OC Chapter 1 – 2019

If you haven’t read “Intro to the OC Chapters”, I highly recommend starting there for some background on the events and emotions shared in these chapters.

OC’s mother (we’ll call her MC for “Mother of my Children”) and I had been together since 2004 and were married in 2006. OC and her younger brother (OS – Only Son) were born in Hawai’i while I was stationed there in the military. My military commitments had already strained our time together, a situation that persisted until I was honorably discharged in 2012. We initially moved back to my hometown to figure out our post-military life together. It didn’t take long for a new job opportunity to find me, so we moved again to Mississippi, where our youngest child was born (YC should fit here – Youngest Child). Through subsequent years, we relocated several times, mostly out of necessity for better employment opportunities.

MC had remained out of the workforce throughout our marriage, solidifying my role as the family’s sole financial provider and, inadvertently, the default disciplinarian—a role thrust upon me as she actively avoided enforcing discipline. This dynamic brewed considerable resentment; I felt a persistent lack of trust from her, despite never giving cause for such doubt. We faced many issues, but our lack of effective communication caused considerable difficulty in reaching mutually acceptable resolutions. Even after buying a home in South Carolina, our relationship slowly eroded under these pressures. After selling our home and moving to Georgia in 2018, we made frequent trips back to South Carolina every other Sunday, seeking guidance from our former church pastor through couples counseling.

In the fall of 2019, in a desperate bid for change, I quit my job, and we uprooted our lives to her hometown, residing with her grandparents while we tried to gain our footing again. The drastic pay cut necessitated her entry into the workforce for the first time, adding another layer of tension. Eventually, our already flimsy communication dwindled to the bare minimum, culminating in us sleeping in separate rooms.

For a couple of years by this point, my frustrations often manifested as anger. Although I never turned this anger physically upon my family, it found its voice in yelling and an unsettling onset of road rage. One evening, after an award ceremony at OC’s elementary school, a trivial disagreement over dinner choices escalated rapidly. Overwhelmed, I exited the vehicle in a fit, leaving to walk home in the chilling mist after slamming the car door—a decision I immediately regretted as I saw the terrified faces of all three of my children as the dome light slowly faded.

Weeks later, the tension reached a boiling point. After witnessing yet another heated argument between OC and her mother—both their frustrations palpable—MC pleaded with me to do something about the way OC was treating her. Deciding it was time for a direct confrontation, I took OC for a drive to address her growing defiance. During the drive, my temper flared beyond control. I screamed so loudly that my throat hurt instantly. Her stoic expression in response to my rage fueled my anger further. I continued to drive until we reached a remote gas station several miles from the house. I quietly demanded she exit the car—a powerful statement meant to shock her into realization. The first time I ever heard the word “no” escape her lips in such defiance toward me ignited a fire within me the likes of which I had never felt. I yelled again, even louder than before. This finally prompted a reaction—her tearful pleas and my subsequent escalation only served to deepen the rift between us. In that instant, I felt like I had finally won for getting my point across, yet simultaneously lost because I would never be seen by my daughter the same way again. I was forever a monster in her eyes, the creature that haunts her nightmares. The silent drive back, punctuated only by her soft sobs, was a profound moment of reflection on the damage done.

That night, I further realized the gravity of my actions. Despite my later apologies and continuous attempts to repair our bond, I fear the trust and respect from my daughter were irrevocably altered. This incident marks a pivotal chapter in our story, one that I continue to revisit in hopes of understanding and perhaps, healing.

-MW