1. This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this site, you are agreeing to our use of cookies. Learn More.

I remember the days you were a hero in my eyes

Discussion in 'Mental Health Disorders' started by crzykidshanana, Apr 23, 2007.

Thread Status:
Not open for further replies.
  1. crzykidshanana

    crzykidshanana Well-Known Member

    So I’m going to try n’ write this story from beginning to end.
    N’ I’m going to try not to embellish anything.
    But, I can’t make any promises.
    It’s about my Dad.
    It’s about me.
    It’s about us.
    It’s about why it scares me so much.

    When I was young, I was Daddy’s little girl.
    If I had to choose one parent,
    It would have been him every time.
    I loved my Dad more than anything.
    N’ he loved and adored me.

    When my parents got divorced
    The process was long and hard.
    It took years for them to settle.
    It took years for me to accept it.

    I think because of the time span
    And because they kept me occupied
    It took awhile for the whole thing
    To sink in.
    It took awhile for me to acknowledge it all.

    I accept change strangely.
    It’s almost as if…for awhile
    I don’t accept it at all.
    It takes about a month for things to
    Actually sink in.

    It took a few years for me.

    When it finally hit me.
    I was scared.
    I had all these notions in my head
    Of my parents getting back together
    N’ about us becoming a family again.
    But, when these faded I was angry.

    I was angry at my Father.
    I was angry because he left my Mother.
    I was angry because there was another woman.
    N’ I was angry because he left us in limbo.

    For awhile he tried to buy me.
    He tried bribing me with gifts.
    Six Flags Hurricane Harbor.
    Theme park after theme park.
    Ride after ride.
    False promises.

    Once again it took awhile to sink in.
    It took some steeping.
    It took some brewing.
    It took some breaking.

    I took one look at my Mom.
    I took a look at her world falling apart.
    I took a look at them fighting over us.

    I needed the attention.

    I got sick after awhile.
    Not severely.
    But, enough to have my Grandma come down.
    She took care of me.
    For awhile.

    During part of that time I told her.
    I told her that my Dad wasn’t a good man.
    I told her of “accidents”
    And anger.
    I told her of thrown mics.
    Of hateful words.
    Of fear.
    Of him.

    I didn’t see Daddy for awhile after this.

    They wouldn’t let me see him.
    I was scared to see him.

    See, to me everything I was saying
    Was true.
    Everything I saw was real.
    All that I felt was valid.

    Now I don’t know what’s real anymore.

    But, we lost.
    The courts told us he was harmless.

    He had things he couldn’t do.
    He had to stay in control.

    But, he had a good lawyer.
    They proved him a good man.

    So, I had to see him again.

    For awhile things were weird.

    In our absence Dad dug a hole in backyard.
    He dug in this hole for all the months that
    We’d be gone.
    It was six feet deep.
    So, we didn’t talk for awhile.
    We all joined in on this task.
    This digging this hole.
    Days went by.
    We’d spend all day in this thing.

    One day a parent complained.
    They didn’t want their child in
    Something so unsafe.

    Daddy never minded.

    We closed it up.

    We had to find new ways to distract.

    They didn’t bother to keep me busy after this.

    My parents didn’t bother fighting over me.
    Over us.
    We were too busy surviving.

    I was too busy cowering.

    The worst part about it
    Was that I felt like I’d defied my best friend.
    And although I felt everything that I’d said was
    He made me feel like it was a lie.
    I felt like a liar.
    I felt dirty.

    But, that’s part of his manipulation.
    That’s part of his defense.
    That’s part of his personality.

    And, for years I wondered why I felt this way.
    Why I could never stand up to him.
    Why I was so down
    Though my exterior screamed the

    I overcame this fear.
    This agony.
    I stood up.
    He cowered.
    He shook.
    He cried.

    N’ a part of me died that day.
    Because it made all those years of fear
    Fade away.
    N’ that familiar feeling arise.
    I felt like him.
    I manipulated.
    I controlled.
    I caused his fear.
    I won.

    But, I didn’t realize that
    It takes awhile to build up
    To being that kind of person.

    So I’m damaged.

    I stopped seeing him.

    And, I’m damaged.

    Even though I won I lost.

    So, he won.

    And, I’ve spent years since that last discussion.
    Figuring out where I went wrong.
    And, trying to cope with being the destroyer.

    But, the bigger issue is: Blame.
    I thought that by blaming him for
    My insecurities;
    My inadequacies;
    My nature;
    My problems;
    That they’d somehow resolve themselves.

    That by keeping hateful intentions
    I won’t ever get hurt again
    But, I’m wrong.

    So, talking to him reminds me of that.
    It reminds me of everything that I
    Blamed him for.
    Everything that I couldn’t overcome.

    Everything that I can’t cope with.

    And, the fact that
    I think deep down I still love him
    Which is what really hurts.

    So, I'm depressed. Not because I don't know what to do. Not because I'm so scared this time around. n' not because I talked to him on the phone and we got along.

    Or, maybe it is all those things.

    Is it possible for people to start over?
    Should I even try?
  2. scottish125

    scottish125 Member

    Today is going to be a good day... I promised, didn't I?

    I'll be seeing you in five hours and in five hours I'll be giving you that hug I promised to you.
  3. crzykidshanana

    crzykidshanana Well-Known Member

    You should have been sleeping...
Thread Status:
Not open for further replies.