I was born in Lexington Kentucky, and raised (during my early years) in a satellite town just outside of Lexington called Georgetown, where most of my family is from. My mother was a elementary school teacher, while my father worked for the local water treatment plant. They met due to my grandmother (my mother's mother) working as a receptionist at the water plant. My parents married in 1989, I was born in 1993, and they divorced in 1995. I don't even hardly remember them being together. They were both in their mid to late upper 30's when they had me, and I was their only child.
My mother is an exceptional woman. She was raised as a Baptist preacher's kid which was of course, an incredibly abusive home. She was the oldest of three, and was the one child that for some reason got the full brunt of all the physical and verbal abuse of her father. Of course on the outside to the general public he was a model citizen, yet in the home he was an abusive hypocrite. Her mother on the other hand, was more simply another victim, yet her silence in the face of this abuse was still essentially compliance nonetheless. Yet despite her situation in the home, she was able to greatly excel greatly in school. School was her only safe place, where she could excel and be rewarded for her efforts, as opposed to back home which was torture. She loved school. So much so, that as far back as she could remember she decided that she wanted to be a school teacher. Never did she ever consider anything else. Schooling was her life, and she would later go on to put herself through college and get a masters degree + in childhood education. She got herself a job without anyone else's assistance. She had to learn how to act like an adult in the grown world and to fend for herself at an early age, since her parents were never any real advocates who would be there to look out for her. My mother dedicated her life to inspiring and helping young children. Because of her tremendous success in the face of adversity, she holds others to the highest standards. I can honestly say in all the years that I've known her, that she has not once ever lied, ever cheated, and has always abided by the rules. She's never even had a single speeding ticket. All of this isn't to say that she's somehow 'perfect'. My mother isn't without flaws (and trust me, there are plenty. Mostly due to her abuse as a child, and the horribly traumatic experiences she's had along with me over the years), but the point I wish to emphasize here is that she is the very definition of a survivor. She's good hearted (even though she has her moments that I'll explain more about later), is extremely intelligent, and has a strong will with a capacity to succeed. She has always been the one advocate I've ever had in my life. Without her, there'd have been no way I ever could've survived.
My father on the other hand is a different story. My father was raised in a situation far worse than my mother was. More so I'm guessing than any of us will ever truly know. Whereas my mother's father was a religious hypocrite, my father's father was just about the lowest thing that ever crawled out from under a rock. At least my mother's father pretended to be a moral upstanding citizen. My father's father on the other hand was unapologetically open about his lecherous behavior. He was proud of it. (in fact I would even possibly go so far as to say he was a complete sociopath) My grandfather was a wife beater, who never worked a day in his life, proudly said "that's what I have the b**** here for", was an open racist who never referred to a black person as anything other than the 'N' word, physically and verbally (possibly even sexually, we don't really know) abused his children (specifically my father), and despite all of this was somehow never on drugs or alcohol and grew up in a kind loving family (once again, possibly just born a sociopath). I don't know my father's true history since he rarely would ever talk about it, but what I do know is that he was abused in numerous was by his father all through the years, and never received any assistance for it. My father absolutely 'loved' his mother though, who constantly coddled him and 'took care of him' all growing up.
Now, as for my father himself, there's a lot that happens to be a major mystery about him. As to what exactly 'caused' his behaviors that I'm about to express to you, I don't truly know. I don't think this can simply all be blamed on the abuse he suffered, as we are all ultimately responsible for our own actions. Nevertheless, there are a number of possible contributing factors about him that should be taken into consideration. I'll merely describe his behaviors themselves, and mention some possible causes. Just keep in mind, these possible causes are not definitive. Having said that, lets move on...
My father had an explosive temper. He never became physically violent, but he would brake things, throw things, pin people down and yell at them, and scream till he got red in the face. And these outbursts of his could easily be brought on by the most mundane things. There were numerous times in which he showed absolutely no signs of empathy towards other people. (i.e. he got angry when I was a baby at my crying so he nearly chocked me to death by stuffing tons of bread to my throat to shut me up, laughed hysterically when he taught me at the age of two 'how to shoplift' from Wal-Mart, was obsessed with revenge and getting even with people and would set out to destroy their lives in any way possible and would haunt them till the day they die, etc.) Now, my mother thought that he was just lazy and incompetent (possibly due to his own lazy and incompetent father), but at the same time he showed signs of possibly suffering from something else. Like I said previously, we don't really know. What we do know however, was that he had extreme difficulty remembering and following directions at work, and in doing chores at home, and in keeping up with basic things like bills and other typical adult errands. It wasn't just that he was lazy (don't get me wrong, he was lazy, but there seemed to be more to it then that), as he showed numerous signs of simply having mental difficulty keeping up with and completing basic tasks. And it certainly wasn't intelligence, cause if you engaged him on the right topic he'd quickly be able to show above average levels of intelligence. Yet of course these same problems carried over into his schooling as well. This is why my mother and I (and a number of psychologists) have considered him to have possibly been born with a strong case of Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD), on top of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). He was officially diagnosed at one point with Explosive Personality Disorder (EPD), but other things that have been considered are Oppositional Defiant Disorder (ODD) and Sociopathy.
Now beyond all of that, my father was also a tremendous nerd. And I mean NERD. I'm talkin' old-school nerd, before nerd became somewhat cool. He loved all things superhero's, comic books, etc. He was a tremendous Star Wars / Star Trek fan, and loved everything Science Fiction and Fantasy. But most of all, he LOVED movies. He considered himself a 'movie enthusiast' and a 'movie collector'. He always had an entire wall of his house (biggest wall he could find near the TV) with shelves and shelves stacked full to the brim with movies. He would spend countless hours just sitting down obsessively watching movies (and TV shows btw, but mostly movies), and if anyone ever tried to break him away from it and bring him back into the real world to deal with any real world problems, that's when he would lose it and go into one of his explosive tantrums. He was a total Escapist. For those that don't know, an escapist is someone who in some way tries to 'mentally escape' into 'another world' in their head. It's basically what nerds do when they 'play pretend' in their minds and imagine themselves in whatever fictional world they (or someone else) dream up. In many cases, this is brought on as a learned defense mechanism in order for abuse victims to 'mentally escape' an otherwise inescapable situation. Of course at the same time we all do it to an extent whenever we go watch a movie or read a book, it's just a bit more extreme in these cases. So that is essentially my father.
Still with me so far? Because we've only scratched the surface. So now that my parent's stories are outta the way, on to my own back story in the next entry...