Thursday, February 7, 2013

My parents are gone.

One of the reasons I started this blog was to work through and express all of the anger I have. Today is one of those days where I'll be more personal with you.

If there's one thing that causes more anger in my life than any other source, it's my father.

Let me provide some back story for you. My father and I have not spoken in over a year. December 27th, 2011 was the last day we spoke to be exact. I'd just driven to Virginia to see my dad and siblings for Christmas a few days previous. After I returned home to North Carolina, I got word that my sister and father were in a massive fight. I called to see what happened. Our last conversation did not end well; it was filled with a lot of screaming and agony. Much of the conversation related to how he treated my sister, whom was only seventeen years old at the time. Both physically and emotionally abusive, I'd finally had enough of my dad harming my sister. Mind you, this was not something new for my sperm donor. He'd spent decades treating myself and my two younger brothers the same way. Throughout those years, my mother was complacent to this abuse, right up until her own demise.

Speaking of my mother, she passed away September 14, 2011 after an eighteen month battle with lung cancer. Mom was only fifty-one years old. She'd been a lifelong smoker and did the damage willingly to herself. Mom gave birth to four great kids, yet she tossed it all away because those cancer sticks were just so darn tasty!

After that last conversation, I cut my father out of my life. My sister also moved out and spent the last five months of her high school senior year with an aunt. Following her graduation, she came to North Carolina to live with me; she's been here ever since June 2012.

For all intents and purposes, my parents are gone. One is six feet under; one isn't worth a damn.

I spent years putting up with senseless abuse, as did my three siblings. The pushing, shoving and punching I gradually grew to accept and deal with. I even became adept at knowing what set my dad off and how to avoid such triggers. To be honest, the physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional pain, though. At one point in high school, my dad (and mother too for the matter) confronted me and asked if I was a homosexual. This was followed by a series of vulgar accusations as to my manhood. I remember the last question they asked me during this incident.

"Don't you want to have sex with a woman?"

Yes... because I was extremely introverted and never dated a girl, I must be gay. Never mind the fact that I was emotionally abused, not allowed to go anywhere or experience anything beyond school... I must be a homosexual! That makes a LOT of sense, doesn't it?

On a side note, a thought just occurred to me. This incident must be why I'm so vigilant about supporting equal civil rights for the LGBT community. I might not be a homosexual, but I sure as hell know what it's like to be put down because of your sexual preference.

So what prompted me to discuss this very personal information today? Well, I spoke with my sister concerning her desire to attend college (something my father had no desire of allowing her to do). Even though she's eighteen years old and living independently of my father, she still has to claim dependence on our father in order to receive financial aid. Folks with the Lunenburg County Social Services Department (yes, I'm calling you out) will not assist her in being declared an independent. Why? Oh... would my father being a deputy sheriff have anything to do with it? Would my father's enduring facade of being a charitable, community driven, caring Christian (oh, he loves to harp on the 'good Christian' part) have anything to do with it? YOU TELL ME!

A man who is not involved in our life; who is a bastard; who won't admit wrong-doing or say I'm sorry -- my sister has to go through him just to get on with her life?! Screw that! It pisses me off to no end. When can my siblings and I move beyond the greasy, self-serving grasp of our father? When? Can we not just live our lives without the toxic taint of our parents? A father in name only; a mother who didn't give a damn.

I'm getting pretty upset right now just writing this. I'm in a bad place. This will continue later. I have to stop for the time being.


  1. Sometimes when you get to the point where you feel the need to stop is the exact moment you need to keep going. Don't lose the anger or the grief, Jared. Keep pushing it until it's at least been pushed to a place that's not at the forefront of your daily life. Don't let it ruin you. They didn't ruin you all those years ago. They may have done damage, but damage is repairable. You're a good person. Everyone who knows you knows that. You survived the most impressionable years under two people who didn't give a shit. Don't let their not giving a shit destroy you now. And sure as hell don't give your sperm donor the satisfaction of knowing he gets to you. Help your sister get to a good place. She's very lucky to have you, and I'm sure she knows just how much. I look forward to seeing her soon when I come see you guys. And as for the homosexual question... there was never a doubt in my mind which one you preferred! xoxo

    1. Thank you Brooks. I came to a point in my life where I realized that the only solution to my anger was to write about it. Not just write... but also do it in a very open and honest manner. I'm going to continue writing -- I just put a new blog up today. If anything, this is a manner for me to express my innate desire to write. Maybe I can channel this into finally writing other things I've wanted to create for so long.

    2. I hope you can :) turn something bad into something great, friend.