Family

Do you think your family is strange and complicated? Well, sit back and enjoy the ride. You are going to get lost once or twice in the mix and be like, "What is Melanie talking about?" Then, you'll immediately breathe a sigh of relief as you realize your family is totally Waltons compared to mine, only not with a ton of kids who all yell goodnight to each other through a huge house.

Long story short: my family is huge. Gram had seven kids. Three of them have passed away. One from a stroke on her 31st birthday, and two from drug related complications. The rest live here, except my uncle Charlie who lives in Nebraska.

Growing up I had a step dad who I thought was my father 'til I was about 8. I have a step-brother Eric, a step-sister Kim, a half-sister Theresa, and a cousin my parents adopted when I was 11, who I call my sister. Her name is Tanya.

I never knew my birth father but just recently his sister got in touch with me and told me he had died in '08 of cirrhosis of the liver. I fell to the floor and cried like a baby the day I found that out. It was as if he had just died. And all hope of meeting my birth father that I'd wondered about my whole life, were dashed in one fell swoop. But I also found out that day that I had two more half sisters, Kelly and Crystal. Kelly is in recovery and has been clean over 5 years. Crystal is a still practicing alcoholic in deep denial about her drinking problem.

 I find it fascinating the strength that nature has had over nurture in my life. Growing up I never felt like I was really a part of my family. I wasn't anything like the rest of them. I was a free thinker. I was drawn to people like carnies and circus performers who were nomadic. I was goofy. I had an intelligence higher than any of them. Sky limits higher. I LOVED my booze. My mom and dad did not drink except a little beer with pizza, and the occasional glass of wine. I've seen my mom drunk exactly twice.

When I went to a bbq to meet my birth father's side of the family I would look over and catch them staring when I was talking. They said, "You are SO much like him it's crazy." I look like my father, have the sense of humor of my father, the hand gestures of my father, and the alcoholism of my father. He also rode a motorcycle and never had a home. He would just stay with whoever and wander. I really wish I could've met him. 'Cause although there may be nothing more deplorable than leaving a child, I kind of understand why he did it. He thought I was better off without him.

 My grandmother lived in a very brown part of town. One of my aunties who passed totally identified Chicana, even though no part of her was Mexican. She spoke Spanish to her kids, cooked Mexican food for them, and dated almost solely Mexican men. She had one Russian kid, one black kid, and one Mexican kid. I always called her United Nations crotch. She got pretty heavily in to drugs and was always in trouble. Once, she went to the grocery store and went to put groceries in the trunk, only to find a body one of her boyfriends had put in there. Thanks honey!

I have a strange family and they are more than slightly dysfunctional. But they made me who I am today and built my character. They gave me meth when I was 11. They fed me pot brownies when I was even younger. They taught me to never start a fight, but always finish one. One of them molested me. One of them is a hoarder who we have to go to her house and clean up every few months. One constantly tries to tear me down, and I just smile because I know she's miserable enough without me having to say a word to try and tear her down back, which I could do very easily. One taught me to play soccer and I got so good I earned a college scholarship, which I ended up declining.

 I love my family. Every last one of them. Even the molester one because I don't have the energy to hate him anymore. My family is crazy, and they are amazing, and I am proud to be a part of them.

Happy picture of the day: cutest note ever. Spoon is a whore.