The Hardest Week of The Year for Me...

As you all know this week is my birthday- the big 27 years of age... what many of you do not know is that this week also signifies my father's death anniversary. May 21st is the day that I came into this world and May 22nd is the day that my father died. Even though this even happened over 8 years ago this is a very sensitive time for me; it's the only time that I truly let my guard down and expose my pain for all to see.

Since I do not know how long you have been following my blog I'll try to start from the beginning to give you a full understanding of what I am going through. My father wanted my mother to abort me when she found out that she was pregnant with me. He was already 43 and my mother was 40 at the time of my arrival into this world. According to all of the "big wig" doctors if my mother carried me to term there was a high probability that I would come out with down syndrome or have an open spine. my father did not want to risk it but my mother being a devout catholic stood up to my father, defying him and decided to keep me. Of course I turned out to be normal [thank God!] but it caused a rift between my parents that only grew bigger as time went on.

My 2 sisters Judy, Kristin and my brother Michael were already respectively 14 1/2, 12 and 10. Then I come into their lives and for some reason all hell broke loose between my father and I. I do not know if it was jealousy or that he felt that he needed to compete for my mother's love or what but as a Capricorn he felt threatened by my presence in this family. From the ages of 0-3years my father was considered the "dominant/power parent." It was him that made all of the decisions; him who held all of the power within our family and I admired him and adored him. Unfortunately, this was only one-sided because he do not return those feelings to me. In fact, my father was afraid of getting too close to me; calling me names as "demon- spawn", "unlovable" and telling me to "put my horns back inside" He was the only person that I truly feared; he was the one that dealt out my corporal punishment whenever I did something that he didn't approve of. Whether it was wrong or right.

I was a Gemini who was being punished for no other reason than I merely existed; that was enough for him to loose his temper. Around him I wasn't allowed to speak unless I was spoken to first, could not question him on any of the things that told me, and was told that I always needed to be a " dutiful daughter; respect and obey him at all times. It was what the commandments said!" He had a 2" thick black leather belt that used to deal out my punishments; my mother would be at work when he did this. I was told to not say a word and accept my beating and to take it like a man. A lot of people wondered why i can handle such abuse from people; this is why.

After one incident in particular my mother walked through the door just in time to see him grab me and start in on me with the belt. She stepped in to protect me telling him to never again touch any of her children in that manner. Turns out that I was the only one that had the pleasure of getting this treatment.He told my mother, "Fine Karen, from this point on she's your responsibility; I wash my hands of her... you can deal with her!" She did. That was the last time that he referred to me as his flesh and blood. He wouldn't speak my name; didn't bother to look at me and this crushed me. I didn't understand what I had done wrong to deserve this from him and yet I was disowned by my own father. Judy, Kristin and Michael did not receive the same treatment from my father as I did. They were the family unit; i was just the outsider that didn't belong with them.

This went so far as to pretend that I didn't even exist. He would tell my mother "to tell her daughter that she is soulless, hallow and no one outside of family could ever love her!" I was standing less than 3 feet away from him as he would be saying such things. Even negative attention was better than none at all; so that is what I took from him. He blamed me for his marriage failing with my mother; the reason that he had to sleep on the couch. Blamed me for everything that went bad in his life because it wasn't until I entered this world that he lost everything. I just wanted his approval and love; maybe some attention and affection from him. That win or loose i could just be his daughter and that it was okay to be that... I was denied that till the day that he died. I pushed myself very hard to be the best at everything that I did just so that he would take notice of me; maybe even give me a compliment or tell me that he loved me. I would show him the things that I accomplished and he wouldn't even bother looking at them; just mutter underneath his breath, "an A- isn't an A++ get out of my face with that inferior piece of work!" I kept trying though to be the daughter that he wanted me to be but again I was denied any type of love from him.

During those years I tried to stay out of his way as much as possible so that I wouldn't upset him and have him yell at me, demean me or belittle me. All I had to do was to make a noise and that would set him off. Of course I would scream back and defend myself; he just used that against me and it added more fuel to the flame. Since my mother worked during the day I was left to suffer at my fathers hand for most of the day. He would tell me "NO because i said so"; when pressed he would answer, "cause I am your father and I reserve the right to say NO all of the time!" if I continued he would simply turn up the volume on the t.v. till my voice was drowned out. My mother had to bribe him to spend time with me and to be nicer towards me... but he couldn't. Everything about me just pissed him off too much for him to deal with me.

As time went on my Nana did her best to protect me from him; she was the only one that my father was afraid of and Nana took care care of me while my mother was at work. She was my guardian angel and if it wasn't for her my father could have quite possibly have killed me. My mother was sure on that. He treated me like a slave; this is why I am such a quiet person to this day; silently moving through the house without making any sound cause of his "lessons" that I had to learn. My only reprieve was school. Escaping into the the study lessons of school... how wrong was that. I still carry these scars with me into adulthood; learning how to be invisible and yet know more that I let on.

Weakness was never an option. Anger was never to be shown. The prince by Makaveli was what my father raised me with. that was his gift to me and it was a very cruel lesson to be taught. I became his whipping girl despite my mother and grandmother's attempts to shield me. I accepted my fate with him cause I knew that one day it would end... it had to end right? 19 years we were under the same roof; 6,935 days in a row of abuse: physical, mental and emotional. I endured that... the physical marks have long left me but the psyche has been imprinted with my father's dominant influence over me and there isn't much i can do about that except understand it and live with it. About half way through this abuse I was finally told that my father had been suffering from mini strokes and developed sleep apnea. that the reason for all of my torment was because the personality part of his brain was what got struck during those mini strokes. So after finding out that I knew about his condition the abuse escalated and he began to lash out at my mother and me... by this time my older siblings were already off to college and I was left alone with all of his negative emotions. I resented the hell out of him; everything that i accomplished was never good enough; never right and I had to be punished for not being perfect.

It wasn't just enough for him to break me he had to make sure that all of the things that I loved were taken away from me so that I couldn't survive. I had to hide anything that brought me great joy in life or else he would destroy it. hide my Halloween candy so that he wouldn't go into a diabetic comma and become the adult when he acted like a child. I had to forgive this man, my father for all of the horrible things that he did to me because he was ill. that was a very hard pill for me to swallow; but he was my father and I loved even after all of his negative projection onto me. He was the only father that I knew and so I would wake up from deep sleep when I would hear him stop snoring and poke his toes to get him to start breathing again. During the night he would have more mini strokes and continually stop breathing. I would be the one to start him back up again. I was my father's daughter; hardened by his hatred, molded by his harassment of me and cold due to his cruelness of withholding love from me. Yet through all of this I still worshiped him; wanted to be like him: strong, powerful, worldly, spiritual, highly intelligent, entrepreneur, and make an impact on this world in the ways that he did. I never wanted to hate my daddy; it was quite the opposite. Most people i explain this to do not understand my complex dealings with regard to my father... he took a lot of things away from me, but he gave me the person that I am today and for that I am grateful. My pain stems from the fact that he never loved me because he was scared of me; that even on his death bed he couldn't tell me that he loved me. That he could never walk me down the altar or see my child when that time comes. I have a great big hole in my soul from all the things that I couldn't share with him; the experiences that I do not have him in. Cause I miss him; even though he was an asshole to me I missed out on getting to know him. There is so much of him inside of me that I will never get a chance to ask him about. That if he was here to see the person that I turned out to become would he love me now?

He died without being able to communicate; his brain was working but he couldn't speak in a way that we could understand. the words came out all jumbled and finally let his last breath out holding Judy and Michael's hand in his. The official cause of death is a stroke on his brain stem... my mother and I were not present when he passed; he wanted it that way. He passed without me getting any closure or any explanations of his actions towards me; which hurts but what can you do... he chose to go the day after my birthday and that is what he choose; you can ask Judy if you do not believe me.

Now that my hair is natural I look more like him than usual and when I look in the mirror I see his face staring back at me; I can still hear his hurtful words towards me and all of the things that he took away from me because, "black people don't do that," or ," it's just a waste of time; you're not very good at it!" Sometimes Jeff inadvertently says things that my father said to me... normally I can take this and much more but this week those things will reduce me to tears; and i am left feeling that great big hole inside of me. Reminding me that my birthday celebrates the life that I received at the cost of my parents love and the 1 death that tore my family apart the day afterwards.

There is a lot more that I am leaving out; frankly I do not have the energy to convey all of the feelings that I am conflicted with at this moment in time... you get the gist of it so this will have to suffice as an explanation of my behavior since Friday...