I was born straight into a broken home. One parent was diagnosed with schizophrenia, battled demons (literally), depression, and drug addiction. The other parent abused prescription drugs and I suspect molestation and who had absolutely no idea what is was to love herself, let alone a child. My mom was 23 when she had me. I don’t know the entire story and I am sure I never will, but shortly thereafter – she became a single mom. My dad lived in Puerto Rico for a couple years, but my grandma (his mom) would pick me up sometimes so that I could have a relationship with his side of the family. I still remember the day he came back to NJ and they introduced me to him. I was so confused, and at roughly 6 years old, had no idea how to even feel. It was fun while it lasted. But because my mom and dad could never get along, my mom turned into this “baby mama” and completely just removed him from my life all together. My mom was a workaholic, and although when I was really young she spent a bit more time with me, as I got older, she would stay at work for about 12 hours and even when she was home, it was obvious she didn’t care much about connecting.

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