How to be an Addict...Volume 1 and 2

I combined my first two posts about my early life into this one so those that haven't read it yet can catch up. I hope you enjoy reading about the influences that formed me into who I was for many years, thank God I am not him anymore.
I was born to a 19 year old mother in the year 1974. My father promptly decided fatherhood was not for him and left my mother before I was born. Now 1974 wasn't 1950, but it also was not 2017 either. A single woman did not have many options but to get married to someone, anyone.
My mother apparently had an penchant for the party life and chose my step father to be that husband. He was a daily drinking alcoholic and Marijuana user. Now I know this does not sound like a big deal now, but then, if someone used pot, they hid it. And they made sure the kids knew not to tell. In my family there were many things we did not tell.
I was two years old when my Mom and Step Dad got married, and was enrolled in school under his last name somehow, even though I was never adopted. Like I said, things were different then. I did not find out my real last name until I was around 12 years old.
My Dad (step) as I called him was very quick with his hands, on both my mother and myself. The biggest problem with this was he was also inconsistent. The rules would change as well as the infractions. Punishment was swift and brutal, often involving belts or whatever was at hand.
My Grandfather (step) was a kind man, but I understood that he was also physical with my Dad when he was a kid. He was a retired drop forge worker, and taught his son to work hard. He did, as an industrial blacksmith, but wasn't the best at keeping a job. Before my Grandpa retired I barely remember he always had a candy bar in his lunch because he "Knew I was coming over." I also remember my Grandpa being a blatant racist and his brother being an open member of the KKK (or so he said). In my family this was normal. We had a Great Dane who's attack word was "nigger," and there was often discussion and off color jokes at the dinner table. When I got old enough to see truth, I never was far from hearing "I thought I raised a white boy!" because of the music I listened to, or the way I talked.
My Mom, Dad, and Grandpa thought nothing of having me sit on their lap while they smoked cigarettes and drank whiskey or beer, and during special occasions, I was allowed to drink some wine, beer or champagne. Add to this Grandmas cold remedy of whiskey honey and lemon, and it is easy to see why alcohol was my first run with addiction.
Another thing about my family....We would often go to my uncles and my parents would watch Porn on the movie projector with my aunts and uncles, while enjoying each others company very much. They would put all the kids ranging in age from 5 to 13 in one room to "Play." What do you think we did? I wonder now if there may have been a camera in the room with the kids, but I can't seem to think of them as that evil.
When I was about 11 I really had my first drunk at a Christmas party at my grandparent's house. Everyone else was so drunk they never even noticed me stumbling and puking. But you know what? I wasn't the victim!! I was tough!!! And cool!! No, I would never be the kid that got beat or picked on again!! If only.....
If you like this short piece of introduction to my early life, please vote and follow me. Also read my other posts and vote them if you like. All this is true and there will be more to come. I have had an interesting life for sure...
So my last post about my early life left off at age 11 when I really got drunk for the first time, if you have not read it, you should.
After getting drunk in my Grandparent's basement during a Christmas party for the first time, and coming upstairs to find out nobody even realized it because they were drunk too, I wanted to feel that way again, and soon!
I have never been popular. Even way back to fourth grade I remember having "Cooties" and being the butt of every-ones jokes. My parents had the strange thing where I was not allowed to fight. It was made clear to me that if I went to school and got in a fight, the punishment when I got home was going to be far worse. Since I knew my Dad would beat me, I was far more scared of him then I was of some kid at school, so I refused to fight back when I was bullied. For those of you that think not fighting a bully is the way to go, you are wrong. Not fighting back is not some great moral stand, all it does is bring out every other would be bully around, and soon you are being repeatedly beat by everyone. Add to this the sexual issues from my childhood, and it is easy to see why I quickly gravitated to the "Burn outs" as they were called at the time, when I started drinking. They were the ones that were cool to me, the rebels, the ones that did not answer to anyone.
My family moved a lot when I was a kid, and at this age we had moved to a very small town where everyone knew everyone. I will never forget my first day in the town when we were looking at the house we would be renting, my Mom told me to go down the road and check out the school I would be going to, the playground and such. I went down there and there was a couple of teenage girls playing Basketball. As I was walking up to them I said "Hi" and waved. One of the girls bent over and I couldn't see what she was doing, then she stood up and threw a rock and hit me in the head. I ran to where my Mom was crying and she told me to stop acting like a girl, it couldn't have hurt that much.
I was overweight as a kid, and had acne real bad when I was a teenager. I remember one girl I really liked, trying to talk to her. She told me I disgusted her, and why don't I use some Oxy Clear. I couldn't use peroxide based medication as it made my skin very sensitive. I figured I would try again, I mean I really liked this girl. So the next day I went to school and had not rubbed the medication in well, but did not realize it. The girl saw it and said "What? Are you wearing Make-Up now?" It hurt so bad.
I was always very smart and I could read before I went to kindergarten. In first grade I took a state test and the local University got a hold of my Mom because of it. They wanted me to come out for advanced classes, but my Mom would not let me because I was getting in trouble. The reason I was getting in trouble was because I was bored, I knew everything they were trying to teach me already. Even now, this semester in college, the lowest grade I have gotten is a 99%. I used to get mad at the librarian because they wouldn't let me check out encyclopedias. When I realized that I could find any information I wanted and I didn't have to ask anyone for help, I started reading them from front to back A-Z.
In 5th grade I met a kid who had been held back twice. I went to his house and his Mom was willing to buy us alcohol. I did not know she also had a thing for younger guys and her husband liked to watch. I found out soon enough. Now I could get alcohol as long as I had money. Fortunately for me, my parents had no problem giving me money to go to the movies (sure) or roller skating (yeah right) with my friends.
I did not know that hanging with the "Burn outs" and living in this small town, I would soon be introduced to drugs. When I say drugs I do not mean just weed either. I did cocaine before I was 13, and dropped LSD more times than I can count. Next time I will tell you all about it.
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