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The Life of Alison. A vent to top all vents. |
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Disclaimer: This is basically a summary of my horrible life. All of this is fact, I've made nothing up. It is your choice to read it but you will be seeing into some of my very soul. Most of this stuff I've never told anyone. Maybe some I've not even mentioned to my family. This is also about their lives as well as mine. If you don't want to read it, I don't even expect anyone to. I wrote it for my benefit but I've made it so other people can see it if they feel they want to. Why? Probably because I don't care who knows anymore. I'm tired of suffering alone. Alone of course being myself, my mother, my sister and my dear neighbour. I've never had a friend's shoulder to cry on, I'm not looking for one. I vent to them when I need to vent and then move on. And so begins the telling of the drama that is my life...
Hmmm, where to start. At the beginning? I don't know. Basically, my life sucks. Most of you wouldn't know that unless I've said something. Maybe you caught the hint in my posts. My mother, sister and I have become very strong people. Not a whole lot bothers us and we're always happy out in public and around people in general. It would be impossible to tell how bad my life really is unless I say something. Even then I'm sure it's hard to believe.
Lately, my father has been referred to as merely "my father" or "the a*****e". He is an abusive drunk and he has caused my family to suffer for as long as I can remember. Sitting and thinking now, I cannot for the life of me think of a time when I was happy to be around him. No time that my family has been happy while he was there. He has ruined every birthday, Christmas, special occasion for my sister's my entire lives. He embarrassed me at my graduation when I was moving on to high school from grade school, he was passed out drunk when I went to my graduation formal for high school and the year my mother was sick at Christmas, he wasn't even sober enough to drive, his two daughters and elderly mother home from the church and instead ran off to the hospital leaving them behind at a distance that their grandmother could NEVER have walked.
When I was two, my mother was pregnant with my sister and it eventually got to the point where she could no longer lift me into my car seat. She carefully watched as I climbed into it by myself. So of course, a month or two down the road, my father who took me everywhere with him decided to take me some place and went to put me in the car seat. I was two and a half and a pretty well voiced, knowledgable kid. I said I could do it myself and did the stiffening up thing that every child does that makes it difficult for the parent to hold onto them. I was two and a half. From that moment on, my father was mean and ignored me or treated me badly. Went completely cold. Whether I noticed or not, I don't know.
My earliest memories are of him "abandoning" me at home with my grandmother while he ran off to see Lisa and my Mommy in the hospital. I hadn't seen her for a very long time and as we've established, since he stopped caring about me, I had to rely on my mother and I was very close to her. The other memory I have is when the new baby was brought home, I got a chance to do everything big sisters do. Hold the baby! So I was very careful and my mother was right there making sure everything was fine while the a*****e stood saying "Don't hug her! You're going to hurt her!" hang on a second... excuse me? I'm three, my mother is holding the baby with me and you're spazzing out? Why? Yeah, because he's an a*****e.
So! Life is crappy for my sister and I growing up. We get in trouble for talking and all sorts of things like that. Our Mommy was great though. She was a great mother. A little over protective but hey. I think it was when she was out Christmas shopping the one year when he decided my sister and I were being bad for WHISPERING, not even TALKING. He threw the dining room table at us, broke it and pinning me on the other side of it. Ok, that's fine. Until he comes around and proceeds to squeeze my head so that my hairband broke. Nice guy. Of course my Mommy was horrified when she found out and from then on just took us with her. We started doing everything together while he sat at home and drank.
The year I was in grade 10, I got to be Mary in the Christmas Pageant at the church that I had grown up going to. I had started off as a wee little angel in grade 1 and worked my way up to arch angel and then to Gabriel before I got a chance to be Mary. The church always used a live baby for Jesus so of course every Mary was paranoid about the baby, whether it will cry and the father will have to run up with a soother (happened once xd ) or even worse, if they'd be the first to drop baby Jesus! So here we are, all turned up for the big night. Even my grandmother came! I got to sit in the first row with a row of teeny little angels in front of me. My family was all sitting behind me except for Lisa who was across the church because following tradition, she was now Gabriel herself. The pageant was greatly successful, I didn't drop the baby even though I nearly twisted its neck because I got my arm caught under it, but being a wise Mary I managed to succeed in shifting it enough to get my arm out while my Mommy watched proudly. It slept through the whole thing. Then everyone was back at their seats to finish mass and at one point I turned around to my parents and only my grandmother was standing there. I asked her where they went and she said she didn't know.
I had a feeling in the pit of my stomach and the teeny angels were turned around and whispering about stuff going on at the back of the church. I ignored the feeling and the teeny angels and attempted to pay some attention to what was going on. Then just before it was time for the pageant people to file out, there was a voice in my ear telling me that my mother had fainted and there was a chance I'd see her and that I shouldn't panic. Ok yeah great. Then she asked where my sister was and went to get her. While the masses of teeny angels, teeny shepherds and the rest were all trying to get down to the basement in a neat little line that was chaotic because my mother was being moved out of the way, my sister and I huddled together in tears following along. The nice lady who happened to be a neighbour down the street from us went and fetched our grandmother while my sister wandered off and my levelheadedness tried to get her and I down to the basement so the next mass could have our costumes.
Ok, mother is accounted for obviously. Gramma is being helped by the nice lady. Lisa and I have successfully removed our costumes and returned upstairs. So who's missing? The drunk running around all in a panic and being completely irrational, perhaps? Of course. He went off to the hospital in the ambleance (serious or not, I love saying "ambleance" wink leaving my sister and I and our late 80 something grandmother at the church with no way home. The nice lady drove us home and I called my uncle to pick up my Gramma.
The next week my mother was in bed and I ran the house. I was 15. Did my father do ANYTHING? No. He just went to work. He'd come home at the end of the day and ask ME what was for supper! I was caring for my mother and keeping an eye on my sister who luckily was old enough to generally look after herself. My mother heard everything that went on that week and that was when she realized that that man was useless and couldn't be counted on.
Off and on he decided to quit drinking. All three attempts failed. He could always have "just one". One led to two... then on from there.
Three years ago, my dad's place of employment closed down and he got his severance pay and we redid the kitchen while he was home. After a couple months he started job hunting. Somewhere in there was a failed attempt at being sober and then some REALLY heavy drinking. Every time he started up again it was worse than before. Making up for lost time I guess. So he starts applying for everything in his field. Including a job in Afghanistan. Wouldn't you know it, they called him back and gave him two weeks to decide. Great! Go ahead dad! It would be such an opportunity! So he packed off to Afghanistan!
We had a year and a half nearly completely free of him. It was great! We did what we wanted, went where we wanted and my Mommy could sleep without interruption. Then he would come home from Afghanistan for his three weeks vacation and would arrive drunk. It only got worse from there. By the time he had to go back we were so glad to be rid of him again. I do have to add that before one of his trips home, he spent some time in Dubai in the United Arab Emerites. He was damn drunk when he came home and at one point I was on the computer in the study listening to his conversation with my mother (I have developed and awful habit of eavesdropping. I hear everything. Be warned! xd ). He said that he had slept with a hooker, and it wasn't because he was drunk and cheating on her but because someone on the street stabbed him with a needle. My Mommy was really pissed off and she said "What's next? Are you going to be telling me you were abducted by aliens!?" Which of course made me fall off my chair laughing. She handled that so very well. Anyway, he had girlfriends in Afghanistan and slept with hookers. Because he cheated he assumes now that every time we go out and I answer the cell when he calls for alcohol, I'm "screening" her phone calls while she has sex with another man.
Another problem we've had is the man discovered an obsession with knives while he was away. He brought home two Napalese army knives and a switch blade. All of which are illegal to bring into Canada. I'm actually quite like knives myself even if the napalese blades are fugly, they're still kind of cool. Switchblade scares the crap out of me. Over the last year, these things have held an ominious shadow over our home. They were a weapon in the hands of a drunk and not at all safe. The one night he got paranoid (which he is prone to do when he's damn drunk) and insisted someone was breaking into the garage (you all know we have a dog...). We got really creeped out and first chance we got, I hid the knives. Then he got all paranoid that they were stolen. Then he accused me of stealing them. It got to the point where if we didn't allow him to find them, he would call the police. Back then we cared. Now, it's just fine if he does. In fact, I would welcome the phone call. The knives are safely hidden in a place where only I know where they are. Mommy and Lisa may have an idea but they are safe and he can't get them.
He came home from Afghanistan a year ago February and he has not worked since. Hundreds of job interviews that have led no where. Why? He's always drunk. People aren't as stupid as he seems to think. He's MEAN. He calls us names, and makes our lives hell. Just the other day he called my adorable, kind, loving sister a ******** It. He called her "Jabba" growing up successfully giving her an eating disorder. I sit down at a table and shovel food and run. His fault as well because we've never had a meal where he doesn't yell at us and degrade us. I almost always have indigestion. Very healthy. I've become bitter, angry, detached and distant. Now more than ever.
Because he hasn't worked for over a year and the debts are so bad, we have to sell our house. It is now sold and we have until April 13 to get out. We don't have anywhere to go. My mother makes very little above minimum wage and because of that, for all of us to live in a house, I have to give any money I make to the great fund for us to survive. I am completely willing to do that so she and my sister and I have a chance to have a life. We are NOT taking that man with us. We will not work ridiculously long hours for him to drink away the little money we have. He's already done that. He spends just under $1000 on alcohol a month. He drinks a 24 case of beer in a day and then gets into rye, rum, baileys and god knows what else.
Ok. We're not taking him with us. Now how do we tell that drunk, disgusting man who despises us? Just up and do it. Well now our lives are so bad. I swear to you that I have never lived such an awful few weeks in my whole life. He's doing everything in his power to regain control of us. He is SO drunk that he passes out or staggers about. We just can't live like this. We have to find a house, we have to pack, we need to work and he just sits there doing whatever he can to make things difficult for us. We have been looking everywhere we can for help because we're not having luck with this ourselves. I'm 21 years old and partially responsible for my family. It's not easy. I actually signed an application for part of renting a house the other day. A house. I don't even have my driver's license. We need a lawyer because we fear that the a*****e will go and whipe out the very little money that's left. We need to sneak around and make phonecalls to get a house where he won't know about it for fear he'll get drunk and come and torture us in our new lives. What we need is HELP and we just weren't finding it.
A little over a month ago, in one of his extremely drunken states, he hit me in the head with his elbow or his hand FOR NO REASON at all. Mommy and Lisa were both standing there and yet nothing could be done. I nearly called the police and I WOULD have pressed charges. It was completely uncalled for. Often I would actually deserve that maybe but this time I was sitting and staring at the computer screen. Several days later the swelling hadn't gone down so I went to the hospital. Of course everything there is confidential and they asked who hit me, so I told them. I received The Little Black Book. It has all the information for places that one would need in my city. We looked through it for lawyer stuff and nothing could be found. We called for legal aid and they said they couldn't help us. We felt lost and alone and our neighbour who is more family to us than the a*****e should be has been helping us to the best of her ability but can only do so much.
Well day before yesterday we went to look at a house. It was beyond perfect and everything we could have hoped for. Since we arrived early, I suggested to my Mommy to call the Anselma House. Anselma House is the place in my city where abused women can go to be safe and they help them get on their feet. My reasoning is, we're in that situation but we've been given a chance to walk away proudly and we don't need to run. We only need help doing it. So Mommy gave it a try and sure enough the lady on the other end was able to give us the help we needed and when Mommy heard that she nearly cried. She met us inside the house for the tour to see it and she told us that we had a meeting for tonight after work. We saw the house and it was too perfect, we couldn't ask for more. Right then we applied for it, didn't even go home first. Wrote out a cheque and everything. We even had to run to the bank after so the money was there when they went for it. They were to get back to us in 24 hours one way or the other. We heard nothing. Our nerves were fried waiting for this phone call. Mommy called them last night and left a message for them to call us today.
I haven't slept for days. Life is just too much, I can't sleep and the a*****e wanders around all night and smokes in the house and causes general chaos. So I was up all last night, I do believe I even had a good cry, not able to take any more stress. The waiting was hard. I went to bed and fell asleep around 6:30am. Sure enough the phone rang at 9:15 waking me out of a sound sleep and it was the people calling about the house. I was barely awake and the news received was just too unbearable, our worst nightmare. We didn't get the house. Ok great. I'm alone, I've got the dreaded phonecall, what do I do? I called Mommy and told her at work and then I tried to do the whole sleep thing. It took me an hour to fall back asleep. I was woken several more times before finally getting up at 1. We then got ready to go meet my Mommy after work for this meeting with the lady from Anselma House.
Oh, I might as well add in here that the a*****e had a job interview today and therefore kept the car, forcing my mother to ride the bus for an hour to get to work, only to decided NOT to go to the interview and order alcohol that he can't afford to be delivered. Of course it was a huge jug of rye that he has already had half of and he only got it at around noon. Rye is the worst, it makes him beyond mean.
Anyway, we went and met the lady and we all tried to stay as strong as we always have been, our dear neighbour there for moral support. The lady came and was extremely nice and asked question upon question. We answered all of them to the best of our ability so that she could fully help us.
She gave us this paper that had a "Power/control wheel" on it. The almighty a*****e somehow managed to hit EVERY SINGLE ITEM listed around the wheel. That's right. He is the worst he could possibly be. The lady told us that we were in what they classed as an "extreme" situation of abuse. How lovely is that? She asked if people knew and we named off a handful of names. She says that's always how it is. We knew that but still.
Anyway, she didn't have a lot of time but we went over all sorts of things and what we should do before we move and stuff. We got the help we needed to get legal advice and all sorts of other things. We're going to meet back up with her and get more help as soon as she can. Until then, we're trying to find a place for the a*****e because we can't live with him here any longer.
That takes us up to about now where I am currently writing this trying somehow to deal with everything so that I can go to sleep tonight so I can work tomorrow. To sum up everything I've said. My life sucks. I deal with it the best way I can. If I seem detached or quiet, it's just my way of dealing. It's always been that way. If ANYONE has stuck around to read all this, they totally get a gold star because I'm not even going to bother rereading it for errors because I should be in bed now. Busy day tomorrow with working and then eye doctor (boo!) and then we have another house to go look at. I'm sorry to everyone who's had to put up with me lately. Especially anyone who's had to hear me vent. This journal was for me to be able to get it all off my chest for a bit so I can tuck away all the new stuff until that becomes too horrible and this happens all over again. I know it has to get worse before it gets better but come on, this is ridiculous. I'm really hoping for some kind of fairy tale happy ending but things don't work like that in real life. Sorry again. Bye bye!
Glorfirith Annun · Thu Mar 16, 2006 @ 04:35am · 9 Comments |
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