I do not feel at home here at my father's house. No one is online. Everyone is with their families for the Thanksgiving holiday & here I sit in a house brimming with painful memories, trying to blend into the background. I am out of contact with my friends who all have plans for the holiday. My mother is off to New Jersey in the morning to have a fabulous dinner with Brian's family - a wonderful bunch. I feel more at home with them than I do here . . . but I'm spending Christmas with them . . . & since my father can't have me for Christmas, he insists I be here for Thanksgiving.
I've been here for two hours & already, I am filled with a sadness I haven't known for a while now . . . & filled with a discomfort that is causing me physical pain. My stomach writhes & I think I'm coming very close to a migraine (& NOTHING helps my migraines except sleep & time).
Monday, I'm turning 18. I don't think I'll be coming back here any time soon. When my father finally let me leave, nothing legal changed. Legally, he still has custody. And he has dangled that threat over me regarding everything from grades to being left home alone. I know I could tell authorities that when I lived with him, he was abusive - but that was trouble we didn't want to go through & anger we didn't want to evoke from him. Monday, custody means nothing. All this time, I've felt an obligation to go with my father every time he told me to. I think I'll exercise some power next time.
Oh, & by the way . . . I got 4 inches cut off of my hair the other day & not a soul noticed. Not even my father.
I'm feeling terribly unloved.
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3 comments:
Hi, your post came up in the randomizer. I hope you don't mind me commenting...I am just an old lady who has trouble sleeping...harmless really. Your post made me feel sad. My parents got divorced when I was about 13. I moved to Canada with my mom and had to spend a month at my dads every summer. Half the summer...phtt...gone. So much for summer dreams! Anyway, about the hair...he should of noticed. Reminded me of the time when I got heck for wearing a pair of ratty shoes to a function where my dad wanted to look good. They were the only shoes that I had! 53 years old and I haven't forgotten. It doesn't make me mad. It makes me sad. I wish things could have been different.
Hey, thanks. I appreciate the comment . . . Happy Thanksgiving.
I am also some old lady (44) who saw your blog on the Randomizer-thing.
You write well. It's refreshing to find decent writing in a sea of cloned blogs.
Good luck.
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