One day he just left. He came home with his usual bag of dirty clothes. Two days later he packed up more clothes than normal and left. I guess he told Mom he was moving out but I don't remember if he said anything to any of us or even if she did.
It was like magic. One day everyone was living in fear the next we weren't. I wrote in my book a few more times just to vent but then put it away. I had a big box of "treasures" in my closet and put the book under the lining still fearing the judgement of others.
It was in a way anticlimactic. I'm not sure what I expected but I thought I would have felt better.
A few weeks later the strangest thing happened. I hear my folks fighting. It was supposed to be a thing of the past but here they were standing on the front porch arguing. The strangest part was after a little listening I could tell my mother was standing up to him. I mean putting her foot down, fearlessly standing up to him. He had decided he was moving back home. She told him he wasn't welcome back and would have to find someplace else to go. He left again just like that. Without pushing or punching he just left!
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Saturday, April 10, 2010
I Believe in God
I believe in God. I have prayed since I was a little child.
When I was very young I would ask God to make him stop. I eventually decided God wouldn't make it stop because God wasn't making it happen. This kind of thing had to be Satan at his worst. Since God had no hand in making it happen then how could He have stopped it?
My prayers were often misguided. I didn't know what to ask for so I often asked for the wrong things. If I had known what to ask for or maybe if I had known how to make things better He could have helped me! How does a child find out what to ask for? For a long while I felt betrayed by God. I kept praying though.
I have heard it said that God will only give you what you can handle. Does that apply to Satan as well? I mean will God let Satan give us more than we can handle or is that where God steps in and makes things better. How would God determine when to step in?
Over time I discovered I was wrong. People do evil things because they choose to do evil things. God gave all of us agency. It isn't His fault when agency is abused. In the end though God can make anything happen.
When I was very young I would ask God to make him stop. I eventually decided God wouldn't make it stop because God wasn't making it happen. This kind of thing had to be Satan at his worst. Since God had no hand in making it happen then how could He have stopped it?
My prayers were often misguided. I didn't know what to ask for so I often asked for the wrong things. If I had known what to ask for or maybe if I had known how to make things better He could have helped me! How does a child find out what to ask for? For a long while I felt betrayed by God. I kept praying though.
I have heard it said that God will only give you what you can handle. Does that apply to Satan as well? I mean will God let Satan give us more than we can handle or is that where God steps in and makes things better. How would God determine when to step in?
Over time I discovered I was wrong. People do evil things because they choose to do evil things. God gave all of us agency. It isn't His fault when agency is abused. In the end though God can make anything happen.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Immersed
I quit writing for a time. Like the notebook I had to put it down for a while. As I wrote I became so immersed in the pain of the past I had to take a break...
I have started a few more posts but none of them are ready yet. I just wanted to post something to motivate myself to finish and move on to the next chapter of my life!
I have started a few more posts but none of them are ready yet. I just wanted to post something to motivate myself to finish and move on to the next chapter of my life!
Saturday, October 31, 2009
More Like a Visitor
In time it was more like he visited on the weekends. I felt more relaxed during the week. It was almost as if I knew he would just show up Thursday or Friday night and be gone again by Sunday afternoon. It didn't always work out that way but it happened that way more often than not. Sometimes he was even gone by Friday or Saturday evening. I prayed for short and uneventful weekends.
These weeks were still marred by the uncertainty. Everyone kept on guard knowing he could pop in at any time.We were good at warning each other. While he was there we never knew if he would freak out or be almost pleasant. Not kidding about the pleasant part. I suspect he had a kinky girlfriend or two. We didn't know what kind of pain he might cause inflict. Sometimes it was emotional pain but I sometimes wonder if emotional pain wasn't the worst kind since a bruise would heal more quickly.
We all had routines for when he was back. We stayed in our rooms or went to friends houses to hide, I mean hang out. I made sure I did my chores and anything else that needed to be done to avoid his wrath, to be seen as busy and maybe in a good light. He had a way of picking at how we were doing things. He would say, "That's the wrong way to do it" or "you could be doing a better job if..." The worst part would be if there was something that needed to be done and we were hiding out instead. Then we were all in for it.
Our lives at this point for the most part were separate but connected in a way that was miserable for everyone involved but him. I think he was still getting some kind of sick and twisted pleasure by keeping us all miserable, fearful and sad. Maybe he didn't see the scope of his actions.
These weeks were still marred by the uncertainty. Everyone kept on guard knowing he could pop in at any time.We were good at warning each other. While he was there we never knew if he would freak out or be almost pleasant. Not kidding about the pleasant part. I suspect he had a kinky girlfriend or two. We didn't know what kind of pain he might cause inflict. Sometimes it was emotional pain but I sometimes wonder if emotional pain wasn't the worst kind since a bruise would heal more quickly.
We all had routines for when he was back. We stayed in our rooms or went to friends houses to hide, I mean hang out. I made sure I did my chores and anything else that needed to be done to avoid his wrath, to be seen as busy and maybe in a good light. He had a way of picking at how we were doing things. He would say, "That's the wrong way to do it" or "you could be doing a better job if..." The worst part would be if there was something that needed to be done and we were hiding out instead. Then we were all in for it.
Our lives at this point for the most part were separate but connected in a way that was miserable for everyone involved but him. I think he was still getting some kind of sick and twisted pleasure by keeping us all miserable, fearful and sad. Maybe he didn't see the scope of his actions.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Just Stand There
Each time he returned there was more strange behavior. More peculiar demands.
He would walk in the door, strip naked on the way to his bed, lay down and yell, "Make me a peanut butter and mayonnaise sandwich." More of a demand than a request.
He always returned with his laundry. (I never saw him pack a bag to leave but then again I tried not to be around when he was there.) He would say, "Get this done" as he would throw the bag at us on the way to the bedroom. We would gather the clothes he dropped and get the laundry done as fast as possible on the off chance he might leave quicker.
He had me iron stacks of handkerchiefs. Why iron something you plan to shove in your pocket and wipe your nose on? I asked him. I hurt for days afterward.
He decided it would be cheaper and insisted we take our lunch to school. We would make an assembly line constructing a whole weeks worth of lunches and put them in the freezer. Nothing like a very soggy stale PBJ and two soft stale cookies that had been sitting in baggies in the freezer. We had no other choices. There was usually a piece of fruit or some cut up veggies to add to the bag as we walked out the door. Other times I'd wait till I got home to eat. A few times someone stole all the cookies. I suspected him!
He brought me a purple macrame bikini. He wanted me to try it on and model it. I would have no part of it. I had never been allowed to wear a bikini before but I wasn't about to start in front of him. He would surely leer and make me feel dirty. Maybe he would try to take it off. I made an excuse to leave and hid the suit.
He asked when my friends were coming over to swim. I suspected he wanted to be there to watch us through the windows. Once he asked if we ever went skinny dipping. I wondered if he knew most of my friends were guys. I tried never to get in the pool when he was home. If I wouldn't get in the pool while he was swimming he would make me sit on the concrete benches and watch while he was swimming naked. Teasing me the whole time about not going in when it was obviously so hot.
He demanded we rub his feet with lotion and pull off the dry dead skin, gross. He insisted we rub his big fat hairy back as well, equally gross.
One night he and a friend took off with our car. Mom woke up and found it missing. He told her to call the police and report it stolen. She did. After the insurance company settled he admitted it was in his friends garage. They pulled the ignition (easy for him since he had been a repo-man for years) took off parts, towed it away and abandoned it. He told mom if she reported him to the police it would be fraud and he would make sure she was locked up as well since she is the one who made the stolen car report.
He purchased an orange Cadillac with the insurance proceeds while she was in the hospital. He went to the hospital and wanted her to get out of bed so she could see his new purchase. Why so flamboyant a color I'll never know. Mom hated that car. It was a little embarrassing having it parked in our driveway.
He often called us into his room. He would be on the phone and say, "Just a second." If we tried to leave he would set the phone aside, cover it and say, "Where are you going?" If we tried to sit he would say, "Just stand there!" Sometimes we never found out why we were called in. He would forget and send us out after having us standing there for sometimes hours.
His behavior became more and more peculiar each time he returned.
He would walk in the door, strip naked on the way to his bed, lay down and yell, "Make me a peanut butter and mayonnaise sandwich." More of a demand than a request.
He always returned with his laundry. (I never saw him pack a bag to leave but then again I tried not to be around when he was there.) He would say, "Get this done" as he would throw the bag at us on the way to the bedroom. We would gather the clothes he dropped and get the laundry done as fast as possible on the off chance he might leave quicker.
He had me iron stacks of handkerchiefs. Why iron something you plan to shove in your pocket and wipe your nose on? I asked him. I hurt for days afterward.
He decided it would be cheaper and insisted we take our lunch to school. We would make an assembly line constructing a whole weeks worth of lunches and put them in the freezer. Nothing like a very soggy stale PBJ and two soft stale cookies that had been sitting in baggies in the freezer. We had no other choices. There was usually a piece of fruit or some cut up veggies to add to the bag as we walked out the door. Other times I'd wait till I got home to eat. A few times someone stole all the cookies. I suspected him!
He brought me a purple macrame bikini. He wanted me to try it on and model it. I would have no part of it. I had never been allowed to wear a bikini before but I wasn't about to start in front of him. He would surely leer and make me feel dirty. Maybe he would try to take it off. I made an excuse to leave and hid the suit.
He asked when my friends were coming over to swim. I suspected he wanted to be there to watch us through the windows. Once he asked if we ever went skinny dipping. I wondered if he knew most of my friends were guys. I tried never to get in the pool when he was home. If I wouldn't get in the pool while he was swimming he would make me sit on the concrete benches and watch while he was swimming naked. Teasing me the whole time about not going in when it was obviously so hot.
He demanded we rub his feet with lotion and pull off the dry dead skin, gross. He insisted we rub his big fat hairy back as well, equally gross.
One night he and a friend took off with our car. Mom woke up and found it missing. He told her to call the police and report it stolen. She did. After the insurance company settled he admitted it was in his friends garage. They pulled the ignition (easy for him since he had been a repo-man for years) took off parts, towed it away and abandoned it. He told mom if she reported him to the police it would be fraud and he would make sure she was locked up as well since she is the one who made the stolen car report.
He purchased an orange Cadillac with the insurance proceeds while she was in the hospital. He went to the hospital and wanted her to get out of bed so she could see his new purchase. Why so flamboyant a color I'll never know. Mom hated that car. It was a little embarrassing having it parked in our driveway.
He often called us into his room. He would be on the phone and say, "Just a second." If we tried to leave he would set the phone aside, cover it and say, "Where are you going?" If we tried to sit he would say, "Just stand there!" Sometimes we never found out why we were called in. He would forget and send us out after having us standing there for sometimes hours.
His behavior became more and more peculiar each time he returned.
Monday, August 17, 2009
His Time Away Increased
With each week that passed his time away increased. With each absent day hope that he would stay away longer increased. For so many years our family had been between a really big ugly rock and an even uglier hard place. He wouldn't leave us and Mom couldn't leave him after all the threats he made. He said straight up he would make sure she never saw us again. He would take us away, across the boarder where we would never be found. Sometimes threatening to kill her or us. I heard the warnings and I believed him. I'm sure Mom did too because she never left.
This voluntary absence of his was like a refreshing gift with sharp edges. Moments in time we could let our guard down and be ourselves. Days we could look back on and remember with a kind of gratitude for the solace. I can't say it was a time without fear. It was difficult to know when he might return and what mood he would be in when he got back. We never let our guard down long enough to truly enjoy the time. I longed for a time when we could be ourselves without the sharp edge of fear invading otherwise peaceful moments.
This voluntary absence of his was like a refreshing gift with sharp edges. Moments in time we could let our guard down and be ourselves. Days we could look back on and remember with a kind of gratitude for the solace. I can't say it was a time without fear. It was difficult to know when he might return and what mood he would be in when he got back. We never let our guard down long enough to truly enjoy the time. I longed for a time when we could be ourselves without the sharp edge of fear invading otherwise peaceful moments.
My memories
I saw her fly against the wall, heard the sickening crunch and watched as she slid to the shag carpet lifeless and small. He sat on the floor next to her, pulled her on to his lap and gently cradled her in his arms. For a moment I thought I saw a glimpse of remorse or had I only imagined it. She looked so tiny and helpless in his arms. She wasn't bleeding. Was she breathing? I couldn't tell. Help arrived and he ordered them away. Who had called them? Why did they leave? They just left her there!
After my sister began to stir he got crazier than ever. He blamed her for bringing attention to his violence. He kicked her out of the house and told her not to return. Mom hugged her and told her to go to the backyard and wait. A while later he was settled in the den in front of the TV half asleep. Mom went to the back door to find her as she lay huddled cold and scared in a chair. Mom went in and made sure he didn't notice the sound of the door over the TV as my sister crept into her room. Grabbing a pillow and blanket she lay hidden on the floor shivering behind her bed. We couldn't comfort her, I wanted to hold her and tell her everything would be okay but I couldn't. I didn't know if anything was ever going to be okay. Worse would be if he were to notice we were both missing. He would search for us. If he found us with her in the house things would have gotten worse.
As I write these memories I am reminded that they are my memories of events of that night. My mother, brother and sister may have very different memories of the same event but I don't care. My sister would tell you my mother never protected us. She has even told people my mother was abusive too. Mom did protect us. At times putting herself in great peril. Mom asked for help to escape his abuse and was advised to keep the family together and to do her wifely duties.
Years later I asked my father about that night. I had always wondered why he didn't let the paramedics check her out as she lay unconscious in his arms and he said the event never happened. He said he would never have hurt any of us like that. Hours after his denial that he had ever hurt any of us he claimed that hitting us wasn't abuse. It was okay to beat your children. "I was beaten and it never hurt me" he said. I have no idea if he was beaten or not. I am certain he had to lie to himself over and over in order to live with himself. Surely he needed to do something to bury the guilt or how could he have ever lived with himself. Was he evil enough that the acts he committed didn't cause him to lay awake at night unable to sleep? Did he ever waste a minute of his pitiful life in remorse or regret?
A few days ago my mother and I were talking about his abusive ways and she remembered this event. Her memories were very close to my own except my strongest memory is of my sisters lifeless body in his arms and later her huddled and shivering on the floor with nobody to rub warmth into her limbs or give her the comfort she needed. Moms strongest memories of that night were of standing between them when the fight began and him breaking her nose yet again. She worried that night about my sister after he tossed her out fearing she would come to harm by somebody other than my father before she could safely get her safely back in the house.
I find it interesting that nobody can remember who called the paramedics that night. Mom forgot my sister was out cold and thought it was her. I thought it was Mom. Maybe it was a neighbor or my brother or maybe my sister had called before he hurt her sensing it would be very bad! Perhaps one of us blocked it out fearing he would know who called!
My sister kept well hidden until the next day when he left again. Days later when he returned I don't remember him making the big fuss I feared he would when he saw her in the house. I thought we were all in for it for sure. Could he have silenced all of us? Would it have even been possible for him to make us all disappear?
As I think back to my fathers lack of memory and his half admissions I wonder if that is why my sister and I never agree on how things were. Have her memories changed to help her cope with the pain?
By the time this event happened I was in the habit of pulling out my book and writing about all the big things. That event was a really bad one. I thought my sister would die that night. Either from the injuries he inflicted after he knocked her out or from someone or something while she was outside in the night or even from the cold. My memories were written in my book and because they were I feel they are truer than those of my mom or sister. Or maybe they are truer to me because they are remembered from my perspective.
After my sister began to stir he got crazier than ever. He blamed her for bringing attention to his violence. He kicked her out of the house and told her not to return. Mom hugged her and told her to go to the backyard and wait. A while later he was settled in the den in front of the TV half asleep. Mom went to the back door to find her as she lay huddled cold and scared in a chair. Mom went in and made sure he didn't notice the sound of the door over the TV as my sister crept into her room. Grabbing a pillow and blanket she lay hidden on the floor shivering behind her bed. We couldn't comfort her, I wanted to hold her and tell her everything would be okay but I couldn't. I didn't know if anything was ever going to be okay. Worse would be if he were to notice we were both missing. He would search for us. If he found us with her in the house things would have gotten worse.
As I write these memories I am reminded that they are my memories of events of that night. My mother, brother and sister may have very different memories of the same event but I don't care. My sister would tell you my mother never protected us. She has even told people my mother was abusive too. Mom did protect us. At times putting herself in great peril. Mom asked for help to escape his abuse and was advised to keep the family together and to do her wifely duties.
Years later I asked my father about that night. I had always wondered why he didn't let the paramedics check her out as she lay unconscious in his arms and he said the event never happened. He said he would never have hurt any of us like that. Hours after his denial that he had ever hurt any of us he claimed that hitting us wasn't abuse. It was okay to beat your children. "I was beaten and it never hurt me" he said. I have no idea if he was beaten or not. I am certain he had to lie to himself over and over in order to live with himself. Surely he needed to do something to bury the guilt or how could he have ever lived with himself. Was he evil enough that the acts he committed didn't cause him to lay awake at night unable to sleep? Did he ever waste a minute of his pitiful life in remorse or regret?
A few days ago my mother and I were talking about his abusive ways and she remembered this event. Her memories were very close to my own except my strongest memory is of my sisters lifeless body in his arms and later her huddled and shivering on the floor with nobody to rub warmth into her limbs or give her the comfort she needed. Moms strongest memories of that night were of standing between them when the fight began and him breaking her nose yet again. She worried that night about my sister after he tossed her out fearing she would come to harm by somebody other than my father before she could safely get her safely back in the house.
I find it interesting that nobody can remember who called the paramedics that night. Mom forgot my sister was out cold and thought it was her. I thought it was Mom. Maybe it was a neighbor or my brother or maybe my sister had called before he hurt her sensing it would be very bad! Perhaps one of us blocked it out fearing he would know who called!
My sister kept well hidden until the next day when he left again. Days later when he returned I don't remember him making the big fuss I feared he would when he saw her in the house. I thought we were all in for it for sure. Could he have silenced all of us? Would it have even been possible for him to make us all disappear?
As I think back to my fathers lack of memory and his half admissions I wonder if that is why my sister and I never agree on how things were. Have her memories changed to help her cope with the pain?
By the time this event happened I was in the habit of pulling out my book and writing about all the big things. That event was a really bad one. I thought my sister would die that night. Either from the injuries he inflicted after he knocked her out or from someone or something while she was outside in the night or even from the cold. My memories were written in my book and because they were I feel they are truer than those of my mom or sister. Or maybe they are truer to me because they are remembered from my perspective.
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