Yesterday was Easter Sunday. I didn't do anything. I didn't get up and go to a beautiful, heart warming, spirit filling sunrise service like I love to do on Easter Sunday. I didn't even go outside and read my bible or have my own little sermon. At first I felt wrong, like I was going to be shunned for not doing anything on Easter. Then I thought about it, I never go to church, unless my mom asks me to sing with her at the contemporary service at her church. What's the point in going on the big Sundays if you don't go any other Sunday?
I believe in God and Jesus, but I don't believe you have to go to church to prove that. I think God understands that church isn't for everyone, mostly because it's filled with judgmental snobs who have no right to judge you. The only time I feel right at church is if I'm singing on a stage worshiping. I don't really call myself a Christian anymore. I'm not. I don't live my life for Christ. I live my life for me and thank Christ for giving me a life to live. Is that wrong? A lot of people think so.
This post wasn't going to be about my dad, but this whole thought process kind of circles back to him. When my church back home found out about what my dad was addicted to, they kind of shunned our family for a little while. People would look at me like I was the devil, like I had done the drugs instead of my father, like I was going to end up just like him. I hated those people. Not everyone was like that, some people reached out to us and were as nice as could be by offering help and money, but I still can't believe people who called themselves Christians were being so judgmental. I thought God was the only one who could judge someone. At least, that's what Christian's taught me. They were being hypocrites. I hated that church for that reason.
For a while I prayed to God to give me the strength to show my face in that church and he did. He also got me through some very hard times. That was when i realized my problems weren't with God, they were with church and Christians.
I kind of feel like I should start my own religion. Be a good person, have a good heart, thank God for your life, and you're going to heaven... sounds freaking awesome to me!
Monday, April 25, 2011
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
The new year
This was originally written Tuesday January 7th, 2010.
Thank the good Lord Jesus that 2010 is over! It's not so much that a lot of bad things happened in 2010, but that the bad things that did happen were really bad things!
1) My husband got deployed.
2) Dad go deployed.
3) My husband's Granddaddy died.
4) Dad almost got shot.
5) Dad got in legal trouble because of some stupid bitch.
6)Mom and Dad got divorced.
7)Dad's living with a woman.
8) Mom found out about the other woman.
9) Parents are not friends anymore.
10)Having to move to Georgia.
Yeah it's amazing how much all of those things affected me. I guess it makes me stronger in the end, but I'll be damned if it still doesn't hurt.
#1) Made me feel so alone even though I went back to my hometown to stay with my mom and brother. I hated every minute of it. I was in a major depression and drank all the time. I think it would have been better for me to have stayed in Arkansas.
#2) Constantly had me worried because the place he was in was not safe.
#3) I was in the room when his grandfather passed. Even though the whole family was in there it was horrible. The look on his Granny's face when she said goodbye for the last time, seeing my husband's brother and dad cry for the first time, watching his Grandfather struggle for each final breath. I was even more upset that my husband couldn't be there. I remember going home and crawling in my mom's lap and crying my eyes out. The funeral was beautiful, he looked so peaceful at the viewing as well. I remember sitting under the tent and looking at the place my husband should have been standing with the rest of the barrers. It was rainy and cold so they tried to make the service quick. Afterward we went to the church that Granddaddy had so much to do with. I think that was the most painful part, being in a place where you could physically see things he built with his own hands. I kept expecting him to walk through the door. I remember looking over at Granny and seeing her surrounded by multiple people. I felt bad for her. If I were in her shoes I would want to be left alone. Those few day are so vivid to me.
#4) Dad (no matter how much pain he's caused) is my superhero. If he would have died, I probably would be in intense therapy. His almost getting shot really scared me.
#5) I worried constantly about dad getting kicked out of the Army because some lie this stupid bitch made up.
#6) I think we know how much this one affected me. I couldn't believe that my mom was calling it quits after 22 years of marriage, and making it through so much.
#7) Dad living with another woman really bugged me. He was already friends with her before the divorce, and I think he had an affair with her. I guess it doesn't matter now, but I just didn't see how he could move on as fast as he did. This pissed me off immensely, but it's not my place to say anything. He's a grown man...what can I say?
#8) I literally cried when mom found out about this. I knew how hurt she was because the divorce wasn't even final when he moved in with this lady. I could see the hurt in my mom's eyes, and could feel her heart breaking.
#9) My parents not being friends anymore is heartbreaking. They've known each other more than half of their lives, and dad just threw that away with some chick he's know a max of 4 years. Dumb ass.
#10) I had a life in Arkansas, I had friends, a great job, places I could go, and my own life. Having to just pick up and go back to Georgia where I'm so close to all my fears and bad memories was not on my to do list. It's not so bad seeing my family and friends often, but I hate not having a job, and going to my hometown a lot. I'm just not happy here.
Thank the good Lord Jesus that 2010 is over! It's not so much that a lot of bad things happened in 2010, but that the bad things that did happen were really bad things!
1) My husband got deployed.
2) Dad go deployed.
3) My husband's Granddaddy died.
4) Dad almost got shot.
5) Dad got in legal trouble because of some stupid bitch.
6)Mom and Dad got divorced.
7)Dad's living with a woman.
8) Mom found out about the other woman.
9) Parents are not friends anymore.
10)Having to move to Georgia.
Yeah it's amazing how much all of those things affected me. I guess it makes me stronger in the end, but I'll be damned if it still doesn't hurt.
#1) Made me feel so alone even though I went back to my hometown to stay with my mom and brother. I hated every minute of it. I was in a major depression and drank all the time. I think it would have been better for me to have stayed in Arkansas.
#2) Constantly had me worried because the place he was in was not safe.
#3) I was in the room when his grandfather passed. Even though the whole family was in there it was horrible. The look on his Granny's face when she said goodbye for the last time, seeing my husband's brother and dad cry for the first time, watching his Grandfather struggle for each final breath. I was even more upset that my husband couldn't be there. I remember going home and crawling in my mom's lap and crying my eyes out. The funeral was beautiful, he looked so peaceful at the viewing as well. I remember sitting under the tent and looking at the place my husband should have been standing with the rest of the barrers. It was rainy and cold so they tried to make the service quick. Afterward we went to the church that Granddaddy had so much to do with. I think that was the most painful part, being in a place where you could physically see things he built with his own hands. I kept expecting him to walk through the door. I remember looking over at Granny and seeing her surrounded by multiple people. I felt bad for her. If I were in her shoes I would want to be left alone. Those few day are so vivid to me.
#4) Dad (no matter how much pain he's caused) is my superhero. If he would have died, I probably would be in intense therapy. His almost getting shot really scared me.
#5) I worried constantly about dad getting kicked out of the Army because some lie this stupid bitch made up.
#6) I think we know how much this one affected me. I couldn't believe that my mom was calling it quits after 22 years of marriage, and making it through so much.
#7) Dad living with another woman really bugged me. He was already friends with her before the divorce, and I think he had an affair with her. I guess it doesn't matter now, but I just didn't see how he could move on as fast as he did. This pissed me off immensely, but it's not my place to say anything. He's a grown man...what can I say?
#8) I literally cried when mom found out about this. I knew how hurt she was because the divorce wasn't even final when he moved in with this lady. I could see the hurt in my mom's eyes, and could feel her heart breaking.
#9) My parents not being friends anymore is heartbreaking. They've known each other more than half of their lives, and dad just threw that away with some chick he's know a max of 4 years. Dumb ass.
#10) I had a life in Arkansas, I had friends, a great job, places I could go, and my own life. Having to just pick up and go back to Georgia where I'm so close to all my fears and bad memories was not on my to do list. It's not so bad seeing my family and friends often, but I hate not having a job, and going to my hometown a lot. I'm just not happy here.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
My 21st birthday
For my 21st birthday my husband and I came to our hometown. I was so excited because my father was going to be there and I had not seen him since he got back from Iraq. My parents were already divorced so I knew that it was going to be VERY awkward with my dad staying in the same house as my mom. My brother and I tried to act like everything was normal, but it was very hard. I was very glad that I wasn't actually staying with my mom. I was staying with my husband's parents.
My mom was being a total bitch to my dad the entire time he was there and not making him feel welcome at all. He was there to help get the house ready to sell even though he had not lived there for at least 4 years. You would think mom would be a little more grateful, but instead she was mad because he would hang out with his kids over her even though they were divorced.
My mom acting like this towards my dad made my dad weak and feel unloved. I'm not saying that his future actions were ok, but I understand why he did what he did.
I was so excited for a huge costume party (my birthday is on Halloween). I was a gypsy, my husband was woody from toy story, my dad was a terrorist, and my brother was a soldier. I was so happy to be partying with my dad and brother. At 12 A.M my brother gathered everybody in the house and everyone sang me happy birthday. Not even 10 minutes after this, my father said he wanted to go to a bar because the crowd at my party was too young for him to be hanging out with. My brother took him there, and my father asked him to pick him up in an hour. My brother got back to the party after dropping him off and informed me he wouldn't be drinking because he had to pick dad up in an hour. I said "ok". People had been shoving "birthday shots" in my face since my dad left, and lets just say I really didn't care what was going on at that point. I was singing and dancing to the music, playing pool with my brother, and just having a care free time. In all honesty it was the best party I've ever been to for my birthday.
An hour rolled by in what felt like 5 minutes, and my brother had to go and pick up my dad. Since I was having such a care free time my husband decided to go with him. Another hour passed and I was starting to get worried so I called my brother and didn't get an answer, then I called my husband and didn't get an answer. Not long after my brother called me back and yelled over loud music that dad wasn't at the place they left him, and my husband had just gotten into a fight at the bar they were at. He told me they were leaving now, and would see me in a few minutes. I quickly ran to the bathroom because i felt the tears building up, and didn't want anyone to see me cry. I went in there shed a tear or two, fixed my makeup, and put on a huge fake drunk smile. As soon as I get upset my drunkenness wears off so I really wasn't feeling it anymore. I got into a circle where people were doing shots together and said "hit me up"! I think I probably did about 3 shots back to back right there and chugged a beer from the keg.
I wanted to forget what I had just heard. Did my father really just disappear in the town where he started using drugs? I made about 5 calls to my dad that night trying to get him to answer his phone. How the fuck could he do this to me especially on my fucking birthday?! I was livid, and so hurt at the same time. I finally drank enough to wear I felt drunk and numb again. I was dancing to the music, kissing girls that I would never dream about kissing, being one of those whores at the parties that you fucking hate because they're so annoying. Yeah that's how I was being. Unfortunately I didn't get drunk enough to forget anything, or even get sick.
That afternoon I woke up, felt fine minus me remembering everything that happened last night, got some lunch, told my hung over husband who was sore from beating somebody's ass that night that I was going over to my moms to see if my dad had shown up that night. I got to my moms and found my mom and Josh sitting in the living room watching tv with looks of death on their faces. I knew at that point that dad wasn't there. I hugged mom and my brother and they both said happy birthday to me. I had made plans to have a family dinner at Red Lobster and it was getting very close to the time I had told mine and my husband's family to start showing up.
Finally about an hour before we had to leave to get to the restaurant my father showed up at the back door. I gave him a very dirty look as he said "hey". As soon as I shot him that dirty look he started crying. I got up and hugged him because I can't stand to see my father cry. Even though he has put me through so much pain, I hate to see him suffer. I asked him where he had been and he said "everywhere". My mom looked him in the eyes and asked "what's going on"? He said "nothing".
I could tell my father hadn't been doing crack. I could tell he had been up all night doing something, but he wasn't paranoid, he wasn't out of it, and he wasn't falling asleep with no warning. At this point I didn't want to know what he had done that night. I didn't care anymore. I just wanted to forget it all ever happened. My dad showered and we all got ready to go to Red Lobster.
I had a good time. I had a couple of drinks, and had some cake. I got happy birthday sung to me and got to open some gifts. I was very happy, and had forgotten what had happened the night before. I don't think it fully hit me how much this hurt til I was back in Arkansas and my husband asked me how I was doing since my dad had done what he did on my birthday. I started crying and told him I wasn't ok and it hurt really badly.
I don't know that I can ever confront my dad about that night. Just because I can't stand to hear the pain in his voice. He knows that he hurt me, and he has apologized, but that doesn't feel like enough. Shouldn't that be enough? I've always been told to forgive and forget but I am having the hardest time with forgetting.
My mom was being a total bitch to my dad the entire time he was there and not making him feel welcome at all. He was there to help get the house ready to sell even though he had not lived there for at least 4 years. You would think mom would be a little more grateful, but instead she was mad because he would hang out with his kids over her even though they were divorced.
My mom acting like this towards my dad made my dad weak and feel unloved. I'm not saying that his future actions were ok, but I understand why he did what he did.
I was so excited for a huge costume party (my birthday is on Halloween). I was a gypsy, my husband was woody from toy story, my dad was a terrorist, and my brother was a soldier. I was so happy to be partying with my dad and brother. At 12 A.M my brother gathered everybody in the house and everyone sang me happy birthday. Not even 10 minutes after this, my father said he wanted to go to a bar because the crowd at my party was too young for him to be hanging out with. My brother took him there, and my father asked him to pick him up in an hour. My brother got back to the party after dropping him off and informed me he wouldn't be drinking because he had to pick dad up in an hour. I said "ok". People had been shoving "birthday shots" in my face since my dad left, and lets just say I really didn't care what was going on at that point. I was singing and dancing to the music, playing pool with my brother, and just having a care free time. In all honesty it was the best party I've ever been to for my birthday.
An hour rolled by in what felt like 5 minutes, and my brother had to go and pick up my dad. Since I was having such a care free time my husband decided to go with him. Another hour passed and I was starting to get worried so I called my brother and didn't get an answer, then I called my husband and didn't get an answer. Not long after my brother called me back and yelled over loud music that dad wasn't at the place they left him, and my husband had just gotten into a fight at the bar they were at. He told me they were leaving now, and would see me in a few minutes. I quickly ran to the bathroom because i felt the tears building up, and didn't want anyone to see me cry. I went in there shed a tear or two, fixed my makeup, and put on a huge fake drunk smile. As soon as I get upset my drunkenness wears off so I really wasn't feeling it anymore. I got into a circle where people were doing shots together and said "hit me up"! I think I probably did about 3 shots back to back right there and chugged a beer from the keg.
I wanted to forget what I had just heard. Did my father really just disappear in the town where he started using drugs? I made about 5 calls to my dad that night trying to get him to answer his phone. How the fuck could he do this to me especially on my fucking birthday?! I was livid, and so hurt at the same time. I finally drank enough to wear I felt drunk and numb again. I was dancing to the music, kissing girls that I would never dream about kissing, being one of those whores at the parties that you fucking hate because they're so annoying. Yeah that's how I was being. Unfortunately I didn't get drunk enough to forget anything, or even get sick.
That afternoon I woke up, felt fine minus me remembering everything that happened last night, got some lunch, told my hung over husband who was sore from beating somebody's ass that night that I was going over to my moms to see if my dad had shown up that night. I got to my moms and found my mom and Josh sitting in the living room watching tv with looks of death on their faces. I knew at that point that dad wasn't there. I hugged mom and my brother and they both said happy birthday to me. I had made plans to have a family dinner at Red Lobster and it was getting very close to the time I had told mine and my husband's family to start showing up.
Finally about an hour before we had to leave to get to the restaurant my father showed up at the back door. I gave him a very dirty look as he said "hey". As soon as I shot him that dirty look he started crying. I got up and hugged him because I can't stand to see my father cry. Even though he has put me through so much pain, I hate to see him suffer. I asked him where he had been and he said "everywhere". My mom looked him in the eyes and asked "what's going on"? He said "nothing".
I could tell my father hadn't been doing crack. I could tell he had been up all night doing something, but he wasn't paranoid, he wasn't out of it, and he wasn't falling asleep with no warning. At this point I didn't want to know what he had done that night. I didn't care anymore. I just wanted to forget it all ever happened. My dad showered and we all got ready to go to Red Lobster.
I had a good time. I had a couple of drinks, and had some cake. I got happy birthday sung to me and got to open some gifts. I was very happy, and had forgotten what had happened the night before. I don't think it fully hit me how much this hurt til I was back in Arkansas and my husband asked me how I was doing since my dad had done what he did on my birthday. I started crying and told him I wasn't ok and it hurt really badly.
I don't know that I can ever confront my dad about that night. Just because I can't stand to hear the pain in his voice. He knows that he hurt me, and he has apologized, but that doesn't feel like enough. Shouldn't that be enough? I've always been told to forgive and forget but I am having the hardest time with forgetting.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
I hate when people tell me how something should affect me.
Originally written Wednesday September 15, 2010.
My dad is coming home from Iraq next week. He'll be home for good. He's trying to find a job outside of the U.S. That kind of hurts my feelings that he doesn't want to be close to my brother and me, but I don't think he means for it to hurt me. I would just like to see him more than once a year.
An old family friend is helping mom sell the house. It's crazy how people pop back up in your life. I wonder if she knows mom and dad are divorced. I'm sure she'll know by the time she looks at the house.
You know what I hate? When people tell me "at least your parent's divorce doesn't affect your life." Maybe it doesn't affect where I live, and maybe I don't have to choose who to stay with, but my parents have made it through thick and thin. My mom dealt with dad;s crack addiction, dealt without living with him for years because of the army, dealt with him being a totally different person than the one she married, and then all of a sudden she decides to call it quits. My parents still being together after 22 years was amazing to me. They got married young like me, had been together since high school like my husband and me, and acted like they were going to be together for the rest of their lives. They were my role models for love. They showed me that love could make it through anything, and now I'm not so sure. Doesn't affect me my ass...
My dad is coming home from Iraq next week. He'll be home for good. He's trying to find a job outside of the U.S. That kind of hurts my feelings that he doesn't want to be close to my brother and me, but I don't think he means for it to hurt me. I would just like to see him more than once a year.
An old family friend is helping mom sell the house. It's crazy how people pop back up in your life. I wonder if she knows mom and dad are divorced. I'm sure she'll know by the time she looks at the house.
You know what I hate? When people tell me "at least your parent's divorce doesn't affect your life." Maybe it doesn't affect where I live, and maybe I don't have to choose who to stay with, but my parents have made it through thick and thin. My mom dealt with dad;s crack addiction, dealt without living with him for years because of the army, dealt with him being a totally different person than the one she married, and then all of a sudden she decides to call it quits. My parents still being together after 22 years was amazing to me. They got married young like me, had been together since high school like my husband and me, and acted like they were going to be together for the rest of their lives. They were my role models for love. They showed me that love could make it through anything, and now I'm not so sure. Doesn't affect me my ass...
Friday, April 1, 2011
I'm so much like my father it's scary.
My father: Smart, loving, caring, nice, and funny.
Me: Smart, loving, caring, nice, and funny.
My father: has addictive personality, gets attached to quickly, gets angry at stupid things.
Me: has addictive personality, gets attached to quickly, gets angry at stupid things.
It scares the hell out of me how alike I am to my father. He had everything going for him, he went to medical school, he graduated cum lade (I don't know how to spell it, but it means with honors). He had a great job, a great home, and a great life. He tried crack one time and liked it, so he did it again. The only reason he tried crack was because cigarettes and pot didn't give him the feeling he was looking for anymore.
If I drink caffeine 3 days in a row. I'm addicted to it. If I have a cigar every day during the weekend, I'm addicted to them. I even tell my husband to monitor my drinking because I would probably drink every night if I could. There was a point where I was drinking during the week, and smoking cigars every day when I wasn't drinking. I finally was able to get a hold of myself and stop, but it's so scary because I can understand how dad gets addicted to things so quickly, because I can get addicted to things so quickly.
Apparently this addictive personality runs in the family. My dad's dad was addicted to sex, my uncle was addicted to heroine, my dad's grandfather was an alcoholic, my dad's sister is addicted to pills, and I'm sure there are more cases, but I honestly don't know much about my dad's family.
I think that part of the reason my father goes looking for things to make him feel good is because his father wasn't there for him, he watched his step father get murdered right in front of him, he was away from his family for a few years while in medical school so he doesn't feel like he was there for us, and he doesn't know how to cope with all that. When I'm depressed I go looking for things to make me feel better, mostly alcohol and someone to talk to.
When my husband's with me I'm ok, but while he was deployed, I probably spent about $50 a week on alcohol...not a good thing. Oh, and did I mention my dad is a functioning alcoholic? Yeah, this scares me. Scares me so much that I have come to find I stop myself after my 3rd drink unless it's beer. I'm 21...I'm supposed to live a little right? Is it sad that I think like this already? That I can't just let loose? It's a constant battle I have with myself every day, and yes I literally mean every day.
Me: Smart, loving, caring, nice, and funny.
My father: has addictive personality, gets attached to quickly, gets angry at stupid things.
Me: has addictive personality, gets attached to quickly, gets angry at stupid things.
It scares the hell out of me how alike I am to my father. He had everything going for him, he went to medical school, he graduated cum lade (I don't know how to spell it, but it means with honors). He had a great job, a great home, and a great life. He tried crack one time and liked it, so he did it again. The only reason he tried crack was because cigarettes and pot didn't give him the feeling he was looking for anymore.
If I drink caffeine 3 days in a row. I'm addicted to it. If I have a cigar every day during the weekend, I'm addicted to them. I even tell my husband to monitor my drinking because I would probably drink every night if I could. There was a point where I was drinking during the week, and smoking cigars every day when I wasn't drinking. I finally was able to get a hold of myself and stop, but it's so scary because I can understand how dad gets addicted to things so quickly, because I can get addicted to things so quickly.
Apparently this addictive personality runs in the family. My dad's dad was addicted to sex, my uncle was addicted to heroine, my dad's grandfather was an alcoholic, my dad's sister is addicted to pills, and I'm sure there are more cases, but I honestly don't know much about my dad's family.
I think that part of the reason my father goes looking for things to make him feel good is because his father wasn't there for him, he watched his step father get murdered right in front of him, he was away from his family for a few years while in medical school so he doesn't feel like he was there for us, and he doesn't know how to cope with all that. When I'm depressed I go looking for things to make me feel better, mostly alcohol and someone to talk to.
When my husband's with me I'm ok, but while he was deployed, I probably spent about $50 a week on alcohol...not a good thing. Oh, and did I mention my dad is a functioning alcoholic? Yeah, this scares me. Scares me so much that I have come to find I stop myself after my 3rd drink unless it's beer. I'm 21...I'm supposed to live a little right? Is it sad that I think like this already? That I can't just let loose? It's a constant battle I have with myself every day, and yes I literally mean every day.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
"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.
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.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
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.
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...
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...
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