Saturday, June 18, 2005

To the father who was never there for me...Happy Fathers Day

When I was little my dad and I got along fine. I had been living with him and my step-mom since I could remember. I loved it there, with my brother and sister. Things changed when I turned 15. I don't exactly remember how they told me, but they got divorced. I was crushed, and my life slowly started to unravel.

They gave me a choice of who I'd like to live with. My step-mom and I had become very close so I decided to live with her. We moved 20 miles away and my dad moved 2 hours away. I finished up my sophmore year of high school with honors, and headed off to Oregon for the summer with my real mom.

While in Oregon my step-mom decided that she wanted my dad to sign over his parental rights to her just in case something happened and she needed to take legal action...such as a car accident. Since he would be living 2 hours away he needed to sign over his rights, for my protection and my step-moms. I wasn't informed of this needing to happen over the summer so when I got back, my dad tells me in the car. He then tells me that he's arranged for me to stay with some older family friends so that I can still go to the same high school. We stopped by my step-moms house on the way. She had put a couple of boxes of my stuff out on the porch, things that I would need.

After arriving at our my new "home", my dad helped me unload the boxes, and he talked to the couple for a few minutes. Right before he left he handed me $20. He didn't say "I love you"....he just left. I went back inside to my new room and cried. I cried for the rest of the night, eventually going to sleep. I felt like a worthless piece of trash that nobody wanted so they just dumped me on some peoples doorstep and wished me the best.

A few days after being there my step-mom dropped by with the rest of my stuff. She was very bubbly and helped me bring the boxes inside. We talked for awhile and she explained why she had to do this. As she was hugging me good-bye I could see tears starting to form in her eyes. I told her "I love you" and we didn't talk or see each other for 6 months after that.

School started back up, I got a job and a car. I would leave for school at 6:30 in the morning and not get home until 3:30. I would then go to work from 4 until 10:30 at night. I would go get drunk with some friends from work on the weekends. I started skipping school, and I ended up missing 23 days in the first semester. This wasn't the way I planned to spend my last two years of high school.

The people I was living with called my dad one day and told him that he needed to spend more time with me. A few days later he was on our doorstep saying that he wanted me to move-in with him. He later told me that the only reason I was moving in with him was because he didn't want them yelling at him anymore.

The next day at school I went to the office and picked up my "drop-out" form. I didn't want to move in with my dad 45 miles away. I wanted to stay there and finish up high school. I only had a year and a half to go, but my dad wouldn't let me.

On January 21st, 2004 I packed up my stuff once again and followed my dad to our new house. It was this tiny two bedroom house right off of Main Street in podunk, Montana. I walked into my bedroom and was disappointed. It was small, very small. There was a home-made wooden bed with a slab of wood across where the mattress would lay. Problem was, there was no mattress. My dad said he would buy me one but for now I needed to lay as many blankets as I could on it. I only had about 5 blankets, but that was going to have to work. That night I couldn't sleep. The blankets didn't help one bit, I felt like I was sleeping on concrete. I told this to my dad in the morning but he didn't care, he had slept fine. He didn't buy me a mattress for two months.

I enrolled myself into home-schooling, with my dad agreeing to pay the $40 a month. I also got a job and started paying for my own gas, car, and insurance. I usually didn't spend much time around the house, but the time that I did was nothing short of hell. My dad had found this new girlfriend and her and I didn't get along at all. She had her own apartment about 5 blocks away but for some reason spent all her time over at our house. She would stay there for days on end. She was arrogant, rude, manipulative, selfish and she always had to be right...about everything.

I never really expressed my dislike for her to my dad, but I did one day. I was sitting in the chair in the living room and my dad was standing in the doorway for his room. I don't know how the topic came up but it did, the topic of me hating his girlfriend. I told him I didn't like how she tries to manipulate me, sleeps at our house, tells me what I can and cannot eat, whom I can see, where I can go, how clean my room should be....and I went on and on. He started to get physical with me so I got up out the chair and started walking towards my room. He stepped in front of me and I told him that I hated him. He told me he hated me sometimes as well and that I could find a new place to live.

I walked down to my room and called my friend asking her if I could come stay at her house a day earlier than planned. She was fine with that so I started packing my stuff. I was leaving in two days to go visit my sister in Washington and I had planned to stay with her the next night. My dad came to my room about a half hour later and apoligized. He told me he wanted me to live with him and I didn't have to leave. I left anyways, as far as I was concerned....I wanted nothing to do with him anymore.

When I arrived in Washington a few days later I told my sister what happened. She said that dad had told her a different story...figures...and then she let me listen to her voicemail on her cell-phone. " Hi, it's dad....I just want to let you know that Heather is not coming back to live with me. I didn't tell her before she left....so, she doesn't know." My mind went numb after hearing that. I wasn't going back to Montana? What about my car, my job, all my stuff? I didn't get to say good-bye to my friends, they are expecting me to come back in two weeks. I called him and he just told me that I was causing to much stress on his and his girlfriends relationship. Once again, I'm a piece of trash that he just dumps out of his life.

After two weeks of visiting my sister, I went to go live with my real mom in Oregon. While living there my dad called me about 5 times. He tried to act all sweet, saying "I love you" all the time, and asking me how I was. Just hearing his voice made me sick. He quit paying for my school, he took my car from me, and he quit paying the payments on it. The last time I talked to him was December of 2004. He got married to his girlfriend and they are planning to move to Alaska.

I have no desire to ever speak to my father again. He's hurt me to much. I couldn't even write about all the things he has done, it would take forever. I figure for my well being and happiness that him and I should just not see or talk to each other. Everybody I talk to now says that I seem much happier than I was before. I am, but some days are hard...such as Fathers Day. I just wish he would of been there for me when I needed him, but he wasn't, and he'll never be. He won't be there to walk me down the aisle, and my kids will not have a Grandpa. Those are the things that are hard for me to deal with, but I know I'm a strong person and I can and will get through it.

Happy Fathers Day to all the wonderful fathers out there.

3 comments:

  1. Funny that you should post this. I was going to blog about fathers day later...you can read about my experience :-) I'm not sure who's is worse...

    ReplyDelete
  2. my parents divorced since i was 9......after that i lived with my relatives...i'm just not happy all the time...i do smile but it's not from my heart...i just don't want them to worry about me..i'm glad that u shared your experience......I felt that Father's Day is totally meaningless to me......and i wish that our lives can go better even without a father around...

    ReplyDelete
  3. Wow. That's the problem with America in General... too many dead beat dads. Not me though. ;)

    ReplyDelete