Because Everyone Posts More Than Once on the First Day of Their Blog...

I suppose I should give you a small bit of background. Currently, I am a 20 year old girl enrolled at a state university. I also happen to be (temporarily) single, a status that I never seem to hold on to. But I'm going to take everyone back much farther, right to the first few years of my life.

I was born in a suburb. What white, middle-class family doesn't bear their spawn in a suburb? It was a Friday in late May, 1992. My mother, like an idiot, decided to stuff her face with a giant dinner while she was in labor with me! Due to this fact, she was in so much pain right after I was born, the doctors had to sedate her. My father held me for the first few hours of my life; could it be the reason I'm much closer with him than my mother? Very possibly.

My parents took me home to the condominium they owned at the time. There I played with my older sister as well as the glass pieces my parents used to smoke their marijuana out of. When I was a year old, my sister broke my father's favorite bong. It was then my parents declared our condo "too small for the kids" and decided to purchase their first real home.

For awhile everything was perfect. We were such a stereotypical middle class family; my mother stayed at home cooking, cleaning and performing her wifely duties, I went to pre-school everyday while my sister attended kindergarten and my father performed his job as an accountant, bringing home the bacon.

Everything changed for me in March 1995. That's when "The Fight" happened. I was too young to remember much except that my mother threw a glass of water in my father's face and my father was taken away in handcuffs. After that, our cozy, suburban family of four became a divorced nightmare. My father moved in with my grandparents (who lived one town away) and continued to stay present in my sister's and my lives for a good amount of time. When my father lost his job, he moved to the next state over, about two and a half hours north of where we currently lived.

Even with the distance, I still had an excellent father in my life. Eventually I'll go into detail more about my times with my father, but for now I'll assure you he was constantly making long drives to see my sister and me, go to our recitals, and kept up with our lives.

My mother did not handle the divorce very well. Like my father, eventually I'll go into stories of my mother but I'll say the biggest culprit of my current mental state seems to be her.

For now, though, I'm going to say this is enough about my early childhood. I wish it was funnier, more entertaining or at the very least unique. But in retrospect, my childhood is similar to your enemies, your friends or even your own. It wasn't until later in life that I realized how fucked up my home life had become.