The Raw Truth – March 2020

The screaming pierced my ears like it did when I was a child. Chills ran down my spine. ‘Nothing has changed’, I thought to myself. You’re still the same man that you were when I moved out 9 years ago. I ran to my room, closed my door and collapsed on my bed and cried. Why do I always let your words affect me the way they do?

This move was supposed to be good for me. It was supposed to be helpful. I was in such a dark place. You promised to help save me from my self. But what have you done? It’s been three months; and you’ve done nothing but cause me more anxiety.

She’s no better though. In her own way, she has made things worse for me too. It’s been three months of me crying myself to sleep. Three months of being unwanted. Like I am an inconvenience in this apartment. I’ve felt like this for nine years. Well, I guess it goes back further than that. But this was supposed to save me. This was supposed to bring me back to life. Get me feeling “normal” again.

I was suffering when I was living on my own. I was. It was harder than I could have ever imagined. I don’t know how to survive on my own. I’ve always had someone to take care of me. Be the ‘adult’. There was always someone more of an adult than myself. And the shock of having to be the adult, rely on solely myself, sent me into a whirlwind. I fell apart. My world fell apart.

After you yelled, after I cried, I collected myself. I picked up those broken pieces, taped myself back together so that I could get on with my life; if only temporarily. I centered myself enough to FaceTime with my kids. Then I left. I grabbed my keys and my wallet and walked out the door. I didn’t acknowledge your existence. Sitting there in the living room on your high horse. You did no wrong. You never do though, right?

I drove. I drove as fast as I could to get away from there. I sat in a parking lot and completely lost it. God I haven’t cried that hard in a long time. Images rushed my mind. Flashbacks. Childhood trauma. I relived every single trauma in a matter of twenty minutes as I sat in my car in that parking lot crying. What was I doing? Why was I letting this happen still? Toxic. You’re toxic to me.

I drove again. Further and further away. If even only temporarily. I needed to be away. So I drove to find peace of mind. I drove to find clarity. Understanding. Compassion. I needed to know that I was right for feeling the way I was. I needed to know my pain was real. And it is. It’s very real. It’s justified.

You wonder why I lost myself when Papa passed away. Why it hit me like a semi truck going ninety-five miles an hour on the highway. He was more of a father to me than you ever were. He was there with opened arms any time I needed someone. For the good and the bad. He did not judge me. He did not belittle me. He listened. He supported. He understood. And when he didn’t understand he asked questions and waited patiently for me to find the words to answer. He cared. Actually cared. He didn’t abandon me like you did. He was always there for me. He loved me unconditionally. I never had to question where I stood with him. He proved every day that I was important. That I mattered.

Then there is you. Full of so much hatred. Full of so much bitterness and anger. Maybe from your own childhood trauma. But honestly, I am done making excuses for you. I don’t care where your ‘issues’ came from. Because I have them too and I don’t treat people the way you treat me.

She texted me to apologize for your actions. I didn’t respond. It’s not her place. What good is the apology of a person who didn’t do the actions? Your behavior is unacceptable. Maybe her apology was her way of acknowledging that. To make sure that I knew that she found your yelling to be unacceptable. But it doesn’t matter. It happened because you have no control over yourself. You lack compassion. You lack self control.

I came home last night. I didn’t acknowledge you when I got home. I went right to my room and closed my door. I cried myself to sleep again. When I woke this morning, I got ready, and left. Again without acknowledging you. Because you’ve hurt me so bad again. And I let it happen. I told mom where I was going. But I didn’t bother to tell you. I don’t care if you know where I am. I have no respect for you. You don’t deserve to know if I am okay and where I am at.

Want the truth though? I am not okay. In fact, I feel as bad as I did a little over a year ago when I told my ex husband that I wanted to end my life. I am there again. I don’t want to live. Why you ask? Because I stupidly let your anger, your words, get to my soul again. I let them in and I let them affect me to my core. I cried four times at work today. I feared coming home. But I came home anyway. And when I did, I went right to my room and closed my door. I’d lock it if I could. But I don’t have a lock on my door.

I want to hate you. I want to hate you so bad. But I don’t. I don’t feel anything at all towards you. I grieve the loss of a father. Knowing deep in my heart that I’ll never have that father figure again.

Right now I find myself writing. In hopes that it will bring me some peace. Each word I type, the tears fall harder, faster. I am so broken. I have never been given the chance to heal from my childhood. I have never been given the chance to heal from my toxic relationship with my ex husband. You keep adding to the damage. When is enough, enough?

My instinct is to run away. Run far away from you. Never speak to you again, so that I can finally heal. So that I can finally pick up all of the broken pieces and put myself back together. But I can’t run away. I can’t die either. Because I won’t abandon my kids like you abandoned me. I won’t be the cause of their trauma like you are the cause of mine. You’ve taught me to be a better parent then you have ever been. Your failures, your shortcomings, they fuel me to be the type of parent I’ve always wanted.