When I was born, my father abandoned us. My mother raised me on her own. Looking back now, I realise she was never really what anyone would call a parent. For as long as I can remember, she was either off her head, would vanish for days on end, or brought her mates back with her.
Up until I was about ten, I honestly believed this was how most children lived. I thought what happened in our little village outside Birmingham was just normal, that every house had nights where the shouting and laughing never stopped.
It was in secondary school that I started working. I was desperate for something to eat, and there were odd jobs all around the village. Some days I’d get paid a few quid, other days just a meal. Anything to keep going.
After school, I tried to find something steady, something you could call a proper job. But its nearly impossible when youre just some poor kid with no connections and not a penny to your name. So I scraped by doing whatever I could, just like my mother before me.
I have no idea how she always managed to find enough money to keep herself going. The crumbs I brought home all went towards food. Somehow, that was enough for her it seemed she didnt want a different life.
Then, about three years ago, a man started turning up more and more at our home. He looked like hed seen hard times himself, though he didnt carry on like a proper drunk. Most of the time, he was friendly enough, but usually he barely acknowledged I existed. Still, a part of me hoped hed be a good influence, that maybe hed pull Mum out of the gutter and wed all get a new start together.
For a while, my hopes seemed to come true. After a few months of these near-daily visits, he moved in. He never acted hostile towards me, but I always felt like he was doing his best to ignore my presence. I suppose I never realised trouble was right around the corner.
After wed all been under the same roof for about six months, I came home one night, hands freezing and pockets heavy with the notes and coins Id earned. I thought Mum would be chuffed shed been so low and withdrawn recently. Maybe my bit of good fortune would lift her spirits.
But the moment I stepped through the door, she started shouting that I wasnt welcome anymore, that I needed to leave. At first, I couldnt make sense of it. I hadnt done anything to deserve that kind of treatment. Still, I figured there was no point arguing with her when she was like that. I went to stay with a mate, convinced itd all blow over in a day or two shed been like this before, and always cooled down.
But I was wrong. The next day, I was turned away again. Eventually, I found out it was the bloke hed never liked me, and he persuaded Mum to get rid of me. And she just went along with it.
So, thats how I ended up at twenty-one, without a home. Luckily, Ive got friends who take me in and treat me like family. I scrape a living however I can just like before. So when I hear people say its disgraceful when children dont honour their parents, I always want to shout back some of us have our reasons.
