I wonder where you are now
Do you ever still think of me?
You left your little girl behind
Only I was never yours, was I?
You made it perfectly clear when you walked away
When you abandoned me so easily
They used to say I have your eyes, your hands
Mistaking me for your biological daughter
He took me away from my own mother
And you suddenly appeared in my life
I tried not to, I didn’t want to love you
But somehow I still did and always will
Did you ever really love me
Or was it all just an act
One to make him happy?
Like everyone else who came after
They pretended to, and let me go so easily too
You were never my mother
Yet you were…
The mother I knew
I’m feeling sad and especially fragile today, with lots of memories taking over my mind. I guess it’s normal… It happens. Tried to push them away, but it was too tiring, so now I’m allowing myself to just sit with it for a while. I never really reveal my past in my posts, as I’ve never felt ready or open to it. For some reason though, today I feel like maybe it will help with healing to get it out here.
I wrote this “letter” today to my first stepmother, who was a part of my life for 14 years. I still remember the day she left. I was 17 years old, and home alone after school. She came home early from work and we were standing in the kitchen. She told me that she was leaving my dad. I was shocked, and naturally thought that she was leaving me too. She assured me that she wasn’t, and that I could call her at any time, and we’d go for coffee and shopping sometimes. She told me not to tell my dad that she was at home and leaving, if he happened to phone. He was extremely overprotective (controlling in my opinion) and would regularly check up on me in case I was somewhere or doing something I shouldn’t. She continued packing a bag. My stepsister had run away about a week before that, so a lot of her things were already gone. My stepmom took a few more of my stepsister’s clothes, and wouldn’t tell me where she was. I missed her though. After she had done packing, my heart in pieces, but refusing to cry, she hugged me goodbye. If I had known it would be the last time I’d see her, I would have held on a little longer. But as it was, she ended up pushing me away, and left. True to form, my dad phoned me to see what I was up to and to find out whether I was really at home, but I kept my word and didn’t tell him what had just happened. Oh I wanted to. I wanted to cry and spill the secret, but I had promised not to. I made my voice as normal and calm as possible, we hung up and I cried my eyes out. I felt so guilty. As the hours went by (they seemed to last forever), I got more and more anxious about having to tell him. I didn’t want to have to tell him. He got home, I said hello and tried to find the words. I was shaking inside. Eventually I ripped the band aid off and just told him. He charged to their bedroom, looking in all her cupboards. Then an image that I’ll never get out of my head… He started punching the cupboards and sank down onto the floor, crying and screaming. I’d seen him mad, hit things and people, but I’d never seen him cry. It scared me. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to go comfort him, but I was afraid he would hurt me. And then my memory goes blank. He attempted suicide a few times a few days and weeks afterward, but thankfully I was always around to take care of him and phone the ambulance. After his first suicide attempt, I phoned my stepmom that evening and begged her to please come back. She told me she couldn’t and wouldn’t. The next time I phoned her (I was missing her a lot), I got the message “the number you have dialed doesn’t exist”. I thought there was maybe something wrong with the network. But I realized after a few weeks (I’m a slow learner it seems) of getting this same message that she was gone. She had abandoned me too. That she had lied to me. She was gone. The months leading up to this, it had seemed as though we had finally started to develop a good relationship. She was nice to me even when my dad wasn’t around. Maybe she was already planning on leaving.
My stepmom was a mean woman (not a lot of people liked her), and especially to me. She’d be loving and nice to me whenever my dad was around, but as soon as he wasn’t she’d look for any excuse to “discipline” me. Either by physically hurting me, verbally making me feel like shit, withholding things from me, and buying/doing nice things for her daughter in front of me and ignoring me. I would get so confused sometimes. Whenever she was nice to me, I’d think that maybe she really was starting to love me too, only to find I had been wrong… Again. I never learned.
I hated it when my dad had to go away on another business trip, and would sometimes cry and beg him to stay. Even though I didn’t like it when he was there, and wanted to be away from him too. Already a walking contradiction at a young age. He never believed me when I tried to tell him how I was being treated when he wasn’t around, so I learned to keep it to myself eventually. Especially after he involved my stepmom in our conversation and she denied everything and I got a smack for “lying”.
I lost an entire family that day. In one day, with one decision, 14 years worth of relationships just vanished. No one in my step-family wanted to talk to me and my dad. Even the church abandoned us (which started my journey out of Christianity and religion in general). I had lost my grandmother (my best friend) a few months before that, my grandfather 6 months before her, and my step-grandfather 2 months before him. It was a period of way too many losses. How did I handle it all? I don’t know, but handle it I did. Did I cry? Was I hurting? I remember being so busy taking care of my dad and making sure that he’s okay. I remember that. But I don’t remember how I felt. I don’t remember me. Maybe that’s a good thing.