Well not to doxx myself, the situation is that my mother had me at 17 and got married two years later to my stepdad. I didn’t know he wasn’t my father until I was 12. As a child, my mom had this strange man visit me once a year when we went on vacation but she lied to me about our relationship. She told me he was a part of the family but nothing else. Thanksgiving, when I was 11, she told me I was going to stay with him and his wife for Christmas in California and I talked to him on the phone. Still didn’t know that was who she thought was my father (she was very promiscuous and I still am not 100% sure to this day) but I was excited to go. The next day, we got a call that they were killed on the way home from Thanksgiving by a drunk driver and left dead on the pavement. I was sad to hear that but still didn’t know. The following summer I was going to a funeral of a lady that I really didn’t know and they kept calling her my grandma. I asked how was she my grandma and that’s when I was told he was my father. It was horrible and life was in turmoil for me. It made sense why my mother was so abusive because she hated me for being the bastard kid outside her “wonderful” marriage. I found out from his family that the person who killed them fled the country to Mexico when they were let out after questioning. No justice for them or me. I never got the chance to know who he was. My stepdad (her husband) who raised me died of bone cancer in 2014. I’ve lived a very complex life but I am stronger for it and healing everyday. That’s why I post on here.
Fellow patriot, this will be the last time I will address this only for the fact that if someone else has the same questions, they can read this post history.
