"Your mother's supposed to get you your first tampon, your dad's supposed to go with you to get your first license."

I was watching Secret life of the American teenager, and something was said that struck a nerve. "Your mother is supposed to get you your first tampon, your dad's supposed to go with you to get your first license." It's amazing how much my mother had to do for me over the years.

My dad was in rehab when I got my license so my mom had to take me to the DMV so I could drive myself around. My dad should have been there. He was the one who pretty much taught me how to drive around in the school parking lot, he was the one who let me sit in his lap when I was 8 years old and steer the wheel in the driveway. Why was he not there for me when I got my license? Oh yeah, because he was in rehab for being addicted to crack.

I can't imagine how my brother feels. He was only 13 when this mess started. My father and I have a good relationship right now, but only because I'm a very forgiving person. My brother tries to have a good relationship with dad, but can't seem to have as good of one as dad and I do. My brother didn't know dad as well as me. I was daddy's little girl, and he was mommy's little boy. That's just how it was and he didn't fully understand what was going on at 13.

I knew who dad was, and knew that he was just making horrible decisions. My brother didn't. My husband has big issues with my dad. Any time that I think he's relapsed I automatically tell my husband. My husband says "he's such a dumbass!" I don't like the fact that my husband thinks of my father that way. My husband is supposed to respect my father, and he doesn't at all. I constantly tell him that dad is such a great man, that he loves me with all of his heart, and that I wish he would have known him before the drugs. He just can't understand how you can love somebody so much and hurt them over and over again. More importantly he hates to see me hurting, and can't stand anyone who makes me hurt. It hurts me to the bone to know that my husband will never know the father that I know.

No matter what, dad will always be in a battle against crack. No matter how long he stays sober, he's always going to think about it, it's always going to be in the back of his head. He's like a zombie, but instead of wanting brains, he wants crack.

I probably should have introduced myself a little better part 2.

My father got out of rehab and seemed to be getting his life back together. He couldn't find a job in our town so he decided to look into the army. The army was very excited to get him and told him he would go in as a captain because he was enlisted before that for 7 years. Well, we drove about 2 hours for him to swear in, and then it was just the hurry up and wait time. He had about 6 months before he actually went to officer's basic training. Til then they just expected him to twiddle his thumbs I guess.

One day I got home from school and noticed dad wasn't there. I asked mom where he was and she said she didn't know. I got ready for work and didn't think much of it. Then I got home from work, and dad still wasn't there. He had gone 4 months without messing up! Why would he do that again when he knows he's going into the army soon? Why would he fuck this up as well? The next morning he came home once again looking like a dog with his tail between his legs. I told him I did not want to talk to him, and I couldn't wait until he went to Texas for basic.

The next few months passed very quickly, and before I knew it, dad was off to Texas for basic training. A part of me felt bad for how relieved I felt. I no longer had to hide my jewelry, hide my cds, hide my electronics, or worry about my car title getting pawned. My mom was no longer in a bad mood either. My brother never really showed his feelings which made me very scared. I didn't know what he was going to do, how he coped with everything, and why he was so angry all the time. I later found out that he coped with this through sex with multiple girls. Not only do I need therapy, but the whole family needs therapy, we're a little screwed up.

My father went to basic and got stationed at his first duty station. He wanted my mom, brother and me to move there but my mom wasn't willing to nor were my brother and I. Yes my parents were still married, but as mom says now, she couldn't have trusted dad enough to start over in a new state. Looking back now I wish we would have moved there, simply because my father wouldn't have gone looking for something to fill the hole of his family not being there.

Dad called us one day and told us that he was going to be deployed to Afghanistan for 2 years. He relapsed before he went. He told me multiple times when he finally got back from over seas that he thought he was going to die there, and that's why he "lost his mind" again before he left. He couldn't deal with the stress of us not being there, and feeling like he was going to die.

Now mom and dad are divorced, I'm living in Georgia again, (not in my home town) and I have the greatest husband alive. On the surface I look ok, but if you were able to see inside of me, you would see a heart with stitches, a mind that won't let anyone in, and memories that could kill a person. I pray that this will help that. Getting advice from other people or just simply getting this off my chest by getting it out in the open will help.

I probably should have introduced myself a llittle better.

Let me get something straight, my father is a great man. I love him with all of my heart, and he loves me with all of his heart. When I was about 15 my world started falling apart. I noticed that dad was getting home really late, or simply not coming home at all. I noticed he was always cranky and just "not all there" when we were talking to him. I thought that he was cheating on mom.

One night when he didn't come home I wrote a note to him on a sticky note. I remember shaking uncontrollably with anger and heartache as I wrote the words "Dad, why are you coming home so late? Are you having an affair? You're not the same and I miss having you here. Please stop this now. You're ruining this family!" I stuck the note on the door and went to bed.

After crying myself to sleep I remember getting woken up by my dad. He had tears in his eyes and he was holding the note in his hands. He simply said "Baby girl, I'm not cheating on mom." He didn't tell me exactly what he was doing but he said he was going to fix it. He didn't fix it, and I continually got mad at him for not being there.

On Christmas day I woke up to mom crying and noticed that dad wasn't around. I hugged her and asked her what was going on. She sat me down and said "Your dad isn't having an affair...he's addicted to crack." I was in a state of shock. I couldn't believe my super hero dad could stoop to such a low level. He was my everything! How in the hell could he do this. My mom told my brother the same thing. I don't think he fully understood what was going on. He just knew that dad was doing something bad and not where he should be. That was a hell of a Christmas present huh?

Dad finally showed up later looking like a dog with his tail between his legs. I didn't even want to look at him. I didn't want anything to do with him. I hated him!

My memories a little foggy but I think I was dating my now husband at this time. I remember getting out of the house at all possible times to hang out with him. I forgot everything when I was with him. I pushed everyone away but him. I clung to him so I could feel better. When I had to leave to go home I immediately got into my state of depression.

My dad and I shared a car, and now that he had lost his job he pretty much just let me have it. Unless he said he needed to use it for some good reason, which all the good reasons were a lie to go and get high. Every night I had the same routine. I had to go out in the garage with my mom and check for crack pipes. We would always find some. I hated seeing those pens with a filter in them black from smoke. I actually started hiding all of the pens in the house thinking that would stop dad from doing crack anymore. Looking back now it was stupid. I would drive to school, put on a smile for my friends and teachers, thank God that my boyfriend was there to make me forget things, then go and hang out with him after school.

My parents started noticing that I was spending a lot of time with my boyfriend, and told me to get a job. I got my first job, and it actually helped me forget things as well, but I would always see my boyfriend after work. They knew I was usually the one to close so I would usually be home after 10:30.

My dad went into rehab. It was a voluntary rehab center put together by churches, and while he was in rehab he decided he needed to join the army again. I was thrilled. The army would keep him away from drugs, and we wouldn't lose our house from foreclosure.

I'll continue this story tomorrow, but you definitely know a lot more about me now. I'm not that great of a writer, but this is like my therapy... I need to get this all out in the open.

My hometown scares me.

This was originally written on September 9,2010.                                                                                      


My husband's in Honor Guard and he really doesn't want to be. I honestly don't think it's going to be as bad as he's making it out to be. He keeps waking up in bad moods and what not. It's really annoying, but whatever.

I'm having to retake two classes because I failed them. I was just dealing with my husband and dad being deployed at the same time, my husband  moving back and me moving back to Arkansas though. I'm really glad to be back in Arkansas though. Every time I go back to Georgia I immediately slip into a major depression. I'm always reminded of dad's battle against drugs, being woken up in the middle of the night to the doorbell and my father yelling "Honey, let me in, I'm sorry it'll never happen again!" When I go back to that place it always feels like that just happened even though it has been many years. I've tried to tell my husband this but I don't think he truly understands. He just sees his friends and family there and is happy. That place is a hell hole to me, a big jar of my worst fears, nightmares, and memories. Maybe I just need therapy...