I am literally trembling as I try to begin writing. I created this blog at turn of the new year, deciding it would be a new year's resolution. My mind is constantly racing, and at times I find myself narrating in my head, "writing" what should have blog entries. 

I haven't talked to my father since the day after Christmas. I spent the following couple of months in a constant panic, thinking about what would happen if someone from that side of the family tried to contact me. Guess what? They haven't! While I know this is a good thing, it still really bothers me. My cousin wrote on my facebook wall a few weeks ago, saying "we missed you at nana's party!" Obviously, I was not invited to this party.  

It bothers me most not knowing what my family thinks happened, since they don't really know anything at all. My father had been emotionally abusing me throughout my childhood. He had anger towards mother that he refused to let go of, and instead took it out on me. To give you a brief history of their relationship, my father was my mother's softball coach in high school. She got pregnant at 18- my dad was 32! They married, had me, then soon divorced while I was still a baby. My mom was granted custody, and my dad was allowed to take me a couple times a week and every other weekend. He was also ordered to pay my mom child support every other week.  

One of my earliest memories is of my father calling my mother a witch. I wish I could say this only happened once.

My father was constantly prodding me for information about my mother's life. He hated her, and made sure that everyone else would too. He always told me stories about how hard he fought for more time with me, and how she was a witch for taking me away.

My father, instead of giving the child support check directly to my mom, chose to send it through me instead. Handing me the check, he'd say, "give this check to your motherr." He'd say it in the same nasty tone every time. He'd remind me twice, saying I'd better not forget because I know how "she"gets. Cringe.
 



He'd also often ask me if my mother gave me any money, say, if I were going on a vacation or something.  He'd grumble and complain if the answer was no, and he'd give me some money, which he would have done anyway. If I went shopping for new clothes with my mom, he'd ask what she got me, then when I responded, he'd snap back, "don't you mean you father got you those things?" He'd then go on a rampage about all the money he gives her and how none of it goes to me.


This is coming from a middle aged man who is still living under his mother's roof.

I can remember one time, when my dad was bringing me home, he saw my mom's boyfriend Paul in the backyard. He was furiously making comments and said that Paul was gonna run and hide in his doghouse, or something like that. I know this happened before I was six years old, because I was still living at my grandmother's.

I have never had more respect for my mother than I do now.  As far as I can tell, my mother busted her ass to raise me, and I know she did a great job.

When lecturing me about whatever he was angry about, my dad's favorite thing to throw in was,"let's just hope you end up with some of my good qualities, since we all know your mother doesn't have any!"






I am ready to let go of the past. I am ready to move on. I don't want these memories playing in my head anymore. I need to stop worrying.

To Be Continued...