This story is in line with the timeframe of my latest posts. This is what unfolded after I returned from my failed visit to my grandparents in Deer Lodge.
This one is difficult.
Living with our parents’ alcoholism and drug use was a real drag (definitely pulling my punches). The end result was a whole lot of abuse and neglect. I read somewhere that children of abuse grow up with a hypersensitive awareness of justice. I know this is true for me. It was the unfairness of the situation that was always the most difficult to accept and is probably why my life has always been governed by deep sense of social, political and personal justice. It’s why I am a punk.
With neglect, it’s an injustice that a young kid would have to negotiate life issues beyond their time. That my mother would not come home for days at a time or that we rarely had food beyond a quick run to the 7-11 was common. Neglect is a mixed bag, however. I welcomed the fact that no…
View original post 1,036 more words