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Cont of "Shattered Secrets"
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Cont of "Shattered Secrets" |
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aziza Member Elite
since 2006-07-09
Posts 2995Lumpy Oatmeal makes me Crazy! |
It’s not that it was all bad to grow up with a father who could not see his own insanity. He was blind – sightless for the first seven years of my life and blinded by a selfish sickness for the remainder of the time that I knew him. Recently I was told that I am a martyr and, you know, maybe I am. I see myself more as one who chooses my battles. And I see myself as one who learned how to be a warrior at too young an age. Maybe those who have not been imprisoned by the bars of another’s illness don’t know that those bars are really constructed from the souls that are stolen from others. Maybe that is what happens to all the freedom that is robbed. I don’t know. Maybe I can simply get mired in the ‘maybes’. My father bought me my first pair of leather ‘big girl’ boots. My older sisters all had boots with heels that zipped to the knees. I was consumed by an envy that only a nine year old might feel. One day when my Mother was at work my father took me to the store and bought me my own leather knee-high boots. I was thrilled; my mother was appalled and thought that they were inappropriate for a little girl. She didn’t realize that her little girl had already aged to a point that she had earned those “I wanna be a big girl” boots. I already had faced the fact that I was pretty much on my own. I learned to read him like I now can read the weather patterns on a graph. His sanity was sandwiched between depression and lethargy and the highs of hyperactivity, both extremes were dangerous times. It’s as if a red flag waved warnings for times of high molestation potential. I leaned to sleep with the covers over my head, and to keep an eye peering out of a small hole that I carefully constructed in the blankets. I lived by the golden rule that ‘if I can’t see out, monsters can’t see in’ – he was my monster. Breathe quietly, keep ears tuned. Above all, lay low and remain invisible. I was ready for the knee hi boots – I was older than I looked. I lived the cliché of being older than my years. When he shook off the lows, my father was among the best. He built tree houses with us. He taught us how to drive. He laughed and read wonderful stories. He loved us. He was not scary or angry. He was fun and smart. And he loved his children. These are the times that I think of now. We sang as loud as we could and our family drew together as one unit. Maybe we knew that we would splinter again and we had to move fast to reconnect. Maybe we knew one day the reconnection would be impossible. That time did come. Later. Out of the blue life would tip again. The hyper period took over this man that I peered at each morning before saying good morning. He had huge ideas and schemes. He moved fast, talked faster. The man never slept – and he would wander at night. From room to room. The best plan was to feign sleep if I was not asleep. Sometimes it worked and he would disappear. Sometimes it didn’t work at all. This man was volatile. His temper flared and he would lash out easily. His actions were all justified by biblical phrases of honoring one’s father. Even young, I sensed the hypocrisy of the situation. Now I see the humor. Black humor, but there is humor in the place he found to hide. The man would spiral higher and higher – higher than any human should ever soar. Then he would crash and the cycle would begin again. I am not brave or strong. Quite simply, I merely survived. And I waited for the times that he was lucid. And I pretended to all that life was good. After all, I was only nine. And no one had taken away my ‘happily ever afters’ yet. I lived for those trite fairy tale phrases that gave me so much comfort. I buried myself in the stories of happier times and I watched. And I blended. Thank God, I am not nine any more. The hope for better times did not fail me. So I write now. Maybe the words help dust off words like molestation and mental illness. Maybe these words are simply the Windex to allow others to see inside the soul I have recaptured. A [This message has been edited by aziza (04-28-2007 12:14 PM).] |
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| © Copyright 2007 Alison - All Rights Reserved | |||
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nakdthoughts Member Laureate
since 2000-10-29
Posts 19200Between the Lines |
 ( all I have to offer )M |
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ivordavies Senior Member
since 2007-01-10
Posts 739Chester, England |
Alison, Never normally look in on prose but glad I did tonight. You have a natural talent for relating your feelings, beliefs, nature, and acceptanc of circumstance that few rise to... Ivor |
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Marilyn Member Elite
since 1999-09-26
Posts 2621Ontario, Canada |
Wow. Strong words, well written. The grasp you had even as a child. Amazing write and thank you for the insight. Marilyn |
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aziza Member Elite
since 2006-07-09
Posts 2995Lumpy Oatmeal makes me Crazy! |
Thank you all. He had sparks of wonderful in a world that was crashing and burning around him. Alison |
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