...I've just been thinking.

Growing up, my family had put the "fun" in dysfunctional.

I was born on Sept. 17th 1987 at 12:14am in Springfield, MO. The by-product of a teen pregnancy because my mother, and her fling at the time (my birth father) were both 15. For whatever reason, my mother didn't get an abortion when she had the chance, but after I was born, she made sure I knew she should have.

I was raised mostly by my grandmother (she currently lives in Racine, WI)and I got to see my grandfather on occasion, but since he was a truck driver, it prevented him from being home on a real regular basis. My mom wouldn't have much to do with me, she'd much rather get on with her life as if nothing happened and she'd just go off with friends or something, leaving my grandmother to take care of me. This also raised the ire of my mom's siblings (her older sister, younger sister and younger brother) who saw me as a threat to the attention that they should be recieving.

So lo and behold, they'd torture me every chance they'd get...especially my uncle Phil.

We moved to Colby, KS when I 5 years old and things started looking up for me. My mom moved out back to Springfield and so did my aunt Melissa and uncle Phil. I was able to have friends and go out and do things. As a kid I got deeply involved in basketball and would spend my time shooting hoops with other kids, especially my closest friends there, Sean, Kodi and Jeremy. I also became involved in baseball, bowling and swimming and had a very good childhood during this period in time.

Then my grandparents got divorced. My grandpa's job required him to transfer operations from Goodland, KS to Cincinnati, OH and my grandma would have none of it citing that it would be detestable if I were raised anywhere east of the Mississippi River. I don't understand why she felt that way, but she did and in this idea of "protecting me" she divorced him allowing me to stay in KS. Little did I know that later, my grandpa would blame me for the divorce even though I doubt I would have hated growing up in Cincy rather than Kansas.

For a couple years it was just my grandma and I. I was still a happy kid, still involved in sports, still had my friends and enjoying all the things a typical kid would enjoy...playing outside, birthday parties, video games, staying up late on weekends, favorite cartoon series, etc....then it would all come crashing down as my grandma lost her job.

June,'98. She had me move in with my mom since she couldn't take care of me without a steady income and in this process, I was injected as a virus into a perfect family. My mom had just gotten married and was about to give birth to my little brother at this point. (he was born in July) So seeing that she had married and was having a kid that wasn't a mistake and not supposed to be born, how do you think she'd respond to the kid who never should have come into this world in the first place?

Yep, she hated me. I was given this walk-in closet size room with an old decrepit bed and a chair with a tiny TV on it and that was it. I wasn't allowed into sports so my interest in basketball dropped off, along with everything else and I'd spend all day just up in my room watching TV, trying to stay out of my mom's way...even though that wouldn't work...I did so much as made eye contact with her, she'd threaten to kick me out. Now how the hell do you go about telling that to an 11-year old kid?

We moved to a bigger house in a year and I got a room in the basement, but it was the same basic deal. I was kept away from any friends as much as possible, stayed in my room and just passed the time with TV since according to my mom I didn't deserve better. I was a disgrace to her and the entire human race and just by existing I made this world a horrid place to live.

That Christmas I got a special gift from my grandma...a little husky plushie I named "Justin". Justin was probably the only thing that kept my sanity. After taking the mental abuse of my mom making me into this insufferable abomination, I'd curl up with Justin, talk to him and cry...this would go on for years. I still had Justin even when I was 16 and the process remained the same, even though at that point he was getting kind of worn and ratty so I got a new plushie, a wolf I named "Toby" and kept Justin on a shelf so to remember all the good he brought me and keep him from getting so worn that like seams would pop or something.

Now the problem was...one day, I came back from school to find Toby gone. This sent me into a deep depression. Yes it was just a plushie, but if said plushie was the only thing really keeping you sane, losing it would be devestating.

After this, I had been trying to break away from my mom and leave. I tried moving in with my friend, Andru...but my mom hunted me down and forced me back into her house. I tried moving in with other friends, but the result was always the same. I tried going to college in PA to avoid my mom...but she stole my checkbook and ripped up my letter of acceptance before I had a chance.

Then she forced me into a college she hand picked, forced me to accept and forced me to do only what she deemed was appropriate. This caused me to have a mental breakdown. I should have had freedom at this point. I was away from my mom, right? Others had the ability to go to college, major in what they wanted to, not having to worry about their parents snatching them away and forcing them to drop out....but I did.

This caused me to become so depressed I had no motivation to go to class, what's the point? I was a worthless failure anyway...then from that, I became anxiety-ridden. I would have suicidal thoughts because of how much of a complete failure I was and by the end of the year I would be so paranoid that I couldn't leave my dorm building without being scared that my mom would kidnap me.

So I escaped to Cincy to live with my grandfather and my step-grandmother. I was safe. I thought.

Turns out my grandpa is kind of where my mom got the sadism from. Things started out okay at first, got my bank account there, got a car, got a learner's permit, got enrolled for classes...but then my grandpa's perfect expectations crept in. I felt the pressure of only getting straight As or being forced to drop out, I felt the pressure of having more and more and more responsibilities piled onto me...as the grades weren't enough, I'd have to contend with a full-time job...if that wasn't enough, I'd have to remodel the house. He's been wanting me to fail and I've been scared of him kicking me out for even the smallest thing possible because he can, and knowing that I'm not perfect like he apparently is...he would.

So all through my life I've grown up in a very twisted, deprived environment for the most part. I had some happiness and I know what love felt like...but realizing that to the people I'm with I'll never deserve to be loved hurts. Maybe that's the reason for the whole babyfur thing...to get back that love from someone that I was never afforded by my family...the people that should have done so in the first place.

Even as I try to bolster my self-esteem, I find that in the process of trying to cast aside all the hatred and negativity I've felt...I still long for a family and maybe that's what makes it so difficult to just disown them. They are my family and if I disown them...who do I turn to? Who becomes my family then? Who would be there to help me get up on my own two feet for the first time and help me get back up if I fall?

I guess that fear of ending up alone...like truly alone...is what is holding me back from just up and disowning them. I just want to know that there is someone out there to catch me when I fall from my abusive family.

Sorry for all of this.

-Kameron