Random

I don't think my childhood was normal, but I also don't think it was all that strange. A little chaotic yes but not strange. I had an abusive alcoholic for a father and a spineless absent mother. I'm not an only child and thank God for that. Although my siblings have probably hated me at one point for being the only one to never get hit, I still consider them luckier than I. I'm my dads only daughter from this union, my siblings are from my mother previous lovers. I was never hit and I don't know why, but the verbal abuse has been more than enough to cripple me emotionally and mentally. Though this abuse didn't start until we moved to Indiana. I'm from California, and up until the autumn of 2004 everything was alright. That fall I started middle school in a town where everyone knew everyone and they had all gone to summer camp together. I was an outsider. The weird girl from California who knew no one. I've always been shy and my resting bitch face doesn't help. I had a small group of friends that I was able to maintain until the end of middle school and one best friend. To this day she was the closest and most distant friend I've ever had but that is for another day. My father never hit me but he did call me names and it didn't start to hurt until I went through puberty. It was a difficult time for me since I'd always been very self conscious of myself this only made it worse. His words will haunt me for ever and to this day I believe I am every one of those things. When my mother left my father in the summer of 2009 things only got worse. Every morning was the same shower, get dressed, watch the news, eat a little breakfast and patiently wait to get picked up. That ride to school always seemed longer than 15 minutes. That ride to school was hell. Getting screamed at because I didn't say good morning, for taking to long to walk down the stairs or for just existing. Being called a whore because I had a boyfriend and wore a little make up. Saying I'll end up just like my whore and piece of a shit sister. I was never going to amount to anything. I was nothing. Not every day was the same some days he was nice others he was crueler than usual. I never did know what exactly triggered these moments of hatred for me. What I do know is that this marriage has lasted to long. I moved away when I was almost 17. Best decision in my life. Sure I ruined my chances in getting into a four year college and being done with school this summer, but silly me thought my sanity was more important. Because regardless of moving out of my Dads house the three of us went to dinner every weekend and they still talked every day. My mother was planning on moving back in with my dad as soon as the apartment contract was over and that was the last thing I wanted. The summer of 2010 was one of the best ones that summer I moved in with my brother and to this day I don't think I made a mistake the good that came from those three years away out weighs everything else. I moved back to Indiana three years later and last year my mom left my dad again. Have things gotten better? No they haven't. Now my mom is leaving in August or September to California. I don't try and stop her and I won't because its what will make her happy and that is all I've ever wanted for her. I hope she finds the peace she needs and enjoy the happiness I'm sure my siblings and nephew will give her. For my father I just hope he finds some sort of peace for that anger he holds in his heart. 

the guy

There's a guy, not a boy because he's to old but not a man because he's immature. He's my thirty year old lover. A year long of countless drives to his house. On my lunch, at night when his children finally fell asleep, or after coming home from a long day. Driving down county roads fighting my sleep just to get a little affection. Sounds desperate and a part of me probably was. I was craving the affection and attention I was receiving. Coming out of a three year long relationship I was experience the excitement I once felt for my ex love. The rush of being in my new lovers arms having him close that was all I wanted. The sex was great and I don't think it will ever be the same for me. There was chemistry between us, There was no need to perfect it, it was already perfect in its own way. Now this isn't about the wonderful sex I got from this almost year long "relationship" no it's about what it made me feel. It was a wonderful thing we never spoke about. It all began after a class one afternoon, after my mother left my father for the second time, after I broke up with my boyfriend of three years and after feeling completely alone. We met when I first moved here, two years about this June. It wasn't an instant attraction and honestly on my behalf it never was about physical attractiveness. One year later I found myself on his couch watching reruns of the American Top Gear. Truthfully I should have known in the moment that it would all end in disaster. He is nine years older than I with two children from a previous relationship living in a blue house in the middle of no where. The first time I went over the smell of stale beer and weed was somewhat comforting . Ditching my last class to sit on some old couch because the last thing I wanted to do was go home. It was all exciting and new. His hand reached over and held mine, his thumb making circles on my palm. This absolute feeling of relaxation and rush of excitement came over me. He leaned in and I don't think I've ever straddled a person so fast. Before I knew it we were in his bed. Cold air filled the room making me almost for get it was a hot September evening. He kissed me ever so softly and stared at my naked body in amazement. It had been a while since either one of us had any intimacy but there were no need for words. It all came naturally. The next day I went to work nervous as hell because he would be there I didn't know how to act. We were all smiles something about having this dirty little secret brought me joy. As time went on we continued our "relationship" without every clarifying what exactly we were. I'd see him on holidays, Thanksgiving night while my family was out and about. It was a sweet friendship. No personal questions were asked and we rarely talked about ourselves. We'd have sex and just lay there watching whatever movie he picked up earlier that day. Sometimes he'd fall asleep and I would catch a glimpse of this inner peace he seem to have. Two hours after I arrive I'd leave and make my drive home. Some nights he'd kiss me goodbye and others it was just a "drive safe" there were never any clear signals as to if he liked me or if it was just physical. We'd sometimes go a month or so of not seeing each other. He'd start talking to his ex girlfriend or I'd try dating but we always ended up  back in his bed. Once spring came we finally hung out like normal people out in public. We took his son to a bike store. There was something about the way he was with his son that ultimately made me start to like him. The next time we went to the local car race where I met his best friend and although I am usually out going I couldn't help but feel shy the whole time. But that cold April night was the first time I had ever had him hold me in public. The night was long but there was no where I would have rather been than in his arms. Our last outing came when we went to the mall, it was simple and easy but that's when things changed. He began to ignore me, I was no longer given affection. He had replaced me. Though he had always been open about the people he spoke to, this woman was different. I could see how she made him smile and was probably giving him things I couldn't. I refused to believe it was all over, but just the other day I saw they were in a relationship. No mention to me nothing and though I don't think I was entitled to know before hand it still hurt. I lost the little joy and distraction I had. Because though I spent most of this post talking about how it happen I never said what he meant to me. He was my distraction from the chaos I have in my life. He was my escape.