My head is a bit of a mess today. Nothing new, really.. ha. I figured a few of you might appreciate a bit of the back story on my father’s death…realizing how confusing this all must be if you don’t know it.
My birth parents died when I was a baby in a road accident and I was put into foster care after a lengthy hospital stay (I was born very premature 12 weeks early, weighing only 2 lbs, 8 oz). I was fostered by a couple of families as an infant and came to the family who eventually adopted me as a toddler. These people are the family I grew up with. They had their own natural kids when I was a little older, a boy and a girl.
My mother was a terrified, abused wife. My father was an alcoholic, abusive, immature asshole. He hurt me every way…emotionally, physically and sexually, as often as he could. When that wasn’t fun enough he let the neighbour at me and cheered him on while he violated my 13 year old body. I remember these things happening as young as five. My mother knew and did nothing, saying very little about it until I was fifteen when they drove me downtown and dropped me off at a bus station and then left me there. I had no idea what was going on and had only taken my little hand bag with me which contained about 2$ in change. I returned home, trying to get some clothes or some of my things and she talked to me…it was the middle of the night and I had woken her to say hello and to ask why they had thrown me away the way they did. She told me to leave and not to come back….she was afraid he was going to kill me. She told me she hadn’t slept well in years, waiting for it to happen and now that I was gone, she could finally rest. I left that night and didn’t see her again for many years.
In the end, after so much drama and years of therapy and fighting and struggling to stay alive and well, we had managed to forge a sort of relationship while I denied my mental health issues. When they overtook me (Colt was born screaming and miserable and I couldn’t help him or soothe him or make any of it stop which threw me into a mental pit of despair, now recognizing my own mother’s paralysis only, realizing that she could well have stopped mine at any time). The moment I started processing what it was to be a good parent through my own experience with Colt, everything fell apart. I tried to talk to them about things but was met with rejection. They knew what had happened but were happier pretending that stuff had happened and was well in the past…forgiven…forgotten. It wasn’t though.
There’s so much to this story….so many details. I wrote blogs for a year and still hadn’t purged all of the black murk from my soul (they are all password protected now, but they’re all still here). They rejected me many times in my life and refused to help me always. It didn’t matter if I was 13 and being raped or 7 and being thrown across the room by a man ten times my size, in anger; it didn’t matter when I was a new mom with a screaming baby begging for help from my family. They didn’t want to help…they said so. My mother came to help me when he was born and left the day I got home. “If my kids had been like this I never would have had more than one.” was all she said to me.
My father offered to take baby Colt for the weekend to ‘teach him a lesson’ and promised that he would come home no longer crying, but terrified, small and obedient. I almost threw up when he said that on multiple occasions.
In the end, to absolve themselves of any blame, they all decided it was Dayne’s fault that I stopped talking to them all. I didn’t bother challenging it…was a handy excuse really.
It was Dayne who got the call from my mother’s neighbours when my father “died.” These people who I knew my entire life, who slammed doors, drew curtains and pretended not to hear my wails and I pounded on their door in the middle of the night looking for help (they were afraid of my father. Everyone was then.), called me up to tell me he had died. They said that the family was not going to tell me and they felt bad and thought I should know. The did warn me not to attend the funeral though, staying that no one wanted me there. I didn’t want me there either so I just took the information and made what peace I could inside myself. I asked my mom for the location of his grave a few times before we stopped talking but she evaded the question. She’s not often on an even keel herself so this wasn’t out of the realm of ordinary for her. I dropped it and moved on. It hadn’t even occurred to me that this was all a load of bullshit until that day a few weeks back when his phone number appeared on my work phone and my mother’s voice was left on my voice mail denying that the person speaking in the message (me) was my voice.
In a moment of panic I realized that I had to tell Colt’s school about this. My father was quite happy to use Colt to get to me before and would likely be willing to do the same again.
The plan: Call security here and give them his picture, phone number and name. I’ll have my extension taken off the directory and will keep my office door closed and locked while I’m here. Will get an escort to walk me to the garage at the end of the day when I can and will lock my doors as soon as I get into my car.
Call the school and let them know to watch out for people talking to Colt. Tell them about an estranged family member we do not want people having contact with him.
Decide whether to make the call myself or have Dayne call to tell my father to get back into his fucking grave and leave me alone.
That’s about as far as I have managed to get this morning.
I’m tired and scared. I’m looking over my shoulder every two seconds and I’m waiting for him to jump out around every corner with a length of chain to wring my neck with. My phone rings and I jump out of my seat. The door opens and I nearly break my neck spinning around to make sure it’s not him. If he wanted me to think he was dead then I think he should have to stay dead. You know?
These people messed me up so badly. I can’t imagine what they might want from me now, after all these years. If it’s a Last Will deal, I don’t want anything. If it’s a reconcile deal, I don’t want anything. If it’s an apology deal (hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!) I don’t want it. More likely he wants something from me but I don’t have anything to give him. I need someone calm today. Dayne is wired to protect me at all costs but my fear and heartache makes him so angry with them he ends up coming across all aggressive and blunt. I just need a gentle hug and someone to tell me it’s all going to be okay….even if it isn’t. Colt sensed it last night when I got home from work. “Do you need a hug mom?” he asked, sweetly.
I said I did and he came to me and hugged me telling me that he would always be there for me when I need a hug from him. I love that kid so damn much. I don’t know where or what I might be without him.
Okay! So, now I’m falling asleep at my desk. I went home and passed out on the couch then slept the night away through nightmares and waking with a start every 30 minutes or so. My immediate reaction to this sort of stress is to sleep and my body is pulling me down hard. Hopefully some work and concentration will help clear my brain for a while.
Thanks for being here guys. I feel like I have someone to talk to, thanks to you. xox