White Trash America
Why I'm writing this hub.
I haven't really wrote anything in the past week. Mainly because there was nothing out "there" that was grabbing my attention. Nothing that is until yesterday. Yesterday I was going through my emails and there was a hub, written by a hubber that caught my eye. The title was as follows :
I’m Not As Worried About The Illegal Immigrants As Much As I’m Worried About The White Trash Americans
Now I read the hub. And parts of me were a little taken back. Others, not so much. You see, I grew up in a "white trash" kind of family. And parts of this hub made me remember the times I lived with my real mother. And made me shudder. Also made me remember what it was like. So right now I'm going to take you on a journey...it may not be a pleasant journey, but it's a journey nonetheless.
I grew up not like others. I had a single mother. We moved around a lot. And until the age of 7 I was pretty much an only child, dealing with things that children of any age should never have to deal with. Actually I have another sister, but she was fortunate enough to have a dad that took her from my real mom when they split. So she never had to endure the things I've gone through.
I was the child that "stole" my real mom's life. She got pregnant with me when she was just 21. And she never let me forget that I was the reason she couldn't be the person that she really was meant to be. I was brought into this world April 8th, 1983, addicted to drugs. You see my mom had a bad habit with drugs. And actually still does to this day. The first 5 or so years of my life I can't remember. But I remember the first time I was ever left home alone so my mom could go out and party at the near by bar. I was 5 years old and scared to death. When I was 7 my youngest sister was brought into this world and I was responsible for her. I took care of a child that was newborn and now at 27 I can't imagine how I did it. I look at kids now that are 7 years old and younger and have to sit back in awe and wonder to myself, how did I survive? Nights that my mom would go out I'd have to wait by the phone at 2am. When that 2am call would come I would have to make sure that I got my sister in her stroller and would have to walk the mile or so to the bar and walk my mom home. Yes at 7! Like I've stated, I don't know how I survived. In the mornings I'd have to make sure that I was off to school and fed. I basically was a mini adult. The cooking, cleaning etc was all up to me. I made the mistake once of not being awake at the 2am call, it was a mistake I'll never forget. I remember being woke up to my mom putting a pillow over my face and trying to smother me. It's a memory that one never forgets. A mother trying to suffocate her child for not being up to walk her home from the bar. But that wasn't the only time in my little life that I was abused. On my left wrist I have a scar that is about 2 inches long, it's a scar caused by a butcher knife. A butcher knife that was put there by none other than my mom. And to this day I can't remember what it was that made her do it. But she did. On the inside of my right wrist I have yet another scar, this scar was caused by a broken plate. I remember what it was that made her do this one, I dropped a plate on the floor on accident while washing the dishes one night. It made her mad, so she cut me with it.
I've never known why my mom did the things that she did to me. I've asked these questions, but she is in denial. So I'll probably never really know the whole reasoning. I know a lot of it stemmed from the drugs and the alcohol. But in all honesty I thank her for everything she ever did. The good and the bad. Though that bad about weigh the good. Because I don't think I could ever have grown up to be the person that I am today without these little "reminders" of where and of what I came from. You see I've dealt with these demons of abuse and neglect for a long time. But the one thing I don't let it do is "run" who I am. Like so many others who grow up in similar situations do. I feel that these things that happened, happened for a reason. And that reason being was to teach me that I did't have to be like her, I didn't have to go down the path of "white trash" America. And though I've had my run ins and rebellions I'm proud of who I am and what I've made of myself. I'm a 3 time college graduate, a veteran of the U.S. Army and a soon to be wife. I hold a full time job at home and outside the home. And I personally feel that I owe it all to the woman who put me through hell. I know it's strange for you to read, but you have to have come from where I come from to fully understand and grasp what it is that I mean. I could be some prision inmate, drug abuser, alcoholic or what ever, but I'm not. And I'm not because I choose not to be. I used the trauma I went through as a child and made myself better, not worse.
You see, kids who have to suffer the way that I did usually tend to follow the paths that their parents have took. They were beaten as a child, they grown up to be killers, rapists, theives etc. Land themselves in prison or what not and blame it on their parents. But let's get real here for a second shall we? We as human beings have that little thing called "choices". The kids who came from homes like me had a choice. They choose to go down the wrong path. They choose to be just like the white trash that raised them. Remember the choice is yours. Be who you want you want to be, not what you were raised to be.
Now when I was about 12 years old my sister and I were placed in foster care. I've never looked back. I had a great support system. My foster parents were loving and great teachers to me. My social worker is amazing and I still hold a close friendship with her today. These people kept me on a path that helped shape the young woman I am today, and for that I'm forever greatful.
I'm not saying that I grew up perfectly after I left the care of my mom. I've had my problems and I've learned from them all. So when people want to write about the "white trash" parents and feeling sorry for the kids that they are raising, it makes me want to ask them, "what are you doing to help these kids?" Honestly, you can sit back and shake your head in disapproval in the way that "white trash" parents are raising their kids or you can step up to the plate and actually do something to make a difference in the lives of those children. Because I know first hand that they will thank you for it several years down the line.
I didn't go into depths of things in my childhood in this hub. And if I did, I didn't want to be responsible for making you cry. Because I only touched on the mildness of my childhood in this hub. Things were far worse and a lot more traumatic than I've described. I'm not good at writing when it comes to this particular topic. So if it seems that I'm all over the place, it's because I am. I'm actually forcing myself to not shake.
But please remember this one thing if nothing else from this hub, the kids of the next generation are depending on you to step up to the plate for them. Be their voice. Lend a hand. Call a social worker if you think something is wrong. Don't turn a blind eye. Because down the road that kid may be the next senator, nurse, doctor or anyone great. They don't have to be doomed to be the next "white trash parent". And I get that not all of the next generation are going to turn out angels, but with our help some can still have a chance. So don't judge them, help them.