You used to come home from work and help me with homework. You used to come home from work and cook dinner for us. You used to come home from work happy to see us. You used to go to my brother’s baseball games, and you used to do things with me. You used to take us out for ice cream. You used to be great. Almost too great. Something that great must have its tragic downfall, right?

Correct.

As if someone flipped the switch, you changed. You would come home from work only to get changed to go out again. You wouldn’t even cook dinner or help with homework. You would only tell me when to put my brother to sleep. If I was lucky, you would leave money on the counter for me to order myself some food. But most of the time, you didn’t. You always made sure you had money for your drinks. Always. Come hell or high water, even if you had to pay in nickels and dimes, you had it.

You wouldn’t come home until the sun came up. You would stumble in the door and just flop on the couch where you would be for the remainder of the day. You just laid there and ignored all responsibilities. You were supposed to run the household, but instead, you let it fall apart. The dishes would pile up, there was never any clean clothes, and take out containers littered the house. Calling it a house was an overstatement, that was a garbage can.

It got worse. You started getting arrested. A lot. But thankfully, you always posted bail and got out. But once you did, you were back out on the town doing what you do best. You would even post about it on social media as if it were something to brag about. At this point, you were barely home. You were either in jail or at the bar down the road. I constantly had to lie for you. Always told people you were sick or busy with work. When that clearly wasn’t the case…

Even four years later, you’re still the same if not worse. I don’t live with you anymore nor do I associate with you anymore, but I still hear about it through the grapevine. It makes me angry to hear what you say about me. “My child is an ungrateful b*tch…She was the one who made me this way. She caused me so much pain.” What pain did I cause? Was it when I moved out? Or was it when I told everyone the truth? I don’t understand how you can say that I caused you so much pain when I was the one who took all the pain and suffering that you threw at me. I was the glue that held that family together.

I know that the day that I graduate from college that you will be bragging. “That’s my baby! I made her that way!” Yes, you did. You made me this strong bad ass that I am today. You not being there made me stronger than most of my peers. But if you try to claim my success as yours, you’re wrong. Any success that I have, is mine. I did this all by myself. I pushed myself through high school and now college without you. I made here without you. You had your chance to raise me the right way. You had that shot. And you blew it.