Fire Fried Corn
Growing up in the late 80's early 90's was one of the best past time. Family was something to be proud of. Grandma's and Grandpa's held the family together. If there was ever a dispute, we all just came together and talked it out. Holidays were spent together with your family. We all got together and put our differences away. Food has always been a deal breaker in my family. Everyone played their role on a special holiday, or even an occasion. The past time dish that was forgotten was fried corn, every Thanksgiving. My grandma would host the occasion and someone would have to be at her house either spending the night, or early to start cooking the food. Whoever would cook, did not have the responsibilities of cleaning the dishes up afterwards. That was the worst part of Thanksgiving, was the cleaning up. Fried corn always got cooked with our meal. I honestly don't know if it was something my grandma just chose, or if it actually was passed down through generations. I can remember the way it smelt and the way it always hit the spot when I would put it on some of my mash potatoes. How I can hear the people in the back ground talking about either the football game that might have been on, or the arguing over something that might have been started over a debate. How my grandma's house was so little, but could fit so many people in it. How every time we would say grace before we ate dinner. That corn was never forgotten. My grandma had to make sure we had enough of the corn to last a year, it sure felt like. She would get her big skillet out, some butter, some salt and pepper, and melt them together. She would then pour the corn in the skillet and fry it up. It was so delicious and tasted so good. For people who don't like corn or vegetables, would be amazed and think differently.
Abuse has its own demons!
Being in a childhood full of distress and dismay, hurts and is painful growing up. Trying to adult with the toxic life that was given to you is hard in itself. There is either failure or success. Unfortunately it is rarely in between. Some days I feel like I am just surviving this life. Some days I feel like I am a failure to my own children. My children will always be number one in my life, because of the trust I seem to not have in other people. It gets hard to question their existence and actually feel like they are safe with any human being. My life was just like everyone's life. If you really just peaked in for once, you would think that my life was wonderful. My life was less than normal and defiantly something people can relate to. My story starts truly when I was four years old when my parents decided to divorce and my mom running off with other men, all the time. There would be weeks upon weeks until we seen her. It was the worst. As a child, emotions ran through me wondering why I was never good enough for her. Why she was always leaving. My dad was around and had to work full time to keep food in our mouths, so I understood that part. He always provided no matter and made sure we had what we needed. I did lack on some emotions with him for being my dad. I really felt disconnected from him where I needed a parent in my life to stay. When my parents divorced, it was the worst. I remember my mom saying stuff to me about my dad. She would share bad stories of my dad. I remember it making me so mad and actually start hating him at some point. When I was five, my dad met my stepmom. They ended up marrying when I was six years old. I really hated my step mom. I remember being so mean to her and always wanted my dad and mom back together. I was deceived as a brat, but honestly, I wanted my dad and mom back together and it had nothing to do with her. When people marry in with other children, it is good to remember that it is not always about you, but emotions behind it, because they are still trying to process what really is going on. Many children can't grasp that until it can be clear to them, or even explained to them better. My step mom has three children. Two girls and a boy. It was five kids all together. I was the oldest. The ages was from six, five, four, three, and two (the two youngest were like the same age for a couple months). All I could think about was Cinderella. How they took my dad from me. It was not the same anymore. My dad was different from my step mom, my feelings were that he was more with us until he was married. I really never felt any love off of him. I remember following him around when I was younger because I wanted his attention. I remember the feelings I had when I figured out that I was a girl so it was not really good to teach me guy things. Little did he actually know, I am so much like him. I learn quickly and only need to be shown how to do it once. I felt angry for that. I remember living with my mom and my dad only taking my brother and leaving me. It made me furious. I did take it out on my mom. It broke my heart. I don’t even think he knows that from this day. I really don’t even know his family either. That really bothered me my whole life. I always doubted if I was actually his daughter or not. I always questioned why I never looked like him or my brother. Children's mind wonder when they are younger and if we are not careful for what is said, then it can be blown out of proportion. One thing I learned about being a parent to my children, is catching myself do the same thing my parents did. I don’t know if it is from habit or because it was done to me in the long run. How I process things to understand it.