When I was growing up in Elmhurst, Queens (1983-85), my parents would to little steal things and sell them abroad to make ends meet. Maybe it was expected from them as the buyers were more than happy to pay for these goods. This isn't the example parents should give their children, but maybe they knew I wouldn't turn them in or betray them. Maybe this is what made me more and more cynical over the years. This might have also triggered my lack of trust and dying dependency on my parents when I was between thirteen and fifteen. About this time, I still trusted my parents and kin, but that trust slowly decayed in less than a decade.
When I turned nineteen (1990), my father accused me of stealing his semi-professional VHS camera ignoring the fact the brother of the woman he was sleeping with at the time could've taken it. This betrayal took me by surprise and learned the hard way that my father cares more for any woman in his bed than his four children (myself included). When I turned twenty-two (1993), my paternal grandmother made sure I understood that she didn't want me around and always complained about me. That was cool with me since I'd never liked her. When she died (1995), part of my father's side of the family accused me of triggering her heart attack although I'd been far from this bitch. Of course, no one seemed to care to listen that the woman my father was sleeping with at that time (different from the one before) had triggered the heart attack. A little time later, my father dared to steal and/or allowed some other woman he was sleeping with at the time steal the child support money for my first-born boy (2000-02). Hence my trust and consideration for my father continued to die. A couple of years later, he committed his final betrayal and haven't seen him since (http://project05952381.blogspot.com/2010/10/my-fathers-last-betrayal.html). Needless to say (type), nowadays I don't trust in my father at all and I'm very careful to trust his side of the family. Besides having no intention to see or talk to him ever again (2004), I remain the "better" man since I know many secrets about my father that could get him arrested or killed, but I've got no interest in doing him harm. Further more, I don't think he'll apologize for his actions ever.
My mother's a different story so far. She denied my right to be, meet and have a relationship with my half-sisters and half-brother while growing up (circa 1978-86; http://project05952381.blogspot.com/2010/10/no-bother-no-sisters.html). She dragged to her hometown making me lose a school year wasting my effort that I took to skip a grade (seventh to ninth, special class for semi-gifted children; 1984) -- hence not being able to finish high school at sixteen. Surprisingly enough for me at least, I still have a relationship with her, but I'm careful to take my mother on face value. I guess she doesn't want to "lose" me as my father carelessly did. In some way, I still have somewhat of a relationship with her side of the family, but as much or close since my maternal grandmother died (http://project05952381.blogspot.com/2010/05/remembering-my-grandmother.html).
At the end of it all, I ate thanks to stolen goods. I've stolen and paid the price. I guess my parents did much more harm than I'd previously though and considered -- a thousand times more than they know or cared to admit. Hence this might be the biggest chip on my shoulder, my biggest rant. Putting it all in handful of words, I'm fucked!
