a dilapidated house literally like a hundred yards from the Colorado River. In the Cali/mex border town we live in.

I remember when my mom (adoptive) would for some fucking reason take me down to her house to try to help her out sometimes.

Like, I get wanting to help out your kid, but why would you take the kid you adopted from them to go and visit/help/ridicule/talk made shit about in any other situation, with you to go and “help/check up on”?

Like.. was it a way to “show me” what they saved me from? A way to make me feel beholden to them?

Was it because my mom didn’t feel like herself that she had anyone else that would go with her?

When the state eventually took away my “niece and nephew” because of the horrors they had to deal with. I don’t really know.. but I fucking know.. I fucking know that my “parents” called the authorities on her and had her children taken from her. And I’m more than sure it was all because of my mom, my mom’s mom, knew she was basically worthless and that she couldn’t take care of her kids let alone her self.

The state took them and they were taking into foster care at first. My parents fostered them for about a year, i remember they lived in my room with me, all three of us. I was told to be nice to niece and nephew because the had it bad.. I didn’t know they were actually my half sister and half brother at the time. But that this was all before they got taking away in closed adoptions.

I grew up knowing my mom basically hated, was ashamed of, and belittled her (my birth giver) first born child and sort of wanted nothing to do with her and always acted like she was a burden.

From the little bit of knowledge I’ve gathered over the years, I’m pretty sure (heard certain facts) that my birth giver mother and my mom (grandmother) were both sexually abused by the father/first-husband.

One thing I do know.. is to not talk about that or ask questions.

I was 27 years old and in prison when they let it slip that I had a “sister” the was born after me that had been adopted away in a closed adoption.

I don’t even know her name. Fuck, I didn’t even know she existed until 2013 in prison and my mom “let it slip” and then acted like I should have known, when I instantly became confused and started asking questions. Like it was something she seemed to think I knew.

…

…Fast forward some time and over the periods of me trying to connect with my birth giver after she became clean and sober in my early 20’s to August 26, 2019…

At this time period I had been out of prison for 5 years and I my son was 2yo. I get a phone call from my mom telling me the my sister (birth giver) is in the hospital and she’s dying because she’s had cancer and didn’t tell anyone.

My mom told me it was my decision whether or not to pull the plug on her because she had fallen into a coma after having a seizure and the doctors said that if she survived she would be a vegetable.

My mom laid upon my shoulders the duty of killing my birth giver. She couldn’t even make a decision about the life of her own first born child.

I pulled it.

And life’s never been the same since.

It was always kinda shit, but now it had been rolled in and baked to a crisp.

I took this picture as I walked away from the hospital.

I look at it all the time.