Introduction...part 1 (my dad)

I wanna start this blog with a more formal introduction. The "About Me" section is odd...in the sense that too much info looks weird, and too little info looks weird too.

Hopefully, you got the basics...my name (Dusty), my location (Fort Mill, SC). I don't wanna update my age every year, because I'll forget, and in the blog world I would remain 27 years old forever.  I was born and lived my entire life in the Charlotte, NC area (one of the few natives) in June 1984.  Two years later...my mom and dad had twin girls (Lacey and Kelly).  A few years after that...my parents divorced. I barely remember them ever living together. Us 3 kids lived together with my single-parent dad.  Life was Ok.  I mean, we always knew we didn't have a lot of money and things were tight. I'm sure my dad was stretched thin financially and emotionally. He lacked the patience needed to raise 3 children alone, but I can't imagine that many single dads or moms could excel in the "patience department."  He was tough on us, and expected a lot out of us. Not in an abusive way, but in a way that made life not very fun for kids.  When I was 13, my sisters decided they wanted to leave and go live with my mom.  I couldn't blame them...they were girls, and life with a single dad was not the greatest.

My dad soon got remarried and gave me a new half-brother (Kevin) in 1998. Within a year of his birth, my dad was diagnosed with throat cancer.  It didn't look good at the time. It was a rare form of cancer. At that time, 14 people had been diagnosed with it and only one had survived. But my dad was relatively young (around 40, i think) and in great shape.  The doctors said they would treat him aggressively and it worked. The cancer never came back.  But the results would change my life forever.

My Dad, before cancer

My dad would never be able to work again after the cancer treatment.  He always worked hard-laboring jobs and came home dirty.  The cancer surgery and treatment left him unable to swallow, and he would have to feed himself through a feeding tube.  He lost weight fast. He went from a solid 5 ft 10 in, 200 lb man...to a skinny 140 lb old man  in the span of just a month or 2.  Looking back, I can see that he must have went through severe depression. He was always a working man, used to providing the best he could for his family. After the cancer, he just sat around the house feeling sorry for himself.  He quickly began drinking alcohol.  And by "drinking alcohol," I mean....he poured beer, liquor, and wine down his feeding tube.  Most normal people may drink a 6 pack in the span of a few hours. With the feeding tube my dad could down a 6 pack in minutes.  Before long he was a full-fledged alcoholic.  He became a shell of himself and was drunk constantly. Making my teenage years a living hell.

He would be drinking all through the night, and frequently wake me up in the middle of the night to "talk" and tell me "how much he loved me."  In case your never been around alcoholics...they either get aggressive and wanna fight, or they wanna talk and be your best friend.  But at 2am on a school night, I wasn't in the mood to listen to my drunk dad ramble on and stumble around my room, no matter the topic of conversation.  With the alcoholism getting out of hand, it was only a matter of time before my dad went through another divorce and the 2 of us moved out.

By 16, I had moved in with my grandmother.  Off and on my dad would manage to rent a house and convinced me to move in with him. But it never worked out or lasted long.  I always ended back at grandma's house.  Dad was impossible to live with.  I had a part-time job, but nearly every penny went to my dad for "bills", but I knew my paychecks were being used for more alcohol.  He constantly used guilt and fear to make sure I gave him money.  On really bad nights when my dad was extremely drunk and miserable to be around, I would lay in bed, cry and ask God why I had to live like this. I just wanted a normal house, a normal family, a normal life.  I prayed that God would fix/help my dad. But nothing ever changed...things actually kept getting gradually worse.

After awhile you start questioning whether God actually exists and before too long I could say out loud that not only did I not believe in God, but I was sure He did not exist.

It took a very special woman to show me how wrong I was....to be continued...