August 3, 2013

The day everything changed.

I’ve been vacillating back and forth about what to post about everything that happened. I have finally come to the conclusion, that since this blog is (at least superficially) anonymous and the actual criminal proceedings have concluded I will go ahead and disclose what happened. I also feel, that if I don’t tell my story, I won’t be able to tell any other story, and my blog, will in fact, die. Since everything in my life is now affected by this thing, I am crippled in my writing until I get the proverbial monkey off my back. And now, more than ever, I need my blog. Because shit is fucked up. I’m fucked up. Everything is upside down and inside out and in a state of disarray that (I’m hoping) will resolve to some extent as the technical, functional and logistical issues get sorted out.

My dad assaulted me on August 3, 2013. It was… bad. My Mom and The Peach and Princess Punk were all witness to what happened. Since I’d really rather not detail exactly what happened, nor do I think I actually could, I am attaching the statement I made to the police after the assault. Aviary Photo_130281596080861689Aviary Photo_130281596917478338

I am in physical therapy twice a week. Because he hit my left jaw, right in the spot that was just surgically repaired, I’m having to work on that all over again. The relief that I felt immediately after surgery is no more. The pain is nowhere near what it was preoperatively, but there are clearly some issues now. Additionally, I apparently landed on my left side at some point because my left hip and sacroiliac joint are inflamed and are annoyingly sore and stiff. So there’s that.

And I’m struggling emotionally at the moment. I was okay at first, my concern was mostly for My Mom who is now divorcing the man she has spent the last 40-something years of her life with, and for Princess Punk who spent the entire incident screaming “Please stop, you’re killing her! Please stop…” But they both seem to be okay. No matter how many times I ask My Mom, she assures me that this is her decision and she is not leaving because of me, but rather because of him and his actions.

I’m having trouble convincing myself this is not my fault. The fact that My Mom is now going through a divorce and is sleeping in The Peach’s room and that The Zen Master now has his mother-in-law to deal with in addition to his bat-shit crazy wife and that My Mom is leaving the house she built and planned to die in and that we all have to move and find a place big enough for ALL of us.

And the fact that I lost my father. Because I know he blames me. Maybe not for the incident itself (although I wouldn’t be surprised) but for the fact that My Mom is leaving and that I’m such a spoiled, ungrateful brat and that I couldn’t be happy until My Mom had chosen me over him. Because I’m “A manipulative little bitch.” That’s what he said. Among other incredibly hurtful, awful things. Things that made me realize, once and for all, that no matter how far I’ve come in my life, no matter how many things I’ve accomplished, I will always and forever be a worthless, stupid, useless little bitch sponging off of him and turning My Mom against him.

He took all the pictures of me down in his house.

 

So that’s it. That’s what happened. My house is on the market. We’ll be lucky (very lucky) if we can recover 1/4 of my initial down payment. We’ve found a house we really like. Love in fact, But we can’t make an offer until My Mom is no longer on the mortgage to her house. And we can’t close until my house is actually sold. Which could be a loooooooooooong time from now. Anybody want to buy a 3 bedroom nice (for what it is) mobile home is a small town in Vermont? As much as I bitch about the house, it’s actually a great house in the price range and it’d be a good starter house for a small family… Anyway…

I’m missing a ridiculous amount of work because of various doctor appointments, both mine and the girls. Our house is cramped and stressful. Money is tight, although that should improve in not too long. I’m doing a shitty job at work because I can’t concentrate and I hurt and I’m sad and angry and I keep thinking I want to tell my daddy that I love him, but I really don’t want to hear his answer. And I feel guilty. Because, even though I know, logically, that it was not my fault, that it was his choice to do what he did,  the thing I keep thinking is,

“I should’ve just walked away.”

 

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1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Trackback: Not Ready to Make Nice… | newlifeinvermont

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