Hello Darkness, My Old Friend

I was going to do something for the Theme of the Week.  I had it all planned out, a little bit about my family, a little of why I’m so close to them, why I live with my mom… and then it all spewed out.  I can’t share this with everyone, can’t call it "why I love my family" even though it’s the roots of it all… surviving a horrible experience together.

My dad’s an alcoholic and a drug addict.  Growing up under his regime was hell.  

 
He was emotionally, mentally and physically abusive and I know that all three of us kids, as well as my mother, are scarred still.  There’s a lot of things that came about because of stuff that happened.  I think that my father’s actions helped tip the scales on my sister’s drinking, my brother’s drugging and stealing, and my emotional wonkiness, not to mention my mother’s distrust of men.  Ever since he started to "go crazy," the rest of our family banded together to help each other.  I remember getting into fights with him ,or my sibs saying something to him that would make him explode into a rage.  He used anything he could get his hands on to beat us, to beat me.  Usually it was his fists but I know he took a broomstick to my brother once, and I got his belt a few times.  But every time I would get into it with him, every time I took the blows meant for my brother (for skipping school), or my sister (for not coming home "on time" (which would change depending on my dad’s mood)), or for myself (for standing up to him and telling him he was wrong), my sister and brother would help me afterwards.  Maili would make sure that the bed was made and that my favorite stuffed animal was there, and Ben would sneak into the kitchen to get ice to take the sting away.  Mom did what she could too, but a lot of the time it fell on me… he broke her so bad back then.

The day he finally crossed the final line… That was nearly four years ago.  He had left my mother less than six months before that.. but had come over to the house to stay the night since his current girlfriend told him  to get lost.  Mom let him in.  I don’t know why, she still loved him and was hurt, I guess.  I woke up late, got ready for work.  I worked at 4:30, and was asking him to get off the computer so I could check my email… I was supposed to go out with a friend and she was supposed to have emailed me the final plans.  He told me to get lost, that he was on the computer.  I snapped.  I told him to get the fuck out of my house.  He blew up… we fought.  Fists, kicks, bites, any way we could get at each other.  My mother and brother yanked us apart.  I grabbed my shoes, he said something, I screamed something back.  He threw a glass, it shattered and I got cut with the shards.  We grappled again.  He was slamming my head down into the hardwood floor, screaming that he was going to break open my head, that he was going to take out my eyes, leave me blind. (I still have nightmares of him screaming, "Your eyes bitch, I’m going to take your fucking eyes").  My mom and brother yanked him back off of me, enough that I could run.  My brother ran with me, mother not long after.  She dropped me off at work.  It was the only safe place I could think of.  Someplace where he couldn’t get at me.  My face was bruised and battered, my throat hoarse with all the screaming.  He couldn’t get at me at work… I worked back of house in the casino.  He had no way of getting in there, and if he tried, then there were people who would make sure that nothing happened to me. I remember talking to my boss… I just went into the chef’s office.  He looked at me, said "What the hell happened?" I told him calmly that I wasn’t fit to work in the Employee’s Dining Room, could i please wash dishes today?  He said of course, asked me again, what happened.  I started to bawl and told him my father didn’t like the way I looked, so he decided to rearrange my face.  It was a flippant answer, but it made me feel a little more me.

I guess later dad came back into the house while my sister was there to do her homework.  My brother was back there too, helping her and talking, and dad came in, started screaming that Ben had no right to stand between me and him when we were fighting, and next time he’d kill his son, just like he’d kill that "good for nothing" daughter of his.  I was helped into the world by him, I belong to him, there fore if he decided he wanted to kill me, there was nothing no one could do.  Maili argued with him, he screamed that she was the one who always took his side and that they (us) ruined her.  She grabbed the phone, got ready to call 911, he was crazy, he was threatening us.  I was at work.  He pulled a knife on her and told her that if she called 911, he’d kill her.  She tried talking him out of it, tried doing something, but he wouldn’t hear of it.  She put down the phone.  

She did call 911, but not till she was away from the house.  The police caught him next door, where he was having a beer with his friend, the knife he used to threaten to kill my sister still in his pocket.  The police came to question Mom and me, and all sorts of stupid legal stuff happened.

There was a restraining order, which meant shit.  He still came into our house while we were asleep, or sent his friends in to steal all of our stuff.  We changed the locks and he just broke the doors.  We have no proof it was him, but I know it was.  He turned off all the bills that were in both of his and mom’s name, withdrew the checking account, left us with nothing but my paycheck and a bunch of debt.  The legal shit went on and on.  He finally pleaded guilty and got less than a month of lock up, most of that on the house program where he goes home to work and goes back to jail.  He also got less than 100 hours comm service and 6 months of probation.  He got shit.  He got absolutely shit for physically assulting me (assult in the 4th degree) and next to shit for pulling a knife on Maili (assult with a deadly weapon, but he pleaded down).  I wanted him to suffer.  He didn’t.  He’s suffering now though.  He realized that he screwed up.

Through all of this, my mom, sister, brother and I grew stronger and closer.  Until Ben started hitting the drugs bad.  Mom and I are more like sisters than we are mother and daughter; we argue, fight, and do things together.  She doesn’t trust men, I can’t stand living alone, I can’t stand being along for long periods of time.. .I’m getting better.  I used to not be able to sleep when I was the only one in hte house, now I can sleep, but any noise wakes me up.  i’m not as afraid anymore.  Through it all, my mother and my sister are here to support me.  And that’s the only good thing from this whole thing, aside from the fact that we finally had a cancer burned away

Dad was diagnosed later with P.T.S.D. and tried calling us to get back together as a family, blaming the illness for everything.  I understand he was sick, but in

stead of saying, "Yes, I did that. I’m sorry I hurt you and I’m working on getting better now." He says "I was sick! I can’t take any blame!"  And I can’t have that.  I can’t have him pretending that everything’s okay, because it’s not.  Even if the doctors say that you’re cured completely, I still remember all the stuff you did to me.  I still remember the guns to the head, the hands around the throat.  I still remember curses and screams.  I’m glad that you may not have meant it, but it’s still there, and there’s more needed than an "I was sick." There’s responsibility and understanding needed on your part, and on mine.