Monday, March 23, 2009

inspired, too bad it's bad

So this week, I have had a few things happen that have inspired me to write. The sad thing is that what has affected me enough to actually write was a bad thing.

I was at work and a co-worker gets a phone call from her oldest daughter's school. No on has come to pick her up. Turns out dad fell asleep and her daughter was so upset. I immediately feel the worst anxiety and fought back what could have been a panic attack.

When I was in the first grade, a girl named Shae used to walk me home from school. I think she was in the fourth grade. I don't remember why she didn't walk me home that day, but I remember panic setting as I ran from her classroom back to mine, only to find no one was there. I made my way to the front of the school and waited at the crosswalk. The guards let us cross and I ran the two blocks down Lincoln Avenue to the townhouse my parents rented. The door was locked. My mother was a stay at home mom during those days and should have been home. I went to the neighbors house and knocked. By this time I was petrified and crying so hard i could barely see. No answer. I crouched down in front of our front door and sobbed.

I heard a car horn, unmistakeably belonging to my parents 1964 Ford. I run to the car so thankful that they were there only to find my parents laughing. They had followed me home and watched me break down and let me sit in front of the house for a good 5 minutes and laughed.

This wasn't the first time they did something that would still effect me so strongly. My father thought it would be funny to throw me in the trunk of the 1964 Ford and leave me in there. He sat on the trunk lid listening to me scream for help. Thinking about it now makes my heart race and I am fighting off tears.

From what I understand, my father's dad used to do similar things to him. He would drive him and my grandmother to random places and drop them off and let them find their ways home. My mom told me there was a visit my grandmother had with us when I was a baby where they laughed at drugging my grandfather so they could go to a movie. My grandfather abused my father mentally and physically. This wonderful trait was passed on down to my dad. I missed a chunk of school and the police were called. He never touched my mom or my sister, just me. As an adult I understand that he was sick and it wasn't me that set him off. As a daughter, I don't understand why he hated me so much.

So this phone call my coworker received has given me two nights of horrible nightmares and I have this horrible fear that Derek won't come home. It's so stupid that things that happened to me 25 years ago can mess me up.

And even though this man who was my father was nothing but horrible to me, I still feel pain in my heart like i'm missing something. I haven't seen him since I was 12 and I haven't talked to him since I was 16. Apparently you can disappear if you really want to. I have looked for him, I even called the place my grandmother was cremated to see if they could tell me anything.

I just want 10 minutes with him, I just have one question. Why?

9 comments:

M said...

Nessa I am so sorry you had to go through all that. I dearly hope you one day find the answers to your questions and know that you are a wonderful person. :)

(F)redddy said...

Good god. I thought I was a shitty father. What a douch-nozzle Nessie.

Mark said...

The best thing to do is to try and be happy now and thankful that you have Derek and many friends that love you. You the best!

kim beaver said...

oh poor baby - how cruel...
M is right - you are a wonderful person full of love and empathy and I am very happy to know and love you

xo

Malchera said...

I am sorry to hear about this Nessa. Its terrible when something comes, and creeps on you.

You take care of yourself

Starshine said...

I'm sorry Nessa. NO ONE should have too endure things like that! Just be glad you grew up too be the wonderful person that you are!!

Love you Nessa!!

Sevi said...

I too had the shithead father. I understand what you are feeling. But there are some things you can do to help yourself heal. Sometimes when we put things out into the universe the universe answers us. Write a letter to him. Write everything you feel - the anger, the resentment, the hatred (if applicable) pour your soul out in it. Tell him how he made your feel. Tell him everything. Now the important part is...when you are finished set the letter aside. Get your wits back and calm down. When you are ready, burn it. This releases the intent and the message into the universe. Trust me - I'm not only a Witch...wait I never played on on TV. But it will work. Or if you wish to bury the sadness and not have it come up again then bury it in the earth where others won't find it. Nothing a good bit of spellwork and a really good adult beverage after can't cure.

Hugs sweety. Don't think about the "what ifs" but focus on the right now. You are greatly loved my many!!!

Michael Sage said...

Nessa,

I hate when life triggers memories that run that deep and are that negative and emotionally jarring. So sorry to hear that it hit you that strongly even after all these years. You have so many friends who have given such great advice and although that will help in many ways I know what it's like to just need the answers to the hard questions and to need them from the people who have hurt you most. It sucks. Sometimes we never get them, sometimes we do and sometimes we need to answer them for ourselves when others are just not capable. Sevi's advice especially rang true for me. I've often done the same and either burned or buried or done both and I've found that it does help to turn that ugly shit over to the universe. Whether your concept of the Universe is that of a God, Goddess, Mother Nature or even if that universe is nothing more than a representation of your own will to survive and be the best version of yourself. Just hand it over everyday. At the very least take comfort in knowing that although your father did what his father did before him... the buck has stopped with you and that is the difference between living your life and living the life that was handed to you. You are so on the right path and I hope you know that. Just keep walking.

All my love,

M

Drum Riley Calhoun said...

Nessa, I know I am a little late on the comment, but I wanted you to know I feel your pain. My father was exactly the same as your's. He was always trying to scare me, and in a very mean-spirited way. I probably still have a lot of unresolved anger towards him, but at some point I realized that it was his problem, and really had nothing at all to do with me. His sickness, not mine. You have already realized this as you mentioned in your story. You will eventually believe that he didn't hate you. He was doing what he had been taught to do by his own father, and possibly others in his life. He probably doesn't know why. Along with everyone else who has comment her, I agree that you are a wonderful person, and every part of your story - including the bad parts - has molded you into who you are today. Hugs and big smooches.