Introduction to Andrea
I have no clue how to blog nor have I ever been a blogger. Admittedly, I have started a couple blogs before with the intention of sharing my thoughts and views with the world. However, it never really panned out for me that way. I would write a post or two and then get distracted with life. This time will be different because this time, I need this.
My name is Andrea and, for the most part, I grew up in California. I am the middle child of five and am a self-proclaimed introvert. I don’t share much nor do I spend much time around others. My parents met and married in Washington and then moved to Mexico after my father was deported for reasons unknown to myself. I was three. I went to kindergarten in Veracruz where my family and I lived with my grandparents from my fathers side. Shortly after, we moved yet again to Tijuana which is right across the border from California. From then on, my siblings and I went to school in California but lived in Mexico with my father. My mother tended to work in positions in convenience stores and my father pirated CD’s and DVD’s. He would sell them in different flea markets in Mexico. We didn’t have much but we got by.
My father was an abusive alcoholic and my mother was a huge instigator. Unless you’ve been in the situation, you can only imagine what it was like. They finally separated when I was about 11 or 12. The timeline around this period always gets a little hazy for me because so much happened so soon. My siblings and I stayed with my mother. We were living in a domestic violence shelter in San Diego when my mother thought she had finally found the man of her dreams. The problem with him was, he was a meth addict. Soon enough, my mother found herself falling down those crystal stairs as well. Her boyfriend was in and out of jail. My mother was in and out of jobs. We were in and out of homes. It was all so fast and yet it ate up most of my childhood. By the time I was 13 I was living with my boyfriends family, cleaning the house, waiting for him to come home from school, and preparing all of the meals. I was no longer in school. My mother hadn’t bothered to enroll us in the new school district. I also didn’t know where she was and her boyfriend was no longer in the picture.
Shortly after my mother was back in the picture, she had placed a call to her sister. She was on her way to come pick us up because my mother needed some time to “get herself together”. My aunt and her family lived in Washington so that’s where I was headed along with two of my younger siblings. We were there a total of about 6 or 7 months when my mother showed up with my older sister and wanted us back. we were unceremoniously handed over and dropped off at the home of a man i had never met before but was apparently our grandfather. He lived in Oregon. We were living in his basement and had only been there a week before my mother and I got into a physical altercation. She was high and had struck my younger sister in the face. The police were called and I was sent to the hospital in an ambulance. The next day, I was released to a social worker. Since that day, my siblings and I have been in the Oregon foster care system. We have been through several homes. Some were a good fit while others were not. I am now 20 years old and have found my forever home. Unfortunately, my siblings do not reside with me but I find time to spend with them. I have not spoken to my mother for about 3 years now. My father has quit drinking and has a new family with 3 kids. He is still in Mexico.
I had a rough introduction to life but I’m looking forward to what else life has to offer.