Dec 2016 03

The Ember Days

Posted In Music

Featured Story
Dec 2015 02

I don’t know where my story actual beings, so I’ll just start as far back as I remember. Our family has never been close. My brother and I were, and still are very independent. Our family didn’t eat together, we didn’t talk, we didn’t do anything as a family except work. In reality, I don’t even remember my dad in my early life. It was always just mom. I had always known that she wasn’t that happy, but I didn’t realize how much so until we moved when I was entering the fourth grade. I was very close to mom, we did everything together it seemed. And since we had moved, we had to find a new church. And we did. It was a nice church, and still is. Dad decided that he didn’t really want to go to church though, so our Sunday routine included me, my mom, and my brother. Me and mom decided to try something new, and we joined the choir there. Everyone was great. We practiced on Wednesday nights, till maybe 9 at the latest. We made friends, and soon, I noticed my mom was becoming good friends with a man there. But I didn’t think anything of it until we began staying later and later. It would be past one in the morning when we finally left for home. We would just sit in the parking lot and they would talk. Or rather, I sat in the car alone, and THEY talked. Now, one thing I should mention, after the move, I became shy, and I’ve never made friends easily, so mom was like my best friend. Anyway, soon their talk progressed to holding hands, and I could tell that she liked him. Then, anytime we were together, she would talk about him, and then tell me how horrible dad was. She would cry in front of me telling how she wanted to leave dad for years but didn’t have the courage. I felt so caught. I hated dad. I hated knowing that he made her cry. But then, I didn’t think he deserved what mom was doing. I felt like it was my fault, cause I knew she was cheating on him (even though they WEREN’T having sex), but I didn’t tell dad. My brother soon joined the choir, and we sat together for those hours in the car. He had never talked about his feelings much, and I could see he was slowly drawing more into his shell, and I didn’t know what to do. Mom began taking every excuse she could to see this new guy, going to the grocery store, church, anything. We would go shopping, and she would ask me if HE’D like the outfit she was trying on, not dad. I would hear her and this man making fun of my dad, and I just laughed it off, cause I wanted to be on their side; it had the promise of the close happy family I had always wanted. Dad started drinking more and more, and I was the person mom had spying on him, counting the number of beers he went through. But mom was pulling away from me, I still remember one day when I was trying to give her a hug, and she just pushed me away, saying she didn’t want a hug from me. I was losing the one friend I had. I had never had dad and mom was abandoning me. I was so alone, and I would pray every night that this would all somehow be fixed and my parents would be happy together. There were two monumental days during their break up that I will never forget. One of the days, my father’s football team was playing, and during half time, mom, me, and my brother went to the grocery store, and of course, to his house. We had already been there for an hour and a half when dad called, asking when we were going to get home. Mom told him in a couple minutes. We didn’t even leave till 45 minutes later. Not unexpectedly, dad was drunk when we got home. He immediately cornered mom, and started cussing at her, I was waiting for him to hit her actually. But he didn’t. But at one point in time, mom said something like, “let’s not doing this in front of the children.” I can still hear my dad’s response in my head. “I don’t give a f*** about the children!!!” Even though I had never been close to dad, that tore me apart. At the end of the night, he broke down, and we all helped carry him up the stairs to bed. That was the first time I remember him telling me he loved me. I didn’t believe him then, and I never will. The next episode was actually Christmas day. They had been fighting all day, and Christmas was totally ruined for me (to this day I still can’t get “into the spirit”). He got drunk of course. But it was bad this time. I remember him rolling around on our kitchen floor. He couldn’t even talk, he just like, kinda screamed. We actually called his mother and let her listen to him. Then, we spent Christmas night in a hotel. We just left him lying there. I had lost all of the little respect I had for my dad. In the end, my mother left, and married her new man. I was just going into 8th grade, and all the guilt I originally felt was still there. And I was still alone. I hadn’t made any real friends. Me and my brother went to live with them, and the every other weekend I spent with dad seemed like torture. I was desperate for attention. I knew no one cared about me, and I wanted someone to. I made many bad decisions at this point in time. This is when I really began connecting with God. I tried to straighten up, and get back on the path the He had made for me. But mom started moving houses, and I wanted to stay at the same school. So I decided to move back in with dad. My mother decided she hated me. That me moving out was ruining the relationship between her and her new husband. that I was ruining her life. That I was selfish and greedy and a spoiled little brat. So now I knew for sure that neither of my parents liked me, cause all my father was worried about was getting my brother back. He was, and still is, the favorite. And this is where we’re still at today. I live with dad, and it’s like I’m living alone. We don’t talk, I take care of myself, and no emotion whatsoever is involved. All my emotions are still stuck inside, and I don’t talk to mom or her hubby. I still long for a real family. I watch other families, the ones that care about each other, with envy. The only difference is now I have friends who are here with me, and God, who has always been by my side. I don’t know if the path I’m on is the right one. But I do know it’s been a D*** hard road, and I’ll never be able to trust or love without being scared that that person is going to leave me just like everyone I loved did. (yes, loved. I’ve managed to make it so I don’t feel like I love them, so I don’t have to feel pain.). I still pray, every, and I will until I can’t form thoughts, that I will never, EVER, cause this kind of pain to anyone. I can’t stand hurting people. I will go as far out of my way as I need to, just to make sure I don’t. I’m scared I’m going to be alone.

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